The sun shone outside the windows of the old farmhouse, gleaming bright with the promise of spring, though the temperature outside couldn't have been any higher than fifty degrees. After the long winter, it was a reprieve to see the thermostat creep up to its current location.
Water dripped from the eves as the thin layer of snow the recent spring storm had left behind melted, streaming down the window panes in rivers which cast rainbows on the interior walls.
Calvin Schuler stood in the dated farmhouse kitchen, watching the birds fighting at the feeder. The buds on the newly emerged daffodils were just about to pop open, and he could hear the cows calling to one another out in the pasture. He enjoyed his simple life of living off the land, alone and unbothered by the world that continued to spin off into the stratosphere with or without him.
He'd never been a very sociable person but after Rose had died he had decided that he didn't need anyone anymore. He'd had dogs and the odd hired help now and again but hadn't allowed himself anything else. He couldn't bear that kind of loss again.
The doorbell rang, startling him from his thoughts. Probably those annoying innkeepers again. They'd tried many times over the years to buy up his farm.
Each time he'd set them packing. He wasn't going to sell off his farm to anyone, much less the damn innkeepers next door.
The knob gave a familiar click as it rotated against the worn wood of the door frame. Outside on the step stood a man in a black suit. Obviously another outsider. That was too nice an outfit to be a local and it wasn't Sunday, at least that Calvin could remember.
"What is it that I can do for you?" He asked, his hand gripping the unforgiving metal just a little bit tighter than he meant to.
"Good Morning. I've come to talk to you about your property if you have a moment." The suited man, probably mid thirties by any estimate, replied with a warm tone that didn't reach his eyes.
"I already told that Mikaelson fellow that I wasn't interested." He retorted, ready to shut the door on this newest salesman. This one also had a funny accent, just like that other man. Klaus was it? Calvin couldn't remember and honestly didn't care enough to.
"See that's the thing. Klaus doesn't think you really thought through his offer well enough. Maybe we should discuss this a little more so you completely understand."
"I understand plenty, though it sounds as if you don't. The answer is no. Now get off my land before I make the decision for you." Calvin answered, shutting the door in the man's face. He could hear some kind of retort coming from the other side but didn't stay long enough to decipher it.
His rifle was upstairs in the game room, where he'd left it after cleaning and oiling it the night before. He wasn't sure if he'd need it for a bit of extra intimidation but he'd be a damned fool to not bring it downstairs just in case.
As he started up the steep staircase he heard the back door, which he cursed himself for forgetting to lock after letting the cat outside, open and fairly soon after footsteps echoed up the stairs behind him. Fear and anxiety raced through his blood, causing him to move faster than he had been, at the thought of this unwelcome guest following him into his sanctuary. He turned to face the intruder.
"How dare you force your way into my home!"
"I told you it wasn't up for debate." The man replied, from just steps behind him.
Before Calvin could reach the top step, and the game room, a hand encircled his wrist with a hard pull. He gave a shout before hurdling backwards through the air.
The last thing he saw before landing on the hard floor below was the portrait of his beloved Rosalin on the wall of the stairwell, her eyes watching him expectantly, as if she'd known before he did that they would see each other again much sooner than either of them had planned.