pastel_levi_ackerman prompted: "Which something I would be interested in seeing more in maybe coming back to the one in this chapter when Marcel is well into being a teenager and still being given this treatment happily and Elijah again thinking Klaus has something to do with it"

and Roses_of_Magic prompted: "Wait, now I'm curious to how Big Marcel will react when he eventually does come out of space…"

I've added a couple of new tags. I'm not sure if I'll add any more parts, but if there's interest, I just might. :) I have a couple of ideas but we'll see!

June 20th, 1827

"Alright, my messy little warrior," Klaus says, finishing wiping the chocolate from his wiggling son's face. "You have an hour of free time while I attend to some grown up business. Then I shall run your bath and get you ready for bed."

Marcellus nods. "May I practice my chess?"

"Of course!" Klaus finishes wiping his cheek. He plants a big kiss to his forehead. Marcellus grins. "You come fetch me if needed, yes?"

"Yes, Papa."

Marcellus throws his arms around Klaus' neck. His papa squeezes him tight.

"Does someone want a boost to the parlor?"

"Yes! Please!"

Klaus chuckles and lifts him into his arms. Marcellus holds on tight as they walk to the parlor. He knows he's 17. Maybe a bit too old to be carried by his father. After all, he's now the same age as Rebekah. She isn't being carried around by her brothers. If anything, she treats him just as much of a child as Klaus.

But it's nice. To be looked after. Cared for.

Klaus lowers him at the table and gives him one last kiss. "You go on. Maybe one of these days, you'll even beat me." He winks.

Marcellus chuckles. "I can only hope I'm that good."

Klaus disappears from the room. Marcellus is about to go about moving the pieces on the board when he feels another gust of wind. He's gotten used to the vamping around. This time, it's his uncle Elijah.

Marcellus bites his lip. When he first moved in, he built a close bond with the eldest Mikaelson. They played chess. Elijah tutored him alongside Klaus. They'd take walks around the property. Elijah was the one who convinced Klaus that Marcellus would be safe to go into town. Then, out of nowhere, it all disappeared. Elijah found him a nuisance and began passing him off to Klaus without a second glance. The only time he steps in is to encourage harsher discipline when he steps out of line. Often, his spankings are either administered by Elijah or suggested. That's the one time Marcellus finds affection from his uncle. Cradled on his lap and given hugs before tucked into bed for a nap.

"Uncle Elijah." Marcellus sits up straighter. "Hello."

"About done with your dessert?"

The teenager nods. "The chocolate cake was delicious."

"Your papa fed you?"

Marcellus squirms a bit. He had offered to feed himself, but Klaus insisted it was easier. After all, his clothes wouldn't get messy this way.

All he can do is nod. Elijah purses his lips and steps forward. He cups his nephew's cheek and looks him in the eye. Marcellus knows what's coming. Maybe not the words, but the action. He hasn't been compelled often. At least he doesn't think. Klaus promises he never would. Maybe Kol did it a time or two, but he's gone now. He assumes there may have been some scarring incidents they removed.

Elijah narrows his own eyes. "You are going to be honest with me."

"I am going to be honest with you," Marcellus repeats.

"Very good." Elijah lets go of his face. Marcellus whimpers a bit from the loss of affection. "Marcellus, do you enjoy how your father treats you?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you are 17. Nearly a man. And your father treats you as if you are a toddler."

Marcellus shrugs. "He is just looking out for me, Uncle Elijah."

"But he did not force you?"

"No. 'Tis all I know, but I've never really told him to stop. The few times I have, he respects me."

"I see."

Marcellus' stomach aches. He sees the disapproving look on his uncle's face. Marcellus would do anything to regain that relationship. What did he do wrong? Is it that he acts as a child? That's what his papa said was best.

"Should I?" Elijah arches a brow. "Should I tell him no?"

Marcellus isn't naive. He knows this dynamic isn't normal. But it's comforting. He doesn't have to think. He remains close with his father. Given all he's lost, sometimes it's nice to not have to think like a 17 year old. Besides, Klaus has taught him enough to surpass his peers if he did attend school. He's allowed to attend balls. There was the brief courtship with Adelaide. Klaus allows him to act like a teenager. It's when they're alone at home that they slip into these roles.

But maybe he shouldn't. Maybe it's not proper.

"'Tis as I said, Marcellus," Elijah says after a bit of silence. "You are nearly a man. Soon, you'll be able to head off on your own. Perhaps find a great love. You will not have someone to feed you, to dress you. There will be no one to tuck you into bed at night."

