#ᴛ ☾ pʀᴇ tvd

[leroiloup]

The Axe

⚜  Who wants a horror story in spooky month ?? This is a bit different because it’s not written from Klaus’s POV. Instead, I invented a new character who shares the tale. ➥ Canon compliant : April 1918  ✥ Trigger Warnings: violence and gore | allusions to the real life serial killer

      New Orleans is riddled with legends and ghost stories ; perhaps more so than any other city in the world. While swapping ghastly fun tales over the campfire, what many fail to realize is that the most horrific of these accounts are in fact true. There is evil that lurks in this city –– and has since its very inception. How do I know this for certain, my curious reader ? Because I have witnessed what may be the bloodiest night in all of New Orleans history ; I witnessed the massacre that no one knows about –– executed by the legendary Axe Man, himself. But to tell this tale, you must understand one simple and yet unfathomable truth : he was no man, at all.

                                                          - –– he was a beast.

It was April, 1918. The magnolias were in full bloom ; their floral scent painting the streets of the French Quarter with the usual jubilance that spring evoked. What the occupants of the Crescent City didn’t know, was that while they toiled about in their daily business, there lay an entirely clandestine world just under their noses ; fantastic beings and creatures, that the humans believed to belong only in fiction, called New Orleans their home. The problem was the like humans, these creatures were never at peace. Each faction sought dominion over the bustling, delta metropolis –– resulting in tension, skirmishes            –– - and at times, war.

It was at this time that a coven of the blood drinkers had pressed upon the Quarter, seeking to take the throne. They had heard of the Mikaelsons, but were too naive to believe in the Original Vampire Family. Ego driven, they simply thought the Mikaelsons to be an older family who held power under false pretenses. Tensions grew, and petty deeds from both sides escalated until one night, the interloping vampires made a crucial mistake : they made it personal.

No one could have known the deep ties that the middle sibling held with the werewolves. Yet when the heads of the local pack members showed up on the front door step of the Abattoir, the one known as Klaus had found his breaking point. No longer would be entertain his older brother’s want of diplomacy ; the petulant vampire coven had to be punished –– nay, obliterated !

I stood on the street corner, peddling my warnings to the humans that God shall smite us all, when it began. Not a threat to any, I may as well have been invisible to any faction, making my account complete and without obstruction. The sun had well past set and the moon was near full, allowing its silvery glow to illuminate the empty cobbled street. Slaying vampires would best be done in the day when they cannot emerge in the sunlight –– making them trapped like sitting ducks. Perhaps Klaus preferred the challenge ; perhaps he wanted to boast his power ; or perhaps he wished to revel in a bit of fun in this bloodshed.

The first sign of trouble was the fog ; thick, cold, and penetrating. It filled the small crossroads, surrounding the long since abandoned pub, seeping in through the boarded up windows. I was smart enough to find my way to a back window where I could peer in through a crack in the wood to witness it all. There were twenty-three of the undead that milled about the old bar –– no doubt working on the next step in their nefarious plot. The room stilled as the fog settled over the dust ridden floors. It crawled up the walls, pushing everyone towards the center of the room as they looked about with worry stricken, wide eyes. 

With a loud bang, large wooden beams fell into place over the back door, effectively locking it. The front door swung open, causing a few of the vampires to jump in surprise. In sauntered the devil, a chillingly pleasant grin upon his features. One fair haired man stepped forward, mustering what authority he could in his gait.  ❝ You and your family have had enough of our warnings, Klaus, ❞ he said in a clear, commanding voice.  ❝ Dispense of these parlor tricks and leave this city with your head. ❞

I cringed, for I had the perfect view of the angelic blue eyes as they twinkled with a menacing, predatory glee. Klaus said not a word, though his expression and relaxed demeanor spoke volumes. His hands clasped behind his back and he straightened. In unison, the entire group of twenty-three vampires gasped in horror. A few then screamed in terror. Judging by their glazed over features, it was evident that they were witnessing nightmares that only they could see. I understood perfectly that these vampires knew not of the vervain herb to protect their minds. The Original painted a tapestry of grotesque fantasy in their minds with such vivid detail that they all believed it to be true. I can only image what scene unfolded before them, and how long it must have seemed to last. In truth, it was only moments later when Klaus’s laugh rang through darkened room and they were all snapped out of their stupor.

