I made Marcel everything that he is.

I treated him like a son.

And when my father chased me and my family from New-Orleans a hundred years ago we believed Marcel was killed.

We each mourned him in our own way.

Yet, when I returned, I found not only had he survived… he had thrived.

Instead of seeking us out, instead of sticking together as one, he made a choice, to take everything my family had built and make it his own.

Now he is living in our home.

He is sleeping in our beds.

The letter 'M' he stamps everywhere… it's not for Marcel.

It's for Mikaelson.

I want it all back.

And if I have to push him out to get it, then that's exactly what I'll do.

Mackenzie's giggles filled the room. "Stop it," she kept repeating, but she didn't mean it, and he knew that. They had started new games together, some even new to Elijah, as if Mackenzie was his muse inspiring him dirty little games he'd only play with her. It was innocent, at first, but soon, Mackenzie became more comfortable with him, more confident, and the stains of blood on the white bed sheets were so common now the compelled staff knew to change them almost every day. The implications of their activities only made them want each other more. Mackenzie, because she knew the effect her blood had on him, and Elijah, because he would never experience anything like this with anyone else other than her. Sure, he knew he would never love anyone the way he loved Mackenzie, but it wasn't just about love. And that was something that made Mackenzie feel powerful. That was the reason why, sometimes, she refused to take his blood after they were done. So that she'd keep the marks. So that he knew they were there. His marks on her body. Claiming her. And she loved the way it made him feel when he saw them too.

While Mackenzie and Elijah were enjoying what both Katherine and Rebekah had called their 'honeymoon period', Hayley wished for death. Well, maybe not literally. But she did pretty much hate her life, and she didn't have faith that it would get better in the next eighteen years. She was uncomfortable in every way. Not only was she pregnant with the world's most hated supernatural creature, but her future baby's father also was a total psychopath who didn't see her as anything more than an incubator for his miracle baby. He had forbidden her from leaving the house where he left her to rot every day. Every day, she was left with a couple acting not unlike two hormonal teenagers around the house, in other words, alone, alone with dusty books she had no intention of reading, and a TV remote giving her access to hundreds of channels she wasn't interested in watching at all. In other words, days passed and stayed the same, aside from the rising heat, and growing belly.

To make matters worse, when Elijah wasn't busy eating his girlfriend (in every sense of the word), he turned into an over-protective grandpa, building the nursery from scratch, making sure she had vitamin, protein, everything a pregnant woman needs according to What To Expect When You're Expecting, which she wouldn't be surprised to find on his nightstand. Not only did it make her uncomfortable, and even more irritable, but it made Mackenzie self-conscious and sad, not matter how hard she was trying to hide it.

At first, Hayley thought it was jealousy. But Mackenzie was better than that. And she had no bad intentions towards Hayley, or feelings, on the contrary. After they had made sure Marcel's secret weapon, whatever it was, could not detect Mackenzie's powers, they had unlinked Hayley to Sophie, making the witches regret their whole plan to bring the Originals back in town, giving them enormous doubts about whether they would still go on with the plan to dethrone Marcel or not. Of course, Klaus was a threat to them now, after all they had done. Kidnapping Hayley, using his child to blackmail him… The witches were scared, and now, they had bigger problems than Marcel, and the witch community of New-Orleans was starting to turn against Sophie, who had insisted her sister's plan would work. But Klaus didn't attack the witches. No, Klaus was still in a suspiciously good mood. Aside from keeping Hayley locked up in the house, he was pleasant with his brother, he was pleasant with Mackenzie, and he was pleasant with Hayley, to whom his nickname little wolf had stuck. He wasn't acting like a future father, by any means. He didn't check on Hayley's health, never asked how she felt or if she needed anything. He didn't spend any time in the nursery, helping Elijah, or didn't even talk baby names with his future baby's mother, not that anyone had expected that from him. No. Klaus spent all his time with Marcel, and they were seemingly getting along great, greater than great, in fact, as if they were the best of friends who weren't hiding deadly secrets from each other.

Hayley had started to worry about his behavior. What if he really enjoyed spending time with Marcel? What if he just wanted to get back at the witches? What if he didn't care? What if… all the bad things Klaus could do, that she could think of, or even scarier, that she couldn't even imagine. However, her worries were put to rest one day, as Klaus came back home one night with a newly made vampire named Josh.

"Josh here," he had told them, "will be my eyes and ears. My joker, my…"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Hayley had interrupted him. "He's your spy."

