2/2
Chapter 45
Flashback:
Klaus knew what Elijah wanted to say the moment he walked into his studio but with Marcel in there with him painting what was going to turn out to be a very gorgeous self-portrait, he didn't want to get into another spat. They've had the same argument for over a month now. Since the week Marcel turned 14. Elijah thought Klaus was spoiling the boy and turning him into something akin to a selfish, spoiled Prince but Klaus didn't see a problem with his son being a bit spoiled. Spoiled was better than abused.
"Not now, Elijah," Klaus sighed. "Marcel is in the middle of what is sure to be his Masterpiece."
"Well, I would hate to disturb our young Michael Angelo. Perhaps you'd like to step outside."
"We've been working on this painting for hours, Elijah. Wouldn't want him to pause right in the middle of such creative genius."
"It's alright, poppa," said Marcel as he set down his paintbrush. "I'm finished for now. I want to go outside now."
Klaus let out a resigned sigh knowing he had no choice but to talk to Elijah now.
"Go on," he said gently patting Marcel on the back. "Stay on the property."
Klaus set up a fresh canvas so he could start on a painting that he'd wanted to do for weeks but had put off because Marcel wanted help with his first self-portrait. This was the first moment he'd had alone in the studio for days.
"Supper will be ready soon so try not to get too dirty."
"I won't," Marcel shined a wide, beguiling smile up at his father that Klaus couldn't help but shine back. "I'm going to go swimming."
Klaus's smile immediately fell. "The lake is off the property, Marcellus. You know that."
"But...it's not far. And everyone is too afraid of our family to go there."
"That doesn't make it safe, Marcellus. Fear brings out the worst in people. You aren't to leave the property without me, that means going to the lake as well."
"But that's not fair," Marcel's soft, sorrowful whine hummed in Klaus's ears like a siren's almost compelling him to do his bidding.
Klaus's hard face softened immediately and a glint of hope sparked in Marcel's eyes, a spark that was snuffed out at the harsh tone of Elijah's firm voice.
"Marcellus, haven't you and I discussed you disobeying your father before?"
Marcel turned wide eyes to Elijah, his hands unconsciously snaking back to cover his behind. "Y-yes, sir."
"And what happened the last time you were caught disobeying him?"
Marcel's eyes fell to the floor, ashamed of the painful memory that crept into his mind. "Y-You...smacked my bottom."
"And?"
"And...you promised I'd get it twice as hard if I ever disobeyed again."
"And I meant it, Marcellus. Niklaus has said you're not allowed to go to the lake alone and we will not be discussing it any further. Now go on before your petulant attitude has you in your room writing lines instead of out playing. And stay on the property."
Marcel's face contorted into a frustrated pout as he dashed out of the studio past Elijah. Klaus fought the urge to go running off behind the angry boy and hug him until he felt overwhelmed with love.
"I didn't need you to intervene," Klaus growled at Elijah as he began cleaning up the area around Marcel's unfinished painting, being sure to keep his paints mixed just the way he had them. "I am perfectly capable of disciplining my son."
"I don't think you are," Elijah stated plainly. "I've known you for over eight hundred years, Niklaus. I've seen you kill without batting an eye. I've witnessed you torture and maim your enemies without an ounce of mercy. You have committed some of the harshest and...most inhumane acts of violence in all of human history...but when it comes to Marcellus your heart is as soft as the summer day is long. I do not say that you scold you. You are a far kinder and loving father to him than our father ever was to us. Yet without proper discipline, you risk spoiling him with your endless stream of love and kindness."
"Not this again," Klaus groaned.
"Yes, this again," Elijah replied. "If you don't want to punish him for his misbehaviors, then fine, I will continue to bare that crux myself. But at least allow me to assign him chores so he will have some understanding of what real responsibility is, lest you want him to grow into a spoiled, undeserving Prince. You've seen the rise and fall of a lot of kingdoms, Niklaus. You know what happens to a spoiled Prince."
