Chapter 11 - Negotiations

ELIJAH'S POINT OF VIEW:

"Tick tock, Mikaelson," Sophie urged, smugly tapping her vintage wristwatch.

I shot her a deadly glare, but she did have a point. If I was going to make tonight's deadline, I needed to get a move on. I reluctantly turned away from Fiona and exited the crypt. With every step that brought me further away from the girl, my determination to save her became that much more concentrated. The frustrating fact was that I couldn't do it alone, and the help I needed was acting quite petulant at the moment, though Niklaus had never been one in the business of doing favors. I'd found him at Marcel's compound, disrupting a party by picking a fight with Marcel. My brother, always having to have the last word, sunk his teeth into the neck of one of Marcel's most trusted members. I was taken aback, but not at all shocked by his behavior. Lashing out was nothing new, but there had been a time where Niklaus would have considered Marcellus as his son and would never have allowed distress of any kind to fall upon him.

I concluded that Niklaus was immersed too deeply in his anger to be of any help in freeing Fiona. That said, I did still need help because apparently me offering my assistance wasn't enough for the witches. I was fighting one hell of a clock and there wasn't enough time to try to convince Klaus again to save his daughter. I needed a plan, and I needed it now. To further complicate matters, my phone rang. Caller ID informed me it was my dear sister.

"Elijah, what the hell is going on?" she asked before I'd even held the phone to my ear. I took a minute to quickly fill her in on all that transpired.

"Rebekah, I just witnessed Marcel and Klaus in a power conflict. Niklaus was the one who began the argument, he blatantly challenged Marcel and got the riled response he was after. He sentenced a friend of Marcel's to death by delivering a fatal bite, the man will be dead by the weekend. Niklaus is using his immortality as a weapon. He's willing to give up everything in order to make a show of power and take back the Quarter," I finished.

"Come on, Elijah, does that really surprise you?"

"He's spiraling out of control, lashing out in blind rage. The last time I saw him like this it lasted two hundred years," I recalled, worried.

"So let's leave him to his temper tantrum, get Fiona, and go home. With any luck this misadventure will allow us a reprieve from his insanity."

"Listen to me, Rebekah, we are so close to redeeming him. When he saw how terrified Fiona was, how helpless, how much she needed his aid, I could see it in his eyes, he nearly felt happiness. He got a glimpse of the happiness he could have if he accepted his daughter and made her his first priority, his reason for living. For a split second he entertained the idea. And now his temper has destroyed it. Even if I was to return him to sanity, he just lost Marcel's trust." I glanced at my watch. "I'm almost out of time to save Fiona."

"Maybe that's for the best, Elijah. And before you berate me for that, I love her too, but we are no family for her. Niklaus will always be an evil, temperamental narcissist and you and I will always be stuck cleaning up after him. We aren't fit to run an orphanage. The girl may be better off on her own. Hell, she may be better off dead; she'd get to be with her mother," my brazen sister said.

"Say what you will about Niklaus," I dismissed. "Now on my life, I'm not letting anything happen to his baby girl."

"You may as well call her your baby girl. You've been more of a father to her than Niklaus will ever be. But she's not a baby, she's been on this earth for over five hundred years," Rebekah said.

"And I, over a thousand. She will always be a baby to me," I said.

"Your sentimentality is going to make me vomit, Elijah," my sister said.

"All you're doing is wasting time. If you don't want to help anymore, that's fine, but I need to go get Fiona back."

I ended the call without another word. I was disappointed that Rebekah was unwilling to help, but I wasn't cross with her. I understood that she'd been forced to smother her frustration with Niklaus and shove it all underneath a rug enough in the past. She had a right to be angry with him, it was more than justified, I just wished she'd get over it soon for Fiona's sake. There wasn't anything she could necessarily do to save Fiona from her current predicament, but I would need Rebekah present in my niece's life again at some point. I wanted to surround Niklaus' baby girl with as many guardians as possible.

I walked down the street, trying to come up with a plan to save Fiona when I caught sight of Marcel through a pub window, sitting at a table talking on his cellphone. I arrived inside just in time to catch the end of the conversation.

