Hello everyone!
Ok, so first things first…this is my first story ever. I always have so many ideas about how I would like things to end in movies and TV shows but this is my first actual attempt to put one of them on paper.
This is supposed to be a multiple chapter story but I don't really know where it will end or if I should even continue writing it, so if you do survive until the end of the prologue please let me know what you think!
This is set after 2x07 of The Originals and but after TVD 6x09 and goes partially AU from then on. It will eventually be Klaroline, the characters just need to deal with some personal stuff first!
No Beta, so all the mistakes are mine, feel free to point them out.
DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing, everything belongs to The CW, I'm just using their characters to have a bit of fun!
Enjoy!
Prologue
wolf Pride
…I now begin from the middle, for the light that shone on the beginning has long since faded, and that of the ending has yet to be lit…
The first thing he became aware of, as he slowly regained his senses, was that he was breathing.
And breathing seemed like an unbearable torture he couldn't stop enduring.
Bones, muscles, skin, organs. He could swear that every cell in his body had been set on fire and then frozen solid. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, each beat striking new life through his aching limbs, increasing the pain tenfold in doing so.
I am alive
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that the memories of the past day started invading his vision, replaying themselves behind his closed eyelids like a nightmare brought to life and projected on a screen.
His body when suddenly numb. Physical discomfort become nothing as his emotions took hold of him once again.
Never had he felt pain so intense. Never had he experienced an anguish so potent, so deep. No, to experience such agony was something he had never even fathomed possible.
What had he done? Had he really been so blind? How?
Anger and self loathing surged through him. He deserved this pain. He deserved worse, much, much worse.
As tears begin streaming down his face he suddenly wished he could drown in them. Wouldn't that be a apt punishment for his sins?
He who had watched his son shed secret tears for a thousand years, wishing he could wipe them away, cursing his phantom nature for preventing him from closing his arms around his child and holding him close to his (now beating) heart.
He had blamed Mikael then. And Esther. And Finn and Elijah. Even Kol and Rebekkah. Everyone.
The man that had mercilessly crushed his son"s spirit with spite and violence, the mother that had failed to protect and love him as he deserved with reserve and indifference, the elder brothers who had stood aside and not at his side as he was pushed beyond the limits of human endurance time and time again. The younger siblings that had naively taken advantage of one that would go to the ends of the world and back for anyone that showed him even a hint, just a hint, of possible affection.
But never himself.
He, the father that had not come for him, that had remained hidden in the shadows cast by the full moon while his son was left to believe that each new day would bring nothing but a new depth of sorrow. The coward that had not found it in himself to admit his shortcomings and swallow his pride, to rescue his own flesh and blood.
Somewhere along the line he had convinced himself that leaving him there had been the right choice. That some day his son would awaken his true nature and come and find him on his own, and somehow this would make the past go away, heal his wounds and set everything right. That the only reason he had become this monstrous shadow of himself was the curse of vampirism that his mother had cast upon him.
Oh, how wrong he had been. How utterly and ashamedly in denial.
He opened his eyes, blinking away the remaining tears and allowing his vision to adjust. Fighting back the urge to pass out, he sat up slowly, studying his surroundings. A fire had been lit and was now bathing the small room with warmth and light from the fireplace across the room. Groaning he tried to get up and stand on his feet, holding on to the bed post for support, but fell back on to the bed.
She was by his side in a flash.
"Take it easy there, tiger" - said the woman. She sounded as exhausted as he felt.
Ansel shook his head, tears threatening to spill again. She took his hans in hers and sat beside him on the bed. There was so much he wanted to say. He gave himself a few seconds to find his voice, but it seemed to have vanished, along with his soul. He felt hollow, were it not for the wrenching guilt that was raging a storm in his heart.
"It"s ok…" - she said - "…everything is going to be ok, I promise. I know you are in pain right now, you just came back from the dead, AGAIN, and it can be traumatic for the body. Just keep breathing and try to relax. Your werewolf healing will do the rest."
Those words were meant to comfort him, he knew that, but he couldn't bear the kindness in them.