"And what would you have him do," Klaus bit, spinning angrily around to face his brother. "Scrub the floors on his hands and knees? Churn butter 'til his hands are calloused and numb? Harvest cane?!"
"Do NOT EVER put such vile accusations in my mouth," Elijah barked with the same ferocity Klaus screamed at him. "I love that boy as if he were my own and you know I would NEVER even dream of treating him like a servant...or worse."
The pain on Elijah's face was obvious as he glared at Niklaus and suddenly the Hybrid brother felt guilt swell within him.
"I'm sorry," Klaus muttered. "I know you love him, brother. And...I know that I am not doing him any favors by spoiling him. But what is the alternative? He spent the first ten years of his life being forced to perform tasks he didn't want to do. I fear that if we make him do more, he will believe that is his lot in life, to serve. But we both know he is destined for so much more than that. I will expand this kingdom to the far reaches of the globe and one day he will rule it all. But he can't do that if he doesn't think he is worth more than what the world tries to make him believe."
"Would you rather he grow up entitled, believing it's okay for other people to have to clean up behind him? You know what happens to a king who does not respect the work his subjects put into keeping his kingdom afloat? They revolt. And they take down the king by any means necessary."
"I would kill them all myself," Klaus growled, angry at the implication that he would ever let anyone lead a revolution against Marcel. "I will never let anyone hurt him."
"Even if you could protect him from all danger for the rest of eternity, you are not showing him love by teaching him irresponsibility. His people will hate him and eventually, he will hate himself. Being a good father means more than showering him with love and attention, Niklaus. Sometimes...a firm hand is necessary."
Klaus stared shamefaced down at the used paintbrush in his hands. He always asked Marcel to clean the paintbrushes behind himself but the boy rarely did. Sometimes Klaus would come into the studio with excitement in his heart as an idea for a new painting played out in his mind only to find every paintbrush already coated in dry paint from Marcel using them last but not cleaning them. It irritated him to no end but he never scolded the boy for it.
"All I'm asking, Niklaus, is that he cleans up after himself, he puts his own clothes away, and he starts caring for his own horse. All obligations you and I have had for hundreds of years. He will never be forced to do anything for anyone else if he doesn't want to."
"He won't be forced to do his own chores if he's sick either," Klaus stipulated. "Or tired. Or if he's hurt, physically or mentally."
It took only a second for Elijah to consider Klaus's conditions before saying, "Seems reasonable."
Klaus turned back to the easel, absentmindedly collecting the used brushes and placing them in the cup of cleaning solution sitting next to it.
"He's not going to hate us for giving him chores," Elijah stated as if reading his brother's mind. "One day he will thank us for ensuring he does not grow up reckless and irresponsible."
Klaus released a solemn sigh. "Never have I prayed with such fervor that you are right, brother."
End Flashback
Klaus's eyes slowly opened to the sound of Elijah's voice calling his name. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He looked across the room at the clock hanging on the wall. 8:14. He had been asleep for five hours. It was the longest he'd slept in days. He glanced down at his lap where Marcel's head still soundly slept, Klaus's arm carefully draped across his shoulders.
"Looks like you've finally gotten some rest," Elijah commented. "Good. Although, I distinctly recall sending Marcellus to his room. How did he find himself in here?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Klaus retorted, unconsciously smiling down at Marcel. "He only disobeyed you to try to comfort me."
Elijah's glare softened but his eyes remained locked on Marcel's sleep-deprived face. On one hand he wanted to be proud of Marcel for comforting Klaus in his hour of need, but on the other hand, Marcel's faithful disobedience made the palm of his hand itch.
"How commendable. However, it's time for even you to admit your unlimited surplus of forgiveness has spoiled your children. There are certain rules in this family which, if broken, have certain consequences. Rules Marcel and Hope think they do not have to abide by because you will forever be around to protect them from the just consequences of their actions."
"I'm not 'protecting' him from just consequence. I am simply allowing him a moment of rest. He has had an exhausting day."