❝ Enough ! ❞ their leader proclaimed as he foolishly stepped towards Klaus.

Rather than lash out physically as I would have guessed, Klaus leveled his eyes with the leader and said, ❝ Hand me that axe over there, will you, sport ? ❞

At once, the vampire obeyed. He went to the corner where a few different tools were left behind and fetched the old, yet sharp, axe. With a bewildered look, he offered it to the Original. One last smile was given to the group before a woman, clearly compelled by her own fear, darted for the open front door.

Klaus moved in a blur, faster than the wind itself, and swung wide with the axe. Her head flew clear off her shoulders and was launched into the crowd, hitting one of the poor fools who’s screams echoed in the dilapidated building. From there, all hell broke loose. Though vastly outnumbered, Klaus proved his prowess in picking them off as though they were but lambs. The front door remained open as though in taunt, giving them hope that would never be fulfilled.

The axe was as hungry as his fangs –– both dripping with blood as limbs were severed, hearts were plucked, bones were crushed. I noted with apt fascination that a few had even managed to taste the sweet air of freedom beyond the open door before they were met with the axe’s unforgiving blade. Klaus, himself, moved with the grace of one expertly trained in traditional swordplay. The dichotomy of the elegance in his movements and the brutal, rudimentary tool in his hand created a picture more sinister than it ought to have been. 

Though it felt like hours, in mere moments the room was painted with a fresh coat of ruby red –– the carnage of pieces and innards of the vampires littering every surface. Only one shuddering and quaking voice was left. I barely recognized the once stalwart leader of the coven as he cowered on his knees, covered in the remnants of his peers.  ❝ I-it’s true, ❞ he stammered.  ❝ Th-the Original F-amily. You– you’re –– ❞

❝ –Not to be trifled with, ❞ Klaus interrupted, speaking around blood soaked fangs –– his dark, devil eyes filled with satisfaction.  ❝ I suppose there’s something to be said of leaving a lone survivor to carry on the tale. Congratulations, mate. ❞  With that, he turned and began to head towards the front door. Before exiting, the Original paused and reconsidered.  ❝ On second thought –– - ❞  Before more warning could be given, he moved with such a rapid ferocity that I didn’t know what had happened until I heard the thud of the severed head bounce off the wooden floor. Poetic, given the leader’s earlier warning to the Original.

With that, Klaus went along his way, axe over his shoulder and humming the upbeat tune of Mournin’ Blues under his breath as though he weren’t covered in the gore of twenty-three vampires. I crept around the side of the building just in time to see a wayward traveller making his way down the street. The homeless man beheld Klaus with wide, wild eyes, filled with fascination.  ❝ It’s a good night for jazz, isn’t it, mate ? ❞ Klaus said jovially. He then handed the blood soaked axe to the human before sliding his hands in his pockets and strolling down the street, whistling the happy tune to himself.

The human had a look in his eyes as he beheld the axe that unsettled me deeply. One thing was clear : that night was only the beginning for the sharpened blade’s gruesome appetite.

[leroiloup]

Fatherly Hate

⚜ Last night, @lovestoodeep told me to make her cry with something sad about Klaus. While this didn’t make her cry ( and I don’t even think it was the saddest thing I wrote about Klaus to her last night ), I figured I’d post it here because why not.       ➥ Takes place : 1001 AD and before      ✥ Trigger Warnings : child abuse mentions

       It was a full moon, that much Klaus knew for certain. He knew he wasn't supposed to be sneaking out to watch the wolves transform, but month after month, the young boy found himself drawn to it. He couldn't help it. Klaus would slip out alone in the middle of the night to a vantage point that he found to be safe. They never bothered him once. From atop the stone boulder, the young Viking would watch in horror and fascination as each human would transform into a beast. It wasn't the horror that kept him entranced, though - it was something deeper. Ansel, the town leader that Klaus had known briefly, conducted every turning with such care and camaraderie that Klaus never had known personally. Despite the screams of pain, each member of his pack had complete trust in him because he was a good and compassionate leader. He loved his pack, that much was obvious to the young boy who would watch from his safe place. Ansel loved his pack . . . but not his son. 