The last part is the most haunting. He's sure he could handle the bathing and feeding. Those are all things he's done before. Klaus doesn't always attend to such things.

But he's been tucked in every night since he was saved from that plantation. Read a bedtime story. The covers pulled up to his chin. A kiss pressed to his forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my little warrior. Papa loves you."

Somehow, no matter how hard the day, nothing seemed so bad after that.

Is he wrong for enjoying such indulgences?

Elijah is a proper man. He's lived a good amount of life. A fan of great literature and music. While Klaus is respected due to fear, Elijah was because of how he conducted himself. A strong, forceful man.

He isn't tucked into bed at night with a bedtime story. Perhaps the maids select his outfits, but he dresses himself.

Rebekah and his papa are the same. They're adults. Marcel is reaching that age.

Maybe it is time to grow up. As hard as that may be.

He doesn't want to let go. He wants to cling on.

But perhaps this is what his papa wants too. He just doesn't know how to say it. Marcellus knows he's overindulged. What he wants, he gets. Klaus wants to deny him nothing (outside turning him as he's begged countless times).

Perhaps he needs to be the one to let go.

Elijah leaves him with his thoughts. Marcellus waits a half hour before heading upstairs. He runs his own bath. It's a bit cold but he soldiers through, washing himself. It's a bit awkward reaching certain parts, but he does it.

Water drips onto the bedroom floor as Marcellus dresses himself. He opts out of the gown and instead goes for the pajamas Elijah purchased for his last birthday. Somehow, Klaus always avoids them every evening. They're a pant and shirt set with dark blue stripes heading down. He does up his own undergarments as well.

Klaus does not enter until he's climbing into bed. He frowns and vamps over. His hand cups Marcellus' damp cheek.

"Marcellus, what are you doing? I told you I would get you ready for bed."

Marcellus gently pulls away. "I know. However, I can do it on my own."

"There's no need for you to. You're a prince, Marcellus. They are taken care of."

Marcellus clears his throat and stands up straighter. He ignores the hurt written in his father's blue eyes.

"I am not a child anymore, Papa. I can bathe, feed and dress myself. I certainly do not need to be tucked in."

Klaus purses his lips. Marcellus sees that wall beginning to rise. The same that comes every time he is upset. It's rarely with his son, usually his siblings. A veil of protection. He does not wish to be hurt.

"I see," Klaus says with a slight nod. "Very well. I shall leave you to it, then. While I understand you are a big boy, you will still have a bedtime. This will prevent you from becoming cranky. Do you understand?"

He's speaking to him as he would one of his siblings. Marcellus nods.

"Yes, Papa. I understand."

"Good evening, Marcellus."

"Good evening."

His father slips from the room. Marcellus blows out the torch on the wall before climbing under the covers. It takes him an hour before he drifts off to sleep.

June 15th, 2012

Marcel feels a bit restricted when he awakes. He tries to move, but finds himself unable to in spite of his strength. A quick glance finds a burgundy blanket wrapped tightly around him. He blinks a few times to adjust to his surroundings.

Little wooden figurines dangle above him. They're carved into horses, knights and swords.

Something's in his mouth. He spits it out and finds a pacifier fallen onto his chest.

He groans a bit, looking from side to side. There's something white, lace even.

"Good morning, my little warrior."

Klaus takes over his vison from above. Marcel blinks a few times. His father is smiling down at him as one would a small child. He kicks his legs and tries to release himself from the comfortable cocoon. Something tells him he's not supposed to enjoy it. Even if it's warm and cozy.

"What the hell is going on, Klaus?" Marcel demands. The pacifier rolls off his chest with all his wiggling.

There's a shot of pain followed by that veil. Klaus is quick to unwrap him. A gust of cool air hits his bare arms. Klaus scoops him up. Marcel squawks in protest, but he's quickly put down. His eyes flicker frantically around the room. It's Klaus', but something is different. There's a collection of toys in the corner. A bright green romper lays against the bed alongside a diaper with supplies.

The last thing he notices is the bassinet, large enough to fit someone of his size. It doesn't take long to deduce that's what he was previously in. The restrictive blanket is still there, alongside the pacifier and his childhood stuffed frog.

Marcel glances down at his body. He's wearing one of the nightgowns he once did in his youth. Something on his bottom feels…

"No."

"Marcellus, allow me to explain…"

"What did you do?!" Marcel snaps, jumping back and holding out his hand.

Guilt seeps across Klaus' face. Marcel keeps his guard up.