"I would feel more sympathetic to his plight had his exhaust not been a result of his exploits last night to find Mikael."
The sound of Klaus and Elijah's voices above him stirred Marcel out of slumber. He opened his eyes to see Elijah standing over him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared down at him. His cheeks flushed pink when he realized his head was still lying comfortably on Klaus's lap.
Slowly sitting up, Marcel stared red-faced away from the two Originals in the room.
"You two look like you have something important to talk about," he said while checking his watch which displayed the time and eight text notifications from Davina. He groaned at the time. He didn't mean to sleep for so long. " I should get back to Davina. She's probably worried sick."
"One second, Marcellus," said Klaus.
Marcel knew when Klaus called him 'Marcellus' what to expect next. He faced him with heavy eyes, hoping he was wrong.
"There's something we need to talk about," Klaus continued.
"Is it about Mikael," Marcel groaned.
"Amongst your other acts of disobedience," inserted Elijah.
Niklaus cut his eyes at Elijah expressing his disapproval of Elijah asserting any more unrequested opinions but he didn't want him to leave. He needed him in the room while he disciplined Marcel because he still didn't trust himself to not do to him what he'd done to Kol.
"Yes," Klaus answered Marcel. "This is about Mikael. About you not only keeping his existence a secret from me, but you actually planned to go after him on your own."
"I just-"
Niklaus rose his hand in silence. "You explained yourself well enough last night. You were angry about the death of your friend, which is understandable. What will never be pardoned is your desire to sacrifice yourself in an ill-attempt at revenge. And you kept knowledge of Mikael's resurrection a secret from me in order to do it."
Still looking away from his heated father, Marcel said, "I did what I thought was right."
"There are rules in this family, Marcel," Klaus bit. "You will obey them whether or not you believe they are right."
"I didn't break any rules," Marcel spat back. "There is no rule that says I have to tell you that your resurrected psychopathic father killed one of my people."
"Withholding an important truth is no different than lying!"
Marcel threw himself to his feet and marched away from Klaus, his arms folded tightly against his chest and a surly mug that told everyone in the room of his strong disagreement with Klaus's definition of lying.
"Marcel," Klaus said in a low growl. "If you look to your left, you will see a meter stick lying on the table beside my easel. Bring it to me. Now."
Marcel's rigid disposition suddenly softened. Looking to his left he saw the meter stick Klaus was referring to. A shiver coursed through his body as he remembered the last time Klaus used a meter stick on him. One smack left twice the sting of Klaus's hand.
Turning back to him, Marcel's voice shivered as he said, "You're not...you don't have to...it wasn't that serious."
"You almost risked your life in a foolhardy pursuit of senseless rage. I deem that extremely serious."
Had it been anyone else, Marcel would have readily agreed with Klaus but it was him. And he couldn't stomach the thought of bending over for another set with the meter stick.
His eyes instinctively fell to the studio door. He wondered if he could get out of it before Klaus could get his hands on him. When he looked back at Klaus, he knew by the subtle tilt of his head towards the door that Klaus knew exactly what he was thinking.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Niklaus cautioned. "You're much too old for such childish things."
"I'm too old for a lot of childish things," Marcel bit.
"Not in this family," Elijah interrupted. "There's no such thing as a Mikaelson too old to be taken to task. You should know that by now."
"Why are you even here!"
"Marcel!" The bite in Klaus's voice as he yelled his name made Marcel gnash his teeth.
Then a sudden frightful thought occurred to him. Perhaps Elijah was there to assist in his punishment just as Klaus and Hayley punished Hope together in the courtyard. The thought of submitting to them both simultaneously was unbearable.
"This isn't fair," he muttered. "I...I apologized. I admit I was wrong."
"Did you hear that, Elijah," Klaus stated sardonically as he rose to his feet. "He admits he's wrong."
"Well, that solves everything."
"On to the next one I suppose."
"I'm serious," Marcel barked. "I...I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately when I found out about Mikael. I know...with all he's done to you, to this family...that's something you should've been the first to know."
