When we were just kids, our parents would fill our heads with delusions of grandeur, they said we were special, that the World would be ours to take, to amaze. As I grew up, I learnt to loath those lies. My resentment only got stronger with each passing year. I hated my parents so much for feeding me those nonsense, but now, now I wasn't so sure, perhaps they were onto something after all?
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My eyes flashed with horror as the fleshy walls clammed around my head seemed to tighten, cold air washed over my sensitive skin as I tried to shut away the loud, deafening feminine wails overloading my sense of hearing. This is… The realization hit me like a brick. I wasn't the smartest tool in shed, not compared to my former-sister, but I could somewhat guess what was happening. Reincarnation.
The long awaited dream of every self-respecting weeb.
Though I wish I had just woken up after my birth, not during, but oh-well, beggars can't be choosers. Once the disgusting mixture of bodily fluids and feces had been wiped clean from my body, I could feel my heart beat in anticipation and excitement. Those feelings died as soon as they came once I saw the house I was in– One made of woods and what I could only assume to be straws.
Either our family were dirt-poor, or I had been thrown into the Middle Ages. Both options were equally unappealing. It's not that I wasn't thankful for this opportunity, it's just that I was expecting… More, I supposed. Between all rampaging diseases, the fighting, the lives of peasants during the Middle Ages weren't of any worth to begin with, much less one as poor as this. I could be wrong, maybe this was just the standard housing for this time period.
What? I held no interest for history. The only thing I was decently good at was MOBA Games and fucking with people on the Internet. I was studying to become a bloody social worker for Christ's sake! Welp, here goes another wasted life. Thank you Gods, or whatever, thank you all so much for this second chance that I'm certain won't end in a fast and brutal end for me.
Shit. What was I supposed to do? If I knew this was going to happen, I'd have paid more attention in classes, at least then I'd have had a semblance of hope. I let out a heavy sigh, I hope I was more handsome than my last life, perhaps I could make a living as a male prostitute… Ugh, who was I kidding? With my luck, I'd probably be the ugliest motherfucker around– Okay, can somebody please shut my new mother up?! I'm trying to have a monologue over here!
The loud screams sputtered to an abrupt stop. Thank you! Now, as I was saying, I'd probably be the ugliest motherfucker around. And no, I wasn't exaggerating. That's just how awful my luck was, I'd be the only one in my group of friends to step on literal dog turd. Well, no use crying over it. Guess I'd have to make due with what I was given. I did remember some training regimen that could give me an edge physically, but that would have to be left for when I was a bit older.
I felt someone, a black woman– Probably the midwife, pick me up and brought me to my mother, who was hugging another baby.
"My sons." Her voice was soft, soothing. I could almost feel her warmth through the fabric of her dress. I closed my eyes, carving these moments deep in my memories. My hands twitched as I sensed something beneath her sweating frame, formless and refreshing. I pulled at the feeling, my clenched knuckles glowed red and almost instantly, my mother– Esther, if I heard the midwife correctly, threw me to the ground.
Thankfully, by some miracles the midwife caught me, but the experience was traumatic enough that tears threatened to spill from my eyes. "Abomination!" I could hear her screech. I couldn't understand the two, but it's probably nothing good judging from the midwife's reaction. "He's not an abomination! He's but an infant– Your son, Esther!"
"You don't understand, I could feel it, I could feel that thing trying to steal my magic–!"
"Which he did unintentionally!!"
The screaming match went on for a while, until a man walked in. Both women quieted down as he swept his eyes across the room. "What are the two of you screaming for?" That seemed to be a question, but I couldn't be too sure. The three traded looks, unsettling silence fell over us, I could hear the man's fist clench, cracking his fingers, his frustration made clear for all to see before Esther began. "That thing–" She spat, pointing angrily at me.
"For the last time, he's not a thing, he's an infant boy! Your boy, Esther."
"That thing is no son of mine! I'll not let it near my children to steal from them what's rightfully theirs!"
"Enough!" The man cut in, his shoulders straighten, a clear warning for the two bickering women. "I know not what he did to you, Esther, but I'll not allow you to address our son with such degrading titles. From now on, his name will be Einar, and you will call him by his given name. Have I made myself clear, woman?!"
