Chapter Three: The Doldrums

/ˈdōldrəmz,ˈdäldrəmz/

Noun: a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or depression

With one sweeping blast of energy, the veils between worlds were momentarily ripped apart. Quite a few souls were released that night.

First, an old and ancient soul with a need for vengeance stepped through. There was more to be done in the land of the living.

Elsewhere in the void, a small child crossed over as well. The child was drawn by hope of company. He had been alone for so long.

Then, two sisters who knew this day would come.

And many others.

Close behind them all, a blue light followed quickly and quietly.

"What was that?" asked Elijah as the earth shook beneath his feet. It didn't make sense that a dream world would come with earthquakes. The shaking grew stronger and the light of the sun flickered like a strobe light. "Freya!" he called from the garden.

Freya ran out of the fading house and stared like a deer in headlights.

"I don't know what's wrong!" she cried. "My magic is draining."

"Is someone waking us up?" asked Kol as he ran out to join them. He looked happy for the first time since their arrival, and it broke her heart. Freya's protective, sisterly instincts kicked in.

"I don't think so, but it's probably fine." Freya struggled to find a suitable explanation that wouldn't scare her younger brothers, "…it's probably my magic replenishing in a natural cycle."

The happiness drained from his face Kol looked scared. He knew enough about witchcraft to know that Freya was lying. He had already died so many times, and he didn't want to go back to whatever afterlife awaited him this time. "Not again. God, don't let me die," he pleaded to no one.

Freya put an arm around him, but he pushed her away. He hadn't forgiven her for Davina's fate, and so Kol turned his back on Freya for the hundredth time. Hurt flickered across her face.

"Fear not, brother, it will be alright," said Elijah as he approached them and rested a hand on Kol's shoulder. Kol seemed to breathe slower under the weight of his brother's hand. It was rare that Kol showed his soft side, and although it only happened in times of extreme duress, it warmed Elijah's heart to remember the sweet child he used to watch over in the forest.

"Freya, find Rebekah," ordered Elijah. He wouldn't lose anymore family to unwelcome surprises.

The earthquake stopped as Freya returned with an equally shaken Rebekah. But before she could speak, a horrible wind began howling through the gardens. There was something painful and unnatural about the wind that pierced their ear drums. They held their heads and fell to their knees as the howling intensified. And then, just as quickly as it began, the howling ended.

"What was that?" murmured Freya as she helped Rebekah to her feet.

They looked around. Everything in the garden had died. Roses were grey, and the trees had lost their leaves.

"Nikluas," whispered Elijah, feeling as if something inside of him had died as well. "Is it possible?"

Freya's face was solemn. "Perhaps, because we're linked to his life, we may be able to feel some things that he feels."

"He needs us," said Elijah.

"Then we have to get out of here," said Rebekah. She felt helpless and guilty, having played such a large role in the imprisonment of her brother. It was what Nik wanted, but what if it had gone horribly wrong? "What if the torture is too much for Nik?" she panicked, "I'll never forgive myself."

Then Rebekah paled as she realized one possible explanation for Klaus' grief. "What if Marcel hurt Hope?"

They were wrong, but it was enough to stir up a deep rage in the siblings. Unanimously, they plotted a way to kill Marcel as soon as they were free.

In the real world, one man was going to find out exactly what had gone wrong.

The witches of New Orleans had been foaming at the mouth trying to figure out what had temporarily disrupted their connection to the ancestors. Anything that powerful must have been dangerous, and anything that dangerous had to be destroyed. As regent, Vincent Griffith was tasked with figuring out exactly what had gone wrong. And it seemed that anything that threatened the witches often started with the vampires. Therefore, Vincent found himself trespassing in the territory of Marcel Gerard: Vampire King of Kings, Slayer of the Witches and Originals alike.

Although Vincent privately celebrated the end of the Mikaelsons, even assisted in Klaus' imprisonment, Marcel would slaughter him instantly if he knew that Vincent was going to check on Niklaus in secret. At first, Vincent had scoured New Orleans with locator spells, looking for any blacklisted witches powerful enough to effect the magic in the city. And then he remembered Davina, the little witch who had helped Marcel kill her own people. Of course, bad things often started with Vampires, and so why would this time be any different?

Vincent narrowed down the search and looked for magical disturbances in Marcel's territory. What he found was a hotspot of energy in a rather suspicious place. The blood on the map had pooled in the exact area where Vincent had trapped Niklaus Mikaelson.