The memories of those nights used to hold wonder and awe, but now they only held anguish. Since learning of his true heritage, everything had come into full focus for Klaus. Not a night had gone by that he didn't wish for some whimsical turn of events to declare Mikael not his father, but rather some mysterious white knight who would ride in to save the young boy from the brutal beatings. Someone, who was out there looking for him ; who wanted him ; who loved him. But as the truth unfolded to Klaus, so did the tragedy. 

 Ansel, the great and wondrous leader of the wolves, was his true father - and he knew it. Esther told him to stay away out of fear, but it was an open secret to the village how Mikael would beat his boy weekly. Klaus would often go about his business with bruises on various parts of his body. Sometimes the arguing would take to the streets in public view. Surely Ansel, the leader of this place, knew what Mikael was doing . . . but he didn't lift a finger.

That was how Klaus knew, without a doubt in his mind, that he wasn't worthy of such love. He'd been born a cursed and wretched abomination, fit only for abandonment. Unfortunately for the world, he'd inherited his birth father's ambition . . . along with his adoptive father's ruthless temperament. If the world wouldn't love him, then he vowed to make it bow to him.

[leroiloup]

Das Biest

⚜ The entirely unnecessarily long & violent story of how Klaus gave up on trying to be human.    ➥ Takes place : Fall of 1359 in present day Germany    ✥ Trigger Warnings : violence /gore

❝ –– the true problem remains my brother Niklaus ; he continues to hide his loneliness with                   cruelty. ❞                                     Elijah’s Journal ║ August 1359

                                                                       -✦-

                              Understanding   /  Forgiveness   /   Love   /   Redemption

         ❝ Such notions were thrown my way towards the latter years of my life, perhaps encouraged by the love that melted my frozen heart when my daughter was born. I wonder, though, does sixteen years account for well over a thousand ? Does the path I took mean anything so long as my destination was justified ? If you’re to ask me, I’d say no. Yes, when I died, I did so selflessly as a father ,  a brother ,  a friend ,  and a lover. But first and foremost I lived my life as only one thing :    a      m o n s t e r .

❝ I’m no mere villain in the stories you hear. I’m not the lackey who lives to serve under tyrannical rule. I’m not the bad guy thrown into the path of the hero set to challenge his ways and ultimately make him rise above and vanquish evil, thus becoming the pure symbol of good–– et cetera et cetera. No, I’m none of these things.

                                                                                         I’m much worse.

❝ I’m the nightmare that demons cower from. I’m the shadow from which evil flees. True, I softened in the final years of my life, finding a selfless focus of my power, but make no mistake. It is my name that makes the night itself tremble in fear.

❝ How did it come to this, you wonder ? How did the simple son of a wayward Viking become the ultimate terror to plague this world for over over a millennia ? There’s a plethora of examples from which I could cite, but the one that could truly drive my point home takes place in the fall 1359. Humanity was never a thing I could easily turn on and off as vampires today can, but in that time, I was truly anything but   h u  m   a    n .  ❞

                               ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The ropes bit into the flesh of his wrists, bruising them deeply. Rope, however, was nothing but a nuisance for a vampire. Klaus could have easily snapped them and freed himself in an instant - if it weren’t for the witch chanting incessantly. The words were like daggers through his very skull. The original vampire was on his knees in a wooden church, a small group of people surrounding him. They looked frightened but determined as they watched the witch subdue him. Dark red and black eyes framed by rippling veins stared back, his fangs bared as he yelled, promising unending torment the moment he was free.

