Mystic Falls, 1003
"Your son is crying again," Caroline says sleepily.
"I can hear that," Niklaus growls. His back is sore- they've been preparing for winter. Father has been pushing them to work harder than ever. He certainly would have told him to order his wife to deal with it. Niklaus has seen him do that to Esther enough times. But at the same time, it's the least he can do for Caroline.
He lets out a low groan as he rolls out of bed. Alvis is wailing, and he fumbles in the dark. The embers dying in the hearth are his only light as he makes his way to the cradle.
Niklaus picks up his squirming son cautiously. He had helped with his siblings as a child, but this was entirely different. The child is his responsibility, just as Caroline is. There is nothing he wouldn't do for them, and that terrifies him.
He murmurs to Alvis, rocking him, but it doesn't work.
"Is he hungry?" Caroline asks, exhausted.
"I think so," he says apologetically.
"Carry him here," she says tiredly.
He is much more careful this time around, skirting the floor, terrified of tripping.
"You're not going to trip," Caroline says.
"Excuse me for being afraid of dropping my child on its head," he says indignantly.
"Is it because you were?" She asks, but there is no bite to it. "Relax, you know how to walk."
"It'll probably be worse when he knows how to," he says reaching the bed and slowly sitting down.
"Yes, you'll probably follow him around with a pillow on hand," she says, taking Alvis to her breast.
"Father would beat me for being unproductive."
"You would still do it," she says knowingly.
"I would do anything for him," he vows. It's not a lie.
"That's all I ask of you," she says, not even taking a thought for herself. She seems to be under the impression that he does not care for her, that his only purpose for her is to care for his son. Niklaus supposes he should amend that.
"I would do anything for the both of you." He corrects himself, and kisses her on the forehead. All the while, he thinks that he's probably falling for this girl.
New Orleans, 2010
"Are you done yet?" Caroline asked.
"The Ripper would like to take some more time to well, rip things." Niklaus says. Another corpse falls to the ground.
"Don't be crass," she says, annoyed.
"Come on, Caroline, have a little fun."
"I just think you we should be more cautious," She said, and her eyes dart from side to side.
"What is it?" He asks, his mood wildly swinging from amused husband to the threatening Klaus.
"We've been followed since we've gotten to the city," she says. "Don't tell me you've been too absorbed with Stefan to notice."
"So we've been followed," he says. "They haven't done anything."
"They haven't done anything yet," she corrects.
"They can't hurt us." Niklaus reminds her. "We're immortal."
"Whoever runs this city has all the witches on a leash," she says. "And don't forget what they can do."
Neither of them have a good relationship with witches. And they pose a genuine threat.
"We have to start making hybrids now.
"That would only work if we had a potential to turn," Niklaus reminds her.
"I have one," she says.
"Really?" He asks. "Where?"
"I gave her my number," she says.
"And you're sure she'll call?" He asks skeptically.
"Werewolves are a target here. She'll call," she says confidently.
"Then we're off to a good start," Niklaus says. "Drink?"
She sends him a look for being so blasé, but accepts it. The alcohol barely burns as it slides down her throat. But the metallic taste of sweet blood sates her if only for a moment.
"Whose blood is this?" she asks.
"Don't worry, you're not getting the Ripper's sloppy seconds," Niklaus says, amused. "It's that one over there." He points at the bartender, slumped over the counter.
She holds out her glass for a refill. He obliges.
"Do you have a plan for finding the potentials, or am I going to have to do all the dirty work?" She asks.
"What do you say we find a place to stay?" He asks, gesturing with his head towards the door. "This isn't going to be a short-term trip."
"If you can control the Ripper," she adds, drinking this glass more slowly. He sounds so optimistic. She's willing to bet he's already deciding how to take over this city.
"Stefan," Niklaus calls, and Stefan looks up instantly. "Time to go."
Like a dog on a leash, Stefan blurs over to them. Once again, Caroline feels an ounce of suspicion. He is far too compliant.
They leave on the bar and are faced with two vampires. They've decided to confront them. Interesting.
"Problem?" asks Niklaus, holding his hands behind his back.
"In this city, there are rules," one of them says gruffly. "And you just broke them."
"Oh, you mean the bar we just killed," Niklaus says casually. "Yeah, I suppose that was bound to break a couple rules." He smiles winningly. "So what happens when you break the rules?"
"We take you to the big boss," The one on the left says, crossing her arms.
"Then take us away," Niklaus says. "We'd love to meet him." He smiles, and they take that as submission, though if anyone knows her husband, they'd be wary of it.
These ones haven't learned that lesson yet.
Mystic Falls, 1003
Caroline spins the ring on her finger that allows her to go into the sunlight. There are a lot of scenarios, it seems, that have become a terrible possibility in light of all these changes.
She's going to visit her parents today.
