A/N: I apologize for the long wait! I rewrote this chapter four times before I was happy with it as I finished my finals and started a new summer class. Thank you all so much for your patience and devotion! I truly appreciate it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! More coming soon of course!

Chapter Six: Rancor

/ˈraNGkər/

noun: longstanding bitterness

Elijah took care to wrap Niklaus in Vincent's clean, silken bed sheets before carrying his brother out into the light of day. The heat from the sun was a stark contrast to the body that felt like ice in Elijah's arms, and Elijah's heart raced as he struggled to hear Niklaus' faint pulse.

"You won't die like this," whispered Elijah before he disappeared in a blur towards their French Quarter mansion. As he ran, Elijah paid no mind to the strangers on the streets who wondered at the quick wind that passed them by on such a still day. Despite his super human speed, time seemed to stretch into an eternity as each city block seemed to be miles long. His legs couldn't move fast enough, even as the air swept away each tear before it had a chance to fall.

Finally, Elijah reached the bewitched iron gates that protected the family compound. He held Niklaus' head protectively to his chest as he shifted into a martial arts stance. Then, Elijah decimated the gates with a few swift kicks to the hinges.

"Freya!" bellowed Elijah breathlessly as he ran into the empty courtyard. "Vincent!"

In a state of panic and helpless rage, Elijah swore to kill them if they were not home to save their brother.

Finally, he heard footsteps.

Rebekah was first to appear on the balcony. Her bored expression shifted rapidly as she saw the greying limbs that hung from the bed sheets.

"You liar!" she screeched as she sprinted to her brothers. "You said he was alright! How could you be so stupid, Elijah?" Rebekah panicked as she grabbed at Niklaus' hands and feet, inspecting each rapidly as if expecting the level of desiccation to be any different. She grabbed for Nik's face, hoping to see any sign of life, but Elijah growled and turned away from her.

"Go get the witches, now!" barked Elijah so loudly that Rebekah flinched before she ran away to fetch the others.

In the thirty seconds of stillness and silence, Elijah watched the black veins slowly creep up Niklaus' neck. His grief had been spent. All that was left was anger at anything and everything that continued to exist as his brother's existence was being snuffed out.

Finally, Freya and Vincent appeared huffing and puffing into the courtyard. Their slow human bodies infuriated Elijah, and he felt his fangs slipping just centimeters out from his gums. Meanwhile, Rebekah kept her distance on the balcony overlooking the scene in the courtyard. Elijah's rage had always made her feel ill at ease. She knew that any outsiders were in mortal danger while her brother's were on their tirades and Vincent was most definitely an outside. Some warm, grateful emotion stuck in Rebekah's ribs made her feel the need to watch over this man.

"What happened?" demanded Vincent and Freya simultaneously as they approached Elijah cautiously. His energy was sending out waves of homicidal intent.

Elijah glowered at Vincent, and the man backed up slowly.

"Niklaus said that you would know, Vincent," said Elijah, as if to blame Vincent. "Niklaus said that our father stole a talisman from that cur, Marcellus."

Vincent's eyes widened, and his bottom lids tingled in the way that only comes with deep dread and horror. His jaw clenched against emotions that threatened to expose Niklaus' trauma to the sisters, and Vincent quickly hid face in one hand until he could regain composure.

"Vincent," said Elijah with a dangerously soft tone, "fix this. Now."

"I don't – I can't – " he replied with a stammer as the burden of saving a life fell on his shoulders. Based on the hateful look in Elijah's eyes, Vincent was sure that Elijah would kill him if he couldn't save the hybrid.

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" asked Freya. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, but the men looked away. "God help me if neither of you start talking – "

"It's siphoning magic," said Elijah curtly before turning around and setting Niklaus on the ground. "Niklaus is linked to a talisman that feeds off of his hybridism. Apparently even a vampire can harness the energy from this talisman to perform magic."

Freya frowned and rubbed the bridge of her nose, betraying no emotions or reactions.

Elijah stood after making sure that Niklaus looked comfortable on the ground. Without turning back to look at the witches, he said, "Now tell me, Vincent, could this kill him?"

"Yes, it could kill him," said Vincent quietly. "It seems like the desiccation is slow right now, which means that the enemy might not be using magic at this very moment, but Klaus seems to be constantly sustaining whatever magic was used in the first place…so…he probably won't get better until the spell is discontinued."

"And we don't know when they'll use the talisman again," added Freya. Her voice and her eyes were cold and devoid of emotion. "So, we need to fix this now."

"Well, we don't have time to find the talisman," muttered Vincent as he closed his eyes, deep in thought.

"And we don't have time to kill Marcel," said Freya.