"My son killed me" - he whispered.
"I know" - she sighed - "I always knew he would."
She held his gaze. He couldn't bear the look of understanding she bestowed upon him. He didn't deserve compassion. He stood up to get away from her, trembling on his stiff legs, only to collapse on the armchair next to the bed whimpering in pain. The pain gradually eased back into a light sting. She waited for him to continue, hands clasped in front of her, eyes to the ground.
"I failed him." Ansel admitted in a hoarse voice, his gaze fixed on the fire, not really seeing.
"I am sorry you had to go through that." - She paused and took a deep breath before letting out a small, unhappy laugh. - "So much for wolf pride, uh?"
The attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably. He looked at her, her features worn and sad, strained by having the weight of the world balanced on her shoulders.
Had he listened to her the first time, had he swallowed his pride, letting go of those stiff and dated traditions that no longer belonged to this world…if only…
Closing his eyes for a moment he allowed his memories to wander back to their first meeting, three months ago.
His lips twitched, the thought almost made him smile…
Yes - he thought - wolf pride indeed…
*** Flash Back - Three Months Ago ***
Adjusting to this new era hadn't been a struggle as much as he had expected. Granted, he had watched the changes of time from the Other Side for a millennium, so he was up to date, so to speak, with the workings of technology, modern clothing and the such, but being little more than a spirit stuck in an everlasting limbo hadn't really given him a chance to get any firsthand experience with any of that. Even in the seclusion of a forest one could not be completely free from these things nowadays.
Still, so far he had managed better than he thought he would when, over a month ago, upon realizing that he was once again in the world of the living, he had taken his first real breath in over a thousand years. He had been disoriented at first, a million different sensations had gone through him and it had taken a full day before the truth of his return had dawned on him.
Only hours before he had been standing by the crib of his new born grandchild, looking down on that tiny bundle of covers with awed expression and a loving smile.
It wasn't the fleeting ray of hope he had often felt while watching his son living some rare moment of peace, nor the brief relief that had washed over him when he had witnessed Nicklaus" mate finally, finally, give in to those feelings that she had smothered and crushed deep inside her undead heart. Those blessed but, oh, far too short hours during which he though his son would never be alone again.
No, this was pure, unchallenged happiness. A deep sense of pride and joy that blossomed in seeing the same feelings reflected on his son's face as he held his daughter in his arms.
That was the last thing he remembered, before waking up with a strangled cry, alone, in the middle of nowhere.
He was at no loss to understand who had done this. Only Esther, his long lost love, would have had the power, or a reason, to bring him back. But he also knew that she was far from being the woman he had fallen so deeply for al those years ago, and that her motives couldn't have been neither pure nor selfless.
Which is why, although every bone in his body, every fiber of his very soul, had been screaming at him to go, run, and find his son, see him with real eyes, touch him, hold him…he had not.
He quenched his deep rooted need for companionship by saving and mentoring Jackson, a young werewolf he had found deep in the bayou, barely alive after having been betrayed by his pack and left for dead.
He saw much of the man Nicklaus could have been in him.
His knowledge of werewolf traditions was limited and fragmented, but Jackson had the keen instinct of an alpha, and immediately sensed, and consequently submitted to, Ansel"s seniority and experience.
Even when, after only a few days from his return, the rumors reached him of what had transpired on that fateful night when, as Ansel soon learned, he had lost his grandchild to the wretchedness of corrupted wolves and soulless witches, he did not make his move.
His son was a wolf after all.
He would find him, he was sure of it. He must feel the call of his own blood, even through the deepest of sorrows, it was in every wolf's nature to answer to it.
Yes, his son would come to him, when the time was right, just as he had al those years ago. And this time the Destroyer would not stand in their way, he was no more. A tight smile graced his lips.
And so he waited.
The sound of broken twigs and crunching leaves show him out of his thoughts. Jackson was sleeping, snoring loudly inside the cabin behind him. He stood up, quickly reaching for his bow and aiming an arrow towards the noise. Whom ever it was clearly had no idea how to move in the woods.