"You find him, and then you call me. Don't worry, I know how to deal with Klaus," Marcel said, harshly tapping the screen to end his call.

"Is that so?" I asked, approaching him. "Please elaborate."

"Elijah Mikaelson," Marcel said. Instantaneously, Marcel's henchmen jumped from their seats, prepared to fight.

"Nope, I got it. It's all good," he called them off.

I took a seat across the table from him. "It's time we had a little chat."

"Well if you're gonna talk, then talk, I've got things to do," Marcel said irritably.

"Oh my, you have grown quite confident over the last century, haven't you?" I observed.

"Me?" Marcel questioned. "I'd say it's you and your brother who got cocky. Coming into my town like you own the place…"

"Oh we did own the place once. We were all quite happy here as I recall, although we could never seem to control those pesky witches of the French Quarter. How do you do it?" I asked.

"Your brother asked me the same question, I gave him the same answer: It's my business. Everything in the Quarter is my business. Klaus comes into town all friendly and then he starts looking down his nose at what I've accomplished like it's some cheap knockoff of one of his dumb paintings. Then he gets pissed off like a little bitch and bites one of my guys," Marcel ranted angrily.

In that moment I realized how I could get Fiona back from the witches, or at least buy a little more time. My brother had unintentionally become helpful in saving his daughter by providing the perfect leverage for this particular negotiation. The discovery almost made me gleeful.

"Well I do apologize for Niklaus' poor behavior," I said. "I assume you know that bite will kill your friend in a matter of days. Of course Niklaus' blood would cure him."

I had Marcel's attention now. "What?"

"Yes, apparently the blood of the hybrid will cure a werewolf bite. It's quite a handy little thing when one needs leverage in negotiation," I said, allowing the smallest amount of smugness through.

"What negotiation?" Marcel interrogated.

"Funny you ask, I was just getting to that. Return the body of the witch Jane-Anne and allow her people to put her to rest, and I'll see to it that your friend is cured," I bargained.

"What do you care about the witches?" Marcel inquired.

I tilted my head slightly. "Well that's my business now isn't it?"

Marcel held my gaze for a moment before conceding. "Fair enough."

"Now will you give me Jane-Anne?" I pressed.

"I'll take the deal," Marcel agreed. "But I'm not done with your brother."

The corner of my mouth pulled up into a half-smile. "Neither am I."

I followed Marcel and his nightwalkers back to the compound, which Niklaus had fortunately vacated. He whispered orders to two of his men; they were back momentarily with Jane-Anne's corpse. They placed her body - wrapped in a white sheet - into my outstretched arms. I turned to Marcel and gave him a firm nod.

"You will have Niklaus' blood by noon tomorrow," I promised. "You have my word."

"I don't trust you, Elijah, but I need to save my friend," Marcel said unhappily.

"If my blood would save him, you would already have it," I assured him. "I'll deliver Jane-Anne's body to the witches then find Niklaus and direct him your way."

I sped off toward the cemetery. It was exactly one minute to midnight, and I wasn't about to take the chance of calling Sophie's threat a bluff, not with Fiona caught in the middle. Jane-Anne's body wasn't what Sophie was demanding, but I hoped at the very least she would take my efforts as a peace offering and release Fiona, even if it was on the condition that I kept pushing my brother to join forces with the witches. I didn't care what the conditions were, I just wanted my niece safe.

FIONA'S POINT OF VIEW:

I shivered as the clock struck midnight, flinching with each toll of the bell. I'd counted on Elijah being back by now. I still felt I was too weak to fight them off, my magic was barely there. I remembered what Elijah had said to me, I clung onto his words desperately, but logically I couldn't see a way out of this. My heart began to race as I heard the witches enter the crypt. I briefly wondered what creative, sacrificial, witchy way they intended to kill me.

"His time is up," Agnes said. "What are you going to do now, Sophie?"

Sophie let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm gonna do what I said I was gonna do."

