A/N: This is pretty much AU but inspired in the first seasons of The Originals. Some divergences with the canon: the Mikaelsons never left NOLA. Klaus is a hybrid but no one outside of his family knows, Hope doesn't exist and thanks to the witches, Hayley can turn at will.
Disclaimer: I have never visited New Orleans in my life. All my knowledge comes from vampire media and The princess and the frog. If you find any offensive or insensitive misconceptions, please forgive me and point it out so I can do better. That aside, understand this is fiction based on fiction and is not meant to be a perfect reflection of New Orleans' people or anything else. Also english is not my frist language, I've used AI to correct my grammar and spelling but please, let me know if you find any errors so I can do better.
I'll use cursive to indicate something is the character's thought.
The supernatural creatures had found a semblance of peace in New Orleans. They divided the city into three factions: the werewolves claimed the swamps and bayou, the witches held power in the Garden District, and the vampires ruled the French Quarter, extending to the Faubourg Marigny and Tremé. These territories were fiercely guarded, and any daredevils who crossed the lines became fair game for whoever held dominion. As for the rest of the city, it was a hunting ground shared by vampires, werewolves, and witches alike. Humans, those determined to stay, found refuge in a designated human settlement across the Mississippi River in Gretna. Tourists, however, flocked to New Orleans for a taste of the macabre, drawn by the city's vibrant music scene and the notoriety of its supernatural inhabitants. With little to safeguard them from the dangers that lurked beneath the surface, these visitors became unwitting participants in a city on the edge.
This arrangement had kept the peace for the past hundred and twenty years. Now, however, the descendants of the founding families desired their rightful land back.
For two days, war ravaged the city. During that time, none of the faction leaders were anywhere to be seen. Cowards, he thought, a bitter taste rising in his throat. Suddenly, a searing pain lanced through his head, bringing him crashing to his knees. A blonde man, a cruel smile twisting his features, stood beside a young girl. She had her arms wide open, hands in claws. She was responsible for the hundreds of men on the ground around them, clutching their heads in agony. The man's hands were slick with blood, his eyes like bottomless pits, ringed with a network of black veins. A low growl rumbled beside them, and a massive white wolf emerged from the shadows, its fangs bared, saliva dripping from its mouth. There they were, gracing them with their presence. They let his people and their own fight and die until they got bored, and now they wanted it over.
They humans fought bravely, but were no match for the strength of the magical creatures. Defeated, they surrendered, their heads hung low. The bodies of their sons, brothers, and fathers lay bleeding on the streets of the Tremé.
The night before his scheduled execution, the leader of the French Descendants requested an audience. Perhaps, if they heard him out, he could save his life. He might offer them something that greatly piqued their interest and bring his people a small victory. If not, well... he would accept his fate, and his family would avenge his death.
"Let's get this over with quickly," the blond man spoke with a disinterested drawl, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "All this fighting has made me incredibly hungry, and something smells amazing out there." This was Klaus Mikaelson, leader of the vampire faction, and by all accounts, as evil as they came.
"Now, brother," the man next to Klaus said matter-of-factly, fixing his cufflinks, "let's not rejoice. There's nothing desirable about bloodshed". So that was another Mikaelson. The question remained, which one?
They sat at a round table. At Klaus's left sat a young woman, maybe too young to be ruling a faction. Davina, leader of the witches. He hadn't expected to find the star of all the witchy horror stories that haunted human children at night, practically a child herself. To be honest, some adult men feared her too. He knew he did.
At Davina's left sat another young woman. He could only assume her to be the leader of the werewolf faction. So two young girls controlled their own district while two of the oldest vampires on earth had to share theirs? Consider him intrigued.
"You said you had a deal to propose. We're listening" Davina was the first to address him directly. "What's your name, human, and what's the reason behind such violence?"
