Chapter 10.
1.
The great expanse of the Mississippi River had taken on a morose grey and murky appearance, as its choppy waters mimicked the tempestuous mood of the sky high above it. The violent thunder and lightening that had accompanied the storm from the night before had finally ceased waging war on the New Orleans skyline in the early hours of the morning, leaving just the torrential rain to continue falling in their wake.
And fall it did.
Relentlessly, without a single break nor pause for breath since it had begun lashing down upon the city nearly twenty-four hours earlier. The local news station, WDSU, had been the first to send their weather team out onto the streets as first light had broken. They had proceeded to report on how the torrents of water running along every square inch of the city had already caused major disruption for both local and tourist early-risers alike, who had been trying to travel to and from the Big Easy. By the time midday had come around, most of the businesses in the city's various quarters and wards had decided to pack up shop for the day – boarding up entranceways and windows as they prepared to ride out the worst of the storm.
The wolf had not actually seen any of the weather reports that had been streaming almost constantly on the local tv stations over the course of the day - but she did not need some well-spoken reporter in dressed in a bright yellow raincoat and dramatically stood outside in the rain, to tell her how long the storm was going to continue its miserable campaign over their city.
For even if the rain was to suddenly gave way to brilliant blue skies and sunshine in the next few minutes, Keelin knew that her own world would remain unsettled and turbulent until the moment her lover was back home, and safe in her arms.
"Arrrrrgh!"
A loud, tortured scream echoed out and bounced off the tall walls of the dock-side warehouse, inside of which the wolf currently stood as she stared out at the rain that continued to cry into the Mississippi river.
It was certainly not the first shriek of pain that had she had heard bellow out that day, as the passing hours taunted and mocked their utter lack of progression. And it most probably would not be the last, given how full of rage and fury the Mikaelson hybrid currently was.
Glancing back over her shoulder, Keelin's tired eyes quickly assessed the numerous injuries now littering the body of the vampire slumped on his knees in front of Klaus. Blood was pouring freely from the creature's mouth onto the cold concrete floor, no doubt the result of yet another blow having been delivered to its face by the maddened hybrid. She now also counted three wooden steaks protruding out of the man's body at various places – one more than the last time she had glanced back to check on the progression of the violent interrogation.
One of the vampire's eyes had swollen shut, the tissue around it rapidly turning deep shades of red and purple, whilst it's other roamed wildly back and forth, reeling from the pain it was being made to suffer.
Not that she cared in the slightest about the thug's anguish. Her curiosity simply lay in figuring out how much more time they should afford on this particular piece of vermin, before they gave up and moved on to try and find the next.
Klaus had already allowed this specific undead biker to live longer than the other two leather clad vampires they had already tried to extract information out of. The first - back on the rain-slick cobbles of a narrow alleyway behind Rousseau's - had not even managed to finish snarling out his disgust for the Mikaelson family, before Klaus had viciously beheaded the fellow with one powerful swipe of his hand. As the remainder of its body had slumped down to the ground, Keelin had been about to point out to the hybrid that they would never learn the whereabouts of Freya's location if he didn't even ask their captives a single question – but one quick flash of Klaus's fiery amber eyes in her direction had been enough to quash that remark before it had made it out of her mouth.
The second of the muscular brutes that they then managed to track down a few hours later - harassing a young woman as she had been trying to board up the front of her shop in the Ninth Ward - had not faired much longer than his dead comrade. After Klaus had thrown the creature - who had been twice the size of the hybrid, both in height and weight – through the wood covered window of the store, he had proceeded to punch his hand through the vampire's chest and grip harshly onto it's rapidly beating heart. The unwashed lout had been screaming out his second attempt at denying having any knowledge of Freya's whereabouts, or of the bearded men who had taken her, when Klaus had suddenly roared angrily and ripped his hand out of the thug's chest – a bloody heart still clasped tightly in the hybrids fingers.
Freya had told her many a time in the past of the vast strength that hybrid held within him, usually when she had been describing how brutal one of Klaus's tantrums could turn if someone or something threatened his family. But the wolf had not truly appreciated just how inhumane the hybrid could be with that strength, until witnessing it in all of its frightening glory several times this day already.
Until she had had to tell him that his oldest sister had been violently abducted by an unknown enemy.
Turning her head back towards the warehouse's open doorway, Keelin's ears barely registered the continued screams of the tortured vampire as her troubled mind wandered back to the events that had transpired on the evening before – after her fight with the hoard of leather jacketed un-dead vermin had come to an end.
It had taken longer than she had expected for an Ambulance to arrive at the bloody scene on Bourbon St, after she had placed the emergency call - and her already battle-weary arms and shoulders had been close to the point of seizing-up completely by the time one of the paramedics had thankfully taken over administering CPR to Alanna. The young wolf's heart had stopped beating only a few seconds after she had lost consciousness, and Keelin had still not been able to get it working again of its own accord by the time the medics had arrived.
