8 Years Ago

Sunlight slowly creeping through the slightly-drawn curtains announced the beginning of yet another day. What might seem like reason to celebrate for most, in the Mikaelson household, especially for Klaus Mikaelson, was more of a torment.

The shroud of darkness that accompanied nightfall was the one thing he looked forward to all day. After all, it was the only time when he got a reprieve from his father. One of the few persons who were supposed to love him unconditionally had always made him feel the opposite. Always searching for his mistakes, always punishing him even when the fault was not his, ever since he'd been a small child searching for nothing but approval and love.

They had never come. The situation had never gotten any better despite his constant efforts to please and be good. All so that he could receive even a modicum of the affection the man bestowed upon his other children. Sure, his mother and siblings were there for him offering love and support, but his heart still felt the black void a father should fill.

As of late, things had gone from bad to worse. All because Klaus had refused to be a part of his father's business. Finn, Elijah and Kol had joined Mikael, being groomed for it ever since an outstandingly young age. For a long time, Klaus had wished to be acknowledged by his parent and wanted nothing more than to also be a part of it.

Of course, that had never happened.

Forever growing, a burning pit of disappointment and confusion was his only companion throughout adolescence.

Still, the advantage of not being recruited by his father allowed him the opportunity to observe the effects it bore on his siblings. While Finn seemed just as cold and heartless as Mikael, nothing changing in him, his other brothers were never quite the same as before.

Elijah tried to cover it up, hiding whatever weighed down on his mind behind a series of fake smiles when in his, Rebekah's or Henrik's presence, but shadows danced in his dark caramel irises, the laughs never reaching them. Kol, though, on him it was much clearer. The mischievous smile was all but gone, he'd crawled into a shell, never joking with them again, always serious and aloof, his old self buried beneath whatever demons were being kept from Klaus.

Slowly, the resent of not being considered good enough to join his father had morphed into content at not being a part of whatever was slowly destroying his siblings. Moreover, his best friends Stefan, Lucien and Marcel were a part of his father's business, but none of them told Klaus the honest truth about what was really going on behind his back.

No, that pleasure was bestowed on Mikael himself who had, a few months ago, come and asked him to join him in his despicable endeavors. To the elder man's bewilderment, the answer he'd been given was a resolute "No."

Mikael hadn't asked twice, thrown him a look of pure hatred- like none before- and stormed out of the room.

That night, with the pitch black sky as his accomplice, Mikael showed an ounce of his true self, the one that had seldom come out prior to that.

His mother's anguished cries echoed all the way to his room, standing testament to his father's vile character.

Klaus knew that it was his fault and it tore at his heart to be responsible for his mother's suffering. There was nothing more he wanted than to march in that room and take his father's wrath in her stead.

Yet he did nothing, aware that his involvement could never end well for anyone and would only increase his father's ire.

After that fateful night, in which he'd stood up to him for the first time, Mikael grew even colder towards him and no doubt lingered in the young Mikaelson that loathing was all that was left for him. Venomous words were spat at him, only when the need arose, the two not even exchanging routine greetings. Like they were invisible to the other.

That coupled with Esther's more frequent cries of pain during nights when she'd tried to intervene on his behalf and soften Mikael's attitude made him yearn to leave the house. Go away and carve a different life for himself. A better one.

His two younger siblings were all that was keeping him there. The only thing that made him complacent to this wretched life. Klaus stayed to ensure that the burning embers in their orbs, their desire to take on the world, to do good for the people living on this Earth was not extinguished by his father.

Today, precisely was one of the days which made staying worth it.

Henrik's 16th birthday. An occasion his brother always celebrated. Not one birthday had passed by in which Klaus hadn't gone above and beyond to fulfill whatever Henrik's heart pined for. Today, he'd taken all of the money Mikael had ever given him and bought a horse for his brother.

Ever since Klaus had taught him to ride, Henrik had badgered his dad to get him one, only to be shaken off and told that more important occupations would be made known to him soon enough. Klaus shuddered at only thinking about that, but quickly recovered upon contemplating his brother's face when he saw the surprise Klaus had for him. Finally something to eagerly anticipate, something good.

Little did he know that today would be the catalyst to his own ruin.


Gifts piled up. Tables bursting with every possible kind of food one could crave. A decadent chocolate cake and the most expensive champagne money could buy.

Still, nothing could infuse real happiness into some of the Mikaelson family members, even though both Kol and Elijah tried their best to fake it. Mikael's presence weighed heavily on everyone but Rebekah and Henrik- the innocent ones.

"Let's open the presents!" the birthday boy exclaimed after having finished his hefty slice of cake.

The wish was immediately respected by everyone and Klaus couldn't help marveling at the genuine happiness radiating from his brother's face upon receiving all he'd desired and more. The youngster's eyebrows furrowed upon reaching the end of the perfectly-wrapped boxes and realizing he was short two.

Immediately, brown orbs turned to Klaus. "You'll have to accompany me outside to see what I got you," the man swiftly responded.

Giddiness returned at the prospect of receiving something else and Henrik practically skipped all the way to the door, oblivious to the glares his father was exchanging with his older brother.

On cue, one of the men in the family's service brought out an entirely white, pureblood stallion that, as if sensing the animosity Mikael directed his way, neighed loudly.

"This is for me?" Henrik mumbled in disbelief, getting a nod for an answer. Wide eyes darted between the gift and the person who'd given it. "This is the best present I have received! Thank you so much, brother," the boy jumped to hug Klaus.

"His name is Domino," Klaus couldn't help smirking at his father's reaction, but also felt his heart jump at having been the reason for this much joy gracing Henrik's angelic features. "I know how much you wanted one. All that money did serve for something, after all," he couldn't help the stinging tone addressed to his dad. "Go ahead, take him for a ride."

Henrik had almost gotten up in the saddle when a stern voice spoke. "There are more important things than that right now."

"But father, I want to go out with Domino!"

"Not right now," Mikael's voice was laced with barely contained contempt. "You have yet to get your gift from me."

Klaus did not miss his mother's muscles tightening at the words. "Please don't. He's too young," Esther pleaded. One pointed look from her husband was enough to quiet her down, but the damage had already been done. All present save from the one directly affected by it knew where this was headed. No one wanted that fate to befall the most candid person in that house, but nobody said anything to stop it.

Knowing that protesting would not get him anywhere, Henrik had started to comply, slowly walking towards the family's patriarch.

Like hell would Klaus stand by and allow Henrik to be dragged into whatever Mikael disguised as legit business. He would not suffer the same as Elijah and Kol. Not if Klaus could prevent it. Unfortunately, there was only one way he could think of that would avoid such atrocity. It required selling his soul to the devil.

One more glance at his sibling, at his downcast noble, kind eyes made it clear that it was worth it.

"Father, can I have a word with you?" all gasped at the phrase spoken, turning towards Klaus, who had taken a few steps, protectively positioning himself between Mikael and Henrik.

"Not right now, Niklaus."

Coming from Mikael, that would have been enough to make anyone back off, get out of the way, all the while quivering in fear, most likely. But not Klaus. The purpose guiding him was too important.

"I promise, I'll make it worth your precious time," Klaus spat in the exact tone, earning a collective, disbelieving murmur. Few dared challenge Mikael and until now nobody in the Mikaelson family had accomplished the elusive feat.

Drawing a deep breath to calm himself, not lose composure in front of the ones still oblivious to his real self, Mikael responded, "Very well, follow me." After that order, he did not linger any longer, marching into his office with Klaus hot on his trail. Waiting for the door to close, Mikael addressed his son. "Alright, let's hear what you have to say, Niklaus. Be quick. I have more important things to do than waste time with you."

Now it was Klaus's turn to inhale and bite back an angry remark, cutting straight to the point. "You are not dragging Henrik into the dark business you run."

Chuckling sinisterly, Mikael drew closer to his son. "And how do you plan on stopping me?"

This was it. This was the moment Klaus had been dreading. He knew it was the only way to avert the snuffing of Henrik's light, but it still felt like he was betraying everything he'd stood for until now. The path he was choosing would undoubtedly lead to his slow destruction. He'd seen it happen with his brothers.

Better me than Henrik, was how he eventually got the words to form.

"I'll take his place. I'll join you in his stead."

"And what makes you think I'd want that, you foolish boy?" Mikael downright laughed at his proposal. "The only reason I asked you in the first place was because your mother insisted I treat you the same as the others."

"I'm well aware you've always hated me, father," Klaus kept his voice to a minimum level, masking some of the hurt he still felt at being the marginalized son, the outcast for reasons still eluding him. "But I also know that deep down you are aware that Henrik could never be like Finn or even Elijah and Kol. His heart is too pure for that. Never would he be able to commit whatever monstrosities you do."

That must have hit a nerve because Mikael narrowed his eyes angrily. "And you could? The son that has always disappointed me, the one who refused to enter the family business precisely because he was too afraid to soil his soul."

"You know perfectly well that I could, if I wanted to. " Klaus sighed before uttering what he was sure would seal his fate. "If you leave Henrik alone, I'll do whatever you want me to. I won't question, I'll just obey regardless of what you ask so long as Henrik stays out of it."

"Whatever I say?" Mikael smirked at the nod he received, pondering just for show. "Very well, Niklaus, you have yourself a deal. Tomorrow we'll talk the details over. Now go, I want to be alone."

With that, Klaus had effectively gone down a road he'd regret immensely. Unfortunately, there was no turning back.

Upon exiting the office, everybody was waiting with bated breath, right where they'd been left. Frozen in place, muscles tense as if waiting for all hell to break lose. Only an unperturbed Henrik who had been enjoying Domino, galloped his way when he saw Klaus emerge.

"Does father wish to see me?"

"No, Henrik, not anymore," everybody else was left with their mouths gaping in astonishment. "Continue your celebration. I might join you later."

That was enough to send Henrik back the way he came. Afterwards, all remaining people gathered around him, wide eyes staring at the only person who'd been able to change Mikael's mind until then.

"What did you do, brother?" Elijah asked worriedly, voicing what they were all wondering.

"What I had to," a tight smile struggled to appear, but it was more of a grimace. He turned to face Esther. "You don't have to worry anymore, Henrik will be left alone."

"Oh, son," his mother brokenly murmured.

"What's going on?" Rebekah innocently intervened. "Why is everybody so gloom? I don't get it. What has Nik done that has you all twisted?"

All turned to look at Klaus, not sure what to answer or what was even there to say. They all understood the gravity of what had transpired just minutes ago, but there was no way they could explain it to the blonde. They would protect her until Mikael chose to tell her the truth. Although the odds of that were quite slim because she was a woman and there was little she could do to benefit his organization, in Mikael's old-school views.