"Do you think I wanted you to tell me about Mikael so I could extract my own selfish revenge on him?" Klaus took slow steps towards Marcel, his eyes narrow with concern. "I have killed that man hundreds of thousands times in my mind and twice in real life. My thirst for revenge has been quenched. I don't want him alive because I don't' want him to hurt anyone else the way he did me." Klaus placed his hand against Marcel's neck, forcing him to look him in the eyes as he spoke. "The way he hurt your friend. Protecting you and Hope, this family, is my first priority, Marcellus. In order for me to do that, I need to know that my son will be honest with me when he knows there is danger afoot."
"I just...I thought I could do it on my own. I've survived a hundred years on my own."
"I know." Klaus brought his hand up to Marcel's cheek and cupped it softly. "But there have been vampires who have lived for much longer and still found a quick death at the hands of an Original. You, Marcellus, are a Prince and one day you will rule this city and help perpetuate the Mikaelson reign across the world. But last night, you were foolish and impulsive. And I will not let that go unpunished."
Marcel bit angrily at his lip. "I...I'm not doing it."
"Excuse me!" Klaus's burned with rage but he forced himself to keep it hidden. "Have you forgotten the deal we made when you came back to this family, Marcel?"
"I don't care! I...I'm not doing it."
Klaus's jaw dropped in surprise but his shock was short lived as a flush of disappointment immediately waded in. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Marcellus, but I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. Once a Mikaelson, always a Mikaelson. You don't get to pick and chose what privileges you're willing to accept and downsides you want to ignore. You take the good with the bad, Marcellus."
Seeing that Klaus wasn't going to relent in his duty as a family head, Marcel realized he had no choice. Without giving it a second thought, he gave a hail mary sprint to the door with all of his vampire speed but it wasn't enough. Elijah had his arm wrapped around Marcel's waist before he was even able to get his hand on the doorknob.
"Well," Elijah droned. "This is getting embarrassing."
"Let me go," Marcel bellowed, pushing angrily at Elijah's unrelenting vice around his waist.
Growing irritated at his son's futile struggles against his ancient brother, Klaus decided a preemptive strike was needed to calm Marcel down before he could move on to punishing him for the night before.
"That is quite enough, Marcel," he growled, marching over to the door and pinching Marcel's ear between his fingers. Elijah didn't release Marcel until he saw the painful cringe on his face indicating that Klaus had a firm grip on his ear and he wasn't going anywhere. "If you want to behave like a child," Klaus dragged Marcel back to the couch by his ear, evoking heavy grunts and more ineffectual struggles from him. "Then allow me to treat you as such."
"No," Marcel's hands shot down to cover his button as Klaus reached down to his pants.
Using just enough vampire speed and strength to overpower Marcel, Klaus pulled his son's hands away and bared his behind as he sat on the couch, throwing Marcel over his knee. Immediately, Marcel tried to jump back to his feet but Klaus placed a strong hand firmly in the center of his back and held him in place.
Marcel's struggles came to an immediate halt as Klaus landed the first heavy-handed smack against his behind. He knew as the second smack came down beside the first that he was resigned to his fate. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as Klaus landed smack after sharp smack.
Once Marcel's behind was sufficiently peppered in stinging, red smacks, Klaus began to lecture, "I grow weary of your disobedience. In the future, you would do well to obey me the first time."
Marcel knew how Klaus would react to what he would do next but he didn't care. Attempting to give his reddening bottom a moment of reprieve, Marcel swung his arms behind him and covered his bottom with his hands. Klaus immediately grabbed his hands and pinned them at Marcel's lower back before beginning the onslaught again, this time aimed at the tops of Marcel's thighs.
Marcel couldn't fight his tears anymore. A heartfelt sob rolled through his body as Klaus's hand covered his bottom with harsh smacks for the third time.
Klaus brought the spanking to an end after Marcel's first sob but they both knew it was far from over.
He stood, pulling Marcel to his feet with him as he wrapped him tightly in his arms.