"My name is Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, the sixth of my name. A direct descendant of the first Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, who arrived on these lands in 1718. This violence, as you call it, is a people's response. We've watched our home being appropriated, divided, and ultimately unwelcoming to its own people. We say no more, miss. We intend on taking back what's rightfully ours. You can kill me, but that won't stop the Second French Revolution."
"Then we will kill every single French left in this town, that might do it" Klaus chimed in, the same cocky grin still plastered on his face since he stood, chains around his wrists and ankles, in front of them.
"Brother, please". The other Mikaelson placed a hand in front of his brother, who frowned at it, but remained silent at his request. So Klaus controls the vampires, and the brother controls Klaus.
Interesting.
"I'm willing to take anything into consideration as long as it is to avoid further bloodshed. Or perhaps you ignore, brother, that some of our own men are out there with stakes in their chests? Please, carry on with your proposition, Monsieur Le Moyne."
"We were foolish to think we could beat you at war, that was clear. I have lost two nephews and a son on the battlefield and I have no intentions of losing another one, so believe me when I say, no one wants to stop the violence more than me". That much was true. He wanted to stop the violence. Renouncing their claim on New Orleans? That was a different story. "We are willing to compromise. Let us return to the Treme, allow us a seat on the table, and I will call a ceasefire."
Klaus scoffed. "And why on earth would we do that?".
"Because if you don't, we will continue our attacks. And we may lose our men and women, but you will lose yours too."
"I can create new men" he was examining his nails as he spoke
"You could, unless a French man buries a white oak stake in your heart first". he did it. He dropped the bomb and there was no turning back. The Mikaelsons knew about his secret weapon. He just hoped the rumors were true.
And from the look on Klaus' eyes, they were. "That's impossible. That tree was burned to the ground. By me, actually". He tried to play it cool, but a faint tremor of doubt flickered in his voice.
"Trees can regrow. In case you've forgotten, Mister Mikaelson, your alliance with the witches was a little over a century ago. Before that, they desired your destruction. They planned for it, waited patiently. They managed to save a graft from the ashes of the original tree, nurtured it, and in time, the tree grew strong and big. With your new alliance, the witches kept their word. They cut the tree and burned its remains. But not before word of its existence reached the Le Moyne de Bienville family. My great-grandfather didn't know why the tree was important, he just knew it was. He was able to save enough wood, from which my sons and I extracted twelve stakes just last week". He took a breath and waited.
"Even if your words were true, and that's a big if, how can we be sure you won't use those stakes on us as soon as we concede to your demands?" The unknown Mikaelson inquired. Klaus' knuckles turned white on the edge of the table.
"I'm willing to surrender eleven stakes to you".
"And the remaining one?"
"I'll keep it to myself, for my people's and my own protection.". And to use it against you when the moment is right.
"And when the time is convenient you'll bury it in my back, I'm sure". Was Klaus Mikaelson a mind-reader or was his plan simply that transparent? Jean-Baptiste needed a new strategy, and fast. "Why agree to your terms when we can just raid your home and kill everyone who stands between us and those stakes?"
"As your brother wisely said," Jean-Baptiste countered, hoping to appeal to the other Mikaelson, "bloodshed benefits no one." He stole a glance at the unknown brother, whose expression remained unreadable. If he could convince him, then Klaus would be surely convinced by his brother to agree. Klaus controls the vampires and the brother controls Klaus , he repeated to himself. But did anyone control the brother?
That's it.
Realization struck him like a bullet to the brain.
If he had someone on the inside who gained their trust, who fraternized with the brother, who cared and watched over him…
Domino effect. Control the brother, then you'll control Klaus. Then the french quarter will be yours, and then the rest of the city .
"What if I offered you some leverage on me?" When he spoke this time, he was looking directly at the unknown Mikaelson.
"Leverage?" he echoed, "and what could that be?"
"A marriage". Jean-Baptiste braced himself. If he survived this meeting, his wife would surely kill him.