It wasn’t often that a vampire was caught, and it was nearly impossible to catch an original. The people of the small town of Bedburg, Germany in the autumn of 1359 didn’t even know what vampires were. They were hunting a werewolf and ended up with Klaus in their snare. How could such a feat be possible ? How was the infamous and powerful Klaus MIkaelson overcome by the simple minded townsfolk ? A beautiful pair of brown eyes, of course.

His name was Johann and he had the unfortunate luck of coming across a vampire feeing in the woods under the cover of night. Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and Klaus had taken up residence in Cologne Germany, just fifty kilometers away from Bedburg. After a particularly nasty blow out over the morals of being a vampire, Klaus headed out into the night to clear his head. Not wanting to attract attention back home, he found the small village and hunted on the outskirts. It was just after a drank a pair of lovers out for a roll in the hay dry that Klaus heard the snap of a twig, announcing the presence of another.

Turning to the source of the sound, Klaus seemingly disappeared and reappeared right in front of the young man. He was tall and fit, clearly a labor worker like a farmer. Shoulder length brown hair was tied back at the base of his neck and his youthful face was void of a beard. He couldn’t be much older than Klaus was when he was turned. Wide brown eyes looked up at the vampire, fear mingled with something else - something that took Klaus by surprise : wonder.

❝ Aren’t thou afraid ? ❞ he asked in German, having learned the language a century earlier.

A tense moment passed and the young mortal finally broke the silence.  ❝ They- They told me t’was a beast who hunted in these woods. ❞  That immediately took Klaus off guard. As far as he knew, this was the first time a Mikaelson had set foot near Bedburg. The village was too small to even be on a map. It was a complete fluke that his rage fueled path took him there.  ❝ Something like a hound straight from the bowels of hell. Some thing like- ❞

❝ A wolf ? ❞ Klaus asked.

The mortal’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded. He looked to the two dead bodies, then back to the killer before him, blood still on his chin.  ❝ I didn’t know you’d be a man. Are you both ? ❞

Finding himself far more intrigued with the inquisitive mortal, Klaus felt his earlier anger ebb away.  ❝ I am not what you’re hunting. ❞  The fact that there was a werewolf in these parts was fascinating and Klaus filed it away for later.

❝ But you killed them, ❞ the mortal stated.

❝ Yes. ❞

❝ And you’ll kill me now ? ❞

Klaus took a couple of steps froward, wiping the blood from his chin with his thumb, bringing himself within reaching distance of the young man.  ❝ Thou art unafraid at the prospect ? ❞  Usually this would be the point of running and screaming, but the mortal seemed merely curious.

❝ Not of dying, ❞ he admitted.  ❝ I loathe this town. And the people in it. ❞  His eyes were on the dead couple when he spoke.

There was a kindred spirit in the mortal that Klaus could feel. He’d never loved anyone since Aurora had shattered his heart, and while the concept of love wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, he found himself yearning for kinship ; someone who could understand him. Taking a risk, he slowly reached out and brushed back a lock of stray brown hair from the mortal’s face.  ❝ Small minded people are never able to see the greatness within those like us. ❞

❝ Us ? ❞ he asked, not shying away in the least. On the contrary, he leaning into the touch, fascinated by the creature of fantasy.

Klaus nodded, dark blue eyes holding his gaze with a growing intensity as he leaned closer. When next he spoke, it was in a whisper as though worried that any volume would shatter the moment he’d unwittingly found himself in.  ❝ I can show you a better way to live. ❞  Drawn together by an unseen force, their lips met, and Klaus felt the first wave of peace overtake his soul in centuries.

Only when their lips parted did the mortal smile and say, ❝ I am Johann. ❞  Klaus grinned in return before kissing him again, letting his emotions take hold and guide his actions.

                                        ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The young love lasted three nights. Each night, Klaus would slip away from his siblings to meet Johann in the woods outside of Bedburg. At a time when his loneliness mingled with insatiable hunger had started to melt away the traits that made him human, it was Johann’s warm touch that coaxed a bit of his old self to the surface. It was pure bliss, reminding the vampire that there was more to life than rage, torment, and blood. There was beauty all around if only one were to open their eyes and look.