"Now you have a choice to make," Klaus whispered as he held his tearful son. "You can accept the well-earned punishment for your actions, or you can continue to put up a fight and we will continue things the way we have until you finally submit. But I would caution you to remember, my stamina is eternal and I do not mind being here all night."
Marcel fought hard to cease his crying; after all that wasn't the worst spanking he'd ever got but he feared he still had two more to go.
"It-it's not fair," Marcel mumbled. "You and Elijah are going to... I apologized, I admitted I was wrong. It's not...it's not fair." Marcel could've kicked himself for sounding so childish but instead, he squeezed Klaus closer and cried against his shoulder.
Suddenly realizing why Marcel was so adamant about avoiding his punishment, Klaus began rubbing calming circles onto his son's back as he said, "Elijah isn't here to help with your punishment, Marcellus. You have nothing to be so upset about."
"Then wh-why is h-he here?"
Klaus glanced nervously over to Elijah. He didn't know how to say that he needed Elijah in the room for Marcel's protection because he feared he would lose restraint with Marcel just as he'd done Kol.
"If it makes Marcellus uncomfortable to have me here," said Elijah as he glided slowly towards the door. "Then I will leave. Supper will be waiting downstairs when you two are finished in here."
Klaus's eyes widened with fear of being left to punish Marcel alone but Elijah's calming glare and encouraging nod assured him that his brother wouldn't veer too far from the studio and would be back the moment either of them needed him, if they ever did.
As Elijah closed the studio door behind him, Klaus pulled Marcel back to look him in his tearful eyes.
"Better," he asked.
Marcel's bottom had already begun to heal from the spanking but he was afraid to answer Klaus's question. He knew the moment he said he was better, the next part of his punishment would begin and he wasn't yet ready to contend with another spanking so soon, especially not with the meter stick.
"C'mon," Klaus said as he gave Marcel's shoulder a firm pat. "The sooner we begin, the sooner you can get it over with."
Marcel watched tensely as Klaus walked over to the table and retrieved the meter stick. As his father came back to him, Marcel reached down for the boxers still waiting around his ankles. A sharp smack suddenly came down across his thigh and he shot up straight.
"You won't be needing those for now," Klaus scolded, tapping the stick against the couch cushion. "Hands here."
Marcel's hands began to tremble as he bent over to the couch. He detested having to bend over for it. Although lying over Klaus's knee was embarrassing, it offered a comfort and a sense of protection that bending over simply lacked so he'd always hated having to bend over to take the meter stick or whatever flimsy instrument Klaus decided to use to punish him more than anything. Still, he was ready to finally get it out of the way so he could return his focus on important things like comforting Davina.
As Marcel placed his hands against the couch cushion, Klaus stood behind him staring contemplatively down at the meter stick in his hand. 'This is right,' he told himself. 'This would break if my strength...got out of hand. I can't hurt him with this like I did Kol.'
He gave it a quick practice swing. Marcel tensed as the sharp 'thwshh' sound cut through the air.
"Alright," Klaus said noticing that he'd had Marcel's attention. "You know the drill. Stand up, and we start over. Understand?"
Marcel's face began to burn with humiliation. "Yeah, yeah, just...get it over with."
With that, Klaus brought the meter stick down sharply across Marcel's behind spreading across both cheeks at once. Marcel sucked in an audible intake of air through his nose but before he could get used to the first stinging strike burning across his already throbbing behind, another fell right beneath it. Then another, and another, one after the other without let up. Unlike the last time he was spanked with the meter stick, Klaus didn't give him a moment of reprieve before landing the next lick.
Marcel's legs began to quiver as Klaus aimed the meter stick just above his sensitive thighs. Tears streamed down his face as his tender sit-spot was assaulted with a series of stinging thwips. He fought to stay on his feet and he fought to keep from standing but with all of his fighting, something had to give.
Losing the battle to keep his dignity intact, Marcel began to blubber. "St-stop! I'm sorry! I won't go after Mikael on my own again!"