"What, kill the girl? Kill yourself?" Sabine asked.

"Klaus does not care about the child," Agnes said.

Yeah, I didn't need a reminder of that.

"I do," Elijah spoke, entering the room with what looked like a body in his arms. Dramatic timing as always. "And I bring proof of my intent to help you."

It appeared that Sophie and I both realized the body was Jane-Anne at the same time. Of all the ways I'd thought Elijah might save me, him doing a favor for the witches wasn't one of them. I'd been thinking something more along the lines of manipulation and bloodshed, but hopefully this would work just as well.

"I procured her from Marcel himself," Elijah politely informed them. "Klaus will agree to your terms, I just need a little more time."

Sophie stood from where she'd been hovering over her sister. "Your time has passed."

"Sophie…" Sabine reasoned.

"For now, accept the deal. The girl remains unharmed or Niklaus will kill you all, and I will help him," Elijah threatened.

"Fine, but we won't wait much longer," Sophie said.

I watched in disbelief as Elijah walked out of the crypt, leaving me behind again. The relief I'd felt when he'd arrived was gone and had been replaced by deep confusion and hurt. He was leaving me here? I burst into tears for what seemed to be the millionth time today. I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around myself. The ground was cold beneath my cheek, but I didn't care. I was too sad and afraid to remain upright. The witches weren't going to kill me, yet, but they weren't going to let me go either. I took a few deep breaths to collect myself, speaking truth into my mind that this was the best Elijah could do right now, but he would come through in the end. I needed to trust him when he said he would get me out of here. He'd never failed me before and this time would be no different.

I also thought about what he told me in regards to fighting for my own life. I believed he was doing everything in his power to save me, but he was also right about me having to at least try to save myself. I couldn't just give up and sit here feeling sorry for myself. Granted, that was all I felt strong enough to do at the moment. I knew the first order of business in replenishing my strength was to get some fuel into my body.

"Sophie?" I called softly. "I'm starving."

The three witches turned in surprise at the sound of my voice. I hadn't said a word to them since they'd taken me from the hotel room. Frankly, I hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much I was struggling in this position.

"I need blood," I croaked.

Sophie stared at me for a second before looking to Sabine. "I suppose I should feed her."

Sabine was the only one who'd ever showed any kind of sympathy toward me. She'd looked at me with pity all day, which normally would piss me off, but I really was virtually helpless right now so I didn't mind it too much. Plus maybe her emotional vulnerability would serve to eventually get her on my side. I could take advantage of her pity.

"She's a vile creature," Agnes said. "Let her suffer."

"Shut up, Agnes. She can't help it, she was born this way," Sabine admonished. "Sophie, make her some of your gumbo. I'll see about getting her some blood."

"Agnes looks pretty mouth-watering right now, honestly," I said acidly. The comment flew from my lips before I had even a hope of stopping it. Fortunately, both Sophie and Sabine seemed amused.

"Gladly," Agnes said levelly. She grabbed a knife off the table and cut her wrist, holding it over a bowl to catch the flowing blood. A minute later she waved the opposite hand to magically heal the wound. Agnes picked up the bowl and set it down on the floor in front of me as if I were a dog. Before she could pull her arm away, I lunged forward and sunk my teeth into her wrist. She shrieked in pain before regaining her bearings and using magic to detach me from her wrist and throw me into the stone wall. The witch looked at me disgustedly.

"Don't call me back in here. If you want to talk, come to me at the elder's residence," she said sharply to Sabine and Sophie.

The remaining two witches looked at me somewhat fearfully as I gulped down Agnes' blood. I slammed the empty bowl onto the ground and wiped my face with the back of my hand. I probably looked like a feral animal, but I was part wolf after all. The witches stood there unsure of what to do. Sabine finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Are you still hungry? I can lure a lowlife human here if you'd like," Sabine offered.

"Yes, thank you," I said.

Sabine made quick work of departing from the mausoleum. That left only Sophie. I needed her gone too, but requesting a bowl of gumbo wasn't cause enough for her to leave. I liked normal food, sure, but really I only needed blood to survive. Sophie knew that, especially after seeing me attack Agnes the way I did. I would have to be a bit more creative about getting her to leave.