"We may not have time to actually break siphoning link, but if we could temporarily disrupt the flow of magic…" said Vincent slowly, and then the witches looked at each other with wide eyes.

"St. James' Infirmary!" they said at once, referencing the jazz bar with a powerful disruption spell that prevented witchcraft.

"Elijah, Rebekah!" shouted Freya as her mind spun with ingredients and spells. "I need you to get a few things from my study."

With that, she sent the siblings off to find an extensive list of miscellaneous items. Within a few minutes, Niklaus was surrounded by an elaborate sigil of black salt, burning candles, and various witchy knick-knacks. Freya and Vincent stood opposite each other across the sigil, with Freya holding on to Elijah, and Vincent holding on to Rebekah for an extra surge of power.

"Ready?" asked Freya as she closed her eyes. Everyone followed suit, anxious to complete this spell before the enemy could use the talisman again.

"Okay," muttered Freya as she and Vincent started to chant. "Il n'y aura pas de magie ici, Il n'y aura pas de magie ici, Il n'y aura pas de magie ici…"

The air in the courtyard whipped up into a gentle storm. Flower petals and leaves from the bushes swirled around them, but Niklaus was the calm in the eye of the storm.

Freya and Vincent began to yell as they tightened their grips on their respective Original conduits.

"Il n'y aura pas de magie ici!"

A spell of this size and power had taken an entire coven to protect the jazz club in Algiers. This time, the area was a fraction of the size, but it nonetheless took every ounce of power from the witches and Original vampires.

"IL N'Y AURA PAS DE MAGIE ICI!"

The wind stopped suddenly, and Vincent felt a powerful magical barrier shimmer into existence around Klaus. Weak, but happy, he turned to Rebekah to share the good news, but instead he found himself rushing to catch her as she began to tilt unsteadily on her feet. Vincent sidestepped and caught her a few feet from the cobblestone courtyard. On the other side of the sigil, Elijah met a crueler fate. Confident in her other brother's immortality, Freya simply wiped her bloody nose and left for her bedroom as Elijah's skull cracked on the unforgiving ground.

Vincent winced at the noise, but couldn't care less to check on Elijah's wellbeing as he looked down at the blonde in his arms. Mesmerized for a moment by her ethereal beauty, Vincent forgot Rebekah's bloodthirsty nature. Instead, as he watched her fluttering, bloodstained lashes, he saw a hint of human fragility. Vincent used his thumb to brush away a tear of blood from under her eye. Responding to the gentle caress, she leaned into his touch in a daze and parted her lips to make a soft mewing noise. Heat rose in Vincent's cheeks, as this beautiful woman seemed to be more like an angel than a murderous creature of the night. Nervousness ate away at his stomach lining as he realized the impropriety of holding her any longer.

"Rebekah?" called Vincent urgently, hoping to draw her back into consciousness before Elijah could wake and kill Vincent for simply existing near the youngest Mikaelson sister. Too nervous to care for her any longer, Vincent set her gently to the ground, knowing she would wake soon as her strength returned.

He then turned his attention towards Niklaus. Color was slowly returning to Klaus' skin as the black veins receded. Friendly affection bubbled up in Vincent's soul as he watched Klaus' breathing become stronger.

Satisfied with his work for the day, Vincent stretched and looked up to see that dusk had fallen over the compound. Then, he looked to the iron gates that had been crumpled and rendered useless by Elijah's rampage. Night was approaching quickly, and it seemed that the Mikaelsons were completely vulnerable to any bold and daring souls. Vincent sighed heavily, unable to leave even Elijah in a state such as this.

And so, with great reluctance, Vincent lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged on the cobblestones. Tonight, he would be the Keeper of the Mikaelson brood.

Hours passed as Elijah recuperated in a small pool of his own blood after hitting his head. Rebekah seemed at peace curled under Vincent's coat. Even Klaus seemed healthy as fullness had returned to his lips and cheekbones, ridding the poor man of his prior deathly gauntness. Everything finally seemed alright, but the peacefulness was betrayed by the knowledge of all that was still wrong, and all that had come before this tranquility. Vincent felt the need to protect this tranquility for as long as he could. Come hell or high water, his new friend had endured enough.

But the night was long, and Vincent found himself drifting into terrible dreams of old evils. To keep himself awake, he hummed Steve Earle and sang under his breath as the night drew on.

"This city won't wash away, this city won't ever drown…"

Vincent closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillar

"Blood in the water and hell to pay, sky tear open and pain rain down, doesn't matter cause come what may…"

Rebekah's eyes fluttered open as she heard deep, rich voice carrying over the courtyard. Her bones hurt from sleeping on stone, but the somber song made her want to stay in this moment for just a little while longer.