Klaus felt guilty for being relieved by Marcel's pleas but hearing Marcel cry only reassured Klaus that he hadn't lost his senses like he'd done with Kol. He landed three more sharp smacks on the undercurve of Marcel's bottom before bringing the spanking to an end.
Marcel didn't know the last thwip was the last one but he was grateful it was as he'd lost the war to stay in position and fell face first into the couch cushion, pulling himself onto it and sobbing his heart out as he tried to rub the sting from his behind.
Unsurprisingly, Klaus sat on the couch next to him and pulled Marcel onto his lap, cradling the man as he whispered soothingly into his ear, "It's alright. It's all over. You're okay, Marcellus. Poppa's got you."
Hearing Klaus refer to himself by a title Marcel hadn't heard in years brought up a new swell of emotions that only made him cry harder.
"How...," Marcel muttered against Klaus's chest as he tried to stifle his sobs. "How...can you be like...this...when Mikael was so...is so..."
Klaus squeezed Marcel tighter in his arms as his son tensed remembering his last encounter with Mikael. He knew what he was trying to ask without him having to finish the question.
Listening into the hall, Klaus heard the sound of Elijah's careful gait finally walking away from the studio door.
"Just lucky, I guess," Klaus mumbled.
Flashback
Marcel attempted to stay on the Mikaelson property for as long as he could, which was all of five minutes before he got his horse and rode off to the lake knowing that no one would miss him as long as he was back home by sundown.
He had just stripped off his shirt and was in the process of removing his boots when he heard a noise coming from the brush nearby. He jumped to his feet just as two men came stumbling out of the forest carrying a wide tin bucket between the two of them. They were white but their skin was as brown as his as if they hadn't bathed in weeks. His first fear was that they were Slave Catchers but he'd never seen a slave catcher as dirty as they were.
"Well, well, well," the older of the two said as he let go of his end of the bucket and staggered over to Marcel. The closer he got, the stronger his stench became to Marcel. Marcel took a couple of steps backward to get away from the man's stink.
"You tryna run 'way from me, boy," the man growled.
Marcel timidly shook his head 'no' though he very much was trying to get away from him. His family had done a good job of keeping him sheltered from men like this but that didn't mean he didn't still remember what men like that one did to boys like him if they could get their hands on him.
"Look at his clothes, pa," the other man said coming over to them. He bent over and picked up Marcel's discarded shirt, bringing it up to his face and giving it a big whif as if he could still smell the lavender soap the servants used to wash it. "Theys look clean and new."
The other man took the shirt from his son and held it in his hand, examining the quality. "Now, where'd a n***** like you get clothes like this?"
"They're mine," Marcel growled. Then, holding out his hand, he said, "Give it back."
The younger man burst into a fake laugh. "This is a smart-mouth li'l n*****."
"The mulattos are always the most uppity."
"I-I don't want any trouble," Marcel said looking around for the quickest exit through the trees in case he had to run. "Just give me my shirt back and I'll leave."
"You not going nowhere 'til you tell us where you got these fancy clothes, n*****."
"I got them from my father," Marcel barked. "I'm a Miakelson!" He waited for their response. The Mikaelson name never failed to strike fear into the hearts of the locals.
"A Mikaelson," the father repeated.
"I heard about them. They the wealthy family up the way. Said they don't got no slaves, just servants they pay a healthy wage. But they don't hire follks like us. You one of them servants, boy?"
"No," Marcel bit. "I'm a Mikaelson. Niklaus Mikaelson is my father."
This time the older man laughed. "Well, Richard Landry is my daddy but you don't hear me bragging about it, uppity li'l n*****."
He threw Marcel's shirt to the ground and stomped it into the mud. He laughed harder at the distress on Marcel's face assuming he'd done his job in instilling fear in the boy but Marcel was more afraid of facing his Uncle Elijah with a muddy shirt. That is, until the man started removing his belt.
"You think 'cuz that man yo' daddy you special, boy?"
Marcel started to slowly move towards the trees, ready to run the moment he caught a break as the man moved closer to him.