The emergency response team had quickly managed to intubate the wolf and start defibrillation within a few seconds of attending the scene - and by the time they had loaded her into the back of their truck and set off for St Theaorda's Emergency Clinic with the vehicles blues-and-twos blaring into the stormy night, Alanna's heart had been stuttering along at an unsteady rhythm of its own accord.
Keelin had easily been able to read the surprise on the emergency crews faces when she had declined the offer to ride with them to the clinic. The two paramedics knew her professionally from their interactions at St Theadora's, and had assumed that the doctor would want to continue working on the young woman's case when they arrived at the E.R. Sadly however, Keelin had other pressing matters that had needed attending to without any further delay - and although it had pained her to watch the wolf be driven away with her life hanging in the balance, the primal urge to find and rescue her mate was absolute.
It had taken just one look at her rain soaked, wounded body – blood stained clothes ripped beyond repair and hanging off her in tatters thanks to an unplanned shift between forms – for Rebekah and Hayley to quickly abandon their tumblers of bourbon and be at the wolf's side in a supernatural blur of speed before she had even finished making it through the Compound's doorway. The wolf had barely managed to assure the two women that she was not in need of their healing aid before Klaus and Elijah had joined them – the duo having sped into the Courtyard as soon as they had smelt the blood that coated her body.
Had her visit to the Mikaelson home been under any other circumstances, Keelin might have been nervous – worried even – by her first encounter with Klaus since she and his sister had gotten engaged.
Especially given the gravity of the news that she had been there to deliver.
But the harrowing fear of never seeing her fiancé alive again – of what might be being done to her love with the passing of every wasted second – far outweighed any self-preservation that the wolf had for her own well-being.
Rebekah had sped off up to her bedroom to acquire fresh, un-ripped clothes for the wolf, as Keelin hurriedly conveyed the details of her and Freya's confrontation with the three strange Biker's and their vampire thug's.
In hind-sight - as she stood still listening to the continued tortured screams of the vampire being brutalised in the dock-side warehouse - Keelin realised that she should have probably foreseen the male hybrid's reaction to the news that his sister had been attacked and abducted whilst in the wolf's company.
Expected it even.
But as she had struggled against the cold stone of one of the courtyards many pillars, the air being choked out of her lungs by the Mikaelson hybrid as his snarling face and blazing eyes had been just mere millimetres from her own – Keelin had still managed to be shocked by the sheer ferociousness of Klaus's sudden attack upon her.
It had taken the combined strength and efforts of both Hayley and Elijah to prise the hybrids hands from around her throat, and then the added presence of Rebekah – who had reappeared in the courtyard upon hearing the wolf's choking noises – to calm Freya's enraged brother long enough for Keelin to plead her innocence in the witch's current predicament.
It of course had not helped matters that she had reeked not only of the various slain vampires whose blood had covered her torn clothes, but also of the distinct scent markers that had belonged to the Neivera wolf pack – resulting in the wolf having to defend her actions of concealing Alanna's whereabouts over the past 12 months for the second time that evening.
Keelin had silently thanked every god under the sun for Hayley's presence in the Mikaelson compound as she had finished explaining Alanna's involvement in the evening's events – for had the Wolf Queen not been there to swiftly block Klaus's lunge to rip her heart out of her chest, the wolf doubted that she would now be stood here, in one of the numerous warehouses that lined the Port of New Orleans dockside, reminiscing about the confrontation.
iIf Klaus had mistrusted her before last night's events, it was nothing compared to how much he probably loathed her involvement in his oldest sister's life now!/i
After much animated cursing, and vehement threats to wipe both her and Alanna's existences from the face of the earth, Klaus's rage was finally subdued by his siblings long enough for them all to begin formulating a plan of action to try and locate their missing sister, and bring those responsible for her abduction to a bloody end.
None of them had known where the new biker-gang in town originated from, or where their current location could be found, so it was agreed that they would split up and each take on a different task and section of the city, in an attempt to cover more ground in a shorter period of time. Given how easily the three bearded bikers had overpowered Freya, and Keelin's suspicion that her lover's magic was presently malfunctioning, all of them had agreed unanimously on one thing – the chances of finding the eldest Mikaelson alive and unharmed were rapidly growing bleaker with each passing minute.
Given her extensive history of getting her own way when it came to the King of New Orleans, Rebekah had agreed to head over to Marcel's apartment to try and recruit both him and his vampire troop to their plight. Elijah had readily volunteered to go and speak with the Witch Regent, Tobias, to see if he could persuade the city's Wiccan faction to help locate one of their own through the use of magic. They had all known that it was a long shot - given the turbulent and often violent history between the Mikaelson family and the witches of New Orleans. But Elijah had been investing a lot of time trying to build a positive relationship with the Regent since the fellow had been sworn in after Vincent's unfortunate death the year before - and he was confident that he could at least persuade the man into helping them locate their missing sister, if not the coven themselves.
