Disclaimer: I do not own The Originals.

A/N: This contains vague spoilers up to the first few episodes of season four.

Also, this is a trigger warning for very dark themes related to violence and non-con. Please take care of your mental health and do not read if it triggers you.

Pairings are undecided and suggestions in the reviews are always welcome. Enjoy!

Zeitgeber

/ˈtsītˌɡābər,ˈzīt-/

noun: a cue given by the environment, such as a change in light or temperature, to reset the internal body clock

Chapter One: A Lack of Empathy

/ˈempəTHē/

Noun: the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.

"Elijah?" Klaus called out into the darkness, but there was no answer. There was no one to save him.

How long had it been since Klaus was imprisoned in the cold, dark tunnels below New Orleans? Had it been merely days? Or had weeks passed? Klaus had no sense of time due to torture inflicted by the bone blade buried in his chest. But then, after God knows how long, Klaus heard the echo of footsteps far away in the tunnels. This was the first time someone had come for him. The footsteps grew closer, and with them came the light of a lantern.

"Elijah..." Klaus begged, praying those footsteps belonged to someone kind. He wanted the torture to end.

Finally, he saw his captor, Marcellus: the newly created super vampire hybrid with powers that outmatched the entire Original family.

"Hello, Klaus," said a voice so jarringly cheerful that Klaus couldn't help but feel hope. Still, Klaus couldn't respond through the agony of the blade. "It's good to finally see you like this, Klaus."

Klaus didn't respond. His body was bent in pain and he was covered in sweat.

"But it's no fun to gloat when you're like this," said Marcel.

In a blur of motion, Marcel's hand sank deep in Klaus' chest and ripped out the blade of bone. Ordinarily, the sensation of having something ripped out of your chest would be quite painful, but Klaus felt a wave of bliss and relief wash over him. As blood hemorrhaged out of his chest, he nearly cried from happiness. The torture was over.

"Thank you, Marcellus," whispered Klaus, "Now we can put all of this nastiness behind us."

Klaus struggled to sit up, but it was a slow process as his weak muscles felt like layers of sandpaper grinding together. Halfway there, a kick to the stomach sent him flying backwards into the magical barrier that trapped him.

"Nastiness? Is that was this is to you? Is that what you call murdering Davina in cold blood? Trying to do the same to me?" asked Marcel angrily.

Klaus rubbed the back of his sore skull and successfully avoided mentioning that Davina was already dead. Apparently he wasn't going home anytime soon.

"Marcellus, everything that transpired was all for the good of our family. You know that," said Klaus as he attempted to reason with Marcel. "And you know I never would have killed you…Elijah wasn't in his right mind."

Marcel laughed sharply and the noise echoed though the tunnels.

"You know I don't believe that for a second, Klaus. But I didn't come here to argue," said Marcel.

Marcel took a test tube out of this pocket and when he opened it, the smell of blood drove Klaus wild. He lunged towards Marcel and the blood, but another kick sent him careening backwards into the barrier once more.

"You're pathetic, Klaus. I want to hear you say it."

Even in his weakened state, Klaus remained proud. He scoffed at Marcel, and crossed his arms. "You're so insecure that you would have me debase myself for your ego? I think not."

"Okay then," said Marcel with a hint of a smile. He raised the test tube and tilted it ever so slightly. A few drops of blood fell to the floor, and Marcel promptly smeared the blood into the rocks with his muddy shoes. "That's all you'll get for the next few days. And just so you know, this has nothing to do with insecurity. I just want to teach you a lesson in humility."

And with that, Marcel was gone.

The sweet smell of blood lingered even after it had become a dry and crusty stain on the floor. Klaus lasted 26.2 hours before he lunged forward and dragged his tongue across the dried blood. The sweetness was marred only slightly by the taste of dirt. Unfortunately, the few drops of old blood did nothing to sustain him, and Klaus realized that he had in the end, debased himself for nothing. A king did not grovel, let alone lick the floor for leftovers. He was just glad that no one had seen him succumb to that moment of weakness.

Days passed as Klaus drifted in and out of consciousness. He was almost happy when he heard footsteps approaching once more.

"It looks like you enjoyed your rations, Klaus," said the annoyingly cheerful voice of Marcel.

Klaus didn't reply, because he could already smell blood. He just couldn't see where it was hidden until a blood bag flopped down in front of him. It had to have been a trick, because it was too good to be true.

"What is this? Laced with vervain? Cursed?" asked Klaus.

