◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ❛ thanks to ophelia ❜ ◢

✧

          WHILE SHE WAS FRIENDS WITH MARCEL GERARD, THE VAMPIRE LEADER (AND LEADER OF NEW ORLEANS AS A WHOLE, UNOFFICIALLY THOUGH), THAT DIDN'T MEAN SHE AGREED WITH ALL OF HIS CHOICES. Everyone knew the rules of living in New Orleans as a supernatural creature. He was in charge and what he said goes, and if you disobey that; you die. Plain and simple, easy, and opened a can of worms of him trying to stay in complete control.

Because it wasn't easy to take charge when you had to deal with vampires, witches, and werewolves, but he managed, and he did anything to make sure that no one would dare go up against him, taking all control and leaving none for anyone else. And if they thought they had any control under him, they were just fooling themselves. And while Marisol herself evaded his rules, because he just thought she was a human who knew about the supernatural because the witch gene skipped her in the family line (which could never actually happen and he should know better, but whatever), she still knew all of them and kept herself out of the public eye in matters of her wolf nature.

She didn't mind lying to everyone around her and hiding her nature, it wasn't like she had been doing that for five hundred years already or anything. It didn't matter that she considered Marcel a friend either, because she had lied to plenty of friends before, so what would ever make him different? And really, it was also just out of her own best interest because a werewolf – even a five hundred year old cursed one who couldn't die – would not fly with him.

It didn't matter that she was a singular wolf in the French Quarter, she was still a wolf, and that was enough. Thank Ophelia for the one good thing coming from the curse and that masking her scent. She was void of anything defining her as a wolf or otherwise, which got her out of many situations, including the ones in New Orleans with Marcel in control.

She didn't fear him necessarily, she was much older than him and was only scared of one thing, and he couldn't compare. Besides, he was too nice to her. But she did fear some of his policies, and his motto of no mercy for the weak. Because under that policy of no mercy, the werewolves were given a curse which kept them in the bodies of their animals except under a full moon, essentially making them a wolfwere and not a werewolf anymore.

And while she didn't really know any of the wolves that inhabited the bayou area, she was sure they were aware of her wolf wandering around and helped cover her. Wolves protected each other, even if they were from different packs.

No, there were a lot of policies she didn't like, but unlike Magnus who stayed far away from New Orleans because of it, she made due with it and lived her life the best she could pretending to be human, like she always did, and it was easy because she was only a wolf on a full moon so it wasn't like she was really lying any other night.

And, to help her out, she was amazing at lying and keeping her cover hidden deep to where no one could ever find out the truth. She was just a human who frequented witches and their shops because she came from a family of witches, and of course they knew her lie was complete and utter bullshit, but witches also stuck together and since they thought of her as one of their own, they helped keep her cover of Mars Bigora the "human".

She could admit that the cover name wasn't that good, but oh well. She liked it at that was all that mattered. They just thought a witch who Marcel liked was good for them, so they helped her and in return she helped them. It was a good exchange.

She always thought that New Orleans was a beautiful mess. Mardi Gras beads strewn about the city abandoned by their drunken lovers, people on the street corner playing jazz (and oh, how she loved jazz), the breeze going through the air, and the general lightness even when dark events occurred in the shadows. The humans were ignorant, so there was always a boisterous attitude to the city.

Pushing open the door of one of her favorite shops, she smiled when she saw that it was empty except for Amelia, the owner. She looked particularly sad that morning, so her smile dropped and she rushed to the counter. "Amelia, what's wrong?" she asked, peering to see if she could reach the girl's eyes.

Amelia sniffled, her bloodshot eyes meeting Marisol's. "Marcel killed another witch last night for disobeying the rules," she said in a solemn tone, and Marisol could feel dread run through her. That was another thing she hated about Marcel's ruling.

Same as he showed no mercy to the werewolves who were now trapped in the bayou, he showed no mercy to witches who practiced magic. He would never admit his fear towards magic and its power, but through his actions she could only see fear. He knew whenever witches used magic and he used that to his advantage, so if any witch was found practicing, they were murdered in the streets for all of the witches to see as a message to what happened when you disobeyed Marcel Gerard.

"Oh, no," Marisol whispered, "Who was it?"

"Jane-Anne Deveraux. I saw it happen, Mars, from the window of my shop," Amelia whispered, as if afraid that a vampire would hear her discussing this matter, "It was brutal. Worse than any other that I had seen. He – He never shows mercy but this time it was like he was trying to impress someone. I couldn't see who it was last night, but I heard others talking. Apparently, an Original strolled back in town last night."

Marisol's eyes widened at the information, that potentially an Original – a Mikaelson – was back in town which meant that she was screwed. "An Original? As in, an Original vampire?" she asked for clarification, hoping that Amelia would laugh in her face instead and say that she was just pulling a prank.

But, instead, Amelia nodded. "Exactly. I heard that it's Klaus Mikaelson – the hybrid. Apparently, he was looking for Jane-Anne before Marcel killed her," she continued in a low voice.

