"I love the storm and fear the calm."
-Christina Queen of Sweden-
Panic swept through the mansion as the barricaded vampires struggled against their confines.
The remains of those that had been closest to the Queen's barrier were now nothing but smoking vestiges littering the marble floor in steaming black piles of cinder.
Her power pressed down upon them ominously, nearly choking them with its oppressiveness. Quickly, they tried to unite. In an effort to exploit a weak spot in the French Quarter witches barrier nearest the exit, they bombarded it with a flood of attacks. In the hope that it would be enough to crack and then break it, so they could escape the carnage.
However, only the Queen's inhumanly sinister laughter greeted their effort. Raising her head towards, what would have been the sky if she had been outside and not in the Mikaelson manor, she tilted her had back. Arsetti's mouth began to widen, far beyond what was humanly possible. It twisted and turned as it broadened—almost as if caught in the throws of a terrifyingly tuneless caterwaul.
The ground began to rumble and quake as an ear-piercing sound so shrill it couldn't possibly be called a shriek, left the Queen's lips and those caught within the barrier struggled to stay on their feet. Jumping from side to side as they tried to dodge the now rolling ground.
It moved as though something was alive underneath the polished marble—like there was a shark or some horrible underwater creature swimming just under their feet, waiting to pull them down into the dark depths of the unknown.
Some had the misfortune of being too slow and were swallowed by whatever lurk beneath the floor—Faces twisted in the horror of a last shriek never to be heard, as they were dragged beneath the marble by the unseen force.
Yet, their bodies hadn't stayed within the marble flooring for very long. Instead, the unfortunate vampires' bones had been spewed from the marble, high into the air like a geyser, until they landed in a heap back onto the now still floor.
Horrified bloodcurdling screams tore around the room. Yet, in their panic, no one could tell if said screams had been pulled from their own lips—or something more sinister. They got the answer to their unasked question, when the souls of those who had fallen by fire and by marble floor, were dragged kicking and shrieking from their paltry remains that now littered the mansion floor.
The Mikaelson men watched in morbid fascination as the souls fought a useless battle against the overwhelming power of the Voodoo Queen. Some tried desperately to hold onto whatever they could. Perilously attempting to anchor themselves to something solid—even as their ghostly hands slipped right through whatever they attempted to grab. Though they fought valiantly ultimately they were no match and their tortured faces were pulled into the vortex of her eyes, one by one—screaming their last scream before they were propelled into the abyss of eternal torment. Lightning, once again, began to rain down upon those left in the outer-barrier.
Her tattoos swaying to the sound the lightning made every time it struck one of its marks. The lynched skeletons' twisted mouths opened wider as they too, swayed, and shrieked.
Bolt after hot bolt, tore through the bodies of the vampires like and their bodies exploded on impact. Shattering like fine china, their limbs fell in bloodied heaps around the manor. Shredding through bone and muscle like wet tissue, the bolts left no survivors.
And as their souls were roughly pulled from their measly remains by the sheer power of the Voodoo Queen, they to screamed their last scream.
New skeletons began to form among the Magnolia blossoms; screeching as the noose from the tattooed branch fastened itself around their necks—for all eternity.
Laughing maniacally, Arsetti looked down at the new additions with cold disdain.
"I tried to warn you," she scolded. "But none of you would listen." Smiling taciturnly, she jeered, "I hope y'all enjoy your eternal torment in my wonderful little garden."
Fe' looked on proudly at his cousin's handy work. Both He and Aura knew that Arsetti could have a temper when pushed. Well, all of the LeRoux did—except Bianca. Yet he couldn't help feeling that the work she had done today had been absolutely marvelous. It drove home what they needed it to and would make others rethink trying the Queen and her coven, or aligning themselves with that sinking ship, steeped in envy and ego, that was their uncle Merrick.
He moved closer to Setti, knowing that she would most likely be left weak from such a strong display of power so soon after inheriting them. He wanted to drive home his cousin's strength to everyone left in the room. It didn't escape his notice that Aura had done the same. Though he knew she would need to be caught up to speed on what led to this, it made him smirk at her unwavering loyalty to his cousin.
Especially, since it was nearing night and soon she would need to leave her body and feed. It touched him that she would choose to forgo that in favor of helping him to drive home the point of Setti's power and reign as Queen. Meeting her eyes he gave her a nod—knowing passed between them, an unspoken agreement.