"Everything's fine," Klaus was the one who reassured in the end. "Don't worry about it. You know how father can get."

"Then why does mother look like she's about to cry?" the young woman continued her line of inquiry.

One pointed look from Klaus was enough to make Esther attempt to gather herself. "I promise you Bekah, there is nothing wrong," this time his try to smile was a tad more successful. "Now, I'll go to my room for a bit and rest. It has been a tiresome day, but you can resume the party here."

After that, ignoring pitiful looks thrown at him, Klaus retreated to his quarters, locked the door and only then did he collapse on the bed, head cradled between his hands. He'd sworn to obey Mikael in everything. He was now at the beck and call of the father who'd always hated him and only the thought of what he'd be made to do sent a shiver down his back.

The only consolation was that Henrik was safe and that made it all better.

It made it worth it. Or so he had believed.


Months went by and slowly Klaus grew accustomed to his father's so called business. A top criminal organization would have been a more accurate description. As he'd promised, not once did he refuse his assignment.

At first, as he trained to be a better man –in his father's view- which equaled being cold and ruthless, his missions were easy: go and collect some money from people who owed it, apply some punishment if they failed to deliver. Then, it escalated into conducting weapon trades and dealing with the primary competition through whatever way was fit (be it by beating them up or setting their supplies on fire). Stefan, Lucien and seldom Marcel were his partners during the easier, less violent missions.

Soon, he grew to be his father's best man. All because he never hesitated. He just complied, holding up his end of the bargain while his father held his. Yet, with every single day that went by in Mikael's service, another part of his heart died. It blackened, corrupted by the things he was forced to do.

Seeing Henrik happily applying to universities, looking to fulfill his dream of being a doctor was what made him push on, what kept him sane. His name was the only thing he needed to remember why he was fighting this war with his conscience in the first place. It reminded him that even though he was losing himself, Henrik was well on the way to finding a good, honorable way of life. Hopefully, somewhere far, far away from here.

His mother and siblings, save from Finn who couldn't care less, noticed his fire slowly being extinguished and they all tried their best to comfort him, make his little time home more enjoyable, but it was in vain. Most of the hours at home were spent in the confines of his room, refusing food except from the minimum necessary to survive. A prisoner of his own wretched deeds was what he was slowly growing to be.

Aside from Henrik, there was only one other good thing that had come out of it. In his wish to take out his unexplainable ire on Klaus, Mikael gave him more assignments than anybody else. Therefore, Elijah and Kol were needed less and less. Slowly light was seeping back into their eyes, the difference immensely noticeable.

If all that was required for them all to be happy was his pain, then so be it.

Demons were haunting him every time he blinked, the faces of the people he'd hurt vivid behind his orbits, mocking, taunting him, never granting reprieve. Not one had been forgotten, their features burned into his brain. Nights were reduced to him reading until his body couldn't take it anymore and even then, sleep refused to grace him for more than two or three hours, at best.

However, the true test hadn't come yet. It presented itself one rainy afternoon in which Mikael had unexpectedly called him to an abandoned warehouse they occasionally used. His gut screamed that something was wrong, but not once had he expected that in that day, all shreds of light still remaining within his heart would turn black.

Contrary to the usual, when only he and a few other of Mikael's men were present, the warehouse was packed with at least fifty people, all gathered in a circle around something. As he advanced, he noticed that it was not something, but rather someone.

A man he'd seen a couple of times was tied to a chair, blood leaking from his chafed lips, sweat glistening on his forehead, bruises blackening his almost closed eyes. He was panting, in obvious pain. Darting back and forth in the room, Klaus finally focused on the front row –the ones who'd gotten the best tickets for the show- Kol, Elijah and Finn stood there like emotionless statues. Right next to them were his friends, both Stefan and Lucien not appearing entirely too bothered by the gruesome display in front of them while Marcel looked positively pasty and sick.

In the centre, right next to the bleeding man was nobody but Mikael himself. Crimson stained his knuckles and white, expensive shirt. As soon as he caught sight of his son, the leader took a step in his direction.

"The guest of honor has arrived. Welcome, Niklaus!"

There was a hint of masked malice that made Klaus shudder in the man's apparent warm greeting.

"What's going on, father?" he willed his voice to be steady and strong as he advanced, stopping right in front of Mikael. "What has this man done to warrant this?"

His father's eyes narrowed and the younger man wondered if he'd by some mistake allowed pity to seep into his question. Hopefully he hadn't because that was viewed as a sign of weakness around here and was severely punishable.

"He," Mikael spat out," Has betrayed us. Talked to the police, cut out a deal with them, selling us out to save his own skin. Too bad he didn't take into consideration that I have contacts everywhere and no one double crosses me and lives to tell of it," just for show, he punched the man again, but Klaus was stuck on the last part of the sentence.

"You're going to kill him?" Klaus incredulously asked.

Before then, he'd hurt people, sold weapons, set houses and cars on fire, but never once had he ever come close to seeing someone get murdered. It was the one step into darkness he had refused to acknowledge his father had taken.

"No, my dear son," the last noun spoken with ridicule of sorts. "You are the one who will end this man's misery."

With that, he effectively rendered Klaus speechless. He was in an impossible situation: either kill the man and with him doom his soul or he could refuse and allow Henrik to be pulled into this in his stead. Glancing at his brothers, it was obvious that they were as stunned as he was. Sure, Mikael had wanted his sons to follow in his footsteps, but until then he'd never asked them to assassinate someone. If one didn't count Finn, obviously. The deduction had been that in his weird, paternal way, he was protecting them,

Yet with Klaus, he seemed to have no problem in asking. Moreover, he seemed to be enjoying it. Immensely, judging by how giddily he handed over a gun. Klaus's trembling hands hovered in the air, not grabbing the weapon, hesitating as a battle raged in his mind.

"What's the matter, Niklaus? Can't you do what I'm asking of you? Is this the end of our deal?" Mikael all but smirked.

No doubt existed in Klaus's mind that should he refuse, Henrik would be dragged here as well, forced to watch Klaus's own torture for disobeying his father in addition to this man's murder. But could he really pull the trigger? Could he really murder a defenseless man in cold blood? Could he vanquish that part of his heart as well?

One thing was certain: if he did this, he was no better than Mikael.

"Father, stop this madness," Elijah gathered his courage to step in. "There are plenty of other people who can do this other than my brother."

"Elijah," Mikael's voice was laced with a deadly warning. "No one asked for your opinion and if you do not want to take your brother's place, you should step back and keep your mouth shut."

Genuinely contemplating if he should do just that and, as the older brother, protect Klaus until the very end, Elijah remained glued to the spot, lips opening and closing with words he did not dare say.

Clarity came to Klaus in that second. He could not allow Elijah to murder someone for him. Knowing his brother, the burden would be too much for him to carry. He would crumble under its weight. But he could shoulder it. He was strong enough to do it for his family. He had to be.

"Brother," strength returned to his voice. "Do as he says, I've got this." To add credibility to what he spoke, Klaus grabbed the gun and pointed it at the man who was begging for mercy.

There was no chance he would get it. Mikael wasn't familiar with such notions. Sensing the determination within his younger brother and aware that there was nothing he could do to stop this, but try to wrestle the weapon away which could end in tragedy, Elijah stepped back, sorrow filling him at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Mere inches away Klaus was lost inside his own mind, the gun heavy in his hands. It had the weight of the good left inside him. Once he'd pulled the trigger, his heart would be completely corroded by Mikael's evilness. And he had no choice but to do it. Even if he'd gathered the courage to turn the weapon on Mikael, he'd be shot by one of the bodyguards before he could do any real damage.

Slowly, his vision blurred with each broken plea, heart breaking even more. His finger gently squeezed the trigger, before hesitating for the last time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered inaudibly before finally pressing down.

A loud noise echoed all over the warehouse, the silence making it louder, more deafening. One shot right between the eyes, like his fingers hadn't shaken at all. As if he'd been doing this his whole life and was a professional. Truthfully, all Klaus had wanted had been not to cause the man unnecessary pain and end his suffering with one shot.

"It's done," he threw the gun at Mikael's feet and began walking out of the warehouse, wishing for nothing else than to be alone. It was the only way he could quiet the debilitating screams of guilt. Bury them where they couldn't reach him.

"In a grand way too," Mikael actually had the audacity to clap. Like never before at any of Klaus's prior achievements. "I think I may have found the one thing you are good at, boy."

"And I think you may regret this in the end, Mikael," Klaus defiantly threw back at his father who had, in his mind, grown unworthy of the title, earning a few shocked gasps as he walked out of the room without looking back.

Fury at the audacity of the boy to threaten him quickly evaporated when he landed eyes on Klaus's handiwork. Who would have thought that he could actually be useful? Right then and there, Mikael decided that he'd found his new top hitman. Not only would the work be done spectacularly, but he could also see Klaus die a bit every time he pulled the trigger. Getting it over with and also entertaining him.

All to protect his siblings.

What a fool! If only he knew they weren't even related and that he was the product of his whore of a mother's adultery.


Following that fateful evening, Mikael stuck to his plan. All of the jobs involving tapping into one's violent nature were handed to his son on a silver platter. And all were accomplished perfectly.

A year and a half and Klaus Mikaelson had grown to be a feared and respected man. Not one person dared cross or disregard him. The fact that he retreated further and further into his shell only added fuel to that fire. He was downright unapproachable, instilling fear in all those around him. Although he never showed unwarranted malice, his actions spoke louder than words.

Even his family was reluctant to come to him, at least those who knew of his new occupation. Henrik and Rebekah were the only ones who still treated him the same, who still sought his company and who didn't treat him like a pariah or eyed him with pity.

For their sake, he tried to maintain appearances, to project that nothing had changed even though his soul could barely take the thought of waking up and starting a different day. Crippling horrors of what he'd be forced to do hounded his every waking second.

What was more, they seemed to be getting worse with every day. Now, Mikael was only sending him to genuinely hurt people and always ensured Finn, Lucien or Stefan went with him. They had to report that the job had been done. From friends, they'd morphed into his wardens.

Thankfully, he'd only been forced to pull the trigger twice since that night, during a shoot-out with a gang who'd refused to pay what they owed for a shipment of weapons.

But still, three people no longer breathed because of him. That was not counting the dozens whose lives he'd ruined or those the weapons he sold had killed.

They also weighed down on his conscience.

The only one truly not bothered by any of this was Finn who seemed to enjoy his torture.

Today, though, something was different. Mikael had called him and Finn into his office and threw a few photographs in their face. It was a man in his early thirties clad in a police uniform, radiant green eyes staring back at them.

"What is this, father?" Finn asked knowing that Klaus only spoke to the older man when absolutely needed.