Marisol frowned, feeling her heart beat rapidly in her chest knowing that Niklaus – Klaus now – was in the same town as her. This could be bad, and she should run right now, but New Orleans was her home, and if she stayed in the shadows and Klaus left quickly, he would never have to know that she was ever here.

"Why would he be looking for her?" she asked. Everyone knew that the infamous Klaus Mikaelson kept witches on his side in case he needed them, but a New Orleans witch? Bound by their ancestral magic and with a death order if they used their magic? There was no way one would pledge their loyalty to him.

Amelia bit her lip, eyeing the window anxiously before looking back at Marisol and leaning in closer. "Sophie – her sister – met someone who's carrying his child," she whispered, "The spell Jane-Anne performed was to confirm the pregnancy and confirm that the child was his. Some of us are using this to make him help us bring down Marcel."

She felt a pang in her chest. Marcel was friend, and she wanted to immediately go and tell him this out of loyalty because while she kept her own secrets from him, she didn't want to his downfall or death. But Amelia trusted her with this, and it wasn't like she hadn't kept a multitude of other things from Marcel, so what was one more?

"Wait," Marisol shook her head, "Klaus is a vampire – he can't have children."

"He's a hybrid, actually," Amelia corrected her, and she found it almost funny that someone who had never met the Mikaelsons were correcting her about them, "A werewolf before a vampire, and werewolves can have kids."

Believe her, she knew that.

"Well, you said you're in on this plan?" Amelia nodded in confirmation, and she sighed, "Be careful. Klaus Mikaelson is not someone who can be controlled. You do something to anger him, you'll pay."

And, oh, how she had paid. How much she had lost in response to her youthful mistakes, how much she had suffered because she angered him...she wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy. Ever. No one deserves to watch their nephew, someone who they had raised since birth, die before them because of their mistakes. Magnus shouldn't have paid her price, but he did, and she could never forgive herself for that and she didn't know how Magnus ever did.

"I am careful," Amelia assured her, but she was so young and so full of hope this would work and hatred for the oppression Marcel placed on the witches, "Really, Mars, we know what we're doing. We'll be okay."

Marisol pursed her lips. "We'll see about that..."

✧

MARISOL FOUND THE parties that Marcel liked to throw almost every night irritating. While she liked to party herself some nights, it was not an everyday event for her by any means. She liked time to herself, or just any time not always consumed with bright lights and large crowds of people with never-ending alcohol.

But, she hadn't attended a party in a week and Marcel had asked so nicely for her to join him this evening, so how could she refuse even though she had just learn that he killed yet another witch, wouldn't even allow the others to bury her, and that some witches were conspiring against them? See, there was absolutely no reason to not agree. So there she was, enjoying the party as best she could.

Her mind was still running over all the information that Amelia had given her earlier. The news that Klaus could be in town, really in town, and that he could spot her at any moment, could kill her in any moment. And while she wouldn't really die, thank Ophelia for that, she still didn't feel like having that confrontation with him.

She sipped at the alcohol in her glass, though due to her high tolerance, it wasn't really doing anything for her other than providing her with something to sip on. After hundreds of years to learn how to hold down her liquor, one drink couldn't do anything for her.

"Having a good time?" she turned to see one of Marcel's more trusted vampires approaching her. Diego was his name, and for some reason he had the funniest idea that he could woo her. Yeah right, she wasn't that easy when she didn't want to be, and he wasn't really her type.

"As good as any," she said back to him, sipping at her drink again, wishing that she could escape the conversation with him.

Diego just laughed at her, as if he found her uncomfortable stance near her funny and not a sign that he should just walk away. Vampires really just didn't get a hint, did they? "You know, instead of sulking up here, you should be down there dancing. And if you don't wanna dance alone, I'm always here," he was confident, cocky, and extremely arrogant because his tone implied that she had already made her decision and her choice was yes.

She shook her head. "No thanks, I don't like to dance," she told him.

"Then we don't have to dance," he offered flirtatiously, and she very clearly looked away from him to let him know her answer about that proposition. "Come on, Mars, let loose. Have some fun."

"I have fun by myself," she told him pointedly.

He sighed, as if disappointed that she wasn't falling for his overabounding charm, raising his arms up in defeat. "Alright, well, you know where to find me if you change your mind..."

"I won't," she told him sweetly, watching him leave before she scowled as his figure. God, he was just so annoying.

She sipped at her drink again, watching the humans so ignorantly dancing and laughing and having a good time, not knowing that it was about to be cut short and they were about to almost die because some vampires just needed to get their fix.

She was so distracted by seeing Diego put the moves on another girl, kissing up her neck as he glanced back to Marisol to make sure she was looking that she didn't notice the one person she had been avoiding for five hundred years had practically stormed into the party, and another man who she had also fled from was standing on the other side of the balcony from her.

That was, until, she heard his voice. "What you can do is, you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches," her eyes instantly snapped to see unmistakably Niklaus Mikaelson. The same voice, the same hair (although it was much shorter now), and the same attitude which he had held five hundred years ago.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest again, but she tried to calm herself in case he or Marcel took notice of her appearance up there. This was a bad idea; she should have fled as soon as Amelia said his name, because staying in town and trying to keep to the shadows was not the right choice at all.