She hears the rumors that have been flying about their family, whispered as Rebekah walks through the village and flinches away from vermin or Kol tries to flirt with the village girls. Even Tatia hides her daughter and avoids Elijah's gaze. Caroline can see the devastation on her brother-in-law's face every time.
To make matters worse, they always seem to feel everything so much more. Happiness. Anger. Love. Hatred. Esther assures them it is part of becoming an immortal. Caroline has always had excellent self-control, and she finds herself holding back the others whether in anger or in bloodlust.
Oh, the bloodlust. If there was one thing to despise about this thing, it was that. Rebekah was the first to succumb, but Kol was the first to kill. And the village is the first to know. They're ordered for him to be outside the law, as their homeland would do, but no one's tried to take a chance. They all fear their family now. Perhaps that fear is enough to become desperation, to become rage… and that rage may turn to something much more palpable- and dangerous.
Caroline takes a deep breath. She has nothing to fear. After all, she has no blood on her hands; she has never killed. Her parents would understand. After all, they were the ones that endeavored for her to marry into Mikael's family in the first place.
"Hello, Moðir," She says, almost shyly, standing outside the threshold. As her mother turns to face her, she relaxes. This is ridiculous. She should feel perfectly comfortable in her childhood home. Certainly not like a foreigner.
"Caroline!" Her mother embraces her. Caroline tries to be as gentle as she can on her response, but the emotions are running high and it is all she can do not to crack her Mother's ribs with sheer excitement.
"I missed you," she murmurs into her mother's neck. She can hear the heartbeat in her carotid, feel the warmth of the blood rushing through it, and her vampire features drop, but she holds herself back. This is her mother.
"We heard awful rumors," her mother says, walking back into the hut. Caroline has to stay behind. "About Mikael and his family." She looks her up and down quickly, scanning for any signs of injury. "Has Niklaus hurt you in any way? If he has I will slay him myself." He voice takes on a new tone of ferocity.
"No, he hasn't," She reassures her, holding up a hand to test the barrier, then adds, "He wouldn't."
Her mother faces her from across the threshold, though she has not noticed anything wrong." Relief is etched deeply into every crevice of her expression. "We tried to visit, but she wouldn't let us see you."
"Who?" Caroline demanded.
"Esther!" Her mother says as if it were obvious.
Caroline feels a building resentment towards her mother-in-law. What gives her the right for any of this? She hadn't even known her parents have been looking for her.
"The family is- er- having a difficult time after Henrik." That is an understatement, but she has to choose her words carefully.
Mother's face softens in sympathy, and she shakes her head. "Horrible thing," she says. "That poor child."
"More reason to be cautious about the wolves," Caroline says, knowing that her grief cannot be too apparent, because if she cries now, then she will not stop. She has had to be the bedrock of this family in light of everything, and half of them don't even consider her part of it. It's a wonder she was even turned alongside them.
"Why haven't you come in?" Mother asks.
"I can't," she tries, and then realizes that it will be a tough time to explain.
"Why ever not?" Her mother asks, putting her hands on her hips. "Come in."
Caroline tests with her foot before she strides through the doorway, carrying far greater confidence than the perfectionist girl ever used to muster. She knows her mother will notice, but she keeps her spine straight. As much as the downsides sometimes hurt, she feels no shame. She is strong, ageless, fearless. And she loves being that way.
"For gods' sake, Caroline, this is your home," Mother says, rolling her eyes. "No reason to act as if you're royalty."
"This was my home," Caroline corrects. "I have a new family." Not that Esther or Mikael seemed aware, other than the fact that she had birthed their grandson.
"I seem to remember you were very reluctant to join this new family of yours. Speaking of your which," Mother says, looking at her sternly. "Where is your son? You should be with him."
"Rebekah is with him," She answers.
"You should bring him here," Mother says, suddenly fervent. "He would be safer with you, with us!"
"You mean, live with you?" Caroline asks.
"You know what Kol did," Her mother says, lowering her voice, as if she were about to be attacked for her words. "And you know that everyone else is too scared to give him justice."
"You don't understand, Moðir," she says defensively.
"What wouldn't we understand?" A gruff voice asks.
Caroline turns around, and her eyes widen with happiness. "Faðir!" She throws her arms around him, momentarily forgetting her strength, and he grunts in pain. She instantly lets go. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"It's nothing," Brandt says, wincing and arching his back. Several joints crack audibly. "Mikael's been having us work harder than normal. That man is tireless."
Caroline bites her lip to keep silent on the exact reasons why.
"I don't see why he must treat you so badly," Brynja said, clucking her tongue.
"I still owe him a debt," Brandr reminds her mother.
"What do you mean?" Caroline asks angrily. I thought I was the payment?"