So, as he neared Arsetti, discreetly his eyes flashed a preternatural cinnamon as he used his power to scan her. If he saw that she was beginning to weaken, then he would be the one to siphon his own power to her. To give her the strength she needed to walk out of this building with her head held high like the Queen she was. Fe' was determined not to let his cousin—his Queen appear weak to the other supernaturals in the room, nor to the rest of the coven. She could show no weakness.
However, he found that his intervention would be unneeded.
Eyes flashing white one last time as her magnolia tattoos began to recede back to normal, Arsetti smiled. And Fe' knew that she would be just fine without his help—for now.
Slowly, she dropped the barrier inside as the French Quarter witches dropped the other. Turning around, she took one last look at her handy work. Body parts, flayed bones, marble cracked beyond repair, and piles upon piles of smoking ash, littered the room in absolute disarray. The place looked like the epicenter for a Warzone—like a one roomed apocalypse had torn through its doors.
She felt several sets of eyes on her but only turned to meet one.
Watching as his amazed smile turned into a cocky smirk—he inclined his head to her. If it had been in thanks or question, Arsetti wasn't sure but in that moment, she found she didn't really care.
Walking up to him, as he stood tall among the wreckage of his once pristine manor's receiving room, she lifted her hands and swept them around her mid-air. "This," she began calmly. "Makes us square, now."
Watching in satisfaction as the handsome hybrid nodded in agreement. "And, Marcel?" Klaus questioned equally as calm.
Though the young Queen had said that she would spare his life, Klaus was under no delusions. He knew that Marcel posed a problem to the Queen's throne and wouldn't stop trying to get the city back under his control as long as he had that serum coursing through his veins.
Though not of his own flesh, Marcel was every bit like his father and Klaus knew that he would not have done much different if the roles were reversed. He also knew that the Queen could have no one trying to oppose her reign and after seeing her little display firsthand and feeling the burn of her power nearly char his immortal flesh, he was left wondering just what sort of twisted punishment she had in store for his disobedient child.
Sighing, she tsked, "I told you I wouldn't kill him and I'm a person of my word. However, I can't have him being a super vamp out in these streets. So, I've stripped him of the serum." Pulling out Marcel's fangs from some hidden pocket in her long skirt, she held them up for Klaus to see. "He will get these back once I've disposed of the serum within them. Until then, try and teach your kid a little humility," Arsetti compromised.
"Agreed," Klaus simply nodded.
Yet, when he fixed his mouth to say more, the conversation was interrupted. Kol, who had sat by quietly watching the entire display in terror, approached the Queen carefully.
After seeing her power, he had no doubt that she was quite possibly the nightmare from many years ago. Yet, also knew that as the Queen of all the New Orleans factions she could give him the one thing he wanted more than life. And for that, he was willing to risk her wrath to plead for it.
"Your majesty," he began softly, bowing as the words fell from his lips. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her knuckles and got on his knees. "I, Kol Mikaelson, son of Esther and a long time friend of the French Quarter witches, beg you to please bring back Davina Claire. She didn't deserve to die. Her soul was ripped apart by your vengeful ancestors and—I have no one else to turn to. Please, bring her back to me—please," he begged brokenly, trying not to let the tears from his grief distract his mission to bring back the love of his very long life.
Carefully, Arsetti removed her hand from his before she addressed him in as comforting a voice as she could muster. "Kol, we witches are more than just our power. We operate to also keep the balance. You more than anyone should understand that nature must maintain balance, or the world will be thrown into chaos. Sometimes that balance causes you to lose loved ones—sometimes even unfairly, but the balance has to be kept. It's something that all witches live by, including Davina herself."
When he looked like he would interrupt her, she held up her hand to stop him. "However," she added with a soft smile. "Since Vincent explained to me that like you alluded to—it was indeed the ancestors who meddled in the affairs of the living and ultimately were the cause of her death; I decided that I would bring her back."
Kol's eyes lit up as he practically leaped to his feet.
"Kol. This will be the one and only time that I do this for you. Like I said, the balance must be kept. So, should Davina die again—" she warned, leaving the sentence unfinished with only a raised eyebrow to get her point across.
"I understand," he nodded rapidly, eyes growing wide as footsteps in the now silent manor rang out among the quiet.
Tortuously slow, he waited for who ever it was to walk over the now mangled door's threshold. Yet, all was forgotten the moment his eyes fell on Davina's smiling, tear streaked face. Unable to hold back any longer, Kol sped to greet her; wrapping his arms around her, he gave her a soul searing kiss.