"If you would calm down…"

"What is this? Why am I in a…"

Marcel trails off. Little by little, it begins to crash over him like a tidal wave. Laying in that bed, wishing for death. Suddenly, Klaus cradling him and allowing his son to feed from his wrist. Bathing and getting him ready for bed.

Days blend together of playing with toys and not saying much. Klaus holding him close and feeding him from his wrist nightly. The desire to want him and him alone. He was carried everywhere.

Accidents began happening after a week. That'd explain the diapers.

Somehow, Klaus procured the bassinet.

"I want to keep you close by," he had cooed to his precious warrior.

This wasn't on Klaus. He had done what needed to be.

What the hell happened to him?

Marcel quickly shakes his head. "No."

"Marcellus," Klaus whispers.

"No!"

Marcel vamps out of the master bedroom and down the hall to his own. He rips the gown off of him, it falling into two pieces on the ground. The diaper is tossed into the trash.

He showers for over an hour, trying to block out the memories in his head. The vulnerability. The fact that for God knows how long, all he wanted was his father again.

He shut out that need a century ago. Marcel is independent. He's a man. A king.

That's the way it's supposed to be. The way it has to be.

He's not allowed to be a little boy. That's a choice he made in the 1800s. Klaus never fought him on it.

No. He will not go back. He can't.

Marcel is quick to dress himself in older clothes again. He finds himself fumbling over the buttons of his jeans. The shirt takes a little longer to slide over his head.

What the hell is happening to him?

Marcel only makes it to the parlor before Klaus stops him.

"Move."

"Where do you plan to go?"

"I…I don't know." Marcel clears his throat. He hates how young his voice sounds. "I'll figure it out."

"You know I didn't force this upon you."

"I know."

And Marcel does. He knows in spite of Klaus' selfishness and indulgence, that's a step too far. Sure, he'll dagger his siblings to keep them close by, they have bodily autonomy.

"But," Marcel continues, taking a deep breath. "I have to go."

"Why?"

"Why?! Are you insane? I just spent…how long?"

"A month."

Marcel's eyes bug out of his head. "A month?!"

Klaus nods. How the hell is he so calm? "Yes. Well, just about over that."

"How…my men…you expect me to face them after…"

"Elijah and I took care of it." Klaus puts a hand on his shoulder. Marcel quickly pulls away. His papa sighs. "They're compelled. They'll think nothing of these past weeks."

That brings very little comfort.

"Little Warrior…"

"Don't!" Marcel shakes his head. "Don't call me that!"

"I've always…"

"I'm not a baby! I'm not your baby!"

Klaus draws a deep breath. "It's okay," he whispers. "I looked into it. 'Tis a natural trauma response. You have had a hell of a year."

"A year? Try a hell of a life."

"And without being presumptuous, perhaps you felt safest when I cared for you in that way."

"You never babied me that much."

"Nay. Perhaps it's what you needed."

The "yes" is at the tip of his tongue. Marcel shakes his head.

"No!" He thunders for what has to be the tenth time. "I'm not doing this! I'm not…just…no!"

This time, Klaus doesn't stop him from leaving.

Marcel doesn't know where to go. The manor is his home. It was when he took over New Orleans. Klaus and his family invaded it, but it was still his. He got a loft when tensions got high but that was given up after he and Klaus came to a truce after Davina's death.

Where the hell is he supposed to go?

He wanders around New Orleans for a good couple of hours. Over the past century, he's watched as things have changed. Buildings built where beautiful parks once were. His favorite trees destroyed to make way for parking lots. He has very little safe places left.

Eventually, he ends up in the woods. A place he was never allowed to go to as a child. Sure, he'd sneak out every now and then, but he was always caught and brought home. Those were one of the few times his father actually spanked him without Elijah suggesting it. He was terrified to lose him the same way he did Henrik.

God, he was such a spoiled brat as a child. Given the world and still found a way to cause trouble. But mostly because that's what got him attention. Whether negative from Elijah or positive from Klaus. In spite of all the terror and dramatics, he's beginning to realize how safe it felt.

Was Klaus right? Had all that pain made him actually miss the dynamic they once have? Perhaps crave it even more?

No. It can't.

He hears his uncle tsking. "Running off through the woods as usual. Naughty, naughty."

Marcel rolls his eyes as he sees the designer suit loving freak appear before him. "Leave me alone."

"I cannot do that."

"Why not? You have before."

"Marcellus, when are you going to stop resenting us for not looking for you, when you're the one who faked your death?"