Agnes was an elder, meaning she served as a direct link to the ancestral realm. Her blood was now in my system, which meant that I had temporary access to them as well. I could communicate with them and find out why they were hindering my power. However, I couldn't try to reach them with Sophie here, as she would certainly break up the connection. It was a little difficult for me to fathom that I was being held captive by a Deveraux, a descendant of my own mother. I was curious if Sophie knew anything about her.

"Sophie," I began, "can I ask you something?"

"We're both stuck here… why not?" she agreed.

"What do you know about my mother, Rowena Deveraux?" I asked.

"Not much," she answered honestly. "I never met her in person. Jane-Anne was closer to her than I. I know my sister made a few trips across the world to see her in her lifetime, I want to say four or five times, maybe six. I was pretty young the first time I remember her leaving."

"Do you know what their visits were about?" I asked.

"All I know is that the Deverauxs used to be their own coven many centuries ago. At the time she met Klaus, Rowena was the coven's leader, at that time she would have been regarded as Mother. Instead of having four elders like covens do now, the Mother would be the only one with direct access to the ancestors. The Deveraux Coven used to be the most powerful clan of witches the world had ever seen, but over time they were wiped out by disease and supernatural beasts. Rowena has been legendary in the Deveraux family for generations because of her success in achieving immortal status, which obviously wasn't foolproof. Still, she'd managed to preserve her life for centuries after she gave birth to you. Keep in mind Jane-Anne was born in the 1970s, and to the best of my knowledge before her no one had tracked down Rowena in over two hundred years. For the longest time our people thought she was only a myth. Anyway, Jane-Anne had heard a rumor about Rowena giving birth to a tribrid baby back in the 1400s, but she'd never seen you with her own eyes until she delivered Rowena's message to you in Romania. Honestly, I didn't believe our legendary immortal Mother Rowena had been impregnated by the Original Hybrid, resulting in a magical, miracle tribrid, until you and the Mikaelsons arrived in New Orleans. I thought Jane-Anne had gone off the deep end," Sophie said.

"You thought she was crazy? Why?" I asked.

"Once she returned from Romania, she was furious, vengeful. She never really told me why, something about Rowena being a lying traitor, and a pendant, of all things. A few days later, she conspired a plan to have an alliance with Klaus against Marcel. She was plotting something beyond that, but she died before I could figure out what it was," Sophie explained.

I kept a poker face at the mention of a pendant. The only one I knew of was the one I'd carried with me since I was a child, which was engraved with the letter 'M' and my mother had told me it belonged to my father. Why would a Deveraux witch have any interest in a Mikaelson heirloom? I would have to examine that stone a little more closely whenever I got out of here.

"I don't know anything about my mother being a liar or a traitor," I said. "She was always kind to me, a bit distant at times, but she fought for me to the bitter end. She died saving me."

"Jane-Anne never told me why she was angry with Rowena, but my sister was deeply intrigued by our history since she was a little girl. She knew more about it than any of the elders, even. Rowena must've done something at one point in time that still affects the Deverauxs today," Sophie said.

"I haven't told Elijah this, but I can sense my mother's spirit in this city; it seems especially concentrated right here in this cemetery. Is her body buried here?" I asked.

"I never heard anything about it but it must be," Sophie said thoughtfully. "That would explain the sudden need for a harvest ritual."

"What's a harvest ritual?" I asked.

Sophie snapped out of her contemplation and jumped from her seat. "I've said too much already. I have to go, but Sabine will be back shortly."

Finally, I was alone, and I'd gotten some interesting information in the process. I didn't have time to mull over her words right now though because Sabine would be back all too soon and my window of opportunity to communicate with the ancestors would pass. Agnes' blood was more potent than a human's because it contained traces of magic. There was still a major deficit to my power, but I did feel stronger. Talking with the ancestors wouldn't really require a spell, I just had to focus on the source of my magic and speak, sort of like a prayer.