Klaus had a sneaky suspicion that he knew where this was headed and immediately cursed himself for not being able to say no. Well, he'd made his own bed and now he had to sleep in it.

"This is the new thorn in my side," anger could be read in Mikael's voice. "He's recently been promoted to detective and has already put behind bars two of my best men while seizing a large quantity of weapons. Suffice it to say, my partners are not very happy and wish him taken care of or there will be consequences."

"You want us to kill him?" Finn didn't even bat an eyelash.

"I want Niklaus to do it. You are to assist him, should he need it."

Or, in other words, be his keeper and make sure the mark does not live to see another day, Klaus read between the lines.

"Can't you just bribe him, like you have so many others?" the youngest in the room couldn't refrain from asking.

The scathing looks he received from both men in the room would have been enough to senselessly scare off any lesser man, but Klaus wasn't affected in the slightest, staring them both down, expecting an answer.

"He's not up for sale, I've tried," Mikael eventually responded.

Not wanting to waste another second in the man's presence, Klaus grabbed the paper containing the man's address and went to leave the room. A threatening voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Niklaus, I want a clean job. No witnesses."

"Isn't it always?" he barked in the exact same tone.

Long ago he'd stopped fearing his father. All he did, all the obedience was not because he was scared, but because he wanted to keep his brother and sister alive and well, not tainted like he was.

Yet, something in the way Mikael had said those words had left him unsettled. Never before had that notion been emphasized like today. It was a bad omen. Klaus was sure of it.

To further cement his belief, Finn emerged minutes later, a knowing smirk plastered on his face. Clearly he had been made privy to something and had no interest in sharing it with Klaus.

"Anything you have to say, brother?" Klaus tried anyway, hoping that their blood relation would awaken any dormant feelings of remorse or care Finn had. If there were any.

"You'll see," he took off laughing, baffling his sibling even further.

When night started to fall, both men found themselves in front of the detective's house, Klaus readying his weapon, loading it and putting on a silencer. The last thing he wanted was a nosy neighbor to interrupt him. One body was already too much.

However, something continued to feel off. There were too many lights in the house. Why would a single man, a police officer nonetheless keep three different rooms illuminated? When confronted with this fact, Finn simply shrugged, murmuring something about how it will all make sense eventually.

Klaus didn't want 'eventually', he wanted right then and there, but knew all too well how pointless and counterproductive arguing with his stubborn brother would be.

"Let's do this," he beckoned Finn once darkness had completely enveloped the street. Goose bumps covered his skin for unknown reasons. Another sign that he was missing something. Something important. It was like the Universe or some God, if there was any above- Klaus had long since abandoned faith- was trying to warn him not to go on. To finally deny a mission and face the consequences.

The smiling, elated faces of Rebekah and Henrik were what made him push on. He could not allow them to see the world they truly lived in. A world ruled by whoever was most powerful, had more money or was not afraid to have gallons of blood stain his hands.

Time to add more crimson to my ledger too, he sorrowfully pondered before getting in the right mindset- vanquishing any moral values and becoming the monster everybody claimed he was.

Swiftly, Klaus picked the lock and entered the living room. Blackness shrouded him and it took a few seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to it. Without making further noise, Finn closed to door behind them and drew his weapon out as well. Both men moved in synch, efficiently clearing the room.

All went according to plan until Klaus's feet hit something. Flinching at having disrupted the silence even in this barely perceptible manner, the man could not help bending down to see what it was.

In the dim light, Klaus could swear a teddy bear laid on the floor, but wishing to ensure, he picked it up and checked, double-checking in the moonlight, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him.

They weren't.

A plush toy was what his hands were clutching.

"What the hell is this, Finn?" he harshly whispered, barley keeping his voice down.

"I believe it's a stuffed animal, Niklaus."

At that senseless sarcastic quip his blood pressure surged to infinite levels. Anger was boiling beneath his apparently cool façade and he had to take a few deep breaths to keep from shouting.

"I have eyes of my own, Finn. What I meant to ask is if there is a child in this house," he could not help slightly raising the level in which he spoke.

"Perhaps. The man has a daughter, but I do not know if she is home."

He said the words so easily, like they made no difference when, in fact, they changed everything. It was one thing to kill a man, and a different one altogether a kid. Frankly, Klaus did not think he could do it. It was too much even for him. His moral compass hadn't broken that much as to not put a clear limit when it came to that.

Turning on his heels without adding anything for fear of hitting his brother straight in the face and waking the entire neighborhood, a hand clasped tightly around his wrist.

"Where are you going, brother? The job is not done yet."

"For me it is," he shook Finn off. "We'll kill him somewhere else. I'll figure it out on my own if I have to, but I'm not hurting his family."

"There will be no better opportunity. Father said we have to do it tonight, his partners insisted on it."

With that, Finn succeeded in sending Klaus's already flayed nerves off. Sometimes, he wondered whether his brother was a robot who knew nothing else but to obey blindly. Or did he really not have any qualms about ending a toddler's life?

"And I said we'll do it some other time," a deadly warning laced his words leaving no room for questioning.

They were almost out of the house. Almost.

But nothing could ever go right for Klaus. It just wasn't in his DNA. Cursed is how he had probably been born.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

No one else but the police detective marched down the stairs, clad in a black t-shirt and boxers, gun drawn out. Immediately, two weapons were pointed at him, Finn without blinking while Klaus was calculating the best plan to ensure the safety of the child and possibly the wife upstairs. All that remained was to kill this man as quickly as possible and get out before the ruckus awakened the house's other inhabitants.

"Lower your gun," Klaus began. "You're outnumbered and it's not in your best interest for bullets to begin to fly," seeing the man hesitate he continued." I have no intention of harming your family if you just do as I say and trust me I could easily kill you all if I wanted to."

The worst part was that he really could. Without that much of an effort.

"How do I know you're telling the truth and that you won't just kill me and then go upstairs and have your way with my wife and daughter?"

The man attempted to look composed, but it was clear that he realized the impossible situation he was currently in and that what Klaus was offering was the best it could get.

On the other side of the room, the younger Mikaelson was downright disgusted at what the man had implied he was capable of. Rape was one thing he had never even gotten close to and never would. The vile act had him nauseous and positive that he would murder anyone who tried it. Especially on a defenseless child.

"You have my word," he tried to appear composed, but some cracks in his armor must have been obvious because Finn was frowning and the man was hesitating, gun wavering in his hand. "But you have to make up your mind. If your family comes down the stairs, the equation changes drastically."

Truth be told, Klaus was not very certain of what he was saying and if he could really make good of his threat, but the police officer did not have to know.

"Time is running out, detective," he forced out, loathing himself even more with each word tumbling out of his mouth, aware that his weakness was starting to show. "I might appear to hesitate right now, but believe me when I say my associate will not."

One furtive look at an expressionless Finn seemed to do the trick because the weapon landed at Klaus's feet, resignation taking over the man's face. Like any other who had been born with the innate ability to self-sacrifice, the cop chose death to ensure his beloved ones survived. "Just do it quickly," he brokenly murmured.

And Klaus should have just done it. Only he was faltering. Pictures of a weeping, little girl coming across her father's corpse in a pool of congealed blood were holding him back. Unsteady hands wrestled to regain control and to get it done and he had nearly succeeded in reaching that place where he could block off anything but what he had to do.

Nearly.

A high-pitched scream ruined his inner equilibrium entirely. Accompanying it came running a young child, no more than 4, charging in her father's arms. The mother followed immediately, stopping abruptly when she saw the intruders.

The police officer moved within seconds, making himself a human shield between their guns and his family.

"Daddy," the girl wept. "Who are these people and why are they in our house?"

"Don't worry sweetheart, everything will be alright. Daddy won't let anything happen to you," he tried to hand over the girl to her petrified mum.

"Do not move," Finn intervened upon realizing that Klaus was freezing up and opting to finish it himself. "No one move!" The sternness with which he spoke left no room for arguing, making it clear that he was not one to lose himself over such petty things as two innocent lives being uselessly claimed.

"Just let my family go. They know nothing of my work, of who you are, they're innocent. I'm begging you, do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt them."

Tears were threatening to fall from the poor man's ocean eyes as he turned towards Klaus, sensing the he was the one more likely to have qualms about killing them. "Please," he enforced his appeal.

In that instant Klaus felt more lost than he'd ever been. The main reason he had for doing this was to protect his innocent siblings. But weren't these people here just as innocent as Rebekah and Henrik? Who was he to decide his kin was more important? Weren't all lives equal?

"They should have stayed upstairs then, I'm afraid they've given us no choice," Finn pulled the safety off, announcing his intentions clearly.

A decision had to be made. Quickly. If Klaus did nothing, this family would die and Henrik and Rebekah would get to live another happy, blissfully oblivious day. But was that worth wiping three persons off the face of Earth?

He could try to save his siblings; try to protect them from his father's evilness. They could still get another chance, but for the people in front of him, this was it. They would get no redo, no second chance.

To his surprise, in the end it was easier to choose than expected.

Lifting his weapon again, he spoke sternly. "Actually, brother, there is another choice."

A flabbergasted Finn turned to look at him only to find himself facing down the barrel of a gun. Surprise furrowed his eyebrows at his brother's unexpected show of emotions and conscience.

"Lower your weapon, Finn," but his warning was not heeded, but instead met with a mocking smirk.

"You really expect me to believe you capable of pulling the trigger, when you couldn't even do it against these poor bastards whose fate has already been sealed?"

Sensing that he was not being taken seriously, Klaus dug deep and managed to pull out shreds of the person buried deep within him. The demon they all feared and which he kept locked away, deep underneath himself for as long as he could because it not only terrified those near him, but also himself.

Until Mikael forcefully let it out to play.

"Do not make me do something I will regret," his voice grew darker, more sinister. "You've seen firsthand what I am really capable of when pushed to the limit."

Judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows- a huge tell for the usually expressionless Finn- it had started to sink in just how gravely he'd misjudged Niklaus.

His ability to stand up for what he believed in, something which Mikael and Finn believed had been wrecked by his time under their thumb, had been severely underestimated.

"You would really hurt your own flesh and blood?"

That appeal to emotion served to soften Klaus up for a brief while, but he was quickly reminded that the one thing Finn had never treated him like had been as a brother. Almost the same hatred as Mikael's had resided in the elder's gaze.

A whimper caught his attention. The family had huddled together, the man comforting the sobbing figures that were coming apart in his arms. Although he was putting tremendous efforts into appearing confident and not like a man who'd been preparing to die just minutes ago, the detective was tensely watching the family drama unfolding before him, clearly waiting for the right moment to just make a run for it.