Esther nodded, but the fear and hesitation weren't hard to spot, especially since she had made no attempt to hide her emotions. "Now, Ayana, explain to me what happened." The midwife, now Ayana complied to his demand(?) and spoke. Her hands caressing my face as she did. "– I tried to tell Esther that he's a siphoner, but she wouldn't listen! If I hadn't caught him in time, you would be one son less than you are now. Mikael, you must listen, Einar isn't an abomination, nor is he a monster, he's just a witch, albeit a rare sub-species of witches."
They continued to bicker for a quite some time, but I was already exhausted from the ordeal. I could hardly keep myself awake when Ayana took me from the house. What a nice start to my new life. A dry chuckle escaped my lips. Although, Mikael, Esther and Ayana… Where have I heard those names? It confused me how familiar they were, even with 0/10 baby vision, I could tell I had seen them somewhere.
Yet, for whatever reasons, I could not grasp the memories, it's like trying to hold tiny grains of sands, slipping through every time I was infinitely close to getting the answers. Fuck it, let's leave it for future me to deal with. With that thought in mind, I made myself comfortable in Ayana's arms. She smelled of herbs, earth and flowers, her scent was intoxicating. Her presence seemed to whisper to me lovingly as I yielded to the inescapable allure of sleep at long last.
Well, this isn't too bad…
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The start of my second life was as bumpy as I thought it would be. The hated middle child of a peasant family. Doesn't get worse than that. Thankfully, Ayana– Bless her kind soul, took me in when she did. She taught me all there was to know about being a witch, specifically a siphoner. Occasionally, I'd see my siblings amidst the village, mingling with the villagers. It would be a lie to say I wasn't upset that they didn't seem to even want to acknowledge my existence, but I had dealt with worst as a 21st century teenager.
It still hurt, though nowhere near as much as it would have, had I really been just a simple child.
When I reached seven years of age, I began training my physical body. I started with small tasks, ones that wouldn't hamper my growth, things escalated from there. The good thing about the Middle Ages was, there's no phone, or entertainment, nothing to distract me from my strict schedule. I even learnt how to swim! Well, I guess it wasn't that big a deal for those who already knew how to, but I had spent twenty years prior dreading the ocean due to my inability to stay afloat, and now that I finally could swim, I found myself loving every moment of it.
It's thanks to this that I was able to discover something new about my body. An energy. Sparky like electricity. Golden and soothing like rays of sunlight from the coming Dawn. It's beautiful, empowering, and seemingly only present when I breathed in a certain way. I dubbed it, life force. I knew not how to train it, but no worry, I had time for trials and experimentation. I also found out that all the villagers had life force of their own, albeit theirs were weak, pathetically so in comparison to my much larger reserve despite my youth.
For a year straight, I poured my focus on life energy, practicing so that I could use it as natural as possible. Life force was a weird thing, it had none of the transformative properties of magic, instead it strengthened what was already there. By imbuing my fibers with life force, I could build muscles, heal tears and wounds in my body, even grant myself a significant boost in strength, speed and reflex. With life force, I could bench press boulders nine times my weight, effectively making me the strongest person in our small village.
Things were going well, far more than I had hoped, I fell into a comfortable routine of training and menial house chores. That was, until my father– Mikael came looking for me one morning.
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"He's too young for this, you know he is." I pressed my ear against the wooden door as Ayana argued with my sperm donor, screaming herself hoarse in an attempt to save me from whatever Mikael was planning, which was sweet of her, but rather unnecessary. I wasn't a fighter, still, I was certain I could handle Mikael should push come to shove. "That's enough! When I was his age, I had already learnt how to wield a sword and axes, his training should have started much sooner if not for your meddling!
No son of mine will be a cowering wimp! I will not have it!"
" Your son?! When have you ever treated him as such? You gave him up for that disgusting woman you call wife! I was the one to raise him, I watched him grow from a mere infant, weighing less than a stone to the towering young boy that he is now. What right do you have to call him your son!?" Ayana shouted, magic pouring out of her in waves as every object seemed to come to life, levitating in place. Mikael's lips thinned in response as he reached for the sword strapped to his waist.