Hayley had declared that she would rouse Hope from her evening's slumber, and take the youngster to stay with Mary in the Bayou for a while – freeing the Wolf Queen up to commence her own search for any signs of the biker-gang in the marshlands on the outskirts of the city. Vampires were not particularly known to use the Bayou as a place to lie-low, given the fact that the land was known to harbour many a wolf looking to remain secluded from the hustle and bustle of city life. But as the leather-clad gang appeared to not originally be from New Orleans, there was a chance that they did not know of the Bayou's greater than normal wolf population.
Or simply did not care, if they did.
When Keelin had finally voiced her own plans to begin a search of the French Quarter and its surrounding Wards to see if she could pick up on the scent of the strange new vampire's and find one of them alive to question, Klaus had immediately declared that he would be joining her, as he had no plans on letting the Malraux wolf out of his sights until his sister had been found alive and well.
He had of course then added that should Freya not be found still breathing, or should a single hair on his sister's head have been harmed by the creatures that had taken her - he would end Keelin's life in a way so painful, it would make the god of death herself wither in horror.
iAnd the wolf did not for one second doubt that he would make good on that promise too!/i
Both Hayley and Rebekah had loudly protested the idea at the time, stating that Klaus would be better off conducting his own search in the city for any sign of Freya's whereabouts, so that more ground could be covered in less time. But the immortal hybrid had been resolute in his decision to not let Keelin out of his sight, and could not be dissuaded from that notion no matter how hard his family had tried.
In the end it had been Elijah who had pointed out that Klaus's insistence on keeping a close eye on Keelin whilst they searched to find clues to Freya's whereabouts, was at least, a damn sight better than the hybrids earlier urge to splay the wolf's innards around the courtyard for all to see.
iNone of them - including herself - had been able to disagree with that logic!/i
And so here they now were – nearly twenty-four hours and several dead vampires later, and still no closer to knowing of Freya's whereabouts, or any details about the bearded bikers who had taken her.
Keelin let out a weary sigh into the cold air of the warehouse – rolling her head from side-to-side to try and ease some of the tension currently residing in her neck.
Her whole body had begun aching from head-to-toe earlier that morning, and despite the accelerated healing advantage that came hand-in-hand with being a wolf, her muscles had continued seizing up and complaining as the miserable rainy day had progressed.
She supposed - in what was no doubt some ironic twist of the universe – that her body's refusal to heal as quickly as usual was her inner-wolf's way of mimicking the despair and worry that her human mind was currently wallowing in.
iPlease…..please be ok baby,/i she thought to herself - a single tear escaping from her tired eyes as they remained fixed on the waters of the vast river outside of the warehouse.
"Well that was another waste of bloody time!" Klaus's voice suddenly boomed out angrily beside her – abruptly pulling the wolf out of her thoughts. "The pathetic fool's inane rambling contained nothing but pleas for mercy, and claims to have no knowledge of these bearded bikers that you profess took my sister!"
Ignoring the hybrids poorly veiled mistrust, Keelin turned her head to look back at where the tortured vampire lay motionless on the warehouse floor – its head now resting several meters away from the body that it had been once been attached to.
Turning back to face the warehouse doorway once more, Keelin began rubbing her aching temples in a circular motion with her hands.
"They're lying! They have to be! All of the vampires that we have interrogated today have had the same weird scent as those who attacked us last night. They're part of the same group….I know it!"
"And are you quite sure it is them who are distorting the truth – and not yourself?!"
Anger flashed yellow in her eyes as Keelin rounded on the hybrid – her lips pulled back into a snarl as she growled out her irritation towards him.
"I'm getting pretty damn sick of your sly accusations Klaus!"
The hybrid's own eyes quickly flashed with blazing amber as he took a quick step closer to Keelin – breeching her personal space.
"Oh I make no attempt to hide my true meaning, wolf!" Klaus snarled in her face. "You have caused nothing but trouble for my family since you waltzed into Freya's life. First my daughter was injured by your own claws, and now my sister is missing - quite possibly dead! And if I find out that you have had anything to do with that, then so help me I will….."
"What Klaus?" she shouted - frustration and worry finally shattering what little hold on her temper she had had left. "You'll what? Kill me? String me up by my insides and behead me like you do any other being that doesn't bow down to your will?! Believe me Klaus, if we do not find Freya alive I will happily let you end my life in whatever horrific and painful way you see fit. Because you're right!"
Tears began to run down her face, as she continued to shout in the volatile hybrid's face.
"Christ, do you think that I don't agree with you!? You're right! I am to blame! I am to blame for Hope's injuries a year ago. If I had been a better person….a stronger wolf….then I might have been able to resist Hatch's control. Been able to stop his attempt on your daughter's life! And if I had been a better fighter, or a more savage foe, then yes – Freya would no doubt be up in her Bell Tower right now obsessing over some god damned spell, instead of….of…"
Her words tailed off as thick emotion coated her throat.