"I ain't ever gonna leave this town. Maybe our bones'll wash away."

Vincent stopped and sighed heavily. His life in this city had been so long, and his bones were tired.

Rebekah felt a pang in her chest as she watched this man alone with his thoughts. She noticed a soft melancholy etched into Vincent's brows and the corners of his lips. Had he always looked that way?

"Don't stop," she implored softly as she sat up and kept his coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Vincent opened his eyes and searched the darkness and until he met Rebekah's still blue gaze. In the lull of the night, it seemed that her eyes harbored a deep unhappiness. Was this what she hid behind her stone cold expressions in the light of day?

Vincent closed his eyes again, feeling something painful in his chest and not understanding why, as he finished the last verse, "maybe our bones'll wash away…but this city won't ever drown…."

The last note hung in the air, and neither spoke. They simply existed in the same quiet moment together as hours passed in silence, and the sun rose over the courtyard.

Eventually, Elijah and Niklaus began to shift and groan as they regained consciousness as well. The tranquility melted away, and intensity returned to the atmosphere. Vincent stood without looking back at Rebekah, feeling vulnerable now without knowing why. Rebekah seemed to feel similarly as she whisked away to her bedroom before her brothers could open their eyes. And so, with the Original family able to look after itself once more, Vincent left to find a new, safe place to rest his weary soul.

Elijah woke with a blinding headache, disgruntled by the blood matted in his hair. And yet this was nothing compared to the displeasure he felt towards waking up alone with his vulnerable brother in the gateless, unprotected courtyard.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard rustling a few feet away.

"Elijah…" groaned Klaus. His throat was burned with thirst and his stomach ached with hunger.

Elijah left instantly to acquire a few blood bags, but in the time that he was gone, Klaus realized his predicament. Once more, he had woken up relatively naked on cold, hard stone, surrounded by a circle of magical objects. The familiarity made him panic. Had he been imprisoned once more? And by who?

Klaus struggled to get up as his muscles screamed in protest, but he only managed to entangle his limbs in silken sheets.

"Why the fuck…" cursed Niklaus as he tore into the sheets with his fangs. This only served to add more pieces of silk to the knotted cocoon of bed linens that was slowly encasing his entire body. Niklaus thrashed with wild frustration until he threw his shins out of the sigil that surrounded him. A burning sensation traveled quickly from the tips of his toes and his calves desiccated instantaneously. He hardly noticed as urgency dampened his senses. He needed to get out of here before someone came for him, and that was all that mattered.

"Brother!" shouted Elijah as he returned in time to see Niklaus trying to escape the sigil. "Niklaus, stop!"

Elijah dropped the blood bags and ran over to roll Niklaus back into the wards. Niklaus' eyes were wild, not seeing Elijah for who he was, and only feeling strong hands against his shoulders and waist.

"Fuck off," growled Klaus as he twisted his powerful obliques and sank his venomous fangs deep into Elijah's forearm.

Elijah hissed and retracted his arm, leaving behind shredded skin in his brother's mouth. The burning wolf venom shot through his veins, but his wayward brother was a more pressing matter. Niklaus had destroyed the bed sheets with razor sharp fangs and claws. And so, suddenly unhindered, Klaus attempted to drag his weakened body to the other edge of the sigil.

Elijah grimaced, regretting what he was about to do, and climbed on top of his disoriented brother. Klaus snapped his jaws and knees at Elijah, knocking the wind out of Elijah and sending another dose wolf venom coursing through Elijah's shoulder.

"Be still Niklaus! It's me! It's your brother," panted Elijah as he used one knee to pin Niklaus' stomach, another knee to pin Niklaus' arm, and his hands to keep Niklaus' venomous fangs far away from any other targets. "Shhhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Eventually, between sudden bursts of struggle, Klaus' eyes began to refocus and his fangs retracted bit by bit until he was limp on the ground

"Brother…" muttered Niklaus as he looked around, slowly recognizing the courtyard as his family home. He seemed dazed and unsure of how Elijah had ended up half on top of him. "What is this?"

Elijah exhaled with relief and took his weight off of Niklaus, but he stayed close by in case his brother tried to run again.

"We made a sigil to protect you from siphoning," said Elijah. "You were dying...This should keep you safe for now as long as you stay inside."

"It seems like I've simply migrated from one prison to the next," said Niklaus as his throat constricted around the idea.

He inspected the small circle surrounding him, wishing he could replace the unease with the gratefulness that Elijah deserved.

Elijah watched Niklaus try to hide a burgeoning anxiety.