Brandr sighs, and that is answer enough. Caroline is seething. So, she wasn't enough? She had a bone to pick with her father-in-law.
New Orleans, 2010
The vampire guards take them to yet another bar- not surprising, this is New Orleans. It is much louder than the one they have just massacred, and there is a much larger number of vampire clientele. They feed freely, biting from necks and wrists carelessly, confident that someone will protect them. There are no casualties. Above it all is a mellow tenor voice, singing karaoke to some jazzy tune. The voice is far too familiar.
Klaus gives a sideways glance to Caroline. Her eyes are searching out the voice. They find the source of the music, and they widen. He follows their gaze, and his lips part slightly in shock, the smug smile gone.
Marcel.
Caroline surges forward for her son, and the dancing vampires mistake her elation for aggression. They try to hold her back, but she displays her superior strength, cracking their spines with ease. Two others charge her, but he stops them, placing a hand on either throat.
"Touch her and you'll lose your voice box," He says cheerfully, though the protectiveness is peeking out from under the veneer.
The entire thing comes to a screeching halt.
"Anyone who keeps me from my son will meet a positively bloody end, do you hear me?" Caroline proclaims loudly. Stefan, in the background not really resisting, because he knows he's dead if he does, cannot conceal his shock. Neither can most of the bar. Several limp bodies fall to the ground.
Marcel speeds over to them, and it is obvious he is trying to maintain control over his situation. He's trying to be too casual. He's flanked by a dark-skinned vampire with an afro and a stocky one in a cap. On either of their hands is a lapis lazuli ring- Marcel must have used the witches. They both look ready to charge them, but Marcel holds up a hand, keeping them back. He knows how dangerous they are.
"Mother," Marcel calls out. "I didn't know you were coming. If I had-"
Klaus watches carefully. He had last seen Marcel ninety years ago, and like Caroline had said, people change. And they still need to use him to find those werewolves.
"Yes, what would you have done?" He asks, leaning forward dangerously. Caroline sends him a disapproving look, but he knows Marcel might still hold a grudge over Rebekah, and that may come up badly.
There is a beat of awkward silence, where the former father and son stare each other down, while Caroline looks like she cannot believe them.
"Then I would have thrown you a damned parade!" Marcel says, and he slings an arm around either of their shoulders. "Klaus Mikaelson, my mentor, my savior, my sire." He leads them to the bar, and the vampires resume partying. "And my mother, who needs no introduction."
Caroline laughs. "You've grown up, Marcel," and for her, it seems that everything is resolved. She doesn't want to ask how he survived, why hadn't he sought them out. "You've got a kingdom of your own. But remember- as powerful as one gets, a mother is the one that remembers you at your least dignified." She smacks the back of his head, as she used to when he was just a teenager.
Klaus shrugs Marcel's arm off his shoulder. For him, he feels the bitterness of envy rolling in his belly. Marcel has settled down, become king. He wants something like that. Permanence.
"I've noticed the daylight rings on your lackeys," He says blithely. "How many have you given?"
"Only those who deserve it." Marcel smiles. "They have to work for it."
"Positively manipulative," Caroline says, almost with pride. "And the people love you."
"Klaus always taught me that power is what other people make of you," Marcel says, looking at her with the same charismatic appraisal he used to ensnare Rebekah. Truly, he had been much better as a human. But Caroline had insisted. Hadn't wanted to lose him.
And he is wrong. Power is power, and that is all.
"Well, Niklaus is either a psychopath or a stubborn fool, depending on the viewpoint," Caroline tells him teasingly. "So I suppose there's power in a being an ass."
"Ask my friend Napoleon," Klaus replies.
Caroline snorts. "Now that was an interesting man. Not my friend though."
"We came here because of him," He says ponderously.
"Only because you hated England after the whole revolution debacle," His wife mutters, stealing a shot glass from another vampire and downing it.
"Now, who's that guy over there?" Marcel asks, giving a subtle point towards Stefan, who looks utterly bored without bodies to drain.
"Your replacement," Caroline says nonchalantly. She always held a grudge against Stefan for that.
Klaus grunts. "If you have rules against killing here, he'll probably break them."
"Then I hope you can keep a tighter leash on him," Marcel says coolly.
"And what exactly is the punishment for breaking these rules?"
"You die," Marcel replies, and he tries to look intimidating. As if he ever could to him. There is only one person he has ever been truly terrified of, and Marcel is all too well-acquainted with him.
"Even the werewolves?" Klaus asks, feigning curiosity. "I don't seem to see many around here."
"Drove them out to the bayou ages ago," Marcel boasts, and he files that information away. Caroline might be set on turning potentials, but he has always wanted the security of guaranteed loyalty. After all, if this army is for their protection, it needs to be strong enough to face their strongest enemy.
Mystic Falls, 1003
"What the Hel, Mikael!" She charges into the family home without caution.