"Oh no, it's just a reward for playing my little game," said Marcel. "I wanted to see the great King Klaus humiliate himself like a dog searching for scraps." He laughed as Klaus scowled. "I just didn't think you'd go through with his. How did the bottom of my boots taste? I made sure to walk through the dirtiest districts in town before coming to see you."

Anger burned in Klaus, not so much because of what Marcel had done, but because Marcel was taking so much pleasure in the game.

"Well, there is dignity in survival, Marcellus. No matter the cost," said Klaus. He quickly drained the blood bag before Marcel could take it away. He could feel the life rushing back into his bones. His eyes became clearer and he could see that Marcel wasn't happy. "What?" asked Klaus as he rolled his eyes, emboldened by his new sense of strength. "Are you still angry? Like I said Marcellus, survival at any cost is what kept this family together. And like it or not, you are a part of this family. And of course, I will forgive-"

Marcel blurred past the magical barrier, grabbed Klaus by the throat, and slammed him into the ward. Marcel held him there as his eyes turned blood red. "We are not family, Nicklaus, and my name is Marcel now," he growled. "If we were family, then Davina would have your like family too."

His grip tightened around Klaus' throat as he lifted the original higher. Klaus gasped and clawed at Marcel's hand in an instinctual response to the restriction of his airways. And suddenly, he fell back to the floor to gasp for breath that he did't need. Still, Klaus was enraged by Marcel's newfound ability to treat him, the Original Hybrid, like nothing more than a mere human. He felt weak, but that didn't stop him for fighting back.

"Davina…" Klaus started as he struggled to his feet, "…would never be family, Marcellus. She was just a whore of a witch who couldn't get enough of our family. First you, then Kol. Who would have been next? She wasn't my type, but if she had asked-"

A fist collided with his jaw, and he felt it pop out of place. The pain was nothing compared to the torture of the bone blade, and so without hesitation, he returned the blow. Klaus uppercut Marcel's jaw hard enough to send Marcel ten feet into the air. But as Marcel fell back down, he used the inertia to pummel Klaus into the stone ground. Marcel couldn't be beaten now.

Klaus groaned as he popped his jaw, collarbone, and vertebrae back into place. He was going to try one more time, but then he felt Marcel's weight pinning his hips to the bedrock. Then a blow to the face that knocked out two teeth. Another blow that cracked his cheekbone. Another that took away his hearing in one ear.

"Davina was not a whore," said Marcel with a deadly quietness after the beating was over. "She was like a daughter to me, a bond you should have understood."

They both caught their breath as time ticked on. Klaus healed slowly but soon he was back to normal. When the pain subsided, he glowered up at Marcel.

"Get off of me, Marcellus," said Klaus. "I didn't mean to insult the dead, but you should honestly let her go."

Marcel didn't respond as he stared down at Klaus. The original was frail with hunger and blood was covering half of his face. Still, a foreign feeling swept over Marcel. It was a sense of coming into adulthood. Even though he was centuries old, he had bested his sire in nearly everyway. The power was intoxicating. The smell of Klaus' blood added to that high as he felt his fangs protrude. He couldn't bite Klaus without killed him, but the blood was just sitting there, pooling in the nape of Klaus' neck.

These hungry thoughts took over Marcel as Klaus watched with deep apprehension. He believed that Marcel was going to bite him and leave him to die in these wretched tunnels. The incurable venom would lay waste to his body, and then his family would die as well. Klaus knew everyone was counting on him, and so he started to struggle, but Marcel was like a rock statue above him.

Marcel pinned Klaus' arms and sank forward. Klaus bellowed as he expected to feel deadly fangs sink into his carotid artery, but he only felt Marcel's lips. He only heard the sounds of slurping as Marcel cleaned the blood off of his collarbone.

"I see why your father hunted you," said Marcel nonchalantly. "Originals taste…different…"

To Klaus' horror, he felt Marcel's pants stiffen against his stomach. Blood sharing between vampires was intimate, and Klaus had rarely allowed it outside of healing those with werewolf bites. Klaus shifted his weight to lessen the pressure against his stomach. "My God, Marcellus, get up and stop this nonsense," said Klaus with growing unease. "You're crossing a line."