Just as he was ready to draw his weapon, I slammed the door open. "What's going on here?"
"Einar! When– When did you return?" Ayana asked, giving me a startled, but searching look, while Mikael opted to remain silent as he observed me, his hands clenching tightly on the handle of his sword.
"I just got here, and thank the Gods I did. What were you two thinking?" Even from an outsider's perspective, both Ayana and Mikael were vital to our village. Ayana was a powerful witch and a healer, while Mikael acted as the village's protector, instructor and unofficial chief. Either of their death could and would cripple our village, leaving us easy preys for neighboring tribes and villages. What would happen next wouldn't be pretty for anyone. Women would be r*ped, men would get slaughtered and children would be taken and enslaved.
It's sad, but that's just how this time period operated. Do not expect sympathy, do not expect mercy, those were about as rare as good food, clean water and snow in African countries.
"He wants to train you in sword fighting. I– Well, I disagree." She looked at me, filled with concern and what I could only describe as motherly love. "You don't have to be a warrior Einar… You don't have risk your life to be someone important. You can be a healer, like me."
"Shut your mouth, woma–!" Before I knew it, I already threw a blind punch at the side of Mikael's ribs. I wanted to punch him in the face, but while I might be much taller than kids my age, I only reached Mikael's chest, pushing 5'7ft. I didn't imbue my fist with life force, so instead of flying off his feet, Mikael stumbled back a few steps, coughing and wheezing for breath. He snapped his gaze at me, his blue orbs shone with anger and a glimpse of… Pride? I pointed at him. "Don't you ever talk to my mother like that."
"Or what, boy?!" I threw a second punch just as he finished, but this time, he was prepared. He pushed my coming fist sideway, hand clamming down my wrist in a vice grip as he pulled up to meet his gaze. I didn't let him speak, slamming my head against his nose. I could make out the sound of his nose as it broke from the sudden impact. He pushed me away. I rubbed my reddened forehead, while he fixed his crooked nose. We both stare, as if to challenge the other.
Broken out of her stupor, Ayana jumped in between us, hands out to keep us two from advancing any closer. "Will the two of you stop this?! Einar, go to your room! And no but! I'm your mother, what I say goes!"
I shrugged, feeling the tension and adrenaline leave me. I beat my chest, seizing the excited life force threatening to erupt as my breath slowed. "Einar!" Mikael called, and I turned to face him once more. He gave me a judging look, before nodding as if satisfied with what he had seen. "Come to the river this evening if you want to be a real warrior. Do not if you're content with being a whimpering coward." With that said, he quickly left.
Now, I might be wrong, but I swore I could see the resemblance of a smile tugging at his lips.
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After that day, I began my training with Mikael. The man was harsh and strict, I might be physically stronger than him, but without utilizing life force, my physical advantages could be easily overtaken with pure skills and techniques. Mikael showed me things with the sword and axes I had only seen in video games. Clearly, he was holding back during our scuffle at Ayana's. Every time I fell down, he would mock me, and every time I'd rise back up, using life force to heal any wound I had sustained while sparing.
I didn't stop expanding my life force either. My magical skills were rusty since I couldn't practice without Ayana, having no magic of my own, but I did get some progress with simpler, less costly spells.
I was twelve when I defeated Mikael for the very first time. The rush of excitement as my blade neared his neck was addicting. He deemed me ready after my thirteen birthday. I was known as his little protégé around our village, having defeated warriors with years of experience and real battles on me. My birthday celebration was big. Mikael and Ayana invited everyone to the party that day. We danced, drank and partied like there's no tomorrow. Mikael, for the first time since my reincarnation, smiled. A genuine smile rather than the usual smug smirk.