Foolish man.

Without Klaus's help, they would all be dead before counting to 5.

"I will do what I have to in order to ensure that these people get out of here unharmed and it would not be in your best interest to fight me, brother," deadly undertones laced his phrase. "Give me your gun," he extended one hand, while the other remained trained on Finn. "Now!"

Sensing that Klaus had entered that phase where he was not to be trifled with, Finn reluctantly complied.

"You," the police officer jumped when addressed. "I want you to listen to me very carefully because I do not have the time nor the patience to repeat this. The man I work for is incredibly dangerous and powerful and once a hit has been ordered on you, there is no going back. I'm willing to help you and your family make a run for it, but you have to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

All others in the room remained quiet, the man not moving a muscle to respond, clearly still in shock.

"Do you understand?" the sandy-haired man repeated the question managing to sound even more intimidating. He needed him to snap out of that pathetic stance and be the brave man willing to die for his family. Be a survivor and drag his broken family with him.

In the end, a nod finally made it his way and Klaus knew the adults were at least alert enough to register everything he told them.

"You have to get out of here, out of the country as quickly as possible. Go somewhere Mikael doesn't have enough reach to find and take you back. Go for a city populated enough to blend in the crowd but where you also know everyone if you simply pay attention. Somewhere you can easily spot anyone out to get you, but also a place you haven't been before as to not get recognized."

"I…" the wife started babbling, proving that she was made of stronger material than he'd given her credit for. "I think I know just the place, it's in…"

Yet Klaus effectively shut her up. "Don't! I don't want to know. It's safer for you that way."

"You're going to need new identities and papers, but I'm sure someone with your background can engineer something like that," Klaus addressed the police officer who was busy looking at the ground, shame apparent of his face.

"I don't have the money for that at this moment," the man appeared literally crushed at admitting that.

Closing his eyes, trying to figure someway around that little detail, Klaus could only come up with one solution. It would ensure these people got out safely. However, if he did do that, Klaus would be losing one of the things which could grant him an escape following his betrayal to Mikael.

"You," he pointed to the wife after he'd made up his mind. "Come here!" The husband wanted to hold her back, but chose not to at the last moment, aware that the man holding the pistol was their only shot at making it out alive. "In my left pocket there's a wallet. I want you to take it out and grab the black credit card."

After the woman did as asked, Klaus became aware three puzzled pairs of eyes turned in his direction, expecting a reasonable explanation.

"It's not it my name and it's untraceable," he finally offered. "There's enough money to get you anywhere you desire and keep you comfortable for a pretty long time."

That money was his part of the business conducted with Mikael. Blood money that he hadn't touched. Saving it just in case he needed to flee Mikael's side and to ensure a life without a care for him and his siblings.

That time was coming fast and he had been left with absolutely nothing, but somehow, he couldn't really regret what he'd done. One look at the little girl and he was sure he'd done what was right.

For once in his life, he'd been a good man.

"You have to go now. We haven't checked in and I don't know how much longer until my employee sends a search party. Go in your car, put a safe distance between you and this place and then steal a different vehicle. Don't stay too long in one or you might get caught. Most importantly, don't get in touch with anyone from the police force. There are plenty of dirty cops on our pay roll. Go!"

The shouting of the last word had been meant to send them into action and it did. They were almost out of the door, the man carrying his still crying daughter as she fearfully buried her head into his chest. The wife halted her brisk steps, looking at him one last time.

"Thank you," she whispered softly. "Thank you for everything."

Such words of gratitude left Klaus stunned. Merely a quarter of an hour ago, he'd been planning to kill her husband in cold blood and now she was thanking him. There was nothing to thank here. All he'd done was be decent.

Probably trading his life for theirs in the process.

After the car's engine could no longer be heard, Klaus lowered his gun. This ordeal had drained him of all force, the monster back in its cage; the younger Mikaelson did not have it in him to fight his brother.

All strength seeping from his body, the weapon tumbled to the floor. It only took Finn ten seconds to pick it up and turn the weapon on him.

"You have no idea the hell you've just wrought upon yourself, Niklaus. No idea," was the first thing he said.

"As a matter of fact I do, brother. I know perfectly well what father does to traitors or have you forgotten that I pulled the trigger on one myself? I harbor no delusion of getting out of this alive," Klaus bit his lip, wondering if asking for help was worth a try.

It wasn't.

He quickly realized that, knowing Finn, he would want a VIP ticket to his disemboweling.

"Father will destroy you, rip you apart piece by piece and even if he were to show mercy, his partners had demanded the weapons back and the head of the one who took them on a stick. They are ruthless, Niklaus, trust me you have just dug your own grave."

"I know," he simply stated.

"Then why did you do it?" incredulity laced his voice.

"Because it was the right thing to do and for once in my life," his voice broke. "I just wanted to do the honourable thing."

"You're an even bigger fool than I thought you were. Move," disdainfully, the gun was pressed to his side, beckoning him to advance towards the car. And he did just that, no protesting and no begging for aid. Instead, he chose to quietly listen to Finn aware that he was probably walking to his own funeral.

I'm sorry, Henrik. I failed you, little brother, was all he could think of the entire ride back home.

Clouds obscured the moon, crispy early morning air biting his skin, but Klaus was numb to it. All he could focus on was the imposing silhouette of his house, the place where Finn had driven them.

Truth be told, he'd been expecting the warehouse where Mikael did most of his dirty work, but to his surprise, his father had ordered for his wayward son to be brought home.

Hope- a deceiving feeling- had been ignited inside his heart that maybe Mikael would let this one slide and that neither him nor Henrik would suffer the consequences of him breaking the deal.

That feeble feeling was quickly squandered when instead of entering the house Finn led him to the stable. A metallic, pungent smell hit him from the get-go.

A smell he was all too familiar with.

Blood.

The source became obvious after a few more steps.

Domino.

The horse he'd bought for Henrik with all of his love, the source of so much happiness for his younger brother was lying in a pool of its own blood. The crimson, disgusting liquid stained its pristinely white fur, turning it a sickening shade of dark pink. A gaping hole had been carved into his abdomen, leaving internal organs and bowels out onto the orange hay.

The poor creature was still clutching at life, ragged breaths shaking its mangled body as strikingly humane brown eyes landed on Klaus who could have sworn to see recognition shine in them as the animal tried to neigh at the sight of one of the two people who'd taken care of it.

Contrary to his wishes, the man could feel warmth travelling to his irises and he tried to reign himself in. Show no sign of weakness to the man right next to the horse.

Mikael.

His father.

"Hello, Niklaus," the man serenely greeted. "Did you enjoy the surprise I had waiting for you? I even left it alive to greet you, dear son."

"You're a monster!"

A sadistic laugh wracked Mikael's body as he came near Klaus, wiping his blood-stained knife on Klaus's shirt.

"And what do you think you are, Niklaus? Have you not hurt people? Have you not killed people? Tell me, what's the difference between us?"

Those rhetorical questions hit their mark perfectly. Right in the centre of Klaus's disgust for the person he was. For what he had proven capable of.

"You know why I did what I did," he tried to argue, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

"You still did it. Regardless of how you hide behind poor justifications of your deeds, you still murdered on my behalf. And did it better than all of my people. You see, Niklaus, I don't understand it myself, but you are the one son who truly resembles me."

"No," Klaus shook his head, protesting. "I am nothing like you and I will never be."

"On that you are right. You will never be like me because, in the end, you chose to be weak, to be like him and your mother. A coward," true disappointment shone in his father's eyes, but what really lingered with Klaus was the pronoun Mikael had thrown with great hatred.

Who was he talking about?

Before he could question it any further, Mikael beckoned Finn to take him to the basement and wait for him there. His older brother forcefully pushed him away and all Klaus could do was cast a final look at Domino. The suffering animal that drew one last gulp of air and remained motionless, life finally draining from its eyes.

Klaus knew he was the next one to follow in Domino's footsteps. All that remained was the hope that he might convince Mikael to let Henrik and Rebekah live their lives without destroying them like he had his other children.

Like he had utterly and completely wrecked Klaus.

He would surely try until his final breath to make that happen.

Rope tightly held his hands behind his back, literally cutting into his skin as he uselessly struggled against the restraints.

The wooden chair he was tied to shook under his weight and Klaus prayed that it would break, giving him a fighting chance. A moldy smell invaded his nostrils, but it could not completely vanquish the coppery one his shirt let off.

Domino's blood had coagulated on his shirt and it didn't allow Klaus to forget the poor creature's face as it died on the floor. Sacrificed for his sins.

Finn was resting on one of the numerous cases in the basement, amusedly watching his brother try to free himself. It was quite entertaining, but he was sure nothing would compare to what was coming.

Nobody crossed Mikael and lived to talk about it.

His younger brother would learn that lesson today, the hard way.

Seconds trickled by, turning into minutes and Klaus grew more and more impatient. If Mikael had only wanted to kill him, it would have been done by now. No, his father would make a spectacle of his death, enjoying every moment of it.

There was one last request Klaus had, just in case anyone up there was listening: that his family would not be forced to assist his demise. Most would not be able to stomach it and Klaus only shuddered at the possibility of anyone intervening on his behalf.

Eventually, the door opened, letting in some light. Enough for Klaus to realize that dawn had started to break. The first person to come in was none other than Elijah. Upon seeing the condition of his brother, he ran all the way down the stairs, dropping to his knees in front of Klaus.

"Niklaus, what has happened?"

Unable to take the concern hidden behind his brother's orbs and unwilling to say his goodbye just yet, the sandy blond turned away.

"He refused to obey father. Allowed a detective and his family to escape," Finn offered in his stead.

Elijah audibly gasped at hearing of his brother's blatant betrayal. Finally, when the silence and the feel of his brother's eyes burning a hole through him became too much, Klaus turned to look at him and was blown away by the genuine pain and desperation found within his brother. He darted back and forth between Klaus and Finn, clearly calculating each and every scenario.

Judging by the desponded look that replaced the pensive one, he had reached the same conclusion as Klaus: there was no getting out of this alive.

"Brother, I…" Elijah choked out. "I can't, I don't…"

"I know," Klaus cut in, voice loaded with a million different undertones of emotions. "It's alright, I've made my peace with dying, but I need you to promise me one last thing."

"No," Elijah tried to argue, desperately grasping at straws and refusing to accept the unavoidable. "I'll talk with father myself, stop this madness. There must be a way. You were able to change his mind once before."

"Elijah!" Klaus put an end to his babbling not even wanting to consider the possibility of his brother offering himself on a silver platter to Mikael to save him. "You are wasting whatever little time we have before Mikael walks through that door. I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," transparent liquid filled the raven-haired man's orbs, his voice shaking.

