Marcel was furious—completely furious about what had happened. His men were stumbling back into the compound, barely able to stand.
"What happened?" Marcel shouted at all of them.
"There were two vampires… a woman and a man… and a werewolf," one of the lackeys said, exhaling heavily, still seeming to feel the pain. "We tried to question the vampire, and he didn't take it well… he led us into a trap."
"How many were there?" Marcel snapped, irritation rising fast, the thought of a rebellion in his city already forming. "How many vampires does it take to take down twelve of you?"
"It was one," the lackey groaned. "He was too powerful, Marcel… we didn't even see him move."
Marcel fell silent for a second—the kind of heavy silence that made even the wounded stop groaning.
His eyes slowly darkened.
"One…?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
The lackey nodded, swallowing hard.
"Just one… he… he toyed with us."
Marcel turned his head, running a hand over his jaw, trying to organize his thoughts. That wasn't normal. It wasn't just strength—it was strategy, speed… control.
He stepped closer to the injured man, crouching in front of him.
"You said… a woman, a man… and a werewolf."
The lackey nodded again.
"Describe them."
"The werewolf… strong eyes, like she was ready to attack at any moment… the vampire woman… blonde… confident…" he hesitated, taking a shaky breath. "But the man…"
Marcel tilted his head slightly.
"Speak."
"…he didn't feel like a normal vampire. He… he smiled while we attacked. Like he already knew exactly what we were going to do."
That lit something in Marcel's mind.
Marcel stood still for a few seconds, but inside, his thoughts were already at war.
A vampire… too fast. Too strong. Too confident.
It could only be one thing.
He slowly turned his back, taking a deep breath.
"Klaus…" the name came out like poison.
The vampires around him exchanged tense glances. Just hearing that name made the air feel heavier.
"He's here…" Marcel continued, a cold smile forming. "I knew it wasn't a coincidence."
One of the men stepped forward, hesitant.
"But… Marcel… what if it's not—"
Marcel spun around sharply, his gaze cutting through the room.
"Twelve vampires," he interrupted firmly. "Taken down like they were nothing."
Silence.
"Do you know anyone else capable of that?"
No one answered.
Because they all knew the answer.
Marcel began pacing slowly across the room, each step echoing like a sentence being passed.
"He didn't come just to visit," he continued. "Klaus never does anything without a reason."
His eyes narrowed.
"He's testing my defenses… measuring my city."
The paranoia had already taken root—and it was growing fast.
"So we're going to show him," Marcel said, calmer now… more dangerous. "That New Orleans doesn't belong to him anymore."
He pointed at one of the vampires.
"Double the patrols. No one gets in or out without me knowing."
Another command followed immediately:
"And bring me any information on a werewolf and a blonde vampire. If they're with him… they're important pieces."
Marcel then stopped, staring into nothing for a moment—as if he were already facing his former mentor.
"You want to play war, Klaus…"
A crooked smile formed.
"…then I'll give you one."
"Hello, sister," Klaus growled as he saw Rebekah arriving with Hayley. "I see you've been causing trouble."
Klaus pointed to the five vampire bodies lying on the ground in front of the mansion.
"That has nothing to do with me," Rebekah answered quickly, then looked at the bodies. There were tree branches placed on top of each of them. "That is a very specific signature."
Klaus froze, then actually looked closely—each body had a branch laid over it.
"Damn it, Nik… he's really trying to provoke Marcel," Klaus muttered, dropping his guard slightly as he sat down.
"Why?" Rebekah asked honestly. "Didn't you tell him Marcel is basically his brother?"
"I didn't have time. The boy already knew the little wolf there was pregnant," Klaus pointed at Hayley. "I came here looking for him when he disappeared—and found out I was going to have another child."
"Well, then you should talk to him. If this keeps going… Marcel's life will actually be in danger," Rebekah said, concerned. "I don't think my nephew will show mercy."
"Is Marcel's life really that important?" Hayley asked, frowning slightly. "Wouldn't it be easier if you just killed him?"
"No, we are not going to kill Marcel," Rebekah almost shouted.
"Why not?" Hayley pushed back.