Klaus had gotten to Josh before Marcel even had the chance to put him under vervain. The vampire was compelled thoroughly by the Original hybrid and will be the key to taking Marcel down.

Though the existence of Josh was a relief for everyone, neither his brother nor his girlfriend trusted him in any way. Not when he was in such a good mood. He was plotting something, and they had a feeling it was nothing good, for anyone.

Mackenzie caressed Elijah's hair, her thoughts wandering back to earlier that day, when he had taken her to one of his favorite places in New-Orleans, a once peaceful beautiful park that was now a crowded and loud playground. She sighed, moving slightly but enough for Elijah to let a drop of blood slide down on Mackenzie's neck. It drew a red line on her slightly tanned skin and the drop came to rest down her cleavage. She ignored it, she knew he'd take care of it later. Though the maids would have to change the sheets again in the morning.

She had almost forgotten his mouth buried in her neck, his free hand moving up and down her arm, as they were lying naked in their bed, resting from their long day of exploring the city Elijah had missed so much for the past century. He drank from her, her blood, the most delicious in the entire world, like she was the Fountain of Youth herself and he was the only one who got to drink from her, the only one who had that privilege, because he was the one who had discovered her. He had been there first, explored and found her and now she was his and only his and that thought would never cease to amaze him, to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world. But right now, Mackenzie felt everything but lucky, as she was haunted by a picture that would not leave her mind. A picture of his face in that park. And the look that said it all, even though he would never say it aloud, perhaps because he didn't know it himself. A look she knew well now as it kept coming back, every time he looked at Hayley, every time he talked about the baby, about what Klaus should be doing but wasn't, about everything he was doing in his brother's place. It saddened him, perhaps unknowingly, and it saddened her as she knew she could never give that to him. In truth, no one could give that to him. But as powerful as she was, she felt she should be able to do anything, and everything she could do, but that.

He was content, lying in her arms, her hand in his hair, her blood in his throat, just enjoying the moment, enjoying her. But that was not the only reason why the question took him by surprise.

"Do you want kids?"

He froze, puzzled by the question. It surprised him, not only because it seemingly came out of nowhere, but mostly because he had buried that question and that answer a long time ago deep inside of him. So deep, in fact, that it was a hidden part of him, like an obvious take away of his very existence, of every single one of his actions. So deep, that the answer was practically engraved on his bones, carved onto his heart, like an invisible dormant pain that he would never let himself feel or remember. An immortal curse that could not be enchanted away and that will torment him for the rest of his eternity. Why that question? Why here, why now?

He slowly and gently retracted his teeth from her vein, licked the blood that escaped from the wound, though he knew he wouldn't be able to stop it from bleeding as he moved away and looked up at her. She had asked the question so quietly, like a whisper, like a spell echoing in his head, losing itself in time, making his bones quiver like an earthquake would make a house shake. That question had been asked and answered centuries ago. That choice had been made for him centuries ago. That choice had been taken away from him centuries ago.

She was looking away but turned towards him as he sat up and pulled the duvet to cover them. Not because they were cold, but because the time for their adult activities was obviously over. Now, they had to have another kind of adult conversation.

"I can't have children, you know that."

"That's not what I asked."

"Mackenzie…"

"Do you? Want children of your own?"

"It doesn't matter if I do. I can't."

"I know you do," she said quietly, once again looking away, staring at that spot that didn't exist.

"Where is this coming from?"

She shrugged. "Same place your regret is coming from…"

"I have no regret," he replied, confused.

"You regret not being able to have children."

"That is hardly anyone's fault but my parents, and they are dead. There is no one to blame, though blame wouldn't lead us anywhere."

Her hand found his arm and her fingers caressed his skin as if touching him would fix everything.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know… I just thought… it's unfair Klaus gets to have a child and you don't. He clearly has no interest in it. But you do."

"My interest in Hayley's pregnancy doesn't go beyond anything an uncle wouldn't do. Though, I am no ordinary uncle."

"This is no ordinary family."

"And that is why your question has no answer, my love."

She looked back at him. He rarely used such words in front of other people, but when they were alone, when they were being intimate, he called her all sorts of sweet words. 'My love' being the sweetest. 'My love' was the answer. It meant 'don't ask', 'it's okay', 'I get it', 'I love you too'.

