Rich red lips turned up into a smirk as she compelled the quivering witch to forget what the little thing had just stuttering confirmed for her.
Well, who would have thought?
This … was truly a miracle. A miracle she would not waste.
Brilliant green eyes sparkled with mirth as she settled the black coal delicately around her naked shoulders.
If this wasn't sign from above, then she didn't what would constitute as one.
It was time to go home. She had let her darling baby boy grow up in the admittedly somewhat cruel belief that he had successfully tricked her, but now it was time to go back and bring the family together again. Maybe even Kol and Finn. They would be one big happy family. Ah, her grown-up baby boy would be so happy for her … or else.
He never liked her 'or else'.
No one liked her 'or else'.
She chuckled to herself.
Oh, how she had missed him.
New Orleans. The stronghold of witches, the city of vampires and the territory of werewolves.
Naturally, it was a war zone.
At the moment, the vampires had the winning hand, and at their top Marcel Gerard, a vampire who had rebuild New Orleans after Mikael, the father of the Original Vampires, had burnt it down, ruled the witches and werewolves with an iron first.
It was a good time to be a vampire in New Orleans.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click Clack.
The sound of high heels turned heads as the handful of assembled vampires who were preparing the manor for the party tonight looked up.
It wasn't quite the time for the first guests to arrive already.
But the woman who entered certainly was no simple guest, and least of all human.
Her aura screamed ...
There was something definitely otherworldly about her.
Long black lashes framed wide brilliant green eyes, complimented by high cutting cheek bones, a graceful slender nose and full red lips. Dark-blond curls cascading down to her hips elegantly framed a pale aristocratic face. Tall, thin and elegant, wearing an oversized black chiffon mini-dress that alluringly reached down to the middle of her thighs, grey stockings that left a tantalizing piece of naked white skin to be coveted and high-heeled black ankle boots that emphasized her long slender legs; she was an apparition. More than one of the males felt their arousal roar up like a wild beast as she gracefully stepped into the foyer, her walk that of a seasoned predator that could - and undoubtedly would - tear them apart like the inconsequential prey they were in her eyes.
But this predator most victims would gladly die by.
Thierry narrowed his eyes as he noticed the smirk gracing those enticing lips and tried to hide the sickening apprehension beginning to cloud his mind. Every instinct in him warred: He needed to stay and protect Marcel, he wanted to run as far away from this sweet-looking monster as possible, to throw himself on the floor and submit, to take her where she stood … blood rushed in his ears as he clenched his fist, the pain of cutting his own palms centering him enough to partially clear his head. He barely held back a flinch at her knowing glance.
" Well, 'ello gentlemen", she spoke, her British accent thickening the words and making a few men adjust their … privates. That reaction, Thierry could understand only too well.
He cleared his throat.
And was ignored.
Spinning around, green eyes sparkled as they took in the mansion. There was an emotion in them that he couldn't name. It was strange, like he had never seen it's like before, but also as if it should be familiar. The nearer she spun, the twitchier they got.
Thierry suppressed the disturbing desire to reach out and touch her hips as she stopped within arm's reach.
Her lilting voice sounded out, bespelling his comrades … and capturing him in a way that was more than unnatural. It was dangerous.
" My, Marcel truly did a marvellous job with this old shack. It's beautiful", she giggled lightly.
Enticing.
Ensnaring.
… fatal.
" He did", Thierry answered carefully, cautious eyes following her every move. " How do you know?"
Beautiful crimson lips turned up into a teasing smile, but while his friends and follow vampires fell for the woman's charm, Thierry saw more. Oh, he absolutely saw what she wanted to portray …
… but something about this seductive smile …
… it looked like a mockery.
An inside joke steeped in cruelty.
A dark edge waiting to cut too deep.
" Appearances can be deceiving, can't they?"
That was as good a confirmation of his doubts as he was about to get.
And it didn't mean anything good. Not at all.
" I take it then that you are at least as old as Marcel."
He blinked as bell-like laughter rung through the room, mirthful eyes focused eerily on him.
" It's truly not nice to guess a lady's age", she chuckled. " I'm just a tiny bit older than my dearest Marcel. Alas, He is actually the reason I'm here, and I would like very much to see my darling now. So", she bit her lips coquetly. " Which of you strapping lads would be a dear and accompany me to Marcel?"