Some were confused as to why Mikael would do this for a neighbor boy, but those in the know, or at least suspected my real heritage just accepted it. It wasn't hard to find out, I was a blonde orphan with facial features similar to Mikael, one that Ayana found on the very same day that Mikael and Esther had their fourth child– Kol Mikaelson. It's blindly obvious for everyone who I was, even for blind people. The fact that the Mikaelson children hadn't made any connection between Mikael and I baffled me, I even had Esther's hair color for fuck's sake.
Although, to be fair, Esther hardly hid her contempt for my very existence. I supposed the fact that their kind mother would be capable of treating one of her own with so much loathing simply never occured to them, especially given how they all seemed to idolize the bitch. Did I say bitch? Sorry, I meant witch.
On that same day, I finally got to talk to my gaggle of siblings. Don't get me wrong, I had seen them plenty, but the Mikaelson always avoided me like the plague embodied. Esther's fault most likely. Unfortunately for them, it's my coming of age celebration, they couldn't avoid me the entire night, it would be considered poor manner, and say what you wanted about Mikael, there were certain principals and lines he wouldn't allow his children to cross, one such principal is politeness when attending someone's party.
And to avoid the host during his celebration was to disrespect him in his own home.
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"Well, hello there." I smiled at my younger sister– Rebekah, the girl just stared at me before taking several steps back. She was blonde, her hair reminiscent of buttermilk, a shade darker than my own blonde locks. Her eyes were blue, much like myself and Mikael, but while Mikael's were cold, almost unfeeling and seemingly burdened, hers were soft, gentle, loving. I could tell my sister would be real beauty once she fully matured. The old man is going to have field days beating off her future suitors.
I chuckled, and Rebekah immediately backed away. Guess I scared her. I, well, I wasn't ugly as I had first anticipated. In fact, I'd say I was quite handsome, but there's a fatal flaw in my appearance, one that made it hard for me to gain people's trust. I was kinda, sorta… Evil-looking? My face screamed gloating Bond villain, the type to watch his enemies suffer all while telling them a multitude of his nefarious deeds. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't bite much, promise."
I winked, she took off running. "Wait! Be care–"
She tripped, falling on her face. "– Ful…" Thankfully the ground wasn't made of concrete, or she would be bleeding a face-full. Still, that didn't stop her from choking up. I kneeled next to her, drawing a handkerchief that some girl had sewn for me. With quick, but gentle strokes, I wiped the dirt off her face. She sobbed softly. "Shush. It's okay, sweetheart. You're fine." I took out another clean handkerchief, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. To her credit, she swiftly brightened up.
"Mom said we're not supposed to talk to you…" I raised an eyebrow at that. "And why would she say that?"
"She… She said you're evil. That you will steal from us." I was speechless. Fucking really, Esther? I siphoned a bit of magic from you by accident 10 plus years ago, and that made me evil? Well, fuck you too you blonde bimbo.
"I promise I'm not evil, Rebekah. In fact, what do you say I show you something cool?" Rebekah nodded hesitantly, I cupped her smaller hands in mind, willing the left-over magic I had siphoned from Ayana yesterday, I drew water particles to shape a winter flower, then with a thought, froze the condensed water. Rebekah looked at my creation in awe. "See, someone evil won't be able to make something so pretty, right?"
She giggled, hands tightening on the flower. " Can… Can I keep it?"
"Of course you can, sweetheart. Just let me give it the finishing touch, 'kay?" The flower is made of ice, it would melt by morning, but I could use transmutation to alter its properties. Had I done it when it's in liquid state, the transmutation would require far more magic. Transmutation worked best when what the object's transforming into was in the same state of matter as the original. In this case, I was trying to turn the ice flower into a more durable, long lasting form while still keeping its original appearance. It's advanced magic, normally done only with several witches and never for something so insignificant, but I could siphon life force to make up for my lacking magic.
To be honest, I didn't like siphoning life force, it felt unnatural and wrong on so many levels. The exchange rate was bad too, with twenty units of life force yielding only a measly one unit of magic, but seeing Rebekah's excited expression, I couldn't bear to disappoint the excited girl. Once I was done, the flower had turned into a glass like quartz. I'd say I had done a good job, but my plummeting life force begged the differ. It's nothing I couldn't recover from with a few days rest, though it had been quite some time since I last felt this powerless and worn out.