The steps were light and quick, closing in fast. His grip tightened around the weapon, ready to strike…then suddenly the bow was gone, thrown upwards and into the air as if pulled away by some unknown force.
Magic. Witch. Esther? No…This smell did not belong to her, he would have recognized it anywhere, it was someone else…but then who…
"I mean you no harm…" - She said, as she appeared from behind a tree.
She was young, perhaps in her late twenties. Her black, tight jeans were incased in black leather boots, her white blouse was sleeveless and followed the shape of her body. He studied her.
She wore jewelry but not to excess. Her long brown hair was tied back in a messy bun, with only a few stray locks framing her face, revealing her green eyes and delicate features. Pleasing but not sharp, simple yet incredibly captivating. She looked almost harmless. Almost.
His senses were sharp, and though her appearance might have fooled a human or a lesser wolf, he could feel the power emanating from her. He knew better.
"Your kind is not welcome here, witch." - He responded. - "Leave. NOW."
Her eyes never wavered, she made no move to leave. He stepped forward, grabbing the knife he had left on the near by chair. She didn't move, didn't even flinch as he suddenly ran towards her and placed the blade at her throat, growling angrily at her lack of response.
"I said…LEAVE" - he said in a menacing whisper - "Before I change my mind and…"
"Sorry, but I can"t do that" - she spoke, interrupting what would have been a well rehearsed threat, looking directly into his eyes. - "Your son Nicklaus and his siblings are in grave danger. I need your help to save them…"
He pressed his blade harder against her skin, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity, anger and mistrust.
Does she know? How?
Only Esther knew about his return, and he would not let anyone, not even her, use him against his son, let alone a stranger.
"I have no children. I have no son." - He denied, not allowing his voice to betray his emotions
The huff of a frustrated laugh escaped her lips, before she spoke again.
"Lying won"t do you any good with me, Ansel, son of Hakon, Alpha of the North East Atlantic Clan. You are the long dead lover of Esther Mikealson, father of Nicklaus Mikealson, the Original Hybrid. As I said, your son and his siblings are in trouble, so if you are done with the neanderthal act we can move on to the part where I tell you what we need to do to save them…"
He dropped his knife, startled by her words, and took a step back.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Astra." - he gasped at the name, a distant memory returning, hitting him with the force of a tidal wave, and she smiled. - "We have a lot to talk about…"
The woman kept talking. Each word that pure out of her mouth only unsettled him more.
It couldn't be true, could it? It had to be a joke. The sick plan of a deranged mind. Lies made up to lure him in some twisted web of deceit…he had known for some time now that Esther was not the woman he thought she was…but this? No, it couldn't be.
Yet this woman seemed so genuine, so passionate in her advocacy, her heartbeat steady, no signs of agitation other than a veil of hidden anger towards the woman he had once called his love.
At some point during her speech, he had sat down, his legs no longer able to support him.
He barely registered it when she sat on the ground, across from him. In between them the small fire he had started earlier was slowly fading into ashes. She was silent now, her tale suspended in mid air, awaiting his response. Probably wanting to judge his reaction before asking him whatever it is that she needed him to do. He tried to regain control of his wandering thoughts.
"You have to go to him. Now, before it's too late" - she said.
This shook him back to reality. Out of all the things that she had said, this was the only one he fully registered, and also the only one he would never accept. The only one he already had an answer for.
"No. He will come to me" - he countered - "When the time is right he will find me."
"Did you hear the 15 minutes of monologue I just ranted out or did you think it was a damned soliloquy?" - she exclaimed in a hushed, incredulous tone.
She looked confused and astonished.
"Tradition demands that HE come to me."
"But he doesn't even know you are alive! He thinks you are dead, and he knows nothing of your traditions!"
"He will answer the call of his blood. He will feel it on the next turning. I will not defy the traditions of my ancestors. Wolves are creatures of pride, my dear." - As he spoke he turned and looked at her, staring directly in those deep, green eyes. She knew nothing of the workings of a werewolf.
On the contrary, he was not only a born alpha, he was also the keeper of the knowledge and traditions of his people. He knew how it had to be. And nothing would change his mind.