Marcel purses his lips and averts his gaze. Elijah doesn't move his own.

"We mourned you for decades. I watched as it destroyed Klaus from the inside out."

"I did what I had to do," Marcel whispers. "He was getting out of control. There was no way out."

"I never said I blamed you for it, dear nephew. Just asking how long we are going to be punished for it? I won't pretend there aren't many things you should be mad at us about." He clears his throat. "Me especially."

Marcel looks back up. He sees a rare look of sorrow in Elijah's eyes. "What are you…"

"I cut you out. Cast you aside. All in the name of keeping Niklaus happy."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father loves you, Marcellus. Perhaps that is his biggest downfall. He loves you so much that he does not know how to handle the anxiety that comes with such adoration. Niklaus feared that if you loved me so much, you'd reject him."

"So…that's what the sudden shift was."

"It is among one of my biggest regrets. I have many when it comes to appeasing Klaus. I thought that it would keep him on the right path." He frowns. "Instead, indulging him only made the problem worse."

Marcel nods. He doesn't point out the irony of Elijah demanding that everyone else be held accountable, lest they turn into tantruming monsters. When that is the very one he made in his middle brother.

"I am sorry, Marcellus," Elijah says.

Marcel bites his lip. "I'm not angry with you."

"Hurt?"

"Perhaps, but I'd really rather not discuss that right now."

"I understand. I simply felt it was important to get to the heart of the matter." Elijah takes a step forward. "My point was, there were legitimate mistakes made in your upbringing, Marcel. Ones that I know your father and I would give anything to take back. But we can't. At the same time, there are things you blame us for that were simply out of our control."

"Such as me faking my death."

"Is there a reason why you are so angry with us for not looking?"

Marcel feels the heat rush to his cheeks.

"I guess I just…I thought if you loved me enough…deep down inside, you'd just know. That you'd find a way to come back and see for yourself." He sighs off Elijah's arched brow. "I know. It's ridiculous. It's not fair of me to feel that way. I stand by my choice to run. But perhaps not in the way I did. If not for Klaus returning, we likely never would've reunited."

"No, you wouldn't. And maybe a lot of things wouldn't happen here. Alas, as I said, we cannot change the past. We can only shape the future. The past can hurt, but we can learn from it."

Marcel tilts his head. "Have you been watching The Lion King?"

"Caught it on Broadway," Elijah dismisses. Marcel hides a smile. "The point is, we can all learn a thing or two from our past mistakes. No one more than me."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps I overstepped all those years ago. I stand by that at the time you needed to grow and become a man. Learn some independence. It was the only way for you to truly find who you were, outside this family."

"I've never resented you for it."

"I know your father has."

Elijah rubs the back of his neck.

"It was comforting for you to be tended to in that way. After all you've been through, I'd say you deserved it."

"But it wasn't appropriate. I was a teenager."

"A teenager who felt safest when in his papa's arms." Marcel squirms a little. "I think when you began to spiral, your soul searched for that warmth. Niklaus nurtured it."

"And so, I fell into a regressed frame of mind."

"Yes."

"Do you think it'll happen again?"

"From my research, yes." Marcel gnaws on his lip. "Perhaps not for as long as it did this time. I believe that stemmed from you holding so much in. You needed Klaus to treat you the way he once did. Perhaps even more. Your body couldn't handle the pain any longer."

"This isn't what he wants."

Elijah chortles. "The man bought out practically the entire toy store for you, Marcellus. He had a custom cradle made so you would feel safe. He's been tending to you morning, noon and night. I know my brother. If he didn't want this, he wouldn't. Klaus rarely pays anyone a favor."

Marcel considers it. Still, he finds himself shaking his head.

"I…can't. I can't just abandon my men."

"You're not. I know saying they have Klaus will not bring you much comfort. But he isn't alone here. Besides, if you regress often enough, you'll likely be able to maintain your duties. The stress and pain won't be there."

"Klaus…"

"Wants this. But he'd also never force it on you. I know I once accused him otherwise and that was wrong. He never compelled you once, Marcel. Maybe he struggles with what you choose to do with your free will, but he's always let you have it. Perhaps it's time you finally allow yourself to lean back in. Maybe it's what will help you heal. Power is a mere band-aid, not a remedy."

Marcel stands there for a few moments, absorbing his uncle's words. Elijah takes a step forward.

"I know you have much to consider. Perhaps you can do that on our walk home? There's no way Niklaus would forgive me if I left you out here."