Klaus' face tired of his never-ending smiling. However, he was motivated. Nothing would stop him from reaching his goal. Nothing ever could. And certainly not a stupid smile.

He couldn't tell which was louder, the screams or the music, however, he had stopped caring. He was tired and annoyed, and he wanted to leave this wretched court of amateurs as soon as possible. Marcel called himself a King and had forged himself a throne, but he was just some tyrant wannabe, a little boy in a paper crown running around with his friends, bullying the weakest kids on the playground. Though he would never reproach Marcel from banishing the werewolves from the Quarter or stopping the witches from doing magic, everything that had allowed him to get to that point he had stolen from him, and that fact was like wood to a fireplace, it kept his immortal rage burning.

Perch on the balcony above the party, Klaus and Marcel stood like Kings in a court of horrors, watching their nobles feast on the buffet. Though Klaus was too old to enjoy such an obvious and basic vampire party, he had to give Marcel a nod of approval every once in a while, to keep things civil. He was bored out of his mind and had run out of things to talk about with his 'friend'. Fortunately, Marcel had a surprise for his sire.

"I'm hosting a party."

"Yes, you are," the hybrid nodded, making the vampire laugh.

"No. I mean, I'm planning a party, in two days. It's a charity dinner for some… I don't know, charitable organization for the city."

"I didn't take you for the charitable type," Klaus teased.

"Well, I got a reputation to uphold," he replied with an amused smile. "It's mostly an excuse to see Camille again, though."

"Who? Ah, the bartender."

"Yeah, the bartender," he chuckled. "It's a fancy dinner, just your brother's type of things."

"You're inviting Elijah?" Klaus raised an eyebrow, surprised Marcel would want to be anywhere near his brother.

"Right, and his witch girlfriend, you know, what's her name…"

"Mackenzie."

"That's right. She's a funny little thing," he said as he smiled at his sire accusatorily. "She's not afraid of you."

"Ah, she's been through a lot."

"Do you mean you?"

They laughed.

"I admit, I may have been less than cordial to her… more than once."

"It's a miracle Elijah lets you go anywhere near her."

Klaus knew what Marcel was doing, where this was going. He had been working at it slowly, but not as subtly, for a while now. Marcel wanted Elijah gone, out of his city, no matter how, no matter what it took. He figured Klaus was his best shot, and usually he would have been correct, but not now, not anymore. If anything happened to Elijah, Mackenzie would destroy the whole city, hell, the entire state. No, Klaus had one goal, and he wasn't going to let Marcel distract him from it.

"It's different with her. If I kill her, he'll stop at nothing to take me down, and I've tired of our little wars. The last one lasted a century and almost killed me."

"Ah, let him have his fun. She's mortal, they're fleeting little things."

Klaus chuckled, though not because he found the obvious threat funny, but the mere thought of Marcel going after Mackenzie made him want to laugh. He'd pay to see it, if only it wouldn't result in Marcel's certain death.

"Not this one. This one is here to stay."

Marcel frowned and looked at the hybrid with curiosity. "You actually mean that."

"She's a Mikaelson, Marcel," he nodded as he put his hand on the King's shoulder. "You know what happens when you go after a Mikaelson."

Marcel laughed. "Hey, I'm just talking, no harm meant, no harm meant."

"She'd kill you before you even had a chance to see it coming."

"See, that's my problem," Marcel grimaced. "Witches aren't allowed to do magic here, and I don't think she's understood that."

"What? Your secret weapon's been shining bright recently?"

Marcel laughed as he shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It's the attitude, Klaus. Elijah… he doesn't respect my authority here. And neither does she."

"Then why invite them, then? They're happy enough on their own. Trust me, they're unbearable to be around right now. They're so… in love," he said, disgust visible all over his face, making Marcel laugh whole-heartedly.

"You were never one for sentiment."

"Right then," Klaus sighed. "I'll let them know."

"I appreciate that, brother."

Marcel tapped him twice on the shoulder before he moved towards the middle of the balcony, where he'd be best seen from downstairs, to make his usual speech. The words never changed. "Have fun", "don't kill too many of them", and last but not least:

"And no matter what you do, no matter how good she smells or how pretty she looks, leave the barefoot blonde alone!"

That last part they all said together like a chant, like it was a joke. But when Marcel explained the meaning to Klaus the first night, he learnt he wasn't joking in the least. He had puzzled out all the tiny bits of information Marcel could give him, and the hybrid knew it was no joke indeed.