"Look after Henrik and Rebekah. Don't allow Mikael to ruin them like he ruined me, like he ruined us. Protect them like I tried to and failed."

"I will, brother. I swear to you. Remember: always and forever."

Those words were like a dagger to Klaus's heart. Back when they were younger, all the Mikaelson children aside from Finn had made a promise to always look after each other, always be there for one another and never allow any harm to befall the others. That phrase stood for that promise and it tore at Klaus's insides to have failed to fulfill it.

"Always and forever," he willed himself to repeat, forcing a small smile, feigning bravery he did not feel.

"How incredibly touching," Finn mockingly clapped. "Father is right. You are all a bunch of weaklings dominated by petty things like feelings. That is why you will all end up dead like Niklaus here."

"At least we'll be able to say we lived, dear brother," Elijah calmly responded. "That we were more than puppets in our father's intricate plays."

Finn was just about to say something when the door was thrown back and inside tumbled the rest of the Mikaelson family. Moreover, Klaus's friends, Lucien, accompanied by his girlfriend, Aurora, Marcel and Stefan followed in Mikael's footsteps. Brought here for the show, most likely.

A series of disbelieving exclamations were let out at the sight of Klaus strapped to a chair, blood staining his clothes.

"Son!" Esther ran to him, pushing Elijah to the side and taking his place. Tears had already left tracks on her beautiful face, her gentle hand cupping Klaus's face. The man leaned into his mother's touch, basking in her warmth and love and using them to steel himself for what was to come.

"Father, why is Klaus tied down?" Henrik innocently asked.

"Because he has betrayed us, my dear son and he has to pay for it."

So cold were the words Mikael had spoken that Henrik flinched away from him along with Rebekah. Klaus's heart felt for them because tonight they would be shown their father's true face. And they would most likely be forced to assist to his execution.

Undoubtedly, that would destroy them.

Desperately, his eyes scanned the room, searching for anyone willing to help him, but they all turned away from his gaze as if ashamed of themselves for permitting it, but too afraid to do anything.

"Father," Klaus gathered his wits and what was left of his courage and spoke. "I understand and welcome my punishment, but not in front of my siblings. Please, I know you've always hated me and that I am nothing but a disappointment to you, but if there was ever a time when you loved me as your son, I'm begging you not to force them to watch this."

His appeal to Mikael's emotions was his last resort and all it accomplished was amuse Mikael. "My son," he bitterly spoke. "Niklaus, I think it's finally time for the truth. What do you say, Esther? Shall I tell the boy why I've always resented him?"

"Mikael, don't," the woman begged stirring even more confusion among her children.

"Shall I or shall you?" He gave about a minute for effect and when his wife remained quiet, he loudly proclaimed the one bit of truth that put everything in a different light. The one thing that cleared up all doubt regarding Klaus's fate. "You are not my son, Niklaus. You are the product of your mother's affair with my most trusted employee."

Klaus's first instinct was to refuse to accept what his father was saying. To chalk it up as his newest and most ingenious way to make him suffer, but one look at his contrite mother, who had lowered her head to the ground, confirmed everything Mikael had been saying.

"Now you see, Niklaus. The reason why I could never love you like my other children is quite simple: you are not mine. And as for your request, I'm sorry, but they will see your punishment. They will see what happens when you cross me. Learn not to do it themselves."

The oldest Mikaelson went to one of the cases and propped it open. To everybody's shock, inside laid dozens of weapons: manual, automatic, assault rifles and even anti-aircraft weaponry and right beside them was a smaller suitcase. Mikael only took that one out, an evil smile breaking out on his face at the sight of whatever he landed eyes on.

"Oh," he brusquely turned around. "Since you broke our deal, Henrik will be joining me in my endeavors and abandon those silly dreams of attending medical school. It is only fair, Niklaus. As a matter of fact, his initiation in my business will be today. Now, shall we get started?"

Just as he said that, his cell phone rang, eyebrows furrowing at seeing the caller ID and storming out of the room, leaving Finn as his bodyguard and also allowing them a peek at what was inside the suitcase –a wide variety of torture instruments.

"Son, I'm so sorry," his mother brokenly pleaded for his forgiveness. "This is my entire fault."

"No, it's not. I made my own choices and now I'm paying for them."

That was the closest he could get himself to comfort the woman who'd lied to him all of his life, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. If only she'd told the truth, she would have saved him much heartbreak in his childhood and made growing up fatherless easier. At least he wouldn't have spent countless nights wondering what he'd done wrong.

"Brother!" Henrik exclaimed and jumped to hug him, engulfing him in a tight embrace, sobbing against his chest. "What's father going to do to you? What business is he talking about?"

"Henrik, I need you to listen to me. Whatever father will do to me, you cannot interfere," Klaus had to make sure of that. Otherwise, his younger brother could end up hurt as well, making everything he'd done so far redundant. Still, there was not enough time to answer his questions. "I can take whatever Mikael throws at me. Trust me, I am strong enough to face him" he turned toward all of his siblings, reiterating what he'd previously asked although he felt nowhere near as sure as he projected to be. "Not one of you will disobey Mikael in regards to what he does to me. You will just let it happen."

"Nik," Rebekah joined Henrik in squeezing him to her chest, openly weeping as she understood what was coming. "I love you," she murmured in his ear, giving him unexpected force to face the music. For them, he would not give Mikael any satisfaction.

"Step away from him, right now!" their seething father barked as he slammed the door in his wake. His fury had seemingly reached new levels. When his children refused to listen, he grabbed them both by the shoulders and forcefully removed them from Klaus, throwing them to the side with all of his might. "Do you have any idea what your foolishness has caused me, you pathetic boy?"

Klaus remained immune to the roaring man, not even blinking, his mouth sealed shut. If Mikael thought he would beg for forgiveness, he was gravely mistaken. Regardless of what would happen to him, nothing could erase that he'd done the right thing. Being even remotely at peace with himself made everything else easier to confront.

The punch came out of nowhere, hitting him straight across the face. "Answer me when I speak to you, Niklaus!"

Defiantly, Klaus lifted his eyes, staring Mikael down, not deigning him worthy of an answer. The next strike was expected and Klaus was more prepared for it. Another one followed and then another, a crunch filling the eerie silence as his cheekbones snapped under the excruciating pressure. Blood had filled his mouth, but not even a flinch escaped his lips. If there was one thing he would not do was to give the man pounding him the satisfaction of giving in, showing how much it truly hurt.

The next hit caught him straight across the temple, leaving him dizzy, for a brief second unable to lift his head back up. Yet his jaw remained tightly clenched, the scream of agony dying inside his parched throat.

"Father, that's enough! Please, stop this!" Henrik let out when he couldn't take it anymore.

Mikael's attention left his traitor son's body and concentrated on his youngest offspring. The most sentimental one had buried his face in his mother's side, both brokenly crying pained tears like the ones Niklaus refused to shed.

The ones he should be shedding. The ones that would form a river once he was done.

"Oh, but I am only getting started."

"No, please," Rebekah spoke now, quietly, with all the courage she could muster. "Please!"

"Stay out of this!" Klaus surprised all of them by how strong his voice sounded, no cracks obvious, bold mercury eyes focusing on his younger siblings, begging them to keep quiet, not draw unnecessary attention to themselves. He could take anything so long as they were alright.

His outburst had the wanted effect because Mikael turned back to the tied down man, something akin to admiration in his orbs. "You are not going to break this easily, are you Niklaus?"

All Klaus did was shake his head and spit out the blood swimming inside his mouth right at his father's feet, sending a clear message.

"You will never break me, Mikael. Not in this life."

Apparently taking that as a provocation, his father turned back to the suitcase, probably searching for a proper torture instrument when he caught sight of Finn puffing on a cigarette, tremendously enjoying the brutal spectacle.

Giving no warning, his father snatched it out of his hands and swiftly pressed it down on Klaus's skin, burning through the thin t-shirt. The nauseating scent of charred flesh filled his nostrils, but nothing was worse than the intense pain radiating from his chest as Mikael repeated the action countless times.

Heaving, Klaus felt bile reach his throat and it took everything he had to swallow it down. Heat had encompassed his entire body, sweat forming a thick sheen on his pale body. The cotton garment he'd been wearing was now gaping with dozens of holes, appearing as if a rookie had used it as target practice.

"All this and you have yet to scream for me, Niklaus. You have yet to beg me for your pointless existence."

Willing his thumping heart to slow down a bit, Klaus forced all of his might into one last look at his torturer. Blood loss was starting to sink in, draining most of the power left in his body. He genuinely felt like a toy ruthlessly being torn apart.

"That," he shakily inhaled. "Is never going to happen. You might as well kill me now and save yourself the time and effort."

More angry than he'd been in a long time and not only that the strongest of his children had turned out to be only one he did not father, but also because his partners had sworn to seek retribution for his failure to eliminate the threat, Mikael found himself pointing his revolver at Klaus's forehead and hesitating.

Hesitating because it seemed entirely too easy for him to receive such a way out.

He deserved more suffering, but no pain he'd inflicted so far had succeeded in putting out the rebellious glare Klaus was fixing him with.

No, this boy did not fear death. In fact, he seemed to welcome it.

And the last thing he wanted was to give him what he sought.

Ransacking the depths of his mind for a way to inflict real damage on Klaus's psyche, Mikael finally realized what the only way to really hurt his prisoner was. How could he have been so dense as to not figure it out sooner?

"Oh, you will die, Niklaus, but it will not be me pulling the trigger," he lowered his weapon.

All present turned to focus on the family's leader, clearly confused by what he'd uttered.

Could it really be true?

Could Mikael finally show he had a heart, hidden somewhere behind layers and layers of thick armor?

Was he truly willing to spare Klaus?

Nobody dared to even breathe, frozen in place, waiting for what he had to say.

"It will be your dear Henrik who will do the honors."

All faith evaporated, Mikael's callousness squandering it and along with it, Klaus's daring glares. Spotlights landed on the youngest Mikaelson, whose puffy, red eyes suddenly exploded with disbelief and fear.

"Quite poetic, isn't it? All you've done, put yourself through to protect your little brother and now he will be the one to end you."

Henrik desperately shook his head, unable to snap out of his shocked state, repeating over and over a mellow "No."

"Take it, son," the 9mm Glock was extended towards the 18 year old who was staring at it with eyes the size of saucers. "Take it!" Mikael repeated louder upon seeing that his command would not be heeded any time soon.

"Do it or I swear I will do it myself. I will tear him apart limb by limb and watch him bleed out. And as he is slowly drained, I will ensure that he witnesses your death for refusing to fulfill my orders. I do not need someone who is unable to do as I say whenever I say and anyone rendered useless shall not live to see another sunrise. Not in my family."