Mikael rushes to his feet and then to her, towering over her. "What ails you, daughter?" He speaks with endless malice, his pride only increased by his new immortal nature.
Her resolve wavers, but stands firm. "Why does my father still owe you a debt? I thought I was the payment."
"You think that a half-wit girl and the child she whelped with my useless son was enough to pay your father's debt?" he sneers.
She raises a hand and moves, faster than she would believe, but he catches her by the wrist. She screams as she feels the bones crack and shatter and heal all at once, over and over again, and blood runs down her forearm.
"Be grateful, girl, that I allowed you to be turned, that I even accepted your pathetic father's offer," Mikael hisses.
"At least my father fights real men," She spits.
The blow to her face sends her flying, the force of her body cracking the wooden supports. Her spine snaps, and for a moment she is paralyzed, helpless. Her father-in-law stands over her.
"You will not speak to me like that again," he says, glaring at her.
He's not going to kill me, she assures herself. His reputation is already tainted enough with Kol.
But he's going to beat Niklaus bloody if she continues in this vein, so she ducks her head in submission.
"Good," Mikael says. "Now go back-"
They hear loud groaning and a woman's scream, and like the rest of the village, they rush to see what's going on.
Niklaus lays next to the body of a dead man, blood running down his chin and staining his clothes. The village is gathered around them- unlike with Kol, there can be no doubt that he is guilty. They leave as soon as they see her and Mikael approaching.
"You foolish boy," Mikael hisses, and he kicks his son in the side. "What have you done?!"
Bone cracks, but it is his leg that snaps out of place, bending at a terrible angle.
"Niklaus," she says in a hushed voice, pulling him away from his father. "Niklaus, tell me what's happening."
"I don't know," he says pitifully. "Gods, it hurts, it hurts."
Mikael drags her away from him as her husband's spine begins to reshape itself, its form ready to support a quadruped body.
"Get back!" He shouts, and it is a rare burst of fatherliness from him, and in an insane moment, she thinks, I knew he didn't want me dead.
Another resounding crack, and Niklaus' neck recedes into his shoulders, his face changing, his jaw enlarging.
She tries again to go forward, to help, but Mikael holds her back. "Stay back!"
"He's in pain! He's your son!" She yells, watching in horror.
"He's not my son!" Mikael roared. "Don't you see what he has been turning into?"
She realizes what he means. The werewolf traits are passed down from father to son, and Mikael is no werewolf.
"Father, it hurts, it hurts," Niklaus moans, rolling around on the ground, oblivious to this newfound hatred.
"No," Caroline says, unable to do anything.
"Run," Mikael says, pushing her.
She runs home crying, not to her parents, but to her son.
And the next day, she leaves him with Rebekah again to stop the ritual, thinking her parents would understand that she trusts her new family with her son.
They more than understand- they watch in silent horror as she and Niklaus massacre the mob that killed their child.
"Go be with your new family," her mother spits as she offers to let them come with her, covered in blood and a witch's binding agent for a preservation spell clenched in her fist.
They join the remaining wolves in the woods, the ones that escaped Mikael and his family's raid, and Caroline does not pursue. They do not want her, she does not want them.
Let them die, she thinks bitterly, as I never will.
New Orleans, 2010
Caroline's phone rings, and Klaus listens carefully as she goes to answer it.
"Who is this?" She demands, but makes it not sound like a demand. A smile still stretches her face, she is so happy. Marcel is a happy surprise, but certainly not his ultimate goal.
"Elmas Burakgazi," It is an even voice, not a man's nor a boy's. "Cyrielle Olivier told me to call you?"
Caroline's face clears, and she beckons him over.
"You told her you could make sure she wasn't a target anymore, does that apply to all potential werewolves?"
Klaus' eyebrows lift, and he speaks up.
"Are you offering?"
"Who's this?" Elmas asks.
"Let's just say an interested party," he says vaguely. "So, are- you- offering?"
"I want to fight," The young man says, "I don't want to feel weak. And if you can offer that, I'll say I'm game."
"How about if I add immortality to the mix?" He offers.
The other line goes silent.
"Werewolves can't be turned into vampires," Elmas says finally.
"But they can be turned into hybrids." Klaus says lightly. "I guarantee it."
More silence as the boy ponders, but it doesn't take long.
"Where should we meet you?"
He grins victoriously.
I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, hopefully I still have readers out there. This is the first time I've ever actually planned for a story, and my plans for New Orleans were already a bit vague, so, this should be interesting.
I know the flashbacks might seem a bit out of place, but I was aiming for a bit more parental relationships, which would translate over to the Klaroline interaction with Marcel.
By the way, I had some naming fun- Brandt and Brynja mean "sword" and "armor," respectively.
As always, please review!
-PhoenixCycle