Drunken Encounters | Alaric + Katherine

It shouldn’t be like this. Alaric wasn’t a fool. He knew full well that his connection with the doppelganger was wrong. Not only had Katherine tortured many of the residents in this town, many of his friends, but she looked like her. She looked like the very same girl he often viewed as a daughter. How fucked up was that? And yet, it was so easy to tell the difference between them. Others struggled, but not him. He loved Elena, truly he did. But she couldn’t hold a candle to Katherine. There was something about this wretched woman. It wasn’t just her beauty ,but it was her as a person. She understood him. 

As of late, he was beginning to feel as though she was the only person that could truly relate to how he was feeling. He had been surprised to learn there was more to her than met the eye. Katherine liked people to think she was the big bad, that much was obvious. But he knew otherwise. When she said she was miserable, he knew she wasn’t saying it to be ironic. She was being honest. His arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. Alaric didn’t want her to be miserable. Just like he didn’t want to be miserable. Maybe in that respect it was a good thing they had each other. 

Her scent overwhelmed him as his head stayed pressed against her back. She smelt of everything a woman should. Power, lavender and maturity. It was intoxicating. He could see now how she had captured so many men’s heart. He could see now how she was slowly capturing his. Clearing his throat, he lifted his head in an attempt to shake these thoughts away though his arm continued to hold her on his lap. “Oh no, haven’t you heard? I’m no longer the educator, darling. I’m the devil.” He drawled, chuckling afterwards though there was no humor in his laugh. Alaric had never wanted this. He had never wanted to be the Ultimate hunter. There was a darkness in him that had maybe wanted it once upon a time, but that was not who he was as a person. Being a human had been dull. He’d been depressed and a drunk. But that had been his life and he’d been strangely okay with it. Esther had no right taking that from him. She had no right making him a monster.

With a sigh, his hand began to stroke idly up and down the left curve of her waist. The action was slow and mindless, as if he barely realised he was even doing it. The curse was slim and smooth and his fingertips itched to slip underneath the material that was preventing him from touching flesh. “Besides, what do you have to be miserable about? I thought Katherine Pierce had the world at her feet.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Someone as beautiful as you should never be sad.”