"Well shit," he muttered to himself. This was perhaps the worst possible discovery that he could have made. Vincent knew he had no other choice but to investigate. Anything coming after Klaus had to be dangerous. And it definitely didn't belong in his city.

Vincent prepared for his mission with dark objects and talismans of protection and stealth. He hoped that his wards hadn't broken down enough during the disruption to let Klaus escape. He also brought a blood bag just in case the vampire needed incentive to answer his questions. With that, Vincent set off into the darkness of the underground.

As he crept through the tunnels, he felt the magic of his wards pulsating in the distance. He thanked the ancestors that they still seemed strong. But then something else caused a tingling on the back of his neck. It was something dark, and something powerful. Vincent stopped walking as the waves of despair poured over him. It was the sensation of utter nothingness and hollowness that almost brought him to his knees before he raised his psychic walls. Whatever this was, he had never felt anything like it before. Taking a breath to steady him self, Vincent trekked on until he heard a quiet, yet unmistakable voice.

"Hello," called the raspy, dry voice of Niklaus Mikaelson.

Vincent didn't respond, but felt relieved that whatever had caused the disturbance had not been able to kill an Original. That was a good sign. It also meant that the vampire was probably alone. Another good sign.

"If you're here to rape me again, Marcellus…it would be much appreciated if you would just get it over with…instead of just lurking there in the shadows," called Klaus in the distance. The shaky tone of fear was evident beneath the bravado.

Vincent was shocked and appalled. He suddenly knew exactly what had caused the disruption in the magic, and it sent coldness through his body. The magic that came from ritualistic sex was old and powerful. But the magic that utilized rape was dark indeed. Vincent took one last deep breath and walked around the final bend of the tunnel, bracing himself for what he was about to encounter.

Facing away, a nearly desiccated Klaus was curled into a ball on the ground. His pants had been discarded outside of the wards where Klaus couldn't reach them. Dried blood and semen caked on the man's thighs, and blood had dried in a large, imperfect circle on the floor. Klaus shook briefly before regaining control.

"Do not torment me like this, Marcellus," rasped Klaus as tried to turn around, "just get on with it you sick bastard!"

And as Klaus turned around, the men locked eyes. Vincent felt a deep sense of shame for not only witnessing this atrocity, but for also allowing it to happen with his very own wards. Klaus almost looked relieved and the last of his blood created the ghost of a blush on his cheeks. Vincent looked away quickly, knowing that no one deserved to be seen like this. Vincent then did the only thing he knew to do. He tossed the ripped pants to Klaus, along with the blood bag he had intended to use for his own gain.

Klaus looked between his pants and the blood bag, deciding between dignity and survival. Slowly, achingly, he slipped into the pants inch by inch while Vincent stared at ground. Then, only as he managed to button himself up, Klaus finally sank his teeth into the plastic and drank like a deprived animal. Still, Vincent did not turn around. He didn't know what to say.

"Thank you," whispered Klaus.

Vincent turned around to see that Klaus curled back into his original position. He was surprised that the man hadn't begged to be let free. Perhaps Klaus didn't believe that Vincent would allow that. Would he allow that? Vincent grappled with the idea of letting loose a murderer just because that murderer had suffered so much. Hadn't Vincent wanted Klaus to suffer in the first place?

He came to a decision, raised his hands, and began to chant.

This would never be okay with Vincent. He did not hold with rape.

"Briser les murs, briser les murs, briser les murs, briser les murs, briser les murs…"

Klaus sat up to the recognizable sound of New Orleans magic. He didn't dare hope that Vincent would set him free from this hell. Vincent didn't owe him anything, but the French was unmistakable. Vincent was breaking down the wards.

When Vincent lowered his hands, Klaus stood slowly and kept his eyes locked on Vincent. Klaus could see Vincent's blood pounding in his neck…he could hear it. He could nearly taste it.

"I'm sorry," said Vincent, standing his ground despite the hungry looking Original that he had just set free. "I didn't know this would happen."

Klaus took one step over the boundary line of his prison and he felt tears burn behind his eyes. His appreciation was stronger than his hunger.

"Thank you…" he whispered for the second time. This time, the emotion bubbled into his voice and his throat closed. "I won't hurt you now, Vincent. I owe you a great debt. But I will kill you if you ever tell a soul about what you saw today."

Vincent noted the mercy. Klaus could have killed him then and there. The act of kindness had come from a broken man, so Vincent wasn't sure that it would last, but he acknowledged the significant of the character development.