That made it clear that Mikael was done playing around. His threats would become true; of it Klaus had no doubt.

"Do as he says, brother," he dejectedly added, loathing that young, pristine Henrik would have his blood on his hands. At least he would be alive, was all that prompted him to continue. "It's ok. He'll kill me anyway and I've made my peace with that. Henrik, what I cannot fathom is you dying along with me. I just can't," the first tear rolled down his bloody cheek, cleansing it of the maroon liquid. "Please, just do it."

Although Klaus knew that Henrik would never be the same, that darkness would start to take over his mind, like it had him, he also knew that it was the only way one of them would make it out alive.

And while there is life, there is the possibility of redemption, and if there was anybody who could walk that abrupt road until the very end, that was Henrik Mikaelson.

Tentatively, Henrik put one foot in front of the other and grabbed the vile item extended to him.

"All you have to do is pull the trigger, son," Mikael encouraged, licking his lips in satisfaction.

The only thing Klaus found himself capable of doing was flash the person holding him at gunpoint a sincere smile that he hoped conveyed all that he was feeling: the fact the he could never blame Henrik for it and that he was proud of his younger brother's valor.

Blurred vision.

Hands trembling worse than a fragile leaf caught in a hurricane.

That was Henrik's state as he slowly squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The gunshot deafened them, Rebekah and Esther huddled together, neither able to look at the scene while the others, save from Mikael and Finn, turned their heads away at the sound.

Klaus, on his part, felt the most intense agony he'd felt in his entire life as the small piece of metal embedded itself into his skin, tearing through flesh, muscle and bone as if they were cotton candy.

Yet, he had expected the impact to knock him out instantly, not to be able to feel the aftermath. Confused, he let sapphire roam down his torso, only to find a black crater in his shoulder, bleeding profoundly, but not immediately life-threatening.

The reason why became apparent after one inquisitive look at Henrik who appeared on the border of a panic attack, unable to really wield a gun, his nerves too big. Even though he'd aimed for the heart, to grant his brother a quick, painless death, he'd missed by a long way.

"You useless brat," Mikael snatched the deadly object from his son's quavering limbs. "Not even able to hit a man strapped down to a chair that is not fighting you. Do I really have to do everything myself?"

This is it, Klaus realized when he saw through half-lidded eyes that Mikael had taken aim himself. No luck could save him this time.

Or so he thought, because out of the blue, the sound of tires screeching on the pavement interrupted Mikael who had already started to squeeze the trigger. The prattle of heavy boots followed it and then, the sound of their front door being blown to pieces was enough to make their blood run cold.

"It has to be them," Finn desperately addressed his father. "Like threatened, they came to collect their weapons."

"And I don't have them, Niklaus, because of you!" the gun rose again, this time touching his skin, the cold metal sending a shiver down Klaus's back.

"Father, a gunshot equals telegraphing our position to all of the intruders. Now is not the time," Elijah bought him a few more minutes. "It would be better to try and fight them off with what we have here."

Realizing the honest truth that his son was speaking, Mikael sighed and sheathed the Glock. "I'm going to need all of your help. These are mercenaries who sell weapons to the most dangerous terrorist organizations. They will shoot on sight so there is no time for hesitation. You hesitate, you die," Mikael professed with a pointed look at Henrik.

Arming everybody in the room in less than a minute, Mikael had almost reached the door when he turned towards Klaus. "We'll finish this when I get back, Niklaus," then, and only then did his eyes land on the red-haired woman who was squeezing on Lucien's hand, her knuckles pale on the small Smith&Wesson she'd been given. "You stay here," Mikael ordered. "Outside all you'd be is a burden."

And the woman obeyed, relief etched all over her delicate figures at being left behind. She would not have to go out there. She would not have to try and murder someone.

It didn't take much until the sound of heavy gunfire reached them. His own pain now locked away in a dark corner of his mind, Klaus sent a quick prayer- he was that desperate- that his siblings and friends would come out unscathed, however remote that possibility was.

Terrified by what was going on, reduced to a whimpering mess, Aurora let herself crumble to the floor before her knees buckled, the weapon slowly slipping through her fingertips.

As the sounds of battle grew closer and closer to their room, it became abundantly clear that, were an enemy to walk through the door, they would both be dead people. Lucien's girlfriend had never been anywhere near real combat and with him tied to a chair, their odds dropped to a staggering zero.

"You have to untie me," Klaus spoke loudly, hoping to get through to her.

Before it was too late.

And he did, but not with the wanted result. The usually fiery woman shook her head repeatedly, words still too much of a challenge for her.

"Aurora, listen to me, if anyone other than my family comes down the stairs, you can bid farewell to your life. To both of our lives."

"I…" she seemed to consider it. "I can't. If Mikael finds out, he'll kill me." Her crying was out of control, knees drawn to the chest as she cradled her head between her legs, in a desperate effort to drown out the noises.

"I swear, I won't try to escape. Aurora, please!" he all but screamed, biting back a flinch as his wound opened even more in his struggle against the restraints. Somehow, his frenzied begging affected the red-haired who started to stand up, heading towards him.

Unfortunately, by then it was already too late.

The door was slammed open, revealing two men, in full tactical gear, AK-47s resting on their shoulders. The Mikaelson shuddered at thinking that these people had gotten so far through his father's defenses and hoped that it didn't mean a member of his family had died, but couldn't linger on that possibility. No, he had to try and figure out a way they would both get out of here alive.

Or at least Aurora. He was a dead man walking any way.

Cautiously, the men descended, scanning the room for anybody other than Klaus and Aurora, ecstatic grins covering their faces when they found nobody.

From walking towards him to set him loose, the woman went to making a desperate run for the weapon she'd thrown away, but a rough voice stopped her before she could take two steps. "If you move, little girl, I'll blow your head off!"

The threat had not been in vain, the man thirstily licking his lips at the mere possibility of shooting her. Both of their assailants spared him no more than a fugitive glance, sure that the injured, bound man was no immediate threat.

The worst, most despairing part was that they were right.

Out of the two who had come down, although both looked murderous, the youngest one had something that unsettled Klaus deeply. Maybe it was the way he'd spoken previously, an acute desire for violence residing within his voice, or maybe it was the way his onyx eyes hungrily ran up and down Aurora's body.

Stopping right in front of her, his fingers ran down her cheek, gently squeezing on her neck and then, without warning, tore into two her silk blouse, leaving her in nothing but a red, lace bra. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun with you, my dear," he leered as the woman turned her head away, shakily exhaling.

"Let her go, you cowards," Klaus roared with all of his might, unable to fathom the idea of her being raped as he uselessly stood by. "Pick on someone your own size!"

All his provocations accomplished was to prompt the elder assailant to bury the tip of his rifle into his wound as deeply as it could enter and then to slowly rotate it, like one would a screw that had come loose. Suffice it to say, the pain erupting was unlike any he'd felt before, tears sprung to his orbits and he bit down on his tongue until he could feel blood fill his mouth just so that the scream would die in his throat.

"Can I go first?" the young one questioned. "I promise I'll be quick so you can enjoy her too."

How could someone be that despicable as to talk about rape like it was the most common thing in the world? It was like they were discussing who should go and grab some milk from the store.

Only after he'd been given nonverbal permission, the man forcefully slammed his lips on Aurora's, throwing her to the ground, unbuttoning his pants and lowering on top of the sniveling woman.

Meanwhile, Klaus fought and fought against the rope, screaming at them to stop until his throat was raw and his wrists bled from the struggle. But all that faded in the background.

The one thing that mattered was that both men had taken turns on Lucien's girlfriend and he had been nothing but a spectator. A good-for-nothing spectator who would have given anything to prevent this or at least to take all of her pain onto himself. She was good, not like the rest of them and she had not deserved this. The brutality with which they were treating her exceeded anything he'd witnessed before.

Moreover, he couldn't stop it and he hated himself for it. Another name to add to the list of people wrecked by him.

Once those pigs were done and had put their clothes back on, without any warning, they emptied half a clip into the poor woman's exposed abdomen. The only comfort was that her death was swift and most likely painless, but Klaus could not get out of his head the serenity that had taken over the woman when the first bullet pierced her skin.

Relief that her nightmare had ended.

An image that would surely haunt him for however long he lived.

Now, it was Klaus's turn, for the hundredth time that night, to be face to face with the barrel of a gun. It didn't even scare him anymore. He welcomed it. If he died, no one would have to suffer the consequences of being next to him.

Yet, true to how events had played out recently, the door opened for the second time, revealing none other than Elijah, Henrik and Lucien. A pang went through his heart at seeing his friend walk in, oblivious to the gruesome sight expecting him. Without wasting any time, his older brother dispatched the surprised men with two effective shots and then ran to his brother's side.

"Are you alright?" he asked not spotting the female body.

"I'm fine," Klaus shook him off, disbelievingly. It was like something out there refused to allow him to die.

The wail that Lucien let out was so heartbreaking that all turned to look at him.

"Aurora," he collapsed near her. "Love, can you hear me? Please open your eyes," he patted her bruised cheek. "Open those gorgeous eyes of yours and look at me, love. Please," rivulets ran down his face.

The others in the room had eyes only for the tragic scene in front of them, tears of their own shinning in their orbs.

Continuing to refuse to accept that Aurora had passed away, Lucien gathered her lifeless corpse into his arms, clutching her to his chest, pleading that she wake up.

Elijah wordlessly walked to him, planting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's gone, Lucien, She's gone."

As that went on, the refusal to accept the facts not yielding, Henrik appeared out of nowhere beside Klaus and in a fluid move cut off his binds. "We're getting you out of there," he whispered, winking.

The now free man wanted to protest, to say that it was too dangerous, but maybe escaping with his brother was enough to take a chance. Deciding that he had nothing else to lose, Klaus forced his jelly legs to support his weight, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Elijah had witnessed the entire thing, but chosen to turn a blind eye. If they managed to escape, he would be the happiest man on Earth so there was absolutely no way he would stand in their path to freedom.

Unfortunately, the other occupant of the room had other plans.

"Where do you think you're going, Klaus?" Lucien furiously shouted, but did not await an answer. "She's dead, the woman I love is dead and it's all because of you. How can you truly expect me to just let you go?"

The accusations against him stung more than he would ever admit it because, from his point of view, they held a staggering amount of truth. If he had been able to free himself, if he'd been a better fighter, none of this would have happened. More importantly, if he'd been able to do his mission, these people wouldn't have ever attacked Mikael's house.

"I tried to stop it, I swear, Lucien, I did," he weakly defended himself.

"Well, you should have tried harder! It should have been you and not my innocent Aurora. Look what they did to her!"