Dropping her tear-filled eyes away from the hybrid in front of her, Keelin let out a heart felt sob into the space between them.
"I love her Klaus…..I love her with every fibre of my being! And if she is hurt, or…..or worse because I failed to stop those bastards from taking her, then I….I….."
A hand was suddenly on her shoulder – not roughly or in a threatening manner as she might have expected from the hybrid, given the outburst and spittle laced words that she had just subjected him to. But gentle, and lenient in its presence instead.
Comforting, almost.
"We will find her Keelin!"
The wolf looked up to meet the eyes of her fiancé's brother – their blue hues now softer in appearance, despite the anger and worry that she could sense still lurking behind them.
"Freya is a Mikaelson - and we Mikaelson's are formidable forces of nature to be reckoned with! If I know my sister, there won't be much left of the foolish tyrants that took her by the time she's finished with them. It can be said that her temper has been known to rival that of my own!"
"Ha!" the wolf huffed, wiping at the tears that remained on her face with a sleeve of the grey top that Rebekah had lent her. "Now that I know from first-hand experience!"
A rare genuine smile broke across the hybrid's face, as his hand dropped away from her shoulder.
"Come – let us continue in our efforts. There are still a few hours left before sundown when we agreed to meet with the others and discuss their findings."
Nodding her head, Keelin silently thanked the hybrid for his unexpected words as she gathered her things to leave the warehouse.
iShe only hoped that the rest of the Mikaelson family had been having better luck than they had./i
2.
Darkness.
Its omnipotent presence had become near stifling as it wrapped around the witch as she remained hanging in the position that she had awoken in. The suffocating black blanket of obscurity was so dominant over her surroundings, so absolute, that she was no longer able tell whether her eyes were open or closed as she waited on her captors revealing themselves.
Freya had long since lost track of how long it had been since she had regained consciousness in this place – wherever this place might actually be. The obsidian cocoon of darkness pressing against all of her senses had quickly robbed her mind of the ability to keep track of the minutes as they ticked by. Hours, days, weeks – she could have been bound in her current predicament for months for all she knew, as the world continued steadily on without her.
And bound she was.
The witch had lost track of the number of times that she had attempted to free her hands from the cold metal shackles that were wrapped tightly against the skin of her wrists. Skin that now felt so bloody and raw from struggling against the restraints that pinned her arms above her head, that Freya did not need any light or illumination to know that she was going to have some pretty severe scars should she eventually be freed.
If she was ever freed.
No-one had come to reveal themselves since she had first awoke with a pounding headache and throbbing shoulder – however long ago that had now been. No matter how hard she had struggled against the metallic bonds that wrapped around both her wrists and ankles, or how often she had shouted out into the bleak nothingness surrounding her, demanding to be let free and acknowledged - she had received no response or reaction. Not even a huffed breath or smug laugh had reached her ears, which might have suggested that her captors were present somewhere out in the darkness and taking some form of warped pleasure out of her escalating confusion.
Nothing.
iHad she simply been left here to rot? To die a slow and painful death of dehydration and malnutrition in this opaque corner of hell?/i
Cold damp stone continued to press unforgivingly against Freya's back, as she once again attempted to reach deep into her core and locate the magic that had lived within her for most of her life.
For as far back as she could remember, the raw Wiccan power that she had inherited from her mother at birth had hummed and vibrated through her veins – its presence the one constant in her otherwise turbulent and chaotic life.
As a youngster, barely old enough to stand on her own two feet, she had pictured it as some form of scary monster that lay hidden deep within her. One which would appear randomly when she least expected, to smash a plate, break a tool, or burn the soft straw that had lined her bed – much to her mother and fathers irritation.
During her teenage years spent at the mercy of her ruthless and unforgiving Aunt Dahlia, Freya had come to loath the power that constantly flowed through her body – seeing it as the reason for the involuntary separation from her family, and for the terrible atrocities that her Aunt would force her to commit.
The day that Dahlia had purged the witch's unborn baby from her womb, Freya had wanted to end it all - her life, the magic that continued to grow in power and lived in her core – everything. Her aunt's obsession with the "gift" that lived within her had destroyed everything good in her life. Everything she had worth living for.
It had not been until the witch had finally managed to break the curse forced upon her by Dahlia that she had learnt to see the true value of the power thrumming in her veins. The protection that it allowed her to provide her family with, and all of the ways that it enabled her to keep the numerous enemies of the Mikaelson clan at bay. Not to mention the aid it provided in helping Hope cope with her own magical gifts.
Freya knew that her magical power was the main contribution that she brought to the world – and the legacy that she would leave behind when the time came for her to pass onto the next life.
It made her who she was.
And now – here in this desolate place of bleak miserable nothingness – it appeared the one companion in life she had always been able to depend on, had finally abandoned her.
