The night was lulled to sleep by a soft drizzle. The kind that calls to dreams and foggy minds, in which everyone is stacked inside, heating beneath blankets. All but twelve hybrids, stationed in front of the Mikaelson domain. The original siblings pace the floors of their mansion. The hybrids march the slippery grounds. The siblings prepare for yet another fight with their father. If they struggle a bit, they can almost forget what it was like. Mikael's yells and fists, a foot planted below their ribs or locks of hair crumpled between his fingers. The hybrids draw their last breath, crunched below Mikael's shoes, ripped apart by his claws and fangs.
The vampire vampire-killer sped to his children's door. Ready to break it open. Ready to break in and honor his title, his name, his long since made promises. Under the proud smirk of his prodigal son, Mikael was met with that invisible force that keeps vampires out of places they haven't been invited in. A force that should have stopped its magic once the house was put on a dead man's name.
The sun hasn't yet break free on the bruised sky when Celia showed up at the Mikaelson's door.
"Couldn't stay away, Little Witch?"
"I..." the siphoner swallowed her words. How does one tell a man like Klaus that her friends freed his father to get him killed? Certainly not in the doorway, while the most dangerous man in the supernatural is mere inches away, towering over her. "Couldn't sleep."
Before Klaus could answer, though, something cocky no doubt, his siblings came to the door.
"Whom do we have here? Isn't fraternizing with us against your slimy gang's moral code?"
"Miss Forbes, to what do we owe to pleasure?"
"Nik, you ill-mannered fool, invite the poor girl in. It's freezing outside."
Klaus sighed, too loudly to betray any real sour feelings, and stepped aside. A flair for drama must run in the family, Celia thought, especially so in the three most youngest. The mansion was clean. Too clean. The white marble on the floor shone polished in the few sunbeams sneaking through the windows. The windows were huge, barely covered by thin, white drapes. Two stairways split on both sides of the grand hallway near the entrance, meeting in a large balcony that Celia could see led towards more rooms she could find a purpose for. But despite all its grandeur, the Mikaelson estate felt dead.
"You don't like it much, do you?" A whisper caressed her ear, breath brushing softly on the smallest bit of exposed skin where her jaw meets the neck.
"It's majestic. The architecture is very representative for your family, old as you are."
Klaus fought gratuitously a smirk. "That isn't what I was asking, though."
Celia turned to face her interlocutor. She stared him up, searching his dark blue eyes for any sign of the hurricanes he's so well-known for. When the siphoner only found calm waves of curiosity, she relented. "It's cold. Impersonal. It feels abandoned."
"It can as well be," Rebekah interjected, reminding the pair of their audience. "We haven't lived here in God knows how long. Come on, dear, let's find you a place to sit."
Celia followed - or, rather, was dragged by - the blonde vampire to a living small, secluded living room. Though it maintained the frozen in time allure the rest of the house had, this room seemed warmer. Artifacts laid proudly exposed on polished shelves, small reminders from all over the world, from more time periods than Celia could remember being aware of. Books adorned the small bookcases guarding the arched entrance, old, though well cared of. And the flat table in the middle of a funny arrangement of lounges and a sofa was filled with make-up products.
"It looks like someone held a fighting match in here."
"You wouldn't be far to the truth," Elijah rolled his eyes, throwing a meaningful look Klaus' way. "We just settled a disagreement about our oldest brother."
Judging by Kol's scoff, the disagreement hasn't been settled. Solely interrupted by her.
Elijah and Klaus fixed the furniture, picking up thrown arm-chaires, righting the couch in its place and wiping the spilled drinks and glass splinters off the floor. Rebekah made space on the table for Kol to place a warm cup of coffee on it. And all the while, the witch could only do so much to stop her mouth from hanging open. Here she was, in the company of the oldest vampires, the family that inspired a fearsome legend to be born, not so different than her own, the Hell Coven. Yet they welcomed her like an esteemed guest and put aside their sibling wrath to ease her nerves. They were normal, friendly even. Seeing them like this made it hard to picture the other side of things. The one in which they hunt her sister's friends, the one her own friends fire warnings about. The monsters in the dark.
It reminded her why she walked up the hill so early in the morning for. Not waiting for the rustle of cleaning to quiet down, the witch blurted out.
"Your father is coming for you."
Now, Celia was well versed in the art of silence. Its heavy weight clearing the hearing for unsteady drums of hearts ringing and ringing and ringing in fear until the mind slips off its track. And she bore the marks of many such silences. The execution of her mother, the death of her siblings, the kill of her twin, almost being caught by her father in New York, putting her friends turned family in danger, not knowing if her sister, Caroline, is dead or alive when Bill, her own father, snatched her up for torture. This one was somehow worse. It lacked the quite pain, the guilt, the defeat. It burned with anger, raged with loud agony, shouted in the voice of thousand year old fortresses breaking under the pressure of one lucky canon ball.
In seconds Klaus poised himself in front of her, gripping the arms of her chair so tight his pale knuckles faded through red to a pale pink and a bright white. "What do you mean, Little Witch?"
"Niklaus," Elijah warned, always the voice of reason in his brother's ringing outbursts. Against what exactly, Celia didn't want to know.
"They thought he can kill you, rid Mystic Falls of your threat. But he's uncontrollable and if you don't kill him, he'll be the end of all of us."
"So they realized their stupid mistake and sent you to bribe us into helping?" Kol closed in, touching his brother's shoulder with his own.
"No. They don't know I'm here. I just didn't think it's fair to meet him with no warning."
Celia's phone ringing was the only sound in the deadly night. It echoed inside the mansion, an unnerving noise against Mikael's silent rage. The witch hasn't been home since the morning, being caught up with the original siblings and their plan to end their father. She played a very important part: owning the house so the vampire-slayer couldn't enter. But her sister, in true older sibling fashion, has gone too many hours without knowing something about her and started to become hysterically worried.