Thierry couldn't help it. The moment she said those words, he knew disaster would follow. It was time to nip this in the bud.
Especially seeing how enthusiastic his friends were of exposing their leader to this unknown creature.
" Me!"
" I would love to."
" Please!"
" Take me, beautiful."
" Why should she take you when she can have me?"
" I don't look like a toad?"
" As if you could satisfy a woman like her."
He had enough.
Standing straight, Thierry rammed his fist into a wall, freezing everyone around him, demanding their undivided attention – and getting it. They knew not to go too far – and had nevertheless been well on their way into the 'garden' with that kind of behaviour. It was time to collar them back to reality.
" None of you will take her to the boss before I know who she is and what business she has with our king, understood?", he growled deeply, his voice echoing threateningly through the room.
Meekly nodding and guilty faces were his answer.
" I would never harm, Marcel, Thierry-dear, really now", she tutted reprovingly, cutting in.
… he hadn't introduced himself.
Fuck.
Adam turned to him, a glower on his normally easy going face, the obedience from before gone in the blink of an eye.
" Thierry, you shouldn't treat her like this, man."
And he wasn't the only one. Violence seemed to vibrate in the air.
" Yeah, I would really hate to trouble ya, but if you force my hand …"
" If someone fights for her, it's going to be me."
" Ha, as if!"
Thierry watched dazed and furious as his family, his friends, started to fight again, only this time violently and physically - a brawl made of claws, fangs and blood. Out of the corner of his eye he saw how the woman who had been the reason, the catalyst for this mess simply settled on a bar chair, crossing her legs and watching how his brother's tore themselves apart – for her.
He had been right.
She was a danger.
And his bad feeling only worsened.
Marcel. What have you got yourself in?
Everything was good.
It was that certainty that allowed Marcel to not think too much about the past.
He had finally managed to conquer the witches and reign in the wolves. His vampires ruled undisputed, and they lived peacefully in the New Orleans he had rebuild with Thierry, his best friend, his brother and second in command, at his side.
It all had come together after that disastrous night in 1918, when Mikael had ransacked New Orleans searching for his run away children, leaving fire and corpses in his wake. That night would have nearly killed Marcel to, but he managed to just about save himself. What pained him the most about that night was the fact that it had been him and Rebekah who had summoned Mikael – with the one goal to get Nicoletta out of the picture, one way or another.
At the time, he had felt himself justified. The woman who while not birthed had saved, raised and sired him, now denied him his happiness, and he had no interest of standing for it. Oh, she would be furious if she ever found out what they did, maybe even try to murder him and her own sister, but at least he would be able to freely love Rebekah. He wanted happiness – and she stood in his way.
It seemed like such a simple solution.
He truly hadn't seen any drawbacks with their plan to summon Mikael and drive the Original Hybrid away with her greatest fear – but like so many things, this plan too went south before it even really began.
Against their expectations Mikael not only haunted Nicoletta like a bloodhound, he did the same to his other children. Instead of creating their own happy ever after, Marcel and Rebekah had been completely driven apart, their own actions succeeding where even his mother failed.
It left a bitter taste.
Nothing was ever the same again.
Rebekah believed him dead, and Marcel couldn't correct her if he wanted to stay beneath his mother's radar – he didn't doubt for even a second that she would find out their treachery and kill them. As much as he loved that woman, she had always been mentally unstable …
… and Marcel was man enough to admit that he would understand her reaction. It just really scared the shit out of him.
Never seeing any of the Mikaelson mob again was the best course of action for him, ignoring the deep-seated longing he held secretly for Rebekah and Nicoletta.
Sighing he turned back to his desk, pencil poised to continue signing the paperwork –
- only to sit up.
A crash came from downstairs. A second one followed.
Strange.
Thierry was too level-headed to allow their men to fight, but even as he thought that and rose up, the noise level escalated.
There would be hell to pay if they destroyed the house again!
Rushing down the stairs, annoyance written all over his face, he snarled as he saw his men, the comrades he had changed and built into a family, a kingdom to rule, protect and preserve, go against each other, tearing and fighting like rabid animals.
Unacceptable.
" What is going on here?!", he bellowed, finding Thierry who just stared at him, sitting on the ground with a bloody lip, petrified.
His best friend looked at him like he was the devil personified …
… no, behind him.
