Disclaimer Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100
Warnings for sexual assault, dubious consent, stalking, child neglect and murder
We have you now: Part three: The Lavigne Manor
They had seen their good number of people leave this world over the centuries. That was to be expected, given their species.
They hadn't always been vampires. But that was of no real consequence.
All they wanted, was to protect their mate. Their vulnerable, young human mate.
They had kept an eye on her family for centuries, waiting for her to be born.
They had watched so many of their mate's family shuffle off the mortal coil, they just would have different surnames here and there.
Brownes. Dumonts. Bouchers. Sauvettes. And yes, Lavignes and Griffins too.
They all left this world, one way or another.
And some of these family members of their mate's? They themselves had killed as a means to an end.
Andre Lavigne? They felt the worst about that. But Hugo Lavigne? He had tried to stop them from meeting their mate. He had hired vampire killers.
So, they had taken action.
But Andre Lavigne was an innocent.
Leon Griffin, son of Isabelle Lavigne-a Frenchwoman through and through, and Matthew Griffin, a Scottish descended American man, and brother to Gabriel Griffin, they regretted as well.
They didn't regret making him sterile. That they didn't regret. That was necessary to make sure their mate inherited everything.
Leon could not have children, if they wanted that to happen.
But they regretted being a part of Leon Griffin's death.
Leon had known about them, had heard the stories about how they stalked his family and sought after a family member of his-supposedly, he learned, a great niece that he would never meet.
But he was curious. So he had asked that they show him their true form.
And they had.
That was a mistake, as they now knew.
Leon's heart had been weak, and when he had seen their vampiric forms…well, it just was too much for him.
That they felt terrible for.
They hadn't wanted him to die. They had doubted that Leon would live long enough to know his great niece, Clarke, the vampires' mate, but they had hoped that she would know her great uncle, anyway, and him having died of a heart attack at seeing Clarke's mates' vampiric forms, had prevented that.
They wished that Leon hadn't died. But it couldn't be helped now.
And their mate, Clarke? Clarke Griffin? She feared them. They could tell. They didn't want her to fear them. But she did.
Clarke Griffin, the bearer of her paternal great-grandfather's Scottish last name, but bearing not just his blood but the blood of many Lavignes, Dumonts, Brownes and Bouchers before her.
The woman who had been the entire point of the vampires' stalking of the young woman's ancestors. All of those ancestors before her.
Clarke was what it had always been about.
The whole point of all they had done, had been so that Clarke could be born, so that they could be with her, protect her, sire her, love her.
They tried to be reasonable, explaining themselves. Telling her that they loved her that they wanted to be with her, that they were her mates, that they could give her so much.
But she was stubborn.
But then, was that really a surprise? They knew her so well. They had known her for her entire life, even if she hadn't known about them until recently.
They knew what foods she liked, what foods she didn't like, what hobbies she enjoyed, what her favorite movies and books and TV shows were, what her fears and dreams were, what her nightmares were about, what her talents were, what her habits were, what she found funny, what she found scary, what brought her joy.
They knew her.
That was why they really should have known how she'd react to them.
But it still hurt when she looked at them with fear and pain. When she accused them of having killed her family members.
And she was right. They had murdered family members of hers.
Too far back great uncles of hers, Michael and Steven Browne, deserved what they had gotten. They had been abusive to their sister, Clarke's direct ancestor, and had even raped her.
They just got what they deserved.
Leon Griffin had been an accident.
But Andre Lavigne? They couldn't say that that was an accident, could they?
That was no accident. They had made it look like an accident, by scaring a couple of horses into running young Andre down with those horses and the cart behind it.
But they had known that Andre's father, Hugo Lavigne, had understood the implications easily.
The warning was there; "send vampire hunters after us again, and we'll kill your wife next."
They naturally, would never hurt Hugo's daughter, Isabelle, as Isabelle had been intended to have a child, who in turn, would have a child and that child, Jake Griffin, would grow up and have a child with his wife, and that child, Clarke Griffin was destined to be the vampires' mate.
No, because the vampires had known that Isabelle was Clarke's direct ancestor, her paternal great-grandmother, they would not touch Isabelle.
But Hugo and his wife were very much perfect targets, if Hugo continued his campaign of resistance.
And Hugo had stopped. He understandably was terrified of what would happen, should he continue to try to stop them.
The vampires could be proud of having killed Steven and Michael Browne, and they were, they could admit that Leon Griffin had been an accident; he had been.
But Andre Lavigne, unfortunately, they could not wipe their hands clean of.
And he'd just been a young boy, too.
He hadn't even reached his seventeenth birthday.