Klaus didn't need to look for he'd seen it in person and was sure he would never forget it.

Lucien took out one of his weapons and was just about to shoot Klaus when he tumbled to the ground like an old sack of potatoes.

The confusing action made sense when one looked at Elijah who stood right behind Lucien, his gun's butt still cutting through air.

"You two have to go, right now," he pulled them out of their stupor. "Mikael could come back any second. The gunfire has died down and I'm sure there aren't many attackers to be taken care of. You have to hurry if you want to have a chance."

"Come with us, brother," Klaus offered. "Break out of your cage."

"I can't," he smiled sadly. "As much as I would want to, I can't leave mother, Kol and Rebekah alone with Mikael. I have to try and protect them, like I'm protecting you right now. Go!"

Both Klaus and Henrik had started to run out of the room, the first heavily supported by the other, when Klaus stopped in his tracks. This felt too much like a goodbye and he refused to accept that he would never see his brother again. The brother who'd protected him, when possible, from Mikael's wrath. The brother who'd patiently taught him how to read and instilled moral values when neither parent deigned it important enough. So he turned around one last time.

"I'll see you when I see you, brother," he offered with a sad smile. "Until then: always and forever."

"Always and forever," the first signs of sadness rasped through Elijah's composed façade, but he refused to break for fear it would slow them down which is why he remained still, watching them walk away, unsure if he would ever see them again.

His heart hoped he would, but his mind rebelled against the idea, understanding that if such came to happen it would be because Mikael found them.

Please, be safe, brothers, was his last thought. Be safe and happy like you never could here.


Months passed since the disastrous morning at the Mikaelson residence. Months in which Klaus struggled to make do with what little he had, working whatever odd job he could find just to support his younger brother finish the two months left of high-school, pay rent and most importantly, ensure they remained hidden from Mikael who had been canvassing the Earth for them.

The only thing working to their advantage was that never would Mikael have expected them to live in such a poor neighborhood so his tentacles hadn't reached them yet.

With a bit of luck, Henrik finished his studies and just the night after his graduation, as they both wondered what was next for them, a news bulletin changed everything.

The breaking news was of a new terrorist attack in a British airport that had resulted in more than forty deaths, but that wasn't what rattled Klaus so much. The true reason was the photograph of one of the perpetrators.

He recognized him.

It was one of the men he'd sold weapons to at Mikael's orders.

Forty-three people dead.

That innocent blood was as much on his hands as it was on Mikael's.

Too much.

That was too much guilt for his mind to take anymore.

How could his father arm terrorists? Did his greed and evilness truly have no qualms?

In a bid to hide his despair, Klaus ignored Henrik's concerned questions and locked himself in the bathroom, the only place in their small apartment where one could experience some privacy.

Bad idea because all he could focus on was the mirror reigning above the sink. More explicitly, on his reflection.

Pale skin. Purple circles running all the way to his cheekbones. Wrinkles that hadn't been there before and a look of pure misery.

Just a shadow of who he'd used to be.

But he couldn't let it show. For Henrik's sake he had to keep up appearances, however difficult it was.

Yet, he wanted, for just one moment to have someone with whom he could share all that was eating at him. All of the sins that weighed so heavily on his heart. A person who could understand and not judge, but not Henrik. He simply didn't have it in him to tell his younger brother just how insane Mikael truly was.

Again, he turned to look at his reflection only to find the faces of the people he'd murdered staring back. Taunting him.

Unable to cope with the sight of them, his fist spontaneously collided with the glass. A million shards exploded, some embedding themselves into his fist, but no pain reached him.

Klaus was numb to it all, welcoming the sight of blood seeping from his body. It was well-deserved and not a good enough punishment anyway. Not even death could be enough to compensate for all the bad he'd done.

Deaf to the real world, to Henrik's concerned screams; the older Mikaelson remained a prisoner of his own mind, feverishly searching for a way to compensate things. To try and make it right even though he knew that Mikael's depravity would not be stopped by anything other than his death.

Few possessed the abilities to end Mikael and even if Klaus might have been one of them, it was entirely too soon for more blood to stain his hands.

Terrorists. Groups like ISIS and Boko Haram relied on the supply Mikael gave them to expand their reign of terror. That fact was what really undid Klaus because those guys didn't mess around. Instead, they claimed hundreds, even thousands of lives every month.

How could one man fight against them?

The idea came out of nowhere. There actually existed people who risked their lives every day to help defeat those organizations.

It might be his only chance to make it right. At least to some degree.

A new sense of purpose guiding him, he negligently wrapped some toilet paper around his hand after having flushed out the glass and emerged from the room, dialing a number he hadn't thought he ever would again, continuing to ignore Henrik's fussing over his injury.

"Marcel," he greeted after the person had picked up. "It's me, Klaus. Can we meet up and talk?"

After having set up a time and place, Klaus turned back to look at his brother's annoyed face. Henrik had been the reason why he'd reached out to his most trusted old friend. After all, he'd need someone to look after him once he was gone.

"Now can you listen to me, brother?"

Klaus nodded and allowed Henrik to properly bandage his hand while their talked, satisfied that Marcel had agreed to see him even though the risks were high.

"They got him," a wide grin spread on his face, but it only confused Klaus. What was he talking about? "Father," his younger brother added upon sensing his concern. "I couldn't believe it either, but they slammed a RICO case on him and some of his people after catching them during a weapons delivery. It seems like he's looking at 15-20 years in prison."

Klaus couldn't believe his ears. How could he not have known?

Maybe, with his father behind bars, Henrik could go back and form a family again.

"Perhaps we can return home," his brother longingly said, tearing a hole into what was left of Klaus's heart.

You could, but I have chosen a different path, he kept from saying. "Let me speak with Marcel tomorrow, first," he delivered instead.

The meeting with his old friend did not end up as he'd expected. Indeed, Mikael was in police custody, but his criminal empire hadn't crumbled, the place at the top now occupied by none other than Finn Mikaelson who was proving to be just as cruel as his father.

Taking advantage of the confusion occurred when Mikael had been arrested, Marcel had managed to leave, along with Stefan, neither able to take much more of what they were forced to do.

"So where is he? Why hasn't he come with you?" Klaus wondered wishing to see another one of his friends. Even though their friendship had taken a hit in recent times, when Stefan seemed to be more on his father's and Finn's side than on his, Klaus couldn't help hoping to see him.

"We…" Marcel hesitated. "We parted ways shortly after you called," upon the dejected look he continued. "He's not coming. Ever."

"Why?"

The question had been so honest, it hurt Marcel to answer, but he had to and there was no way to soften the blow.

"That night," no explications were warranted to clear up what he was talking about. "It split us up in a way. Me, Kol, Elijah and Rebekah only hold Mikael responsible, but others…" he paused. "Others believe that had you only killed that detective none of this would have happened."

"You mean Finn, Stefan and Lucien, am I right?"

"I'm sorry, Klaus, but I feel like I should warn you that Lucien has sworn to get revenge for what happened to Aurora."

"He wants to kill me?"

"He's not the same," Marcel justified his affirmative shake of the head. "The idea of vengeance has him bordering on insanity, I'm afraid. Now, he's Finn's right hand man and leads the search party for you and Henrik."

Had this have happened yesterday, Klaus would have walked right into Lucien's traps, welcoming the end of his life with open arms. But now, with a new goal, Klaus realized there were more efficient ways to correct his errors and find peace.

In a few brief sentences, Klaus conveyed his plan to Marcel who happily agreed to take Henrik under his wing and help him become all he'd dreamed of.

Having decided, both headed to the apartment to share their intentions only to be met with a stronger resistance than expected.

"There is no way I am staying behind like some child," Henrik shouted for the third time. "I am coming with you brother!"

"Henrik, please, we are talking about war here. Actually going to a combat zone. Killing people if we have to."

"I am aware of that and I am willing to do it. I am no longer that brat who couldn't get anything done properly and who was afraid of his own shadow. I know of what you've done to protect me, brother. I've finally understood it now and I will not let you go there alone. We are staying together: forever and always."

Speechless.

Henrik had rendered both men speechless.

"Argue with that, Klaus," Marcel joked to ease the heavy mood, noticing how emotional Klaus had grown, shiny eyes blinking rapidly.

"I will only ask this one time, brother. Are you sure?"

Henrik acquiesced, engulfing him in an embrace, reiterating the idea that they would stick together forever.

"Thank you for your help anyway, Marcel," Klaus began only to be interrupted by a stern voice.

"Oh, no, if the kid is coming you can bet I am too."

Suddenly, there wasn't one joining the military, but three. And so they did unknowing that two of them would not be coming back and that they were happily marching to their own deaths.


The training proved to be harder than any man had expected, gruesome in a word, but all three persevered and in 10 months, they were all deployed in Syria as part of the same regiment.

Landing in that country, seeing the state it was in and, most importantly, how the people living there fared, put everything in a different perspective. The only thing that Klaus still hadn't shared with his younger brother was that the weapons ISIS used were probably delivered by none other than his father.

It was one piece of truth that Klaus would take to the grave if he could.

Mission after mission, all three started to embrace their new jobs, especially Klaus who felt like he was finally doing something to compensate the bad he'd done. The one thing neither could ever grow accustomed to was seeing innocents being slaughtered every day in senseless bombings or shootings.

Children.

Women.

Elder and disabled people.

Neither could be faulted for being born in Syria, yet they all suffered the grave consequences of it.

Even if neither one admitted it aloud, those atrocities haunted their every dream, leaving them emotionally crippled, feeling like they weren't doing enough.

Each time they went out, they all meaningfully glanced at one another, all too aware that this might be the last mission from which they all returned safe and sound.

Until then, luck had been on their side and their regiment had been relatively protected, only losing one member during an isolated shooting in Aleppo.

With less than 5 weeks until their tour ended, Klaus had started to hope, for the first time, that they might all make it out alive and perhaps, only perhaps, get another chance at life. Get a do-over.

He should have learned by now that hope was a dangerous feeling and it only existed to be squandered by a mocking God or Universe.

One morning, the sound of massive gunfire woke them all up. Their first instinct was to really survey their surroundings just in case it had been a figment of their minds.

It hadn't.

Aside from guns being fired every second, the all too familiar noise of a grenade going off followed by pained cries for help made it all real.

Their base was under attack, there was no doubt about it.

All three friends along with their two roommates put on their tactical gear in record time and grabbed the little ammunition they had before tramping into the raging war outside.

Just like every other time in his life before a tragedy, Klaus had a bad feeling. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been his companion through every tough time.

One would think that he would have learned to listen to his gut instinct after all he'd been through.