On the third night, Klaus didn’t even greet his new friend. He pounced from the darkness, shoving Johann up against a tree and kissed him with the passion he’d denied himself for so long. When the kiss ended, Klaus grinned, a playful expression in place. It was only then that he saw the fearful and saddened look in the brown eyes he’d come to crave.  ❝ What’s the matter ? ❞

❝ I am so sorry. I did not know- ❞

Confusion clouded blue eyes as Johann rambled, but before Klaus could make any sense of it, there was a searing pain that shot through his skull. Instantly the vampire was brought to his knees, hands to his head as he yelled. A witch had come into view from around a tree. Her hands were outstretched and she chanted, holding strong to the spell that was able to subdue the original. Betrayal and hurt boiled deep within his eyes as Klaus looked to Johann. A group of mortals had no descended and shackled Klaus, tying him up to bring back to town. As far as the townsfolk were concerned, their period of strife had ended : the werewolf of Bedburg had been caught. Oh, how wrong they were !

                                        ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had begun to rise when Klaus was tied down on his knees, hands behind his back in the wooden church at the end of the village. A ring of salt was around him as the witch continued her ritual to kill him. He wondered if he were a regular vampire whether or not it would have worked. The small handful of people who surrounded him weren’t recognizable, though they appeared to be people of powerful positions within the little community. One man in particular stood in front of the group, looking like the mayor.

Head bowed under long tresses of tangled blonde hair, seemingly given up, Klaus calculated the many ways he would introduce pure anguish into their lives. The inexorable torment that pounded through his black and broken heart fueled the machinations through Klaus’s mind. For a brief glimmer in his life, Klaus had found happiness ; the kind of happiness that he didn’t think would be possible after Aurora. It was nothing more than an illusion, he realized - not unlike his humanity. To hell with Elijah’s morals and speeches about being better than the beast. Klaus had learned where compassion would get him, and it was a road he never wanted to travel again. He wasn’t a human any longer, and he decided that eternity would be better spent accepting that truth. He was better than them - he could rise above them. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t human, but rather their god. Unfortunately for the town of Bedburg, he’s not a merciful god in the slightest. They needed to be punished and the monster within him reared its head, begging for blood.

Sunlight shone through the church windows, bathing Klaus in its light. One of the wives stepped back, confused. Apparently she thought demons couldn’t survive in the sunlight. It gave Klaus an idea - one that he was sure he’d regret later - but his mind was running solely on the need for revenge. Logic be damned.

Head raised slowly and inhuman vampire eyes met the group. Fighting against the searing torment of the spell, Klaus’s face set with a new determination. Apparently the blood thirsty look they were met with was enough to cause concern and the room froze. Even the witch paused, though her hands were still up. He couldn’t leave the ring of salt, so she felt safe.

That feeling was misplaced.

Hands still behind him, Klaus’s fingers found his daylight ring and pulled it off. Instantly his body was engulfed in flames, wide grin and dangerous eyes seen through the fire. The wood of the church caught instantly, going up like a tinder box.  It was an unseasonably dry year which worked in his favor. The mayor pushed his wife towards the door as another man was caught, screaming as fire lit him up. The ring of salt was gone and the people panicked as they ran for the door. Klaus moved at preternatural speed to the witch who stood in a shaded area. He sunk his teeth into her neck and she screamed as her healing blood filled his mouth and flames engulfed both of their bodies. He didn’t stop until her head was nearly severed from its neck, then Klaus dropped the body to the floor. He put his ring back on and moved with the same speed to the door and those trying to escape. The wind created by his movement was able to kill the flames still on his body. What clothing was left was singed to his melted flesh, hair gone and red eyes wild. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt, and yet the original was able to harness it and let it fuel him.

There were more screams as people were trapped in the flames. Those who would survive were met with sharp fangs.