Nothing. There was just nothing there, as Freya once again desperately searched in the internal well that she had always envisioned her magic to dwell, deep within the very core of her being.
Only an empty dark void greeted the panicked probing tendrils of her mind – its utter hollowness seemingly joining forces with the misery of her physical surroundings to mock and taunt her.
i What was she without her magic? What use would she be to her family - a clan of powerful immortals that had no shortage of humans and monsters alike out to cause them harm. How could she ever hope to protect them if she was nothing but a lowly mortal? If she was just Human?
How could she protect Hope?
Protect Keelin? /i
The witch felt her eyes begin to fill tears as the last memory that she had of the wolf suddenly assailed her mind.
Keelin had literally thrown herself into the midst of several hulking, blood crazed vampires in an attempt to protect her. To save the witch from having her throat torn apart by sharp fangs, after her own magic had recoiled away from the confrontation – scurrying like a coward to hide somewhere in the far depths of her soul.
The hoard of un-dead had closed ranks around the wolf so quickly that Freya hadn't even had the chance to see Keelin had been successful in besting the first of the vampires she had lunged for.
And then that canine-like wail of pain that had pierced through Freya's heart – had that just been the Keelin being caught off-guard by a physical blow, or had it been more serious in nature.
iHad the wolf even survived the confrontation?! Was her lover now…..No! NO! She refused to think like that. Keelin was alive. She had to be!/i
The witch's head fell forwards as despair crashed another wave of misery over her - the motion causing shards of pain to shoot down her arms as the raw flesh of her tattered wrists pulled against her restraints once more.
Tears began to liberate themselves from her eyes as Freya's head hung low – not in reaction to the fresh wave of physical pain that continued to mercilessly knaw at her limbs, but instead in response to the memory of the last words she has spoken to the wolf.
They had been angry words.
Words born from a deep feeling of betrayal.
Keelin had lied to her! Kept secrets from her, and deceived her into believing that the last of the scheming Neivera wolves – Alanna – had long since run from the city of New Orleans. But that had been a lie – another lie that the wolf had told her. The two women had been meeting regularly, right under her nose and she had been completely blind to it. Unaware of their continued friendship – as Keelin as called it.
iHow could she have not known!?/i
The wolf had of course claimed that it was an innocent bond that continued to flourish between her and Alanna - nothing more than just one wolf trying to help out another. But Freya had seen them! She had seen them kiss at the carnival all those months ago, and then again in Lafitte's embraced in each-other's arms. Keelin had once more tried to claim her innocence, but the fact was she had seen them!
iHow was she meant to ever trust the wolf's words again, when Keelin had already admitted to deceiving the witch about so much over the past year?!/i
iIf she made it out of this predicament, this…incarceration, would she be returning home to a relationship full of love and trust? Or one that was now far too damaged by betrayal to be able to be fixed?/i
Freya's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the stark sound of metal scraping against metal filling the black void ahead of her. The witch quickly raised her head, leaning it against the wall behind her as the beating of her heart quickly increased in pace.
iWas that the sound of a key in a lock?/i
The warm, flickering glow of fire began to emerge several metres in front of her – its wavering orange and yellow tones causing the witch to scrunch her eyes shut in pain, despite the soft intensity of the light. Instinctively Freya tried to move a hand to rub away the stinging in her eyes – only for a loud cry of pain to burst out of her mouth as a result of the increased pressure of the metal restraint on her torn wrist.
"Listen to that brothers", a deep gravelly voice said, its volume painful to her ears after having been in complete silence. "Our guest is already screaming into the night, and we haven't even laid a hand on her yet!"
The rasped words were quickly followed by an echoing chorus of gruff laughter – indicating to the witch that she was now in the company of at least four to five others.
Before she'd even had chance to re-open her eyes, a large hand quickly gripped around her neck, its fingers instantly pressing down into her skin as a hot breath washed over her face.
"For someone who's meant to be a Mikaelson, you are disappointingly weak, witch!"
Bile rapidly rose in the back of Freya's throat as the rancid odour of stale beer and un-brushed teeth forced its way into her nostrils. Prising open her eyes, she blinked rapidly as the blurred outline of a bearded face completely filled her vision
"Back off Lief!" another deep voice called out, its tone swaddled in authority and seemingly less hostile in intent than the others she had heard so far. "Give her some space to breath!"
The face pressed close to hers let out a reeking huff of breath over her skin, before both it and the hand around her throat gradually pulled away.
Slowly her vision began to clear, bringing into focus seven large men all stood in a group before her – their various harsh faces highlighted by the flickering firelight being emitted from three large torch pyres that had now been brought to life along the walls of the room.
Risking a fleeting glance away from the men, Freya quickly tried to take in as much of her newly-illuminated surroundings as possible, to possibly aid in her escape should the opportunity arise.