Rebekah and I jogged back to the party, talking and laughing all the way. She quickly rejoined our brothers, giving me a light-hearted wave from a distance. Our brothers weren't too happy with the development, if anything, they seemed positively murderous. Damn siscon.
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My birthday celebration ended on an overall positive note. Though my estranged brothers seemed to have developed a major hate boner for me. I just chalked it up to them being jealous of my relationship with Mikael, which made sense. They had been looking for approval from Mikael all their lives, and here was this neighbor boy that had seemingly no blood relation to them, who had gained their father approval, and if I dared say, respect even. Thankfully, they knew better than to escalate the tension between us.
Still, despite the animosity shared by the male members of the Mikaelson and I, life was good. I was, as the kids put it, a hot piece in town.
When I wasn't having casual one night stands with the girls, I was training my arse off. Things had been going well for me, too well in fact, but I knew I couldn't afford to be complacent. An inflated ego could get me killed, magic and life force were powerful weapons only when wielded properly. They wouldn't save me from being besieged on all sides, which was a very real threat, considering our village had the smallest population in the area. One evening after I turned fourteen, a neighbor of ours came running into the village with several arrows lodged to his sides.
We knew there and then that the next few weeks would be harsh.
Apparently, one of the tribe had made several moves under our noses, taking over two of our neighbors. We had to move fast, letting them siege us was not an option, especially since our walls were flimsy at best and a rotten, crumbling pile of woods at worst. For days, the young and able men in our village went scouting the enemies, we got useful information, but we also lost two good men, which was a huge blow to our already incredibly small force.
With the swift and untamed river cutting off their path, we knew exactly where they would attack. We decided to hold off the invaders at a stone bridge that they would be forced to cross should they wish to advance any further.
Have you ever heard tales of Viking berserkers? Legends said they fought in a trance-like fury, uncaring of wounds and pain. Well, the legends were right in some aspect. Before our journey began, Ayana and, surprisingly enough, Esther had brewed us potions, potions that would dull our pain, lessen our fatigue and strengthen us in a short period of time. We weren't overwhelmed by rage like the tales said, we were just hyper-focused thanks to the potions. Some of our more prideful warriors, Mikael for example, opted to not take the potions.
Me? I couldn't care less. Anything that could prove advantageous to my survival was welcomed.
The fighting went on for weeks. Even with our potions, we were still outnumbered one to five. At the last few battles, most of us could no longer drink the potions for fear of the after-effects it had on us. The potions worked by forcing our body to produce adrenaline, it made us stronger, faster, more resilient, but it also left us with increased blood pressure and heart rate. I was the only one still chugging the damned things down like a madman, since life force could ward off the side-effects.
But… Well, it would be lying to say I wasn't feeling the pressure. Seizures, slurred speech. You name it, I've got it. Frankly, if it wasn't for life force, all of my muscles would have been torn to shreds by now. It's a miracle I could even move, let alone fight.
By the time our last battle began, the stone bridge and surrounding lands had been coated white with snow and red with freshly-spilt blood. We were weary, exhausted, but our enemies were in a worse state. Their homes were a forest away, while ours was just a few miles back. Our scouts found out they were packing up to leave, which was a reasonable reaction, but we wanted to leave as much as them, but we couldn't. We had to kill them all, or we would have to deal with another invasion once winter ended.
Thus, in the cover of night, we snuck close to the bridge. The security was lax, since they had decided to retreat. Our archers took out the guards with ease, although Finn– My estranged eldest brother did mess up, having missed his target, luckily I was able to hit the guard with my throwing axe. My weapon split his skull in half as he fell into the coursing river. Mikael glared at Finn for his mistake, eyes promising punishment and pain, and frankly, I couldn't blame him.
Had that guard managed to rouse up the enemies, we would've lost the element of surprise and most likely died horribly. The thought made me want to strangle the broody mama's boy, but we had other things to focus on, his punishment could wait. By the time the invaders realized something was up, two thirds of their remaining force had been turned to cold corpses. What happened next could hardly be described as a fight, we slaughtered all those were left.