"Are you saying that you won"t do anything? That you"ll just stand there and do NOTHING? After all I told you?"
"I will help you, I give you my word that if all you said is true you will find an ally in me. I will convince him of what must be done, but not before he comes to me. This is how it must be between me and him. You cannot understand witch. These are the laws of the wolves, our pride and our legacy."
She held his gaze and must have read the seriousness of his statement in his eyes. She stood up, agitated and uneasy, clearly this as not the outcome she had foreseen. He thought he would have to fight to get her to leave, he opened his mouth to speak again but stopped.
Out of nowhere she let ought a strangled laugh and her demeanor changed completely. While shaking her head she suddenly smiled. When she spoke she sounded almost like a disappointed parent.
"You know, somehow I knew you were not going to take the easy path ahead. I guess I just can"t help my self from hoping for the best…"
He frowned, surprised. She was giving up too easily, and if Esther had taught him anything, was that witches never gave up. She must have something up her sleeve.
"My decision is final." - he repeated. Watching with weary eyes the young witch he waited for her next move.
Yet she looked resigned. After taking a few, deep breaths she reached in the pockets of her jeans and said:
"Take this at least." - she opened her hand to show him a necklace of black cord with a small, deep red stone hanging from it. - "It will allow you to see what you are blind to, and undo the undoable."
This was it.
He considered his options, if he didn't take what she offered, she would probably never leave, but on the other hand her riddle could hide many meanings, not all of them good.
But if her words earlier were sincere, and he had seen no indication of her lying to him, then her only interest was to stop HER, not harm him or his son.
He took the pendant from her hand and put it on.
"I do not understand your riddles, but I will wear this if it will end the argument."
Her expression softened a little. From inside the cabin Jackson gave a loud snore, and they both smirked at the sound.
"Well then, I guess that is my cue to leave. Get some sleep, and believe me, my riddles will make sense soon…I"ll be seeing you, Ansel."
He said nothing and watched her go. Before she was out of sight she stopped and turned back.
She looked at him then, a small smile spreading on her face.
"Tomorrow is a full moon…trust your instincts Alpha, and you will find that sometimes the people we love never really leave us" - she said, and walked away into the night, leaving an ever more confused Ansel to his thoughts.
*** End of Flash Back ***
If only he had listened then!
Now he understood what the riddle had meant. The moment Nicklaus had slashed him, he felt a strange surge of energy go through him. He felt pain, but not the physical kind, and not his own.
The pendant had somehow connected him to his son, soul to soul, and he felt what he felt, saw what he saw.
Insurmountable anger at his father, for allowing him to suffer as a child.
Unprecedented hope, in the idea that one of his parents saw in him more than a monster.
Unbearable guilt, for the act he was committing, for betraying the trust of the only man that had loved him unconditionally.
Unending regret, for he was relinquishing his greatest desire, love, for another.
Determination to keep his caught safe.
Earth-shattering fear, that she had somehow passed the point of no return and had finally become the monster everyone saw in him.
Incredulity, for he not even he had been sure that he could do this, slay the only blood.
And more, feelings so deep and jumbled he could not put a name to them.
In that moment he knew. He should have done for his son what he was doing for his daughter. He had valued pride over his own blood, and this…this was his punishment.
To die at the hands of the person he loved the most.
Only he was not dead.
He now realized that the pendant had been his salvation and had undone what Nicklaus had done. Somehow, it had given him insight into the deepest wounds that his son harbored in his heart and had blocked his passage to the land of the dead and kept him amongst the living.
"Are you ready to listen now?" - said she - "Time is running short and I will need your help if we are to save them."
He opened his eyes.
Funny, he didn't remember closing them. The healing process was almost over, he could feel his strength returning. A new form of determination, one similar to what he had felt in his son, arose in him.
He had failed twice already. Never again.
"What would you have me do?"
If the tired smile on Astra"s face was any indication, there was much to be done.
So, what do you think? Should I go on or should I hang my pen and paper to the wall and walk away?
Please review and be as critical as you will!
Thanks!