"We'll find a better way," said Elijah earnestly. "This is only temporary until we can destroy the talisman or kill Marcellus."

Niklaus tensed suddenly and barked, "you will do no such thing Elijah!"

Woozy from the wolf venom and taken aback by Niklaus' anger, Elijah was defensive. "Do you feel like you would be more suited to this task?" he asked with a frown.

Klaus' face reddened at the layers of implications and he sneered at his brother.

"No, but Marcel nearly killed you once before," said Niklaus coldly, "and considering his new and improved skillsets, do you honestly think that any of us stand a chance?"

"It's different now, this time we know what we're up against," countered Elijah.

"Believe me when I tell you that you don't know," snarled Niklaus.

The brother's stared at each other in a battle of wills, both feeling as if they knew best, both feeling as if they had the right to decide how to proceed. Niklaus as victim, and Elijah as the protector.

After a few moments of watching Elijah's desperate eyes, Klaus softened and looked down at the shredded silk that barely protected his modesty. "This," he said as he gestured across his lean body with a flick of his wrist, "if this is the price that I paid to keep my family safe, then I won't have that sacrifice be made in vain."

Elijah looked away as his mind threatened to conjure images of what his brother's body had been made to endure. He closed his eyes as the wolf venom made it hard to reject these intrusive thoughts.

"If he killed you," continued Niklaus as he bit into his wrist and offered his blood to heal Elijah, "if he hurt you the way he hurt me…"

The confession rippled through Elijah like an electric shock, and his eyes watered. The fact that Niklaus had to worry about such things broke Elijah's heart. Elijah felt helpless to do anything at all for his brother. He wiped his eyes quickly as he sank his teeth into Niklaus' wrist and drank deeply. He felt that he should be the one to protect his family, his younger brother, and yet even now Elijah was reminded that Niklaus was the stronger of the two of them.

Elijah finished quickly as his body healed. He pulled his teeth from Niklaus' flesh and ran his thumb over the disappearing puncture wounds.

"Thank you," he muttered and turned away to get up.

"It would kill me," finished Niklaus bluntly, and Elijah froze briefly before standing and leaving the sigil. His heart was beating rapidly.

"However we decide to end this, I swear to you brother…I will be at your side," said Elijah, "Always and forever." He paused to finally hand Niklaus the blood bags. "Regain your strength, I'll be back with clothing and a bed."

Elijah disappeared swiftly, and Klaus was left alone to contemplate the way his life had changed.

Immediately after the disruption magic was cast on the sigil around Niklaus, Freya knew she had to get out of the courtyard. Paying no mind to her fallen siblings, she wiped the blood of exertion from her face and left as quickly as her wobbling legs would allow. Anxiety was eating her alive.

She recognized that magic.

"It's not possible," she breathed as she hurried down the last hallway towards her bedroom.

And yet she couldn't deny the magical signature that emanated from Niklaus when Elijah brought him home, the familiar energy that had laced her with unease ever since they left Vincent's apartment.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of these thoughts.

Freya fumbled with the doorknob and stumbled into her room.

"Please don't let me be right," she begged in the silence, "please."

With only one thing on her mind, Freya rushed towards her bedside table. She opened the drawer to reveal ten leather-bound journals. These were the only records of her life between the centuries of hibernation with her aunt Dahlia.

Freya hesitated before picking up the seventh journal. Had it really been four hundred years? Her memories were bleary between centuries of sleep, but these memories in particular were still raw and rotting in her skull.

Her hands shook as she opened the pages of the dilapidated text, making the faded Nordic runes difficult to read. Freya breathed deeply to steady her hands.

Freya

First born Mikaelson

Ward of Dahlia Ostergard

1514 AD

I cannot forgive my aunt for killing my true love. I cannot forget the death of our unborn child. Every night, I dream of wailing infants. Every day, my mind tricks me with visions of Mathias' face the moment before he died.

I will not permit Dahlia to live without retribution. I will not allow her evil deeds to fester in this world any longer.

By the Gods, I swear that I will avenge her victims. I cannot kill her, but I will take what she cherishes most: her magic.

Tears dripped onto the parchment and blurred the words.

Freya flipped to the next pages and saw drafts of sigils and runes scribbled and crossed out in haste. Finally, on the ninth page, she found the finished product. A deceptively simple, swirling sigil with notes for ingredients listed at the bottom. Then, in the top corner was a crude drawing of the Nordic fertility goddess.

This was her siphoning spell, her vengeance.

"This is my fault," she breathed as she wiped away her tears and slammed the journal shut.

In a flurry of motion, Freya threw the journal back into the drawer, and locked the incriminating pages away under spell and key.

This was one secret that she was determined to keep.