The war ended, fizzling out like a wet fart, but none felt triumphant as we trudged back home. We had lost too many. Of the fifty-something men that went with us, less than two dozens remained, most were left with crippling injuries, a multitude of health issues and mental illnesses. Michael Scott was right, there's no honor in war, even less in killing, and dying? All dying left was a grieving family.
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I smiled at the giggling woman in my arms. Oval face, almond-shaped doe eyes and wavy dark hair worn in braids. She was lovely as she was delicate.
The war scarred me in more ways than one. Physically, I was fine beside the scars that littered my skin, but mentally? No, I was healthy enough to admit that I wasn't right in the head. I was irritable, quick to anger, and often resorted to violence. Then I met her– Tatia. She too had lost much in the war, with her husband dead and buried, she was left to raise their child alone. It wasn't my intention to fall for her, I had only approached the woman out of spite for Niklaus and Elijah.
The two hadn't been too happy after the beat down I gave Finn, neither was Esther for that matter. They had taken every chance they could to challenge me. Even after twelve losses for each, they still hadn't learnt their lesson.
I was quite pissed at them when I made the decision to seduce Tatia. Now? I was glad I did. It couldn't have been easy for her to put the pieces of me back together, yet she did it willingly, asking for nothing in return but my affection. As for Niklaus and Elijah… Who cared? If anything, they should be thankful that I seduced Tatia. Now they no longer had any reason to fight. In fact, they're more united than ever against a common enemy: Me. It amused me every time I remembered the faces they made seeing Tatia kiss me in public.
"You seem to be in a good mood, my love."
"I have the prettiest woman in my arms–" I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. You would expect someone from this period to smell exceedingly bad, but Tatia was full of surprises. At this point, I had slept with enough women to know many neglected their personal hygiene, which was a real turn-off. Not Tatia. She always smelled of verbena and, oddly enough, fresh mint.
"– Isn't that enough of a reason to be happy?" She responded with a laugh, smoky and breathless, yet soothing in its own weird little way.
Two years, we had been seeing each other for two years now. Everyday I found a new reason to love her. My arms found her waist, her full, oh-so soft lips were waiting, demanding to be stolen by my own. I could feel her knotted fists on my leather vest, pulling me ever closer. Our lips touched, time slowed, the wildlife silenced as I listened to her moans and labored breaths. I had been in love before, many times in fact, but not like this. Never like this.
Unfortunately, all good things came to an end. Our moment was abruptly stopped by mournful screams– Nik's. I picked Tatia up in a bridal carry and raced back to the village. We came upon the entire Mikaelson family. Their youngest member– My younger brother, Henrik laid on the ground, his torso slashed open by a claw mark that began from his throat, reaching all the way down to his rib cage. Niklaus sat next to him, hugging his legs as he sobbed. "The wolves. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
Truth was, I wasn't close to my blood-related family. In fact, with the exception of Rebekah and Mikael, I hadn't had a single conversation with them that could be considered friendly, let alone affectionate. Same went for Henrik, but as I saw my twelve years old brother laid motionless on the dusty ground, blood pooling from his wound, white, hot rage coursed through me. It's a feeling I had experienced countless times on the battlefield, one I had suppressed if only for Tatia's sake, but it's still there, lurking just beneath the surface.
I let Tatia down and rushed to my dying brother.
"What are yo–?!"
"Shut up!" Pressing my hands on Henrik's body, I thrust my hand inside his open wound and grasped his heart. Damaged. The right side of his rib had been shattered, I could feel a piece of it lodged into his heart. I pried it out carefully, channeling both magic and life force, one to keep the hysterical Mikaelson from interfering, the other to keep Henrik's cells alive. I feel for his brain activity. It's said that even after death, the brain would remain active for several minutes before shutting down completely.
I was banking on the theory that since the brain and soul were closely connected, if one was active, the other must be too.