"You ain't better than us. You ain't nothin' but anotha n*****."
As the man rose his hand to swing the belt down at him, Marcel tried to run but he misjudged the distance of the tree branch next to him and fell into the slippery mud. Angry that he missed, the man rose his belt to hit Marcel again and this time Marcel knew he wouldn't be able to dodge it in time. He rose his arm to cover his face as the man brought the belt down, his eyes closed in dreadful anticipation.
But the lick never came.
Marcel opened his eyes and his heart fluttered with joy as he stared at the back of a mop of short blonde curls. Niklaus stood betweeMarcelel and the two men, his hand wrapped with the man's worn leather belt.
"Marcellus," Hearing Klaus's deep voice eased the boy's anxiety even more. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yes, poppa."
Klaus looked over his shoulder at him, pain in his eyes as he saw his son still trembling in the mud. "Are you sure?"
Marcel quickly struggled to his feet and threw his body against Klaus's, burying his face against his father's abdomen as tears of relief escaped. "I'm so glad you're here, poppa. I thought they would...I was afraid they'd..."
"Shh, shh, shh, Marcellus," Klaus whispered as he calmingly petted Marcel's head. "Your poppa's here. You're safe now."
The angry man tried in vain to pull his belt from Klaus's grip but he was no match for the Original's strength.
"So you're the Mikaelson that treats n*****s like people," he bit angrily.
Deciding to put a quick end to the situation before the man could say or do anything else to anger him or Marcel, Klaus leaned down to his son's ear and said, "Poppa has to get rid of the bad men now, Marcellus. Close your eyes and hum a song. And don't open them until I tell you to, alright?"
Marcel nodded his head but struggled to let go of Klaus as his father tried to ease him away from the three of them.
"Close your eyes, Marcellus," Klaus said one more time as Marcel glared at the two men glaring back at him. "And hum. Perhaps that Mozart piece you and Elijah have been working on."
Although he really didn't want to, Marcel closed his eyes and began humming Mozart's Concerto number 21. The humming had done it's part to distract him from the sounds of the scuffle happening just a few feet away until he made it to a difficult part that he always stumbled on. Distracted by his own frustration, Marcel opened his eyes to see Klaus standing alone with his back to him.
His eyes shot around the lake in search for the other two men but there wasn't a trace of them left.
"Wh-where'd they go," Marcel asked.
Klaus brought his thumb up to his face and wiped the last bit of blood from his lip before turning to Marcel. "I compelled them to leave. They won't even be bothering you again."
Brimming to the ear with ignorant joy, Marcel ran to his father and jumped into his arms, hugging him and completely unaware of the dead bodies lying not so far away in the forest.
Klaus placed a tender kiss on Marcel's temple before setting him back down to his feet. "People like them are the reason you shouldn't disobey me when I tell you to not leave the property, Marcellus. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, poppa." Marcel's sight fell to his once gorgeous shirt still lying in the mud. "Uncle Elijah is going to be so angry. He's going to thrash me for sure."
Klaus followed Marcel's eyesight to the shirt. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I'll speak with Elijah. He won't thrash you." He placed his hands around Marcel's face, cradling his soft cheeks in his palms as he stared down into his big, brown eyes. "As long as you're safe, my little Marcellus. That's all that matters."
End Flashback
such a late chapter, omg, but its not my fault this time. i had horrible carpal tunnel for weeks and it let up for a while for me to write the chapter before this but started up again as i was writing this chapter and i didnt want to post the first chapter without posting this one too so i had to wait a while for my wrist to stop hurting to finish this chapter. yikes. so sorry.
in other news, i promse the next chapter will have hope in it but i didnt want you guys to have to wait any longer for a new chapter to be posted.
also, i just caught up on the last season of the originals and yall...i am so disappointed. im not gonna spoil it but...yall, im so disappointed, thats all im gonna say.
p.s. none of this was edited. I will re-read and edit later, so sorry for being so bad at this lol