Marcel knows he should argue that he's an adult. If he wants to stand in the damn woods and contemplate things, he absolutely should.

Yet, he accepts the arm his uncle drapes around him as he's guided back to the manor.

Klaus isn't in the parlor when they arrive back at the house. Marcel has to search for him a bit. He ends up in his bedroom. It's the same with a four-poster canopy California King. All adult furniture. Paintings likely stolen from museums (or "borrowed" with the help of vervain). The only sight of his childhood is that damn frog.

Marcel packed it away the minute Klaus fled New Orleans. He didn't want to look at it. Be tempted by the past. He wasn't a child anymore. And in that moment, Klaus wasn't his father.

Things are different now.

Klaus stands by Marcel's desk, rearranging pens. He breaks away the moment his son steps over the threshold. Marcel plays with his fingers. He hates that he now has the urge to put a couple of them in his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"For what?" Klaus asks.

"For…this."

Klaus' eyebrows stitch together and he scrunches up his face. Marcel doesn't even know anymore. How does one apologize for over a century of misdeeds? How is an immortal 25-year-old supposed to find the words to say he still wants his papa.

He still needs his papa.

"I'm unsure of what you mean," Klaus says.

"You treated me like a child far longer than you should." It's the only route Marcel feels right taking. "You tucked me into bed until I was nearly an adult. Bathed me, sometimes spoon fed me. Even after all that stopped, I had a bedtime until I ran you out of New Orleans."

"You're apologizing for that? Seems all things that I did."

"Why'd you do it?"

Klaus purses his lips. "I suppose I was trying to keep you as close as possible. I thought that meant keeping you little. After all, little boys need their parents. If you were small, you would still need me. And I wouldn't lose you."

"I still need my papa. Even when I'm not feeling small."

"You walk around as a king. More than once you have said…"

"I know what I said. Because the truth is, you weren't always the best dad."

A pang of hurt flashes across Klaus' face. Marcel keeps going, ignoring the aches in his bones.

"You were possessive, overprotective. The older I got, the more smothered I felt. Because you just couldn't let go."

"I'm not denying any of that."

"I know. But I think that's where my apology comes in. I wasn't wrong to run away. But I was wrong for pushing out that side of you. The one that made me feel safe. I guess I just felt like I had to. Because I was getting older. I shouldn't need to act like a baby around my papa."

A fracture of a smile comes across Klaus' lips. He takes a step closer.

"It's okay to need support, Marcel," he whispers. "It doesn't make you weak."

Marcel gnaws on his lip. "You didn't have to buy all that stuff."

"Oh, but I did. I wasn't sure when you'd come out of it. And I couldn't very well dress a baby in skinny jeans and torn t-shirts. Which, your uncle also wants to take you shopping for clothes when you're feeling older."

"I'm not dressing in a suit like him," Marcel quickly defends.

Klaus chuckles, shaking his head. "Nay. I wouldn't let him do that to you." He cups Marcel's cheek. "But I am going to keep the rest of it. You'll only use it when you want to. It's there. For as long as you'd like."

"I don't know how this is going to work."

"We'll figure it out." Klaus kisses the side of his head. "We always do, hm?"

Marcel nods. He can't hold it back anymore. His body collapses against his papa's. Klaus wraps his arms tightly around him. Marcel's chest tightens as he twists his papa's shirt, trying to hold back the sobs. Klaus rubs his back, just the way he did when he was younger.

Just the way he's done for the past month.

A few tears spill down his cheeks. Klaus continues rubbing his back and giving him tiny kisses to the top of his head.

"I think someone needs a nap," he whispers into his ear. "You've had quite the morning."

Marcel knows maybe he should argue back. Say he's an adult. There's no need for him to take a stupid nap.

Instead, he lets his papa scoop him up and carry him to the bed. Once the duvet and sheets are pulled back, he's laid down. Instantly, Marcel reaches up. Klaus gently pushes his arms down. The younger man whines and his father smiles.

"Wait right here. Just as I said, babies don't belong in jeans."

Klaus moves to the wardrobe and roots through it for a moment until he returns with yet another one of those nightgowns. Marcel allows him to change him into it. Once he's done, Klaus climbs in beside him and cuddles him close. The frog is sandwiched between them.

The last thing he senses before sleep is his uncle in the doorway. He almost swears he can hear him muttering, "Sleep well, Little One."

Let me know what you think! As always, feel free to leave prompts or ask me questions! I am on Tumblr and love communicating on there, as well as in the comments.