"Let's get out of here," Vincent said. "I'll give you a safe place to stay."

Klaus hesitated, somewhat shocked by this man's kindness as well. Klaus and the Original family had done nothing but cause Vincent pain. An unfamiliar feeling brewed in Klaus. Was it the feeling of being pitied? Or the feeling of having made a friend? It was a new type of vulnerability that he didn't entirely dislike.

Klaus found himself in Vincent's small apartment. It was hardly decorated, but witchy knick-knacks littered the walls. He watched Vincent chant as he set up candles and incense. It was a classic cloaking spell. Klaus felt his anxiety finally dissipate slightly. The entire walk from the tunnels to the apartment, Klaus had kept his head down. Praying to unknown gods that no one would recognize him. Jumping at little sounds and expecting to see Marcel around every corner. He hated himself for being afraid. Who was Marcel to make him feel that way again? But finally, Klaus felt somewhat safe, and Vincent was to thank for that.

"No offense, but you stink and you need to shower if you're going to stay here," said Vincent. "I'll get more blood bags so you don't end up having me for dinner. Oh, and don't leave the apartment or else the cloaking spells won't protect you."

"It seems like you've grown attached," mused Klaus. Dry humor was the only way Klaus knew how to express his gratitude to this man.

"Don't get used to it, Klaus," said Vincent with the hint of a smile.

Klaus almost smiled back, and with that, Vincent was gone to fetch the blood bags. While their companionship had been painfully awkward, Klaus hadn't realized how nice it was to have another person around, and Klaus realized how much he missed his family. How he missed Rebekah's laugh. How much he wanted nothing more than for Elijah to burst into the room and tell him that he would protect Klaus, always and forever.

Tiredness deep in his bones, Klaus pushed these thoughts away and got up to shower. After turning on the water, he made the mistake of looking in the mirror. He saw a gaunt, blood stained face staring back at him. He could almost feel his jaw dislocate and his cheekbone crack. The look of trauma in those blue eyes made Klaus unrecognizable to himself. He knew himself as powerful and strong. The man in the mirror was neither of those things.

Klaus sighed deeply and stepped into the shower. He had already come to terms with the fact that he was irrevocably changed. As he let the warm water run over his body and wash away the physical evidence, he tried to decide who was worse…his father…or Marcel. Both were brutal and unrelenting. Both were motivated by anger and perverse pleasure. Thinking of his father brought a deep sense of self-loathing and disgust. Thinking of Marcel brought grief. His father had never loved him, and he had never loved his father. But Marcel had truly been his best friend. That betrayal hurt him in a way that his father never could. Klaus realized that he had started crying again. He stayed in the shower until the water lost its heat. Only when the chill reminded him of the stone tunnel floors did he find a reason to get up and dry off.

He returned to the main room of the apartment to find Vincent eating fresh pizza, sitting next to a cooler full of blood bags. His stomach growled.

"Um, I didn't know how much you would need…so I stocked up," muttered Vincent, who looked away quickly when he noticed Klaus' bare chest. "I'll get you something to wear besides wet towels."

Klaus, having been naked for weeks, had barely noticed, but he was touched that Vincent was doing such little things for his comfort. Although, he couldn't help but feel humiliated, knowing that Vincent would never have been so kind if Marcel hadn't committed such a horrible act. Klaus changed into sweats and a t-shirt and finally sat down to rip through ten blood bags.

"I've been thinking it over," said Klaus. "I guess I won't kill you, even if you accidentally mention this to anyone."

Vincent hid a smile, and simply nodded. They sat in silence for quite some time. Eventually, Vincent knew it was time to confess his theory about what had disrupted the magic in New Orleans.

"We need to talk," said Vincent. He cleared his throat, clearly preparing for an awkward conversation. "What ever um…happened…between you and Marcel…"

"Spit it out," groaned Klaus as he held his head in his hands to avoid exposing his flushed face.

"Well ah…you and Marcel are powerful creatures created by magic…and Marcel was recently imbued with even more magic after taking that serum…so…"

"Spit. It. Out." Klaus growled, another hint of his old self. The less time talking about this, the better.

"Magic that revolves around sexual violence is old and powerful. Whatever happened between you two…it disrupted magic throughout New Orleans, throughout even the ancestral realm. Something dark was released, and I just can't figure out what it is."

Klaus nodded and scratched his bearded chin. "So that's how you found me. I was at the epicenter."

"Not that it's your fault, of course," stammered Vincent, but a glare from Klaus silenced him.