"Because Marcel is as much my son as Nik and the child you're carrying. The only difference is that Nik has my blood—and Marcel was adopted," Klaus growled.
And that's when he walked in.
"Klaus!" Marcel shouted as he entered.
"You said you wanted peace, but you attacked many of my people—and killed these vampires," Marcel yelled, then froze slightly when he saw Rebekah.
"I hate to disappoint you, Marcel," Klaus sighed, stepping forward. In a blink, he moved Hayley inside the house and reappeared beside Marcel. "But neither I nor Rebekah killed your vampires. Look at the signature."
Marcel looked—and his eyes showed the trauma of all the times that week he had woken up beneath a fallen tree after being killed over and over again.
"That bastard…" Marcel growled, taking a step back.
"Hey, don't talk about him like that," Rebekah cut in, stepping between them. "He's just bored—and he doesn't want to start a fight with Klaus by killing you."
"Oh, great. You're defending him now? Is he your lover or something?" Marcel snapped, even more irritated.
"Ugh, no. Disgusting," Rebekah made a face. "I'm not that kind of pervert. And honestly, stop sending your men after him. His boredom has probably eased already."
"You talked to him?" Klaus asked, surprised. "How did that go?"
The two of them started talking—completely ignoring Marcel.
"Yes. This time he didn't run from me like a rat from a cat," Rebekah smiled. "That's progress."
"And?" Klaus asked, curious. "When I tried to talk to him, he threw me into a wall."
Marcel went completely still. The fact that Klaus admitted something like that was… terrifying.
"Yes, he was bored because his girlsfriends were out for a while, and his mother was busy so he couldn't annoy her—so he was taking it out on Marcel," Rebekah said casually.
"Wait… he has a mother?" Klaus asked, genuinely surprised.
"Of course he does. Did you give birth to him, you idiot?" Rebekah shot back—telepathically.
"No—who is his mother?" Klaus asked aloud.
"I don't know, but she's someone important from the Bennett coven in Greece," Rebekah answered, annoyed that Klaus wasn't keeping it telepathic.
"The Bennett… what?" Marcel asked, completely confused.
"The Bennett coven. A line of witches my idiot brother here doesn't dare provoke," Rebekah said with boredom—and mentally added, but somehow he still slept with one of their leaders.
Klaus nearly choked at that.
He coughed lightly, regaining his composure, but the look he gave Rebekah clearly said: we are having that conversation later.
Rebekah simply raised an eyebrow, completely unapologetic.
Marcel Gerard, on the other hand, had completely lost his patience.
"Are you two done talking like I'm not here?" he snapped. "There's a lunatic playing games with me and you're discussing his family tree?"
Klaus slowly turned to him.
And this time… there was no humor.
"You want answers, Marcel?" he asked seriously. "Then listen."
The atmosphere shifted again.
Klaus took a step forward.
"That vampire isn't here because of you. Not for territory. Not for power."
Marcel crossed his arms, tense.
"I got that part. So why me?"
Klaus tilted his head slightly.
"Because you reacted… and kept reacting."
Rebekah added with a sigh:
"And that put you on his entertainment list."
Marcel let out a humorless laugh.
"Wonderful."
Klaus continued, ignoring the sarcasm:
"He doesn't avoid conflict out of fear."
A brief pause.
"He avoids it… because it's not worth the effort."
Marcel narrowed his eyes.
"And I'm worth it?"
Klaus looked straight at him.
"You're worth passing the time."
That was worse than any threat.
Marcel's jaw tightened.
"I'm not a toy."
Klaus didn't answer.
And the silence… answered for him.
Rebekah stepped in before things escalated.
"Listen carefully," she said firmly. "He won't kill you while my brother is here."
Marcel looked at her.
"And when he isn't?"
Rebekah didn't answer immediately.
Which was answer enough.
"Now please, leave my residence," Klaus said with a sigh. "And since I'm saving your life, you will return what I gave you."
Klaus was precise—and Marcel understood immediately. Rebekah did not.
"Oh? I can't stay? I'm not your son?" Marcel shot back, provoking him.
"Of course you are. That's exactly why you're not dead after that betrayal," Klaus replied coldly. "Now leave."