"A marriage?" The werewolf spoke for the first time. It was as clear to them as it was to him that this was between them and the Mikaelsons, but it was likely they wanted to ensure no deal jeopardized their own factions. Though an uneasy truce existed, trust between witches, vampires, and werewolves was scarce.
"My eldest daughter, Lucille. If she marries and moves into the French Quarter, I can guarantee you there will be no attacks. She's a beloved member of our community and a good girl, no one will put her at risk. She will represent humans in New Orleans. As long as you uphold your end of the bargain, and as long as you don't harm my daughter, you can rest assured that there will be no violence as long as a Le Moyne de Bienville lives under your roof".
His heart was racing a thousand miles per hour. He could feel it and they could surely hear it. Was he mad? Had he just made a giant mistake? Was the price of regaining his home his daughter's life?
The witch's voice cut through his anxieties. "How can we trust a man who gambles his own daughter?" Her cheeks burned with fury, her eyes blazing with accusation. She looked at him like he was the worst monster that she had ever encountered. Under different circumstances he would've wondered about her, about what could have caused such a reaction, but he didn't have time for distractions like that right now.
"I've offered you my most precious possession," Jean-Baptiste pleaded. "This should demonstrate the gravity of the situation and my sincerity. You fought yourselves once and still managed to form an alliance. We ask for the same courtesy".
"This isn't fair!" the she-wolf roared, her voice echoing through the room. Claws extended from her fingertips, scraping against the wood of the table. "My people have been relegated to living in woods and swamps in order to survive. Why would humans get a right that was denied to us? Why would they have a place in the city when my people can not?" She was accusingly looking at the Mikaelsons.
Davina's hand, light as a feather, landed on her shoulder. The werewolf flinched, a snarl twisting her lips before she roughly shrugged it off. "The land they claim," Davina stated, her voice cool, "is vampire territory, established by our agreement." Her gaze flicked to the brothers, a silent question hanging in the air. "I'm afraid you and I have no say on this matter, Hayley. "
Before the werewolf could rage again, the unknown brother spoke "I understand your frustration, Hayley" he offered, his tone diplomatic but firm. "The human settlement is a delicate compromise. But granting them refuge helps ensure the uneasy peace we've established."
"This decision could have far-reaching consequences, brother", Klaus murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.
"If you choose them," Hayley growled, her voice laced with a dangerous edge "you will be choosing war with the packs". The Mikaelsons exchanged a tense glance. Klaus, a smirk playing on his lips, seemed oddly intrigued by the prospect. Elijah, on the other hand, met Hayley's now yellow eyes with a flicker of concern. It all came down to them, and the weight of the decision pressed heavily on their shoulders.
All eyes turned to the Mikaelsons. The fate of the negotiation hung in the balance. A tense silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Jean-Baptiste wondered again if they possessed the gift of mind-reading. Just as he was about to beg for mercy on his swollen ankles, the unknown Mikaelson spoke.
"We accept the terms of your surrender," the vampire declared, his voice dripping with condescension. "Humans are free to return to the Tremé safely, no vampire or any other creature will hunt you"
Hayley didn't wait for the rest. With a snarl that ripped through the air, she pushed past the guards, slamming the doors behind her with a force that rattled the entire room
The Mikaelson carried on like nothing happened "The limit remains the French Quarter, which you may not cross to or we cannot guarantee your safety. The marriage ceremony will be this Saturday at noon. I expect my bride to stay at the Palace Royale the night before. You may return home now."
He was released from his chains as the three remaining members of the council stood to their feet and shook his hand. As the four of them signed the agreement, A long, mournful howl echoed throughout the city, a primal sound that sent shivers down his spine, a chilling reminder of the fragile peace they'd just established.
He was escorted to a car and drove to the outskirts of the town. As he unlocked his front door, a wave of guilt and dread washed over him. He prepared himself to deliver the news to his family. He had saved his people at the expense of his own daughter. May God have mercy on his soul.