Gosh! Pick up! Where are you? Are you ok? Call me back. Celia, I've never been more serious. Don't make me tell mom to have a patrol out for you... The voicemail ringed, cutting through the tension.
"Little Witch, as much as I appreciate your help so far, if you don't turn the damn thing off, I will break it in half!" Klaus snaped. His shoulder and back stiffened more and more by the second, muscle jolting with each step his father was taking outside.
Mikael was circling the house. Having figured out the mansion has been signed over to a living person, the vampire-vampire hunter tried to find a way to lure them out. However, a better opportunity presented itself. Caroline Forbes, Bonny Bennet, Elena Gilbert and the Salvatore brothers walked up the hill.
Mikael recognized the worried voice of the blonde vampire and without wasting a second he grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back and forced her to the door.
"Come outside, let me in, I don't care. But if I don't have access to my children in five minutes, the annoying one dies."
Celia gasped, moving without even being aware of it towards the door. A strong grip on her arm stopped her.
Her body was not her own. A puppet moved by strings, ready to commit the worst of crimes, splashed with her siblings blood.
"You can't," was all Klaus said. But Celia's eyes were damped in tears fighting to be released and Mikael's countdown was nearing its end."
She watched as life drained from her mother, eyes big and round unable to close against the violence. She watched as her siblings' chests rose one more time with their last breath.
"You don't understand. I can't lose her too! I can't lose my sister! This can't be happening, not again, no, I... no..." The witch's breath became hectic, tumbling over her throat in poor attempts to function normally. Her chest heaved with pain and fear, tightening in a cage that plucked its sharp edges inside her soft flesh from the inside out. Her heart felt too big for the now small container, the pain it caused dulling the burning feeling in her wrist.
"Interesting," Kol murmured, while the siblings watched horrified as Celia's skin melted layer by layer under her silver bracelet. "Ancient magic feeding on itself, raging to be left out."
"Stop it" Klaus shouted. No one could be sure who he meant. The hybrid bit his own wrist, poring droplets of his blood through the witch's greeted teeth. It seemed to work, her arm beginning to heal, but violent sobs still shook Celia's body and her vision blurred. The same strong arm that stopped her before now circled her, supporting her weight as her body bent almost limp over it. "Please, let me go. She can't die. Care can't die. Let me go! Do something, don't let him kill her. Let me go!"
The siphoner mumblings stroke a chord in Klaus. In all of the original siblings, truth be told. They tortured and maimed and rejoiced in the cries of their victims because they deserved it. They hurt their family and paid the price for it. But Celia's wails unnerved them. She was putting them in danger, but she was the reason they were still alive and able to plot their way out too. She was the enemy and the friend. She was a mortal and no mortal could possibly understand a glimpse of their tragedy, but in that moment the Mikaelson siblings realized maybe Celia could. Her pained prayers were familiar, her terror too well known to them. She hosted more power than she could understand, more power than they could understand. Rage and revenge falling down to love's feet. A sibling love for one another. And the originals would be damned if they didn't respect that.
And if they could alleviate at least a portion of the siphoner's pain, then they'll do it. Before her own magic would consume her for good.
Exchanging a look between themselves, Niklaus passed Celia to Kol, while him, Elijah and Rebekah unlocked the mansion door. It was as if they opened the gates of hell, for all chaos broke lose the second that piece of mahogany wood widened. More things happened all at once: Mikael throwing Caroline to the side which made her friend rush to help her, only for them to see the mess that was Celia laying numb in Kol's arms. Klaus stepped outside, flanked by his two favored siblings and as soon as they did, Mikael made his move.
As soon as their feet touched the grass on the mansion estate, Mikael took the white oak stake out from his jacket and stormed towards Niklaus. Rebekah and Elijah tried to help, but the Salvatore brothers charged, leaving Bonny and Elena to care for Caroline alone. The Mystic Falls Gang would rid the town of the Originals tonight, one way or the other.
Mikael had Klaus pinned down, the sharp end of the white oak stake mere inches from his heart. "Any last words, cad?"
Endless times from before swam Klaus' mind, times of his childhood spent under Mikael's fists, cuts and words that scarred - all coming back before his eyes. With more hate than humanly possible, the hybrid gripped his father's wrist, twisting it to face his own chest. And pushed. Through his own screams, Mikael found his death at the hand of his prodigal son.
The earth seemed to stop in its tracks. The four vampires end their fights to watch, breaths held in waiting, as if the softest move would bring the vampire hunter back to life. As if the smallest movement would fumble the nature in its attempt to regain its balance lost. Only Klaus dared to stand against it. He rose on his feet, stake in hand, and pointed it towards the Salvatore brothers.
"You dared call my father on me?" He yelled, eyes glowing yellow, canines sharpening over his wet lips. He took a few steps towards them, but a familiar voice sent shivers down his spine, forcing him to stop.
"Now, now, Niklaus, my dear boy, is this any way to behave I taught you?"
The voice froze the originals siblings' blood in their veins. Rebekah gasped, torn between running towards the blonde woman that looked so much like her or towards her beloved half brother, who looked like he'd faint from too many unplanned meetings with dead-but-not-actually-dead-parents. Kol's arms went limp around Celia, who caught the small glint of pride and hope in Bonnie's eyes. Even stoic Elijah seemed to be at a loss of his decorum.
"Uhm, this is nice and all, seeing the old vampires chastised like babies. But who is this lady?" Damon asked, when the silence became too much to bear.
"My name is Esther," the woman smiled with cheerness that didn't reach her cold eyes. "The original mother."