Thierry's eyes were unblinkingly fixed behind Marcel.
Slowly, following the other's gaze, he turned around.
And froze.
Could he have ever been prepared to face her again? His thoughts from before rushed back with a vengeance.
… no. But here she was.
The woman he loved the most in the world despite his traitorous actions against her.
The woman he hurt the most in the world with his love for her sister.
The one woman who would never lose her grip on his heart, no matter if he wanted to hug or strangle her.
The one woman who could make him shake in his shoes like a little boy with her mere presence.
His mother.
Sitting perfectly innocuous in his home – her former home – with her delicate hands folded deceptively harmlessly over her indecently exposed, crossed legs …
… he wanted to rip his own men apart for looking at her.
And blanched.
Fuck. He thought he had lost this annoying overprotectiveness over the woman who raised him, but there it reared its ugly. He had always hated when someone looked lecherous at his mom.
Damn her.
How could he love and hate someone so equally deeply?
" How is my little baby boy?"
And damn it – damn it all – but like the little boy he had once been, completely captured by that unnatural beauty that dimmed to illuminate wherever she graced to appear, eclipsing the sun and moon like they were mere toys for her entertainment, he blushed.
Furiously.
Before his men.
Damn!
Only she could make him lose his composure so undignified. Collecting himself, he slowly made his way to her, each step a battle between the will to stand tall and strong and the ingrained unwanted desire to be within her arms.
" Mother, how … how nice to see you", Marcel smiled forcibly.
A hushed whisper rose, rushing through his men and Marcel could feel the burning stares in his back.
Wonderful. She had already made them fall for her.
Just typical.
He couldn't even act surprised.
" She is Marcel's mother?!"
" No way!"
" Holy hell!"
It was a reaction he was more than used to. Even in an age when woman had been expected to be more submissive, more deceiving in their allure and devoted to men, his mother had been an exception to the rule. She could make men fall before with but a breathy whisper, in the blink of an eye.
He had seen it done.
" So, she does know you", Thierry stated shakily, making Marcel start as he looked at his second in command, and nodded.
She harrumphed, and his blush worsened before he sighed.
Centuries old, decades without her, and still …
… still she could make him feel like a foolish rude boy.
" May I introduce you to the woman who adopted me as a child, raised and later on changed me, Nicoletta Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid … and the only mother I know."
Feeling like a fool he may, but the silently proud, hidden smile lurking around the edges of her smirk, transforming her face into something unsettlingly sincere, made up for it.
It was strange how even when one becomes an adult, the desire to please ones mother never goes away or wavers.
But introduction aside, he still didn't know her game. And that repressed traumatised part of his mind that recognized the destruction Nicoletta Mikaelson so loved to unleash, whimpered in distress.
She lit up, bright like the sun.
Marcel shuddered.
" I have wonderful news!"
Dear god.
What now?
" I'm sure", he choked out.
His mother tsked, tipping him on the nose. Against his will, he went a little cross-eyed, before quickly looking away, embarrassed. Only her.
Only his mother could still embarrass him.
" Marcellus Gerard Mikaelson … you are going to be a big brother!", Nicoletta exclaimed happily.
Marcel blinked, speechless. Then …
" You are adopting again?"
Who would let her adopt another child?
While he loved her deeply, despite the disputes and the grievances laying between them, he wouldn't let that woman within a hundred feet radius of any corruptible naïve child.
What the fuck?
Poor little one.
" Oh no!", she laughed delighted, and only decades of experience let him detect the gleeful dark edge of her lilt.
Twirling around herself before cupping his face in her hands, she gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, one he dutifully accepted.
Her eyes sparkled ominously.
Dread sparked in his soul.
" I'm pregnant!"
And suddenly, dread seemed too insignificant.
It seemed more like hell had finally frozen over.
The devil had come, and she demanded that he fulfilled his obligations as her son. Marcel didn't doubt her words for a second, if she said she was pregnant, then she was; he could only conclude that it was the werewolf part of her that allowed this … surprise. Honestly, Marcel didn't know if this would turn out well or go to hell, he couldn't even think at the moment, but he knew that deep down, he would obey. He was one of the few people she sincerely loved.
And she was the only mother he ever loved and adored.
Against his instincts, against his deep-seated worries … he would be a good son. He would stand with her.
Even though it felt as if he had just signed his own death sentence.
~The End.~