The area appeared a lot smaller than the all-encompassing darkness had originally deceived her into believing. Rectangular in shape, its damp walls looked to have been constructed from large irregular shaped stones of varying colours – their smooth surfaces suggesting that they had originally been found near flowing water of some kind. The room's uneven ceiling was particularly low – so much so that the head of the tallest Biker stood facing her was only an inch or so from touching it. Its appearance was mundanely unremarkable, save for the presence of a large metal hook situated where it would normally be expected to find an electric light fitting.
iIt was probably a cellar"/i, the witch quickly thought to herself, i"given the dampness of its walls and low height…..but a cellar of what? A house? A public building? Judging by the condition and style of the stone around her, it had to be somewhere very old./i
Other than the looming bearded men and the torch pyres that were lighting the area, the only other thing that Freya could see situated the room was a rather non-descript looking wooden table, stood near the centre of the enclosed space. She could tell that there was something lay upon its surface, hidden under a dark red cloth - but the positioning of the bikers in front of the bench prevented her from getting a good idea of what it was.
"Freya Mikaelson!"
The witch's attention snapped back to the man stood in the middle of the group – the one whose voice carried with it a definite air of command, and to whom the others seemed to gather around. Despite the soft, diffused light being provided by the nearby torch flames, Freya could still clearly make out the colour of the man's bright blue eyes as they danced with fierce intensity.
"First born Viking child to Esther and Mikael Mikaelson, eldest sibling to five brothers and one sister, gifted with a particularly virulent strain of magic inherited from your mother's side of the family, and, most importantly….blessed with the simplistically short life span of a mortal human."
Freya raised an eyebrow towards the man.
"I'm not terribly sure you can call over a thousand years spent on this earth short", she rasped out, the witch's voice hoarse from her time spent shouting into the empty darkness that had been clawing at her skin until only minutes ago. "But you seem to have the rest of my number marked."
"Ah yes", the bearded man continued, "an unnatural lifespan being the result of a curse not too unlike the one bestowed upon my fellow Brethren and I. Only ours is far more of a gift, than it is burden."
One of the bikers stood to the left of the blue eyed man let out a low throaty huff, as though in disagreement with his companion's words. A quick flick of her eyes confirmed to Freya that it was the overweight bearded man whom she had seen both in Rousseau's, and when Keelin and her had been attacked – his hulking presence still managing to be overpowering despite now being surrounded by several other well built, muscular men.
"Whilst you seem to know all about me, I am afraid I am at a loss as to who you are – other than soon to be dead!"
Her choice of words caused a few of the bikers to let out rough gravelly sneers, their amusement at her bravado clearly apparent on their harsh faces. But the blue eyed man at the centre of the group remained stalwart, his features none changing in the flickering light.
"Of course, where are my manners!" he exclaimed, after the scoffs of the other bikers died down. "I am Halvar, only son born to Olaf and Astrid Olsen of the Volsung Clan, loyal subject and servant of the great Chieftain Magnus, and Chief Jarl of the Blood-bound Clan."
Freya's emerald eyes widened briefly at the information, before quickly returning to their normal appearance as she attempted to school her features.
"These," the man gestured to the other bikers gathered, all of whom had their smirking eyes locked upon her, "are my brethren in arms, and fellow members of the Blood-Bound clan."
iVikings….if what the bearded man was claiming was true, the seven of them were Viking born – just like she and her siblings! But if that was so, then it would make them…../i
"And to answer the question I can see burning in those pretty eyes of yours, witch", the group's leader continued, "yes - we are of similar age, you and I!"
"Well, at least I don't look a day over twenty five!" Freya quickly retorted, as her mind continued to reel. "You, on the other-hand, all look as though you've seen every damn one of those thousand years"
Whilst the witch's remarked earned her another rumble of low laughter from the group, the glare boring into her from their now identified leader only seemed to grow in intensity as his mouth tightened into a thin line.
iAs a young child, she had listened to many tales from her father of his time spent fighting alongside the various clans of his homeland, in what would later become known as The Battle of Maldon. The clan leaders, or Jarls as they had been known back then, had been renowned amongst her people for their unforgiving ferociousness on the battlefield, and brute force and accuracy when wielding their axes and swords. If these seven leather clad men were indeed who they claimed to be – then even Klaus would struggle best them in a match of pure strength alone./i
"Enough with the idle chatter Halvar!" another of the bikers growled, drawing Freya's attention as she recognised him from their scuffle on Bourbon St. "Tell the wench what we need of her and let this be done!"
Despite the deep gruffness of his voice, she noted that the man who had spoken looked younger than the rest of those gathered in front of her. Unlike his companions, his face was clean shaven and his hair actually looked to have seen the business end of a brush within the last century. High cheekbones gracefully defined his face, with piercing green eyes that were similar in colour to her own being his crowning feature.
Were it not for the malice intent shining clear in the emerald gaze locked upon her, Freya would have gone as far to call the man handsome – good looking even.