I was right. Once I was certain I had healed most of the damages to his innards, I proceeded to pump his heart by hand. It's a long shot, but after ten or so minutes, Henrik gasped and started to breath again. I pulled my hand out, making sure to heal his outer wound, leaving only a long, thin scar on his chest. Esther dove in for her child, hugging him to her chest. "Careful! His ribs are not fully healed." I stood shakily, nearly plummeting to the ground when Tatia and Rebekah caught and held me up by the shoulders.
I had really underestimated just how much life force healing someone else would require. It's a good thing I wasn't in immediate danger or I might as well have signed my own death certificate. I was attempting to recover from the whole ordeal when Esther finally set sight on me, though her expression lacked the usual fear, distrust and utter loathing for my presence. Was that gratitude I saw? "Thank you, thank you so much for helping my boy. I-I thought he…" She gulped. "I know I haven't treated you kindly in the past, but–"
"Save it. I healed Henrik for Rebekah and Mikael, I didn't do it for you." Her gratitude was duly noted and promptly thrown to the dumpster, much like what she did to me eighteen years ago.
"Our mother is trying to make amends, but do not take that as a sign for you to disrespect her as you please." Elijah cut in. Ah, yes. The righteous, noble brother of the Mikaelson. Elijah, always so high and mighty. He thought himself above us all, but I knew the truth. I could see the savageness hidden behind those eyes. "I disagree, after what she tried to do to me eighteen years ago, I feel it's well within my rights to insult her when and wherever I please. In fact, Esther." I stared at the trembling woman, who seemed to have realized what I was talking about.
"If you truly want to make amends, I'll gladly oblige as long as you do one favor for me." Esther appeared torn between happiness and trepidation, I smirked. "You can go and choke on a pile of burning shite."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The Mikaelson, with the exception of Rebekah came running at me. What happened next could only be described as a bar brawl, there was no technique, no rhyme or reason to anything, just pure unadulterated chaos. Needless to say, I won, even in my weakened state, I was stronger, faster, more resilient than any human could ever hope to match. Although, I did take quite a few hits, they didn't even come close to half the things I had endured during four years ago.
It angered me beyond beliefs that Esther thought she could mend our relationship with a simple apology. I made sure to show it once the fight was over, throwing Esther a glare and spitting at her feet. "I'll let bygones be bygones when you tell them–" I pointed at the Mikaelson children. "The truth. Until then, you can forget ever receiving my forgiveness."
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My relationship with the Mikaelson inevitably worsened after that incident. Tatia was especially angry at me for 'starting the whole thing', though once I explained to her the reason for my hostility, she agreed that Esther deserved it, but still told me that I had taken it too far. We agreed to disagree.
Three days later, Mikael returned from his hunting-trip to find my youngest comatose. He beat Niklaus near death when he was informed of what happened in his absence. The beating was so severe it took me healing him for Klaus to recover. Two days after, Elijah came asking for Tatia's blood, apparently that's the main ingredient in a ritual Esther wanted to perform, I wanted to refuse, but it's Tatia's blood, not mine. In the end, if only for old time's sake, Tatia reluctantly agreed.
Of course, I hadn't forgotten the culprit responsible for Henrik's comatose state.
I had already brewed a dozen vials of magical explosive, enchanted my newly forged daggers and dipped them in a lethal concoction of wolfsbane and snake venom. I wasn't afraid of the werewolves, but even as powerful and vain as I was, I knew walking into the den of seventies werewolves unprepared was no different from committing suicide. I didn't tell Tatia, since I was confident in my survival, but just in case, I left her a letter explaining what I had planned.
Five days before my expedition, we were in the middle of our usual morning sex when Mikael knocked on our door, asking me to join his family for dinner. I was understandably pissed at the interruption, which made me even more resistant to the idea, but Tatia talked me into joining them, stating it could be a bonding experience for the Mikaelson and I. That's the first and only time I had regretted listening to Tatia. I never would have gone if I had known what Mikael was plotting. In fact, I'd have struck him dead had I known what his actions would ultimately cost me…
But well, you know what they say about hindsight.
.
.
.
Awkward didn't begin to explain my emotion as I gave each Mikaelson an odd look. Something wasn't quite right with them, but I couldn't quite put a finger to it. Their, for a lack of a better word, aura seemed corrupted somehow.