But by then, even if he'd wanted to say something, force Marcel and Henrik to go down the coward's route, it was already too late, the heavy thunder of bullets having split them up as they ran for cover.

The fighting went on for a long time, what was left of the American squad giving back with the same intensity as they received even though heavily outnumbered.

Suddenly, a stray bullet hit one of his teammates, a young boy the same age as Henrik who dropped his weapon while tumbling down, exiting cover at the same time.

The terrorists immediately jumped into action, eager to take advantage of the situation, but not shooting anymore at the terrified kid.

No, an American soldier was a very treasured prisoner and ISIS would fight tooth and nail to obtain him.

Before it happened, Klaus knew what his little brother was about to do and managed to scream out a frantic, "No!" that was drowned out by the explosions around him.

Then all hell broke loose.

Henrik tried to defend his companion, opened fire, keeping the enemy at bay while he made his way to Bradley, their fallen team member, and all seemed to go as planned until he ran out of bullets. With no time to reload, Henrik had no other option but to throw himself to the ground and hope he wouldn't be hit.

Seeing all this, Klaus decided to also throw caution to the wind, and jumped in to protect his brother. Miraculously, he succeeded in reaching them unscathed and was trying to drag the injured man back to cover when a stray bullet ruined their chances.

It embedded itself deep into his thigh, arterial blood splattering all over the resplendent sand, coloring it sickeningly rouge- patches of it extending all around them. The figurative cherry on top was the slow but steady loss of ground sustained by the soldiers who were being pushed to retreat and regroup. A more attentive look at their side revealed a crying Marcel being held back by their commanding officer and shoved into a Humvee along with all those who could be safely extracted.

They were being left behind, Klaus put two and two together.

Sure enough, the enemies approached them after the battle ceased; checking on Bradley to find he wasn't breathing and then their leader barked something in Arabic. As a consequence to whatever had been ordered, both Klaus and Henrik were tossed in the back of their trunk.

The second the engine was started, their keeper viciously slammed the back of his gun against both of their temples, leaving them unconscious and completely in the dark as to where they were being taken.

When Klaus came to again, he found himself hanging from a rusty pipe, handcuffs holding his hands so tightly that they'd started to turn a disgusting shade of light blue from proper lack of blood. As if that wasn't enough, he was propped up high enough so that his feet did not touch the ground, floating in the air as life-granting liquid slowly seeped from his thigh, the bleeding having slowed down a bit, but not come anywhere close to halting.

Feeling lightheaded, he tried to fight against his restraints, shaking the metal bar with as much strength as he possessed, but it didn't even budge.

"It's pointless to struggle, save your energy," the defeated voice of someone he knew perfectly well stopped him.

"Henrik," he immediately turned his head in his direction, stunned he'd forgotten that his youngster brother had been taken with him. "How long have I been out?"

"An hour, give or take since I've come to. They've checked on us regularly, waiting for you to wake up. I'm guessing we have less than 10 minutes until they return."

Their situation looked more and more gloom, especially in the way Henrik painted it. Furthermore, there was a resigned undertone that Klaus despised hidden there.

"We'll get out of here, I'll figure it out, I always do," he promised, but hated himself for not being sure he could keep his word. After all, tied like that, he was at the mercy of his captors. They both were. "Besides, they'll come looking for us, all we have to do is hold on."

"I'll try," Henrik somberly said.

Their peaceful moment didn't last for a tall, threatening, muscular man walked into the room, unable to hide his content smirk at seeing his other prisoner awake. Slamming the door behind him and yelling something in Arabic, Klaus did not need a translator to understand what he was saying,

He was calling his boss.

Said man came in less than a minute, looking just as satisfied, if not more at noticing his precious hostages awake.

"What do you want from us?" Klaus put all of his spite into that one question, but even then his voice cracked due to the physical and mental strain he was under.

"Information," the boss responded in broken English. "If you cooperate things will be pretty easy on all of us. We'll even grant you relatively painless deaths."

So this was it, then.

Become a traitor or be slowly bled out.

If he had been alone, the choice would have been obvious, but Henrik changed everything and he found himself hesitating.

"We're not telling you a damned thing!" Henrik was the fastest to react, his resilient nature making Klaus proud.

Henrik truly had grown to be a valient, strong man who never sacrificed his values for his own benefit. It was truly admirable, but not really a quality in this situation. Nevertheless, it motivated him not to give in as well.

"Oh, but you will. They all do," the leader pointed at his subordinate who headed in Klaus's direction, a lead tube clutched in his hand.

"Last chance, will you talk?" the blunt object hovered just above Klaus's injury making it clear that he would be the target for now. After all, he must have seemed like the most breakable one in these conditions.

"Never," Klaus threw back, bracing himself for what was to come.

And it most certainly did because the man did not stop at one or two hits. No, he bashed him until he felt the bones in his leg snap and then he moved onto his ribs until a few of them gave out as well. His shouts of pain that he could no longer keep in reverberated all across the hidden base and they had Henrik sobbing.

Just hold on. Just hold on, the word kept repeating in Klaus's head at every single hit.

"Stop," the leader ordered. "This isn't working. A few more minutes of this and we'll have a corpse on our hands. How about we change things up?" he beckoned at Henrik, making his intentions clear.

"No!" Klaus still managed to scream out, the veil of pain lifting from his eyes, clarity having returned at only the prospect of more harm coming to his brother. "Leave him alone! I can take more, come on and show me what you're capable of!"

"No!" Henrik yelled even louder. "He's suffered enough. If you want to have your fun, don't go torturing someone half dead. Choose someone who can bear it!"

"How touching!" the English-speaking ISIS member chuckled. "You are both willing to sacrifice for each other," his eyes narrowed on their nametags. "Are you brothers?" At having received no answer, he deduced on his own that his assumption was correct. "Tell you what, I'm feeling generous today," he brandished a knife and without further warning, slashed Klaus's torso wide open almost deep enough for his bowels to come out.

Then, he did the same to Henrik, cackling at how Klaus, in spite of his significant injuries, pounded on his restraints as his brother's abdomen was dissected in two, his pained whimper cutting him deeper than anything these people could do to him.

"It's quite easy, actually. The first one who tells me what I need to know gets to walk out of here alive. I'll give you a moment to consider it," and he strode out along with his man.

No sooner had they been left alone than Klaus spoke. "You have…" he swallowed hard to keep another groan at bay, "You have to tell them what they need to know, Henrik."

"No."

One word angered him more than anything his brother had ever said or done. He was throwing his chance at life away.

"What do you mean by no? You must!"

"No," Henrik heavily heaved, hurt clear in his features. "Think about it, brother, even if I tell them everything they wish, what guarantee do I have that I'll make it out of here? What if this is all a play to get us to do as they wish?"

However loathe he was to admit, the youngest Mikaelson had a point, but was missing a crucial part of their predicament.

"Even if it is, Henrik, we're not going to get a better chance. At least this way, one of us has hope of getting out."

"Then you do it. I don't understand why it must be me."

Was this kid for real? How could he even ask that when the answer was clear: Henrik was light, he was salvation, hope while Klaus was darkness, destruction and death.

"Henrik, if I started to tell you my entire list of sins condemning me to an even worse death, we would both bleed out before I was even halfway through. Who takes the deal is not up for discussion. It's either you or none of us."

"Then it shall be none, brother because I cannot fathom life at the cost of your own. That would be nothing but pure torture."

Just as Klaus was about to argue further, their captors returned. "Have you made up your mind?" he was fixating Klaus who chose to lower his head in disappointment of the outcome.

"We'll die before making any deal with you," declared Henrik to Klaus's utter frustration.

"That's a shame," a sinister glare replaced the one that had been meant to appear benevolent. "But I can't force you to accept a good deal. What I can do is make you face the consequences of your refusal."

Without further warning, the man took out his blade for the second time that day and effortlessly slashed Henrik's throat. Apparently, he'd been the one to most piss him off with his insubordination. Klaus was left motionless, watching teary-eyed as his brother gurgled on his own blood, incoherently forming some words addressed to Klaus.

The tied man watched his struggle with tears streaming down his face. His brother, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning was slowly losing his fight, choking down on crimson, liquid copper.

Henrik's features slowly relaxed as he stopped his strife, mouthing a few words that would never leave Klaus. The words he'd never said to anybody.

I love you.

As he mouthed them back, Klaus swore he would never say them again. Henrik was the only one worthy and should he by some miracle live, never would anybody appear who could make him wish to say them. Of that he was sure.

Then, all movement ceased all together as Henrik's chest stopped rising and falling, a clear indication of the most cruel fate having befallen his brother.

Death.

And if Klaus stopped to think about it, he was the one to blame for he'd been stubborn and insisted on joining the military to ease his troubled soul.

Now, he'd managed to add another body to his conscience and this one weighed more than any other.

Nothing he could do would ever alleviate it, ease the pain.

As a matter of fact, it was exactly the same for him if he lived or die so his heart didn't flutter when the man came near, about to do the same as he'd done to Henrik, nor did it skip at the sound of guns blazing.

The cavalry had come, to save them, but it was too little too late. The only one who mattered had already passed away and Klaus allowed his tired body to welcome darkness, the outcome leaving him more than indifferent.

Actually, if he really thought about it, there was one thing he wanted: for a misfired bullet to put him out of his misery. He wanted to join his brother although he doubted they were headed to the same place, if an afterlife existed at all.

Still, even if Hell's tortures awaited him at the end of the line, Earth held nothing better. In fact, the latter seemed worse, being cursed to wake up every day knowing he was alive while other people, better, innocent people had unfairly died.

His wish was not granted, though, because a higher force had a different plan for him. He was to go down a road that could either lead to destruction or salvation, depending on the steps he took. On the people he chose to let in.

One person in particular had the potential to either make or break him.

Only callous time would be able to show which.


A/N: Firstly, I would like to apologize for the delay in updating, but like I promised you guys, I am not planning on giving up on this story, as long as you'll keep enjoying it. I tried to update a few days ago, but the site simply would not let me so I am sorry for that extra delay as well and for any confusion that might have caused.

Now, this was a reaaally long chapter and I'm sorry if it was too much for some of you, but it was like it had a mind of its own and it simply felt wrong to separate it in halves, although its length was also a reason behind my delay in updating. After this chapter, you've all gotten a complete look at Klaus's past and the reasons why he's so broken and I hope you found it a good enough backstory. In the following chapter, we'll go back to Caroline and Klaus and continue to watch their story unravel.

Once again, I wish you liked this chapter and please, if you have the time, let me know what you thought of it. After all, any kind of feelback: review/ favourite/ follow means the world to me and motivate me to get the next chapter out faster and make it better for all those who still stick by it. Thank you very much and please review if you can!