"Like what you see sweetheart?!", the beardless biker sneered when he realised the witch's attention had lingered upon him. "Want me to show you exactly what…."
"That's enough Fiske!", Halvar boomed, his voice managing to fill the whole room despite its volume remaining steady.
"It doesn't matter what you want from me," she rasped, her eyes fixed back on the clan leader, "as you will all be dead soon enough!"
The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the clan leader's mouth, as he made to take a step closer to her.
"Brave words from a witch who's lost her power, wouldn't you say?" Halvar said, as his eyes appeared to bore into her very core to see the empty well where her magic usually dwelled.
Freya tried to reach down for her power once again - more from instinct than hope that she might actually find it there, suddenly reappeared after its ill-timed game of hide-and-seek. She knew it was missing. Could feel its absence with every breath drawn into her lungs - like a piece of her anatomy had been amputated, leaving only loss and mourning in its wake.
"Oh, I wouldn't despair too much witch", the blue-eyed biker continued, as if sensing her inner turmoil. "Your magic's absence will not be permanent. I'm afraid it is just an unfortunate side-effect of being in the presence of my brethren and I…..or fortunate, depending on whose perspective you see it from!"
If the man noted the surprise in her eyes, he did not let on as he continued to speak.
"It will return once you are back amongst your loved ones. Of course…..whether you are returned to them alive or dead, will all depend on your willingness to aid us in our plight!"
"Aid you?!" she croaked, choking down on a cry of pain thanks to the restraints around her wrists continuing their assault on her flesh as she tried to wriggle free of their hold once more. "You think that chaining me to a wall after attacking and abducting me is somehow going to make me want to aid you!?"
A small amused huff left Halvar's mouth, before he motioned to the witch's wrists and ankles with a hand.
"I'll admit that our methods may seem a little….crass, considering your mortal lack of power in our presence. But if there is one thing that we Jarl's have observed over the many years of our existence, it is that the creature who is foolish enough to underestimate the Mikaelson family, is always the creature who ends up dying a horribly painful death at their hands."
Anger twisted her mouth into a snarl, despite the intensifying throb radiating down her arms.
"And so, to the reason we are having this little chat." Halvar continued, ignoring her scowling features. "There is something that we require from your family, to aid us in completing our purpose for being here in this damned city. And whilst I have no doubt that we could easily best your brothers and sister in straight up face-to-face combat, we have neither the time nor inclination to plan an effective assault upon your family. Which is where you come in, girl!"
Halvar began to pace back and forth in front of her as he spoke, some of his companions tracking the motion with their eyes, whilst others kept their attention fixed intently on the witch.
"You will obtain what we need from each of your siblings, and deliver it to us - without them discovering what you have taken, or learning of our existence. A simple task for someone of your….talents, shall we say. You would then, of course, be free to return to your pathetic mortal life, and go about your business as usual!"
Freya scoffed at the biker's words as he finished speaking.
"You must be an even bigger fool than you look, to think that I won't have my brother's snap your necks the second I get out of here!"
"I told you this was a gods damned waste of our time, Halvar," snarled the overbearing bearded biker to the clan leader's side. "Let us tear her open and be done with this! I'm sure having their sister's innards delivered to their front door will send a clear enough message to the Original scum!"
She watched on as Halvar appeared to struggle to reign in his anger at his companions words – the biker taking a few deep breaths before proceeding to speak once more.
iThere was clear animosity between the brothers, as Halvar had described them all to be. Information she should possibly store for later – should she survive long enough to see a later that was. /i
"Oh you will aid us, Freya Mikaelson - daughter of Mikael. For as my brother Colborn has so perfectly demonstrated, I do not need you to like me to have you do my will. Nor do I need you to agree with our plight."
Halvar motioned with a hand towards another of the bearded men, whom Freya now watched as he handed a small vial to the clan leader before retaking his place amongst in the group of bikers.
"This," Halvar stated, holding the small container between his thumb and forefinger as he displayed it to Freya, "is a sample of my blood. And thanks to the blood-bond bestowed upon the seven of us by our great Master, it grants me - and me alone - control over any human mortal who ingests it."
The witch heard another grunt of discontent come from the biker whom Halvar had referred to as Colborn.
"Not complete control of course," Halvar continued as he ignored the other Jarls displeasure. "Our Lords great power is unfortunately somewhat diluted when imposed upon a mortal through my own blood. But it still grants me enough domination over that human's free-will to ensure that any command I give is carried out – to the letter."
Freya felt a knot of fear begin to take hold within her gut, as the Jarl's eyes continued to bore into her own.
iIf what he was saying was true, then what would he have her do once they forced that blood down her throat? Hurt her siblings? Kill them? What the hell did these Vikings want from her family?!/i
"Of course as with all powerful magic, the blood-bonds enforcement is not entirely straightforward. In what some might call an ironic twist of the gods, the bond will only take root within a mortal if they give themselves over willingly to its power. Readily sacrifice their free-will in the name of our great Lord's glory and rule."