Even Rebekah's bright and sunny smile was darkened by whatever magic was at play. I sipped the alcohol, staring intently at Mikael. He too was different, more intense, feral than this morning. "The mead tastes a little strange." Nobody laughed at my poor attempt to salvage the situation. "How do you feel, Einar?" Mikael asked, to which I replied with a smile that I had to physically force on my face. "Good, I guess?"
"Is that so?"
...
..
.
"Alright, I think I should be off." I pushed my untouched plate aside and stood. Whatever game the Mikaelsons were playing, I didn't want any part of it. For the first time since my reincarnation, I felt imminent dread. My instincts were screaming at me to get away, and I trusted my instincts, I had been saved by it enough times to learn I should always listen to it. The moment I rose, Mikael flashed behind with his sword in hand. I kicked at him, throwing him several feet up into the air and scowled. "What the–?!"
I never got to finish when the other Mikaelsons attacked as well.
Kol jumped at me, his face twisted in feral rage as dark veins sprouted under his eyes. I punched at his face, watching as he fell to the ground. Elijah threw an axe at me with speed and precision I knew he shouldn't be capable of. I grabbed it mid-air and sent it flying back, piercing his right shoulder. Finn and Klaus rushed forth only to be beaten back with a wide, back-handed slap from me. "What in the Allfather's name are you all doing?!" I roared at them, life force already operating at the maximum.
I was both shocked and horrified. We weren't friends, yes, but our relationship hadn't deteriorated to the point we would actively seek to murder each other. It's also uncharacteristic of Mikael to backstab someone. He was strict to the point of abuse, but he was undoubtedly honorable. I had personally seen him give up advantage over his opponent to preserve his honor. Why would such a man try to murder me in cold-blood? "Don't make me ask again! What's the meaning of this?!" I shouted, coating my hands with life force.
I punched at Mikael's downed form, eyes widening as his flesh began to sizzle on impact. It's then that I realized why they felt so off. They had no life force, it's almost like they're being puppeteered by some sort of dark magic. A curse to be precise.
" ESTHER!!!" I ran at the Mikaelson matriarch, intent on taking her worthless life. Before I could get close, a hand burst through my chest, holding my still beating heart. I turned. "R- Rebekah?" Blood dripped from my lips as I looked on in horror. My little sister with inhuman features, elongated fangs was staring at me apologetically. Wet tears stained the corners of her now veiny eyes. "W- Why?" I croaked, collapsing on one knee. She didn't answer, that's fine, I didn't expect her to.
"Y- You won't get away with this!" I snarled. I'd tear them all to pieces if I could, but Rebekah's hand didn't just rip out my heart, she also damaged my lungs n the process. I tried to channel life force– Hamon, a voice whispered to me, but my attempt ended with me coughing up even more blood. "D- Damn you! Damn you all to Hel! Betrayers! I'll have your heads for this! I wi- will parade your corpses for all to see! YOU'LL ALL RUE THE DAY YOU TURN ON ME!!!" I felt a parasitic curse settling into my body, trying desperately to latch onto my soul.
Using whatever Hamon I had left, I formed a cage to isolate the curse. It seemed to work for but a second before the thing lashed back with equal ferocity. I screamed as my flesh burned under the onslaught of differing energies. With a flash, Hamon erupted from my every pore, throwing everything into utter chaos. The Mikaelson cried in pain. Plates and cups were flung to the ground, leaving only their shattered remains. I fell, clinging hopelessly to life. The last thing I remembered was Mikael's grief-stricken voice as he caught my burning corpse, seemingly unware of the pain it was causing him. "Einar–! No! Wh‐ Do to him–?!"
I'm so sorry, Tatia. Forgive me…
I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what the f I just wrote. Don't what possess me to give the MC Joj-verse powers. I thought a Jojo and Vampire Diaries crossover was a cool idea, I guess? Hope you guys like it. And yes, Einar will have a stand. I mean, this might be a slight cross since only Einar will have Jojo-verse powers, but it's still a crossover. What kind of Jojo crossover will it be without a Stand?