Outside, the villagers were taking to the street to behold their church up in flames. The screams within died and after a few tense moments, the grotesque figure of Klaus emerged from the smoky doorway. It was immediately clear to anyone that he wasn’t human, for anyone with burns that bad wouldn’t still be walking. Blood fell from his lips as it began to heal him. His eyes scanned the ground as people started to run back to their home. He wasn’t bothered with them, though, as his eyes found Johann in the crowd.

The mortal had the sense to finally look afraid as Klaus approached. A scarred and singed hand reached up, affectionately caressing the side of Johann’s face.  ❝ I did not want to, ❞ the mortal pleaded, tears in his eyes.  ❝ You have to believe me. I never wanted this. They- ❞

Words ceased and brown eyes went side as his expression froze. When Klaus pulled back his other hand, it was dripping with blood, holding the beating heart of the man he thought to be his lover. There was nothing but a steely resolve forged by hurt and betrayal in Klaus’s eyes as he brought the heart to his lips and took a drink. Johann’s body fell limp to the ground and there was a piercing scream from one of the villagers who’d witnessed it. Klaus smirked and dropped the heart before turning his blind hatred on the people of the town.

The slaughter didn’t last long as Klaus tore through as many people as he could find. Blood painted the sides of buildings, limbs fell detached in his wake, and smoke began to could and blot out the sun. No one was safe from his ire and blood soaked fangs. The fire continued to spread, a visible metaphor to the vampire’s ever growing and all consuming rage. It wasn’t long before the entire village was on fire and not a soul was left alive.

Satisfaction wasn’t the emotion that Klaus carried in his heart as he walked away from the smoldering remains of the carnage. The tragedy of loss in his heart was gone, washed away with any semblance of happiness or peace. Instead, the only thing Klaus felt was numb. All attempts at being human were a thing of the past. The original would move forward in life only as the thing he was forged to be :  a beast.

Finding a wandering horse, Klaus approached it and - not bothering with a saddle - he mounted and guided the animal back towards Cologne. The village of Bedburg would be resettled in coming years, though to this day, there are still stories of the werewolf that once plagued the town. What there will not be stories of, is the monster far more terrifying - the one who gave in to the animalistic side and embraced his true nature in their very church.

[leroiloup]

The Apple & The Tree

⚜ Prompt: Proverb      ➥ Takes place in an unknown time between 1920 and TVD.     ◈ Characters: Klaus + [ redacted ]      ✥ Trigger Warnings: None

                           ❝ There is a saying that I loathe above all others: The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. What a cowardly way to insult someone, intending to inflict a double wound by not just insulting them, but their parent as well. Of course I’ve heard it before, directed at me in regards to our father. ❞ Klaus paused, sighing as he thought on Mikael for just a moment, pain flashing over his features.

                           ❝ It doesn’t escape me that of all the fruit to use as the metaphor, it's the one which symbolizes sin to represent the child in the scenario. And in any case, who thought this would be so clever? Comparing an apple to a tree? Yes, alright, I get it. T’was the tree which created the apple, but come now, let’s be serious. Compared to such a desirable object as an apple, fruit that can sustain life, pleasurable enough to create a surfeit of tastes and scents, even spout creativity with its deep red color, what then is a tree? Merely some inexorable growing thing that overshadows everyone around it… and then dies. No, I dare say in this scenario, to call me the apple would be a compliment. ❞

                          He was silent for a period, thinking it all over in his head.

                           ❝ Then again, the apple contains the seeds with which to start it all over. Perhaps it is a cycle. Perhaps it’s a curse. Father was overbearing and tyrannical towards us and here I am, talking to a corpse, proving no better, now am I?” His eyes swept over Rebekah’s still form in her coffin, the dagger protruding from her chest glinting in the bit of sun that filtered in through the curtains.

                           ❝ I guess for all our sake’s, we should just be thankful that I can never create an apple of my own. ❞ He smiled sadly at the thought, deciding for the moment  that loneliness was easier and safer than family could ever be.