A huff of laughter escaped from Freya's lips despite the pain that continued to assault her arms and wrists.
"Well I'm afraid that you sorry excuses for Hell's Angels have gone to a whole lot of trouble for nothing," she grated out, her throat still raw from shouting, "if you for one minute think that I am going to drink any of your blood willingly! Now get me the hell out of these chains!"
Halvar smirked at her words as he took another step closer to the witch – his coming to a stop only a few inches from her own.
"Oh I didn't expect that you would agree immediately, Freya Mikaelson," he drawled out, as his eyes roamed languidly over her face. "In fact, my brother here would have been mighty disappointed if you had. Isn't that so Ake!?"
The clan leader took a small step back from Freya, giving her just enough space to see another of the bikers make his way over to the wooden table in the middle of the room. Ake – she presumed – reached out for the dark red cloth draped across the bench's surface, removing it with one swift tug of his hand to reveal an assortment of metal blades and tools that mirrored the dancing torch flames upon their polished surfaces. The muscular man slowly ran his hand over the gleaming instruments, his palm hovering just above the utensils as it glided along the table in no particular rush or hurry.
"So, you what…." she scoffed, her eyes moving back to Halvar's smug face, "…plan to torture me until I willingly agree to drink that blood?! I hate to burst your greasy haired bubble, Jarl, but there is nothing that you could do to me that would make me betray my family. I would give my life to protect them, and there isn't anything that you or your pathetic lapdogs could ever do to me that is worse than what I have already endured throughout my lifetime!"
The blue eyed biker smiled at her as he slowly drew in a deep breath of air.
"Oh I already know of your history witch", the clan leader said quietly, his gaze pinning her own. "Everything that your Aunt subjected you to whilst you were at her behest! She was quite the expert of torment from what my sources lead me to believe. Her crowning glory no doubt being the day that she caused you to rid yourself of the whelp that grew in your womb!"
Anger instantly flared within her at the mention of the child that she had lost so many centuries ago, its fiery flames burning through her veins and fraying her temper. Pushing the pain that flared white hot in her wrists deep down into the recesses of her mind, Freya drove her body as far forward off the wall as the restraints would allow, bringing her snarling face within millimetres of the clan leaders.
"You know nothing about my life, Jarl! Nothing! And when I eventually get free of these chains, I am going to take great pleasure in slowly ripping your rotting heart out of your chest!
She had barely spat out her last word before Halvar's hand flew up to grip painfully around her throat – the Jarl roughly slamming her head back into the stone wall against which she was chained. Stars burst in front of Freya's eyes, as pain ripped through her skull at the same time she felt her airway being crushed shut by the man's large hand. As she struggled for breath, her blurred vision cleared just enough for the witch to see that the eyes now boring intensely into her own swirled with deep colours of red and black – Halvar's dazzling blue irises now completely gone.
"Everyone has a weakness, witch. Everyone!" he spat into her face, his teeth bared in anger as his voice took on a deeper, gravely tone. "And when we find yours….which rest assured we will….I'm going to take great pleasure in making you bow down on your knees before me in submission!"
Stinging tears filled her eyes as she continued to struggle for breath against the crushing weight of the Jarl's grip - her arms and legs jerking painfully against the metal restraints that wrapped around them.
After what felt like an eternity, the overwhelming pressure on her throat finally disappeared – leaving Freya to cough and gasp for air as the clan leader stepped back into the midst his brethren. She watched through watering eyes as the group of bikers all turned and began making their way towards the small door at the far side of the room – all except for the one that had been referred to as Ake, who remained stood by the table of glinting instruments.
Halvar did not speak another word as he reached the door himself, simply inclining his head briefly towards the remaining Jarl before stepping over the threshold, and sealing them in.
Trying her best to gain control over the coughing fit caused by her assaulted throat, Freya locked her bloodshot eyes upon Ake as he appeared to finally decide on an instrument of pain – the Jarl picking it up off the red cloth with such delicacy one would have thought it were an intricate spiders web glistening with the dew of morning, rather than a solid steel blade that had been sharpened within an inch of its life.
Smiling wickedly at the knife, the muscular biker slowly made his way over to where she remained chained to the wall, his dark eyes dancing with malice and cruelty. Coming to a stop just centimetres away from her face, the Jarl raised the blade up and gently placed its cold metal tip against the skin of her cheek. His eyes followed the knifes path as he dragged it lightly along her face, too little pressure being applied for it yet to break the skin upon which it travelled
"We are going to have some fun, you and I!" the man spoke in an almost whispered tone, as he continued the blades path upwards on the opposite side of her face. "The question is…. where should we begin?"
Freya refused to give the Jarl the satisfaction of an answer as she drew in a long deep breath, steeling her mind and body for the pain that she knew was about to be unleashed.
iShe would endure this. For her family….she would endure!/i