My mother's spirit was here, and she was probably the ancestor most likely to respond to me. After all I was her daughter, and I was in trouble. She'd done everything for me all my life, she died for me, why would now be any different? I needed her help, and ever since I was a child she'd told me I could always come to her. I never got to know much about our family story, but I did know that she loved being my mother.

I closed my eyes and prepared to be shifted into an out-of-body experience. "Ancestors, allow me entrance into your realm," I requested.

A few seconds later, a ghostlike depiction of my mother appeared behind my eyelids. "Fiona, it's me."

"Mommy!" I exclaimed, tears beginning to trickle down my face. I paid them no attention. "I miss you."

"I know, but I'm where I'm meant to be. Now, why have you summoned me?"

"I'm trapped in a crypt by Sophie Deveraux, and my magic has been severely damaged. I'm virtually powerless, physically too. You have a different perspective than I, tell me how to get out of here," I begged. "How do I get my power back?"

"Your power has been temporarily stunted because we, the ancestors, need for Sophie's deal to be fulfilled. You are right where we want you."

"No," I said in despair. "No! Mom you can't do this to me! Don't you see what's happening? I can't be in here any longer!"

"I'm sorry, my daughter, but I can't help you. This is for the best, you'll see."

"Has death made you cruel?" I scoffed.

"It was not my decision to allow Sophie to capture you, but I do agree that the witches need your father on their side. Fiona I have been watching you since the moment Jane-Anne consecrated my body in the cemetery you currently occupy, I have seen everything. I had no idea Klaus would treat you so poorly, I truly thought he would protect you. I am sorry for sending you to the Mikaelsons. I will make this right for you."

"No, Mom, don't apologize. It's true Klaus hasn't been a good father to me, not a father at all really, but because of you telling me I had a family out there, I've been blessed with Elijah. You've seen everything he's done for me, right? He loves me, Mom, he swore it till the day he dies," I said.

"Elijah is a good man, but he will always be faithful to his hateful brother. In time you will have a place with the New Orleans Witches, and you will be free from the chains by which the Mikaelson name has you bound, free from the binding ties of that ludicrous promise of always and forever."

Before I could interject and tell my mother that her reasoning was false, I felt the connection break. I sobbed uncontrollably, I felt abandoned and betrayed. My mother claimed she would separate me from the Mikaelsons. I was heartbroken, the woman who'd raised me would've never decided that, would've never drawn conclusions without asking me how I felt. She made her decree, then I'd been cut off completely, either because Agnes' blood was no longer concentrated enough or because the ancestors were done talking with me about this. In our short conversation, it sounded as if my mother was the leader and spokesperson in the ancestral world. She had a council of equals, no doubt, but she'd never been a follower.

Apparently I was right where the ancestors wanted me, they weren't going to help me. I was on my own with this one. I knew the only way out was to somehow override this boundary spell. It seemed impossible given how weak I was, but if Elijah believed in me I at least had to try to believe in myself. I forced my hands against the invisible barrier and fought against it with everything I had. It was like trying to power a bulldozer with a flashlight battery.

"How's that going for you?" Sophie asked, shattering my concentration.

"I thought you had to go," I grumbled.

"I did. Now I'm back."

"Bring any gumbo?" I asked sarcastically.

She ignored that. "I really didn't want to keep you here."

"So don't."

"Fiona, you have to understand my people have been suppressed for far too long. If there was any other way, any other form of leverage, I'd let you go and use that instead. I hope you'll forgive me one day because, well, we do share the same last name," she said.

"I'm a Mikaelson," I corrected. "Deveraux is dead to me. Besides, you said you had all the family you needed."

Sophie sighed. "Look, I know you spoke with your mother, and I know you can't see it right now but she is right about this."

I gave her a harsh look. "You witches are so damn fickle. You play so many different cards from so many different games at the same time. You want freedom from Marcel's rule, fine, but I know you aren't oblivious to the insane amount of power that I possess. Maybe right now your goal is to take down Marcel, but we all know it won't end there. You know that Klaus won't just hand you the keys to a kingdom, and if I don't get out from under your thumb soon, I'll find myself being forced to turn against my own family," I snapped angrily.