Marcel let out a puff of laughter, a calm smile still on his face as he tried to appease Klaus. "You know I owe you everything I got, but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one," and she praised her werewolf ears for being able to hear what they had to say so she knew exactly what was happening right now and not blissfully unaware that her enemy was right there and could notice her. Could see her and kill her for her past mistakes. She took a step back into the darkness, going against the wall to try and help herself hide.

"This is my business," Marcel continued, firm in his words so that Klaus knew he couldn't be budged on the topic, "I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that."

Niklaus – Klaus now, she had to keep reminding herself that – looked incredibly displeased with the answer, and she assumed that he looked the same way when he learned that not only had his werewolf fled, but so had the key to him breaking the curse at all – his precious doppelganger. Though, she assumed, he was also a lot angrier when that happened because that situation was a whole lot worse.

"Your town?" he asked for clarification, a cold tone.

"Damn straight," Marcel confirmed, pride leaking through his voice.

Klaus laughed, though it was clear that he didn't find the situation funny at all. "Ha! That's funny because when I left one hundred years ago, you were just a pathetic, little scrapper still trembling from the whips of those who kept you down, and now look at you – master of your domain, prince of the city."

As he spoke, heads turned toward him and the atmosphere became cold, completely against the person who would dare disrespect Marcel. The prince insult was just the cherry on top. Marisol let out a puff of air, knowing that this could end in a blood bath starting at any moment.

Marcel's vampires began to circle Klaus as he said, "I'd like to know how," practically demanding that Marcel gave up all his secrets to Klaus right then.

"Why? Jealous?" Marcel taunted him before giving him a fake kind smile, "Hey, man, I get it. Three hundred years ago, you helped build a backwater penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. I got rid of the werewolves," she had to look down at that, it was not something she thought he should ever take pride in.

"I even found a way to shut down the witches," he continued on his rant, drilling home the fact that this was his city now and not Klaus', "The blood never stops flowing, and the party never ends. You want to pass on through? You want to stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine – my home, my family, my rules."

"And if someone breaks those rules?" Klaus asked him a low voice.

"They die," Marcel uttered, no hesitation, "Mercy is for the weak. You taught me that, too, and I'm not the prince of the Quarter, friend. I'm the king! Show me some respect."

Klaus looked away from Marcel, and her heart continued to beat loudly in her chest, then he turned and ran towards Thierry – another of Marcel's most trusted vampires – and bit him in the neck. Marisol let out a gasp, covering her mouth because while she had expected a blood bath, it was still shocking to her.

Klaus let go of Thierry and dropped him to the ground, turning back to stare at Marcel and continue to taunt him. "Your friend will be dead by the weekend, which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet, I cannot be killed. I am immortal. Who has the power now, friend?"

Marcel stared at him, and she knew right then that Marcel would do anything to destroy Klaus if he could for hurting Thierry. He did not tolerate any violence against his friends, and this was a death sentence. Feeling powerful, Klaus strode out of the courtyard as everyone else just watched him go.

This was bad. Incredibly bad. Worse than she had imagined before, because before she hadn't imagined that Klaus would be holding so much anger, she thought even if she did get caught by him it wouldn't be painful, but now she was thinking something else.

She had been to Marcel's place enough time to know back exits, and used that to her advantage fleeing. She had to leave tonight, she was wrong. She should have left earlier but she hadn't and that could destroy everything. That could kill her.

Marisol looked around, seeing the empty street in the cold, and began to run when she felt herself being pulled and thrown against a wall, coming back in to focus to see a very angry hybrid right before her. When she attempted to ground herself and get back on her balance, he brought her up by her neck and held her against the wall.

"Now, when I heard your voice in there, I thought I was just hearing something. There was no way that Marisol Bigora was still alive, yet here you are..." he stared at her, and she could see all of the anger that was before staring at Marcel directed towards her.

He released her, taking a step away from her as she coughed and brought her hand to her airway, trying to catch her breath. She looked at him, letting fear flash through her eyes briefly, hating that she was already too late.

"Now, there's no point asking how you're here or why, but only what I want you to do for me," he continued, and her face went from fear to surprise.

"What?" she got out, still trying to steady her breathing, "What do you mean? I thought – I thought you would kill me."

"No, you can serve a greater purpose for me, so I won't kill you yet," he wiped the blood from his mouth – Thierry's blood – on the sleeve of his jacket, "You were there at the party, which means Marcel trusts you. I need someone he needs trust."

She steadied herself, standing up fully to stare at him in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I don't have time to answer your questions," he snapped at her, "But just know that you're here to help me, and if you don't, I'll kill you before you can tell Marcel anything."

At the threat, she just became even more confused. He took a step closer and she tried to take a step back, though she was only pressing herself against the wall again. "I want my empire back. Marcel thinks he's king, but he won't be for long, and you're going to help me take him down. Any objections?"

What?