Marcel wasn't listening. Instead, he punctured Klaus' neck with his fingernail and drank deeply until the wound healed over. At this point, Klaus was lightheaded with blood loss. "Marcellus…" he groaned. "If you're going to desiccate me, at least drink from my wrist." It was awkward and uncomfortable this way. Only lovers drank from the arteries in the neck like this. Fortunately, Marcel grabbed Klaus' wrist, sliced it open at the base, and started to drink. Klaus' arm began to go numb and tingly, but that was the least of his worries. He could still feel Marcel's member pulsating against his stomach. Klaus felt his heart rate skyrocket. Perhaps it was intrusive feeling of Marcel's manhood so close to him, or the vulnerable feeling of being of trapped beneath another man, but he began to panic. As he panicked, his mind went to a dark place, far away and long ago. Klaus used the last of his energy to tear his wrist out of Marcel's grasp, and but his memories had already transported him back to Mystic Falls over 900 years ago. It was a time when he was still human, still young and naive. Instead of Marcel's body, Klaus felt his father's weight crushing him into the prickly bed of leaves on the forest floor. As Marcel snarled when Klaus retracted his arm, Klaus instead heard his father bellowing depraved, sexualized insults. "Please father, stop..." begged Klaus in his trauma and pain induced daze. "I'm your son...it's not right...please..." And then Klaus returned to reality.

Marcel was motionless under the weight and implication of Klaus' accidental plea.

Klaus felt the last of his blood rise to his cheeks in sheer humiliation. No one knew what had really transpired between him and Mikael all those centuries ago, and it had been a long time since his nightmares had invaded his daily life.

Slowly, Marcel stood up and let him go. There was a strange, indecipherable look on his face. It quickly became burgeoning amusement. "Is that why you're such a dick, Klaus?" asked Marcel with barely suppressed laughter. "I mean, I knew your father beat you…but honestly, that's fucked up," mused Marcel as he paced just outside the wards. "…the bastard son, Niklaus Mikaelson."

Klaus refused to meet his captor's gaze. This was his darkest secret, and he would rather die than listen to Marcel's conjecture.

"And yet," Marcel continued, talking to only himself, "you had the audacity to call Davina Claire a whore…you goddamn hypocrite."

Marcel might have felt empathy for Klaus, who seemed to have been driven to commit great evil after enduring a tragic childhood, but one of those evils had been the murder of Davina Clair. Marcel couldn't forgive that, and now that he found Klaus' ultimate weakness, he felt that he had no choice but to use it against him. And so, with the taste of Original blood still on his tongue, with righteous and vengeful anger, Marcel felt a burning in his loins. It didn't hurt that Klaus' lean body was splayed on the ground before him, with alluring blond hair and vulnerable blue eyes.

Above him, Klaus heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled. Klaus nearly retched when he heard this all too familiar sound, but he was too weak to even use his gag reflex.

"Marcellus…" breathed Klaus as he failed to back away from the man he had once considered family. It was apparent now that their bond had become something else entirely. "This isn't who you are, Marcellus. You are not a monster. You are a good man."

"My name is Marcel, now. You don't know me. You don't know what monsters you've created," said Marcel. He stepped forward slowly, coming to terms with how he was going to break the scared man before him.

Klaus continued to slide backwards on the floor until his back hit the magic wards. "Marcel," Klaus conceded, "you've proven your point. Davina shouldn't have died. Punish me with the blade. With any torture you can imagine, just not this."

"Shut up," said Marcel with that same deadly quietness that Klaus would come to fear. Marcel reached down and grabbed Klaus' ankle to drag him back into the center of the circle. He flipped Klaus over onto his stomach and straddled Klaus' lower back.

"Marcel!" bellowed Klaus. His voice cracked. Klaus felt like a child again, at the mercy of a cruel and merciless man. Everything he had done in his life for power and control, it all suddenly felt as if it had all been in vain. He was just as helpless as when he was living in Mystic Falls.

He bit his lip as he felt Marcel roughly pull away his pants, exposing his bottom to the cold, damp air. His hair stood on end as he heard Marcel's zipper. He jerked violently when he felt Marcel's manhood on his thigh.

"Please don't do this…you'll never be the same after you do something like this…" begged Klaus. "Even I would never do this. Don't make yourself a monster just to get even with me."

"Shut up," whispered Marcel, who was staring down at his prey, contemplating whether or not to commit this sin. Images of Davina floated through his mind and his anger surged. Yes, he would. If he had to become a monster to save the world from the worst man he had ever met, then that's what he would have to do. In his mind, this was a just punishment. But if he could have entered Klaus' mind, and really understood what he was about to do to this man, perhaps Marcel would just gotten up and left. It was the greatest evil that he could have chosen. But then again, it was a lack of empathy that had carried them through the centuries, and it was a lack of empathy that would start them on this new path as well. This act would reset everything.

A/N: Thank you for reading! These dark and twisty thoughts wouldn't leave my mind, so I just had to get them out. Let me know what you think! I have a lot planned for this story. ;)