"You're wrong, Fiona. The witches only seek peace," Sophie insisted.

I couldn't listen to the woman anymore. I turned away from her and laid down on the stone floor of the crypt. I was so tired, so drained, and I just wanted to get out of this hellhole, take a hot bath, and crawl into a comfortable bed. That dream was out of reach as long as Klaus continued to reject me. Focusing on the belief that Elijah wouldn't rest until I was safe, I fell into a fitful sleep.

KLAUS' POINT OF VIEW:

I stormed through the Quarter, hoping a walk in the fresh, crisp nighttime air would clear my head. The rage I was currently experiencing was all-consuming, and I couldn't even think strategically because all I wanted to do was slaughter every single one of Marcel's vampires. Marcellus Gerard, who I'd known as a beaten slave boy, had become the king of the very city I'd rescued him from. I'd taught him everything I knew, and I was devastated when I thought he'd died at the hand of my father. That same boy was now demanding I follow his rules, bow down in regards to his reign. It was maddening.

I slowed my pace as I came upon a street band that was outstandingly performing jazz music. They were almost as phenomenal as the Preservation Hall group. I noticed a painter off to the side of the square, and his passion caught my attention. It was as if he was in a trance, his hand moving at a speed that was nearly too rapid for the human eye to track. Each stroke of the brush had a purpose, a specific role in creating the finished masterpiece. He paid no heed to the surrounding distractions and didn't seem to mind the small audience he had acquired. I stopped to admire his work, but my awareness was averted by the sight of a familiar spectator. She too was observing the painter with fascination.

I watched her for a minute, and she seemed to be analyzing the painting rather deeply. Her eyes flickered between the painting and the painter himself, and I perceived she was critiquing the connection between the two. She was engrossed in both the artwork and the artist. I wondered curiously about what she was thinking. I observed both facets as well, but didn't find them equally as interesting and certainly wasn't seeing whatever it was that had Cami so engrossed.

My anger was dissipating, but I took a deep breath to relax before carefully making my way over to her. As I walked up behind her, I inhaled her wonderfully perfumy scent. It wasn't her blood that I found attractive, it was the smell of her hair, her skin. It was her. Cami looked over her shoulder to see who was standing behind her, and I did my best to mold my expression into something friendlier than whatever it had been portraying for the last several hours.

"The hundred dollar guy," Cami greeted with a small smile.

I smirked amusedly. "The brave bartender."

"I haven't seen you since Marcel stole me away at that masquerade party function thing," Cami said. "It's nice to see you again, Klaus."

"I'm glad I've run into you," I said, unable to resist smiling. "How are things with Marcel?" I asked, faking a cordial tone.

"Marcel's an elusive guy," she said, her smile fading. "He apparently likes to leave a girl hanging, but I'm trying not to let it bother me too much."

"I'm sorry," I apologized genuinely. "I didn't mean to bring up a sensitive subject."

"Amazing, isn't he?" she said, turning her attention back to the artist.

"Do you paint?" I asked.

"No, but I admire," she said coyly.

"What do you admire?" I asked, amused. "I'm skeptical of the man's sanity, he's painting erratically like a madman."

"Every artist has a story, you know," she said.

"And what do you suppose his story is?" I asked with a serious curiosity.

"He's… angry," she deduced. "Dark, doesn't feel safe, and doesn't know what to do about it. He wishes he could control his demons instead of having his demons control him. He's lost, alone."

I was at a loss for words. The woman had just inadvertently described the essence of my being. I'd never heard a more accurate account of my personal story. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I mulled over her words. At first impression, I'd found Camille's appearance as the most stunning aspect, but now my interest piqued at her intelligence. It was a possibility that I'd finally found someone with the capacity to understand the complexity of the workings of my mind.

My silence had made her embarrassed, for she gave me a withered look. "Or he had too much to drink tonight. Sorry, overzealous psych major," she said sheepishly.