Arsetti watched the display with a kind smile for only a moment longer, before she interrupted the cute couple.
"Davina. I expect you at the next coven meeting. You are still apart of the French Quarter witches and I'd love to hear some of your ideas on how we can improve the faction—so that what happened to you does not happen again," she winked at the nodding girl. Then, with a wave of her Queenly hand, dismissed the couple to reacquaint themselves.
Sighing tiredly, she motioned for Fe', Aurelien, and Vincent. Her work there was finished. She had accomplished her goal of getting out of debt with Klaus and establishing herself as a force to be feared.
Now, all she wanted to do was go home and take a hot bath and gargle with like 5 bottles of Listerine—and then maybe even eat some ice cream and watch a messy reality show with Fe'. Arsetti felt, she deserved it.
Together, they ambled towards the exit, when Arsetti called over her shoulder, "you know, Klaus. You look kind've nice now that you're not bathed in blood and reeking of a drunken slaughterhouse."
The French Quarter witches stood lined in pairs, just outside the doors, waiting for their Queen as clouds began to gather in the quickly darkening sky, once more. "Just do me one small solid," she giggled lightly.
The sound of her laughter rang like tiny bells throughout the room. "Try harder not to piss anyone else off."
Laughing, the hybrid bantered back, "hey! Are you not going to clean up this mess? Some would say that it's bad manners for a guest to leave their host's house wrecked with bodies strewn about."
Turning around to face him, she winked, "nah, you got it vamp daddy. I'm sure you and your brothers can compel some unfortunate cleaning company to come through and make this place sparkle."
Clearing his throat, Elijah interjected with a question of his own. "Is it not also considered bad manners for a new ally to not leave us with, at the very least, her name?"
Rolling her eyes playfully annoyed, Arsetti stated plainly, "well, not to be a bitch, but I'm not really your ally. Just stay away from my witches and I won't have to destroy everything that you hold dear and then come back like a thief in the night to collect your soul for my lovely little garden of eternal damnation. Is that cool with you, vamp daddy number 2?"
She giggled slightly, as she took in the way Elijah's eyes narrowed in slight agitation.
"But—for the sake of being polite—my name, is Arsetti LeRoux," she smirked. With that, she, the other witches and the soucouyant left.
Waiting until he was sure they were gone, Elijah finally spoke, "she is quite powerful but I wonder if we can trust her. What are your thoughts on the magnolia tattooed Queen, brother?"
Seeing that he was getting no answer, he turned to face the only other person still alive in the room.
Klaus looked to be in deep thought. His slightly creased brow and contemplative eyes, told Elijah one thing—Klaus was strategizing.
"Niklaus," he called again, this time successfully gaining his younger brother's attention.
"I asked, what are your thoughts on the Queen?" He questioned calmly.
As their eyes met, he watched as the hybrid placed a down right dastardly smirk upon his handsome face.
"She needs a king."
Legs pumping, he tore down a neighborhood alley, trying desperately to evade them.
Jumping over a turned over shopping cart, he slightly stumbled as he quickly regained his balance. They were hot on his heels but he knew if he could just make it one more block, he'd be safe. His mother was a strong Treme` witch and would save him—he continued to chant that mantra to himself.
If I could just make it there, I'll be safe—I'll be safe.
He passed homeless people making camp for the night and drug addicts as they found a quiet dark corner in the alley to take their dependency in semi-privacy.
Finally, he made it out of the alley and onto the dark street.
Carefully, he made his way down the near empty sidewalk, keeping alert as he did. A group of tourists walked on the other side of the street laughing as their blood-red drinks spilled onto the concrete.
The clouds above him threatened to flood the street once more in rain, as he tried not to let the fear he felt cloud his judgment. He was only fourteen and had his whole life ahead of him. He still had an agglomeration of firsts to experience and yet someone had been trying to cut it short all evening.
Sniffling, he wiped his eyes. His mother had told him to be home before the streetlights came on; yet, he hadn't listened.
Now, as he ambled down the dark city trying to evade capture, he wished like hell he just heeded his mother's words and done as she'd asked. He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of screeching tires and a van door being slammed open.
Not looking back he tried to make a run for it but found himself immobile.
Frozen, he could only watch in terror as knife-wielding people dressed in black approached him. The leader of the group lifted his weapon and craved an emblem he couldn't see into the middle of his head—and after the searing pain of it carving into his delicate skin—his world went black.
"Throw him in the back with the others," the leader commanded roughly. "We have a long night ahead of us, and many more children to capture."