"I never implied that you thought that," he said coolly.

"But," said Vincent, powering through the awkwardness, "if Marcel finds out that you two were the source of the disruption-"

"Then he'll want to harness that power…and he'll probably increase his efforts to find me tenfold…" finished Klaus. He buried his face in his hands once more and struggled to dampen the anxiety that was squirming around in his stomach. He couldn't go back to Marcel, especially not if Marcel would most certainly rape him again.

"I can't do this alone," said Klaus into his hands. He never thought he would admit weakness by asking for help like this. Everything had changed.

"So we're in this together. We don't want him to fuck with you, and we don't want him to fuck with this city," said Vincent, who took a large bite of pizza after realizing his poor choice of words. "I don't exactly know what we're going to do, but we'll figure it out."

He tried to be brave for the ancient vampire. It was a flipped power dynamic that made Vincent uncomfortable given the context.

They ate their pizza and tried to come up with a solution. Klaus clapped his hands together as he had a thought. His wit was coming back to him as his strength returned.

"Who better to protect this city than the Mikaelson clan?" asked Klaus.

Vincent nearly choked on his pizza.

"They're alive?" he asked with disbelief.

"Of course they're alive," said Klaus with a touch of arrogance, "Freya discovered a way to slow the venom until Hayley could figure out how to save them."

Vincent nodded slowly, feeling an odd sense of pride at being let into the inner circle, but also knowing that this would probably get him killed someday. "Okay, well, you can't go anywhere but…I'll work on it."

Klaus was sure this debt would never be repaid, no matter how hard he tried.

Over the next three months, Vincent was gone nearly every day. The two men barely spoke, but ate every breakfast and dinner together. Every so often, Vincent would give him news of the outside world. Marcel had been hunting Klaus ever since he found Klaus missing. Vincent was playing the role of a double agent and pretended to search for Klaus as well. He had managed to convince Marcel that Klaus had escaped during the small window of time when magic ceased to function in New Orleans. Day after day, Klaus heard news of Marcel getting closer to the truth. He eventually became desensitized to the fear.

More mysterious issues were cropping up as well. Friends and families were killing each other in cold blood. Children were missing. New Orleans was on the brink of war as tensions rose.

But tonight, there was good news. Vincent burst into the apartment with a huge grin on his face. This made Klaus smile as well, as Klaus had come to appreciate the man's positivity.

"Hayley and I figured out how to save your family, Klaus," said Vincent.

"You're kidding?"

"I'll be gone for a few days, and then hopefully we'll all be together, ready to protect the city," said Vincent, still grinning, but then Klaus' smile disappeared.

"You'll be gone for that long?" he asked softly, attempting to be nonchalant while betraying weakness. His strange, new friendship had become his only coping mechanism when he woke up sweating from nightmares. Just knowing that someone was in the apartment with him kept him grounded. It helped him remember that someone cared. Still, he knew that this was inevitable. It would be a long three days of loneliness and boredom.

Vincent had left a cell phone with Klaus, and texted him on the third night with good news. His siblings were awake and healthy. By some miracle, they had cured the curse and the toxic super strain of Marcel's venom. Klaus would have been overjoyed, but reality came flooding back. As much as he missed everyone, he was was preoccupied with how to keep his secrets.

Klaus texted back 'Don't tell them' with a skull and cross bones emoji.

Immediately, Vincent replied with middle finger and okay sign emojis.

They felt rather hip, as if they were getting a hang of the whole technology craze.

And a weight was lifted from Klaus' chest. They never had to know about what happened with Marcel. He didn't think they even knew about what happened with Father. Klaus simply felt relieved that he would never see the disgust and disappointment on his siblings faces, but those thoughts were best left un-thought. Slowly, he drifted into a deep sleep.

At first, his dreams were filled with the mystical, glowing objects like the ones that Vincent kept around the apartment. The dream room was airy and light, but soon the walls caught on fire. Klaus tried to run, but his legs were like jello, and the door was melting into the wall. The dream room filled with the scent of blood and smoke. A beast growled in the darkness. Klaus jolted awake and sat up gasping for breath. He reminded himself that his family would be back soon.

But unfortunately, they wouldn't be back soon enough.

"Bad dreams?" asked a quiet voice from the foot of Klaus' bed. In the darkness, Klaus saw the beast of his nightmares before him. Marcellus Gerard.

Marcel leaned against the wall, smug in his glory and his triumph. His white smiled gleamed in the moonlight. They watched each other in silence.