I smiled politely, trying not to allude that her astute observation was a perfect narrative of my core. I bit my lip and looked into her beautiful eyes.

"No, I think you were probably right the first time," I said with a meaningful smile.

With that, I vanished, leaving her in the square. I didn't traverse far, only a few blocks over to a vacant park. I couldn't fathom how true Cami's appraisal was. She was entirely oblivious to the fact that her assessment fit me faultlessly. I would have to ask her about her thoughts on how the painter could change his story. If only she knew how much I needed to know the answer.

ELIJAH'S POINT OF VIEW:

I found Niklaus sitting on a bench, watching a pretty blonde woman walk away. I'd caught the last few exchanges of their little conversation, and I knew my brother was absolutely enthralled by her. Perhaps he could find happiness with her.

"She's lovely," I commented with a smile.

"She's nobody," Niklaus said derisively, but I saw through him.

"Now that's a lie."

He sighed. "How much did you hear?"

"I gathered that every artist has a story," I said, crossing one foot over the other and looking down at the ground before meeting eyes with my brother.

Niklaus sighed again. "You heard her tell that artist's story, and I'm sure you had the same thought as I in that it is also mine. Angry, dark, insecure, controlled by his demons… I'm only discussing this with you because you saw my reaction anyway."

"Brother, your mood is the darkest I've seen it in centuries," I said concernedly. "I'd like to know why."

"Perhaps it's because you keep harping on about that stupid, insignificant, pitiful, miserable little ward of yours," he griped, his internal walls building up again to make him feel safe, the walls returning him to his corrupted view of a normal reality.

"Fiona is not the reason, not right now, so what is?" I prodded gently, but with firmness.

"I don't know," Niklaus said, his throat tight.

I took a seat next to him on the bench. Niklaus had never been one for physical contact in terms of comfort, but he did like someone to be close by. I patiently sat with him in silence for a few minutes, but his expression was so troubled that it hurt.

"Niklaus, I'm your brother, talk to me," I pleaded.

He took a long breath before beginning to speak. "This town was my home once, and in my absence Marcel has gotten everything I've ever wanted. Power, loyalty, family… I made him in my image and he has bettered me. I want what he has. I want it back. I want to be king," Klaus said zealously.

I read between the lines. "So is that all your child means to you, a grab for power?"

"What does it mean to you?"

"I think your daughter could offer you the one thing you've never believed you've had," I said.

"And what's that?" Niklaus inquired.

"The unconditional love of family," I said simply.

Niklaus was silent for a long five minutes. I was on the edge of my seat; it seemed I was finally getting through to him, to some degree anyway. Even if for now he only saw his talented daughter as a means of power, if he would protect her, then the battle had already been won. If she now held value to him, in whatever way it came, we had eternity for love to develop and grow, for Niklaus to love and bond with his daughter like she deserved.

"Tell Sophie Deveraux we have a deal."

A/N: Oh my goodness, so much happening in this chapter! What are your thoughts? What do you think about the revelations about Rowena, and her plan for Fiona? How will Fiona fight to resolve the conflict? How is Fiona feeling right now? What are your thoughts on Cami and Klaus' brewing relationship? What did you think about Klaus confiding in Elijah for a moment? What would you like to see happen next? Also, how am I doing working the show into the story? I don't want to use too much of the original dialogue, no pun intended, but there are a few scenes from the show that I wanted to add into this story and put my own twist on, I feel they are an essential foundation for the ideas I'll reveal later on. I know I just hit you with a ton of questions, but I'd appreciate it if you'd discuss at least a few of them in a review. Also please leave any additional comments and feedback in your review as well. This story has almost 10,000 views, and we just reached 60 reviews. I'm not one to freak out about numbers, but you guys are seriously awesome. I want to challenge you to make those numbers even higher and get even more attention for this story. I thank you sincerely for all your support, and I hope I am delivering an entertaining story. I've already written about a third of the next chapter, so hopefully I can get it up soon. Again, thank you, and I hope to hear from you. Happy reading!