Nik walked through the streets of New Orleans with Caroline. The two had a fun night—dancing, laughing, kissing—until they reached a church.
"Here?" Caroline asked, confused. "Why a church?"
"No one would look for a witch in a church," Nik said, amused. "It's actually brilliant—Marcel's idea."
They stepped inside and found a girl—no older than sixteen—sitting in front of a coffin.
"That's her?" Caroline said, her voice sharp with anger. "They're going to sacrifice a teenage girl?"
The anger was obvious.
"Don't worry, my love," Nik said, gently touching her face. "Once we deal with the Hollow, those idiotic spirits won't have any excuse to escape my mother's domain—and they'll never hurt anyone again."
"Who are you?" the young witch asked.
"Hello, I'm Nik, and this is my girlfriend Caroline," he introduced himself with a smile. "You're Marcel's witch, aren't you?"
"What do you want? Leave," she raised her hand—and Caroline was thrown back, adjusting midair and landing on her feet. Nik didn't move at all. "How?"
The witch stared, stunned. No one had ever resisted her like that.
"We're special," Nik said calmly. "We're not here to hurt you. What's your name?"
"I'm Davina," she answered, still afraid.
"Oh, beautiful name," Nik knelt in front of her. "We're just here to introduce ourselves… and request your eternal friendship. I'd like to take that coffin."
Davina clenched her fists.
"You can take it. I wouldn't be able to stop you anyway," she admitted.
"Good. It was nice meeting you, Davina. We'll eventually fix the problem with those annoying spirits—and you'll be free."
He gently patted her head.
Then he and Caroline vanished.
Davina turned—
The coffin was gone.
"What the hell was that… are vampires really that powerful?" she whispered in shock.
But her reference point had always been Marcel… and compared to the other Mikaelsons—especially Nik—he was still just a child in terms of raw power.
So it wasn't her fault.
The silence in the church felt heavier after they disappeared.
Davina stood still for a few seconds, staring at the empty space where the coffin had been. Her hand trembled slightly—not from weakness… but from something she didn't like to admit.
Fear.
Not of death.
But of… helplessness.
She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath.
"No…" she muttered. "That doesn't make sense."
She began pacing, her thoughts racing.
"Marcel said I was strong… that I could control everything here…"
She stopped.
"…so who were they?"
The memory hit her again.
The boy hadn't moved.
Not a step.
Not a gesture.
Nothing.
And still… nothing she did worked.
That wasn't just power.
It was something else.
Something… above.
—
Footsteps approached quickly outside.
The church door burst open.
Marcel Gerard walked in, already scanning the room—tense, alert… and when he noticed the empty space behind the altar—
He stopped.
"Davina."
His voice came out low.
Dangerous.
"Where is the coffin?"
Davina swallowed, but didn't look away.
"They took it."
The air froze.
Marcel didn't move for a second.
"They… who?"
"A vampire… and a blonde with him."
His eyes darkened immediately.
"Describe them."
"He…" Davina hesitated. "He's not normal, Marcel."
Marcel stepped forward.
"I already know that. Talk."
"I threw her against the wall… with magic…" she said quickly. "He didn't even blink."
Silence.
"He didn't. Even. Move."
Marcel's jaw tightened.
"And the coffin?"
"He asked for it."
Marcel slowly turned his head.
"He asked?"
"And I gave it," she said firmly.
That made Marcel look at her directly.
Not with anger.
With something worse.
Real concern.
"Davina… you don't just give things."
She held his gaze.
"I would give my life fighting someone I could defeat."
A pause.
"…but not against someone who clearly wasn't even trying."
That hit.
Hard.
Marcel fell silent for a few seconds.
Klaus was right.
Marcel was only alive because that vampire didn't want to start a fight with Klaus.
But that created a question in Marcel's mind.
He had always been family. Always with them. They had taught him everything.
So how could someone powerful enough to frighten Davina… avoid fighting Klaus and the Originals?
Was it possible…
that the Originals had never truly fought him seriously?
Or worse—
that they had never been forced to fight someone who could truly pressure them?
That didn't make any sense.