Klaus was frozen. Perhaps he should have run. Perhaps he should have called for help, but who could save him? Where would he run that Marcel couldn't follow? But with all of his options, and every terrible thought that could have been running through his mind, Klaus only thought of one thing. He thought of his family, not specifically that he didn't want them to see this, but that he didn't want Marcel to kill them if they came and tried to fight him. He knew he had to warn everyone somehow. Using his phone was risky, especially if Marcel noticed and used the phone to text his family first.

Klaus knew he had to start a conversation so that Marcel wouldn't hear the buttons of the phone or notice him reaching under the covers. His heart was pounding out of his chest. Everyone was counting on him yet again. It gave him purpose. It gave him bravery.

"You should have bought me dinner first," quipped Klaus, as dark and morbid humor seemed like the best option. He leaned over to reach for his phone, attempting to look nonchalant.

To his surprise, Marcel laughed. "I'm surprised you can make jokes, but you've always been resilient."

"Well I've lived through much worse," he replied sharply.

"I'm sure you have," nodded Marcel.

The conversation ground to a halt. Klaus did't know what to say. After centuries of history, they no longer had anything to talk about. What was Marcel waiting for?

"So, how was your day? How did you know I was here?" asked Klaus as he clicked the power button.

"It was fantastic, and you know, the King has his ways," said Marcel. "A few little birdies let me know about the magical abnormalities on this side of town."

"Ah, using third person now, are you?" muttered Klaus.

Using muscle memory, Klaus begged the universe that he was clicking on the text message app.

"Tell me, Marcellus. why are you here? Haven't you done enough?" asked Klaus.

Marcel checked his watch, and Klaus took this moment to cough and finish his typing mission. Under his blankets, Klaus did his best to text 'he's here' to Vincent without looking.

"You'll find out soon. It's only about 10 minutes till the full moon," said Marcel.

Klaus felt his stomach drop. Full moons meant magic. Magic meant that Marcel knew what had caused the chaos in the magical world.

"You see, I have this little talisman," said Marcel, and he pulled a wooden pendant out from under his shirt. In the darkness, Klaus could barely make out that it was shaped like an ancient fertility symbol. "Can you guess what this does?" He paused for effect, always the showman. "It absorbs ritual magic, old friend."

Old friend. Klaus grimaced.

"You sound as nonsensical as always," said Klaus dryly, pretending to be clueless. "What the hell are you going on about now?" He was holding out hope, but knew that Marcel wouldn't be distracted when the full moon peaked.

"Don't play dumb, Klaus. You're better than that," Marcel chided. "You know, it took me months to find a perverted hedge witch that could explain the chaotic ritual magic we created together. You remember that night, I assume. Good times, good times."

"Perhaps for you," he said through gritted teeth. Rage simmered in Klaus' stomach as Marcel discussed rape so causally.

"So," continued Marcel, "it took some convincing, but after bleeding the witch out, she finally taught me how to use this talisman to drain your energy like a siphon heretic. Isn't that clever?"

Klaus exhaled sharply. Marcel was already powerful enough after taking the serum, but adding the ability to do magic would make him invincible.

"So now it's not about punishment anymore? It's just purely selfish," commented Klaus. "You've hit a new low, Marcellus."

Marcel sneered, "Don't vilify me, you piece of shit. Once I can harness your power, I can protect the people I love. No one like you will ever hurt this city again."

"Haven't you already proven your power?" asked Klaus. "You killed my family. You imprisoned me for months. You raped me. I'm sure you'll be fine without this magic."

Marcel didn't answer. "Time's up," he said.

Klaus backed up instinctively. He knew he was alone and helpless once again. Worse, he knew that his family drew closer to this danger with every mile that brought them closer to New Orleans.

"Get it over with," said Klaus with a hint of courage, knowing that the sooner it was over, the more likely his family would be safe.

"Goddamn," said Marcel with a smirk, "I didn't realize I'd broken you like a house pet. I suppose this will be easy then."

Marcel reached the edge of the bed.

Klaus closed his eyes and waited.

Little did either of them know, a great evil had descended upon New Orleans while they spoke, walking down the streets with a glint in it's eyes. It was coming for them, and it wouldn't be stopped.

A/N: Ah! Don't you just love cliffhangers? I've had so much fun writing this story. Let me know what you think. Comments, hopes, dreams, life goals? Haha, anyways, thank you to LivwellisUltimate for inspiration and support! To be continued...