They knew they would do it again, if it meant they would meet Clarke one day. But they knew that it hurt Clarke to know that they had murdered an innocent family member of hers, and they had done it only as a means to an end.
They knew Clarke likely would have taken it differently, had they explained that Andre Lavigne had been an accident, or that they had killed him because he had actually been a young murderer, on the beginning of a serial killing streak.
But no, that wasn't what had happened.
Yes, they probably could have materialized a story, but they wanted to be honest with their mate.
But now, unfortunately, they couldn't let her leave them. Not right now.
They knew she'd try to run, first chance she'd get.
Amongst their number, Wanda Maximoff, who was the only one of them with children, hadn't been offended when another of their number, Carol Danvers had shown Clarke pictures of Wanda's children; her twin sons, Billy and Tommy; pictures Wanda had put in a heart shaped locket.
She had wanted Clarke to know about them.
Clarke was young, yes, but despite that, they knew that she thought about having children.
Billy and Tommy were not by blood Clarke's. Wanda had birthed them. And their biological father had died years ago.
But Wanda was hoping Clarke would want to meet the two boys.
Would want to know both Billy and Tommy.
Even if Clarke couldn't come to see them as her sons, Wanda hoped that she could be a part of Billy and Tommy's lives.
The other vampires; Yelena, Diana, Natasha, Mari, Shayera; all of them, they wanted Clarke. Needed her.
To be without her, would destroy them.
They had worked for centuries to make sure she was born.
Stephen Strange, the warlock, who had helped give them the knowledge they needed to work things to their advantage so that Clarke came into existence, in exchange, they helped him get the Darkhold.
All so that Clarke could be born, so that she could be theirs and they could be hers.
But how were they to expect Clarke, when she had so little choice in her life, to accept that?
Clarke's father had been murdered. Poisoned by Clarke's own mother.
Clarke's mates had been witness to Clarke's whole life, but they hadn't known that her father was being poisoned.
Had they known, they would have saved him. Because they wanted Clarke to have her father.
But they hadn't known.
For Clarke, to live with a mother like that for so long, and then cast out when Clarke didn't have her father around to protect her any longer?
Why would she tolerate being under another's heel?
But what Clarke didn't realize, was that her mates would not have her under their heel, nor did they want her there.
They wanted her in their arms, in their bed, thrashing under their mouths, clenching around their fingers.
They wanted to please her. For her to be with them, to protect her and love her.
Had they only been born in the same century as Clarke, perhaps their relationship wouldn't be tainted by their necessity to control how things turned out.
But they hadn't.
So, Clarke's mates had to make do.
But how would they convey to Clarke just what she meant to them?
How could they when she so clearly resented and feared them?
Yes, she was now regularly sleeping with Wanda, but how long would it last till Clarke decided to try to run from them?
Better they turn her now.
Even if it was without her permission.
This was why they had come up with the plan that they did.
Upstairs in Clarke's room of the Lavigne house, the room that was interestingly enough, the room that had at one time, belonged to Isabelle Lavigne, and then to Gabriel, and then to Gabriel's son, Jake, before Gabriel had moved himself and his wife and his son out of the house, Clarke and Wanda were having sex.
They could hear the tempting sounds of Clarke's moans and cries.
They knew that Clarke was soon going to be sated.
Wanda had fucked Clarke multiple times.
The last round of fucking was "coming" to an end.
The vampires downstairs snickered at each other. They had come to the agreement with Wanda last night.
Tonight would be the night.
After Clarke collapsed against the bed, they would go upstairs, pull their fangs out and drain Clarke of her blood, and give her their blood before she died.
And the blood would transform her into one of them.
Wanda most likely was overstimulating Clarke more than usual, exactly to make the young woman more helpless, when the rest of Clarke's mates arrived to sire her.
It would be far more difficult for Clarke to get away.
The vampires, as they heard Clarke let out a choked cry of "no more," collapsing against the bed, they heard Wanda whisper, "Alright. I think now's the time."
Clarke most likely hadn't heard those words, but the rest of the vampires recognized it for the signal that it was.
They grinned at each other still, and went up the stairs to the next few levels of the house.
They had been there, observing the many generations go by and leave this world; Brownes, Dumonts, Bouchers, Lavignes, Griffins. And they finally watched as Clarke Griffin, their mate was born, and felt the soul connection begin to form with their mate. They had stood back watching Clarke for years, watching her grow up, wishing to hold her, but never going near her, till she was an adult.
Now they had her, they would sire her.
And they would never let her go.
Author's note
I know technically, Wanda didn't force herself on Clarke, but put the "rape" warnings in there, because Wanda was deceiving Clarke so I felt like it was necessary.