.
From the shadows, he emerged—lost, dazed, and without a single clue of who he truly was or where he had come from. The darkness that once enveloped him felt eternal, yet somehow, in a blink, it dissolved into light.
He awoke, though he hadn't expected to. It wasn't his body—no, this was something else entirely. Different. Ancient. He found himself in a forest, unfamiliar and eerie, with only a heavy weight of sorrow pressing against his chest.
Then, the memories came.
Unlike anything he had ever felt before. Centuries—millennia—of anguish, rage, and betrayal. The pain of killing the woman he once believed to be his mother. The guilt of locking his siblings away in coffins, one by one. The heartbreak of lying to the only brother who had ever truly loved him, pushing him so far away that even he gave up hope.
The memories spiraled further, darker. Thousand-year grudges, enemies made for no reason other than pride and paranoia.
He was Klaus. The monster that even monsters feared.
And yet, beneath the violence and power, there was only a broken boy—spoiled, fragile, incapable of accepting rejection, and crumbling under the weight of a soul crushed by centuries of depression.
For months, he wandered in shock, convinced it was all a dream. He never woke. He never escaped. Until, finally, he accepted the truth.
He was Klaus Mikaelson. Or rather, something—someone—else wearing his skin. Somehow, his consciousness had merged with Klaus', taking over his body, his memories, and his legacy.
("How?") he had asked himself again and again.
He never found an answer—only a theory: Klaus had been weak. His soul had cracked under the weight of grief, and in that moment, something else had slipped in.
It was 2010. Days before Klaus would appear in The Vampire Diaries.
And now, things were going to change.
He ventured to an ancient tomb—one long hidden beneath stone and magic. Deep within, a doppelgänger slept in a near-mummified state.
After hours of searching, he found her.
("Well, well… the rabbit always ends up in the hole,") he chuckled, sitting on a rock with unsettling calm.
The girl stirred, her body trembling at the sound of his voice. Her eyes widened in horror.
("Klaus…"), she whimpered, pressing herself against the cold stone wall as if trying to melt into it.
("Don't run, little rabbit. I didn't come to hurt you,") he said softly, stepping closer to the magical barrier.
("Don't lie to me. You only want to give me hope before crushing it,") Katherine choked out, trembling.
("You're wrong. Kill you? No. That would be… boring. A waste. I've hunted you for a thousand years. Ending it now would mean all of it was pointless,") he replied, stepping fully through the barrier.
("So you're going to torture me instead?") she cried, her voice cracking. ("Make me beg for death? I knew it. I knew it! Just—do your worst!")
("You know,") Klaus said thoughtfully, ("I've always admired your tenacity. Your will to live. There's potential in that.")
He reached for her throat. She didn't fight. She simply closed her eyes.
("Open your eyes,") he commanded. She obeyed.
("You'll serve me—for one thousand years. Then you'll be free.")
("A thousand years?") she whispered. ("So this is punishment… slavery… Please, just kill me.")
She spat in his face. He wiped it away, unbothered.
("No. You'll repay every year you stole from me.")
With a gesture, the barrier collapsed around them.
("Stay here. Pretend you're still trapped. Feed me information. Everything.")
Days passed. The tomb was behind him. Now, Klaus stood at the gates of a silent graveyard. He entered one of the crypts and faced a withered, mummified corpse.
("Hello, Mikael,") he said coldly.
The corpse stirred. Its eyes, full of hatred, snapped open.
("I've come to make a deal.")
He reached down and took the wooden stake from Mikael's stiff hand.
("Over a thousand years ago, a witch and a Viking had a daughter,") Klaus began, pacing slowly. ("But the woman couldn't have children—she was barren. So she struck a deal with her sister, another witch. In exchange for fertility, all her descendants would belong to the sister.")
He took out a photograph and held it in front of Mikael's eyes.
("I found her. Just a few months ago.")
The picture was of a young blonde woman, not older than thirty. Her features mirrored Mikael's.
("Her name is Freya. When she was born, the sister came to claim her. The father was away at war. The mother lied—said the child died of the plague. But she didn't. The witch took her, linked her bloodline to ours, and used her as a magical battery—granting herself near-immortality.")
Klaus lowered the photo.
("My brother Finn knows more. I can prove it. What do you say? Do we have a deal?")
Mikael's lips trembled. His hatred gave way to something deeper—hope.
("What… kind… of deal?")
("Leave me and my siblings alone. Help me in future battles. In return, I help you save your daughter.")
Mikael nodded slowly.
("If… you prove she's alive… I will disown you all. I only ever had one child… Freya.")
("Done.")
Klaus vanished and returned in a flash, a lifeless body in his arms. He dropped Finn onto the floor and pulled the dagger from his heart.
Finn gasped.
("Niklaus?") he murmured.
Klaus didn't wait. He grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the crypt wall.
("What happened to our sister Freya?")
Finn's eyes widened.
("How do you know about that?")
("Tell me. She didn't die in the plague. The witch took her, didn't she?")
("…Yes. When we were children. Mother couldn't stop it. She made me promise never to tell Mikael.")
("Why?")
("She was afraid…")
("That's all I needed.")
Klaus stabbed Finn again. Silence returned.
("Satisfied?") he asked, looking to Mikael.
The old man's eyes filled with tears.
("My daughter… suffered all these centuries… and I did nothing.")
("Help me save her, and your debt is paid.")
Klaus cut his wrist and let the blood fall into Mikael's mouth.
When Mikael recovered, he stood, eyes burning with new purpose.
He looked at Finn's body with fury, but Klaus stepped between them.
("Our deal says you leave him alone.")
("Because of him, Freya suffered.")
("Because of your wife. He was just a boy protecting his mother.")
Mikael clenched his jaw.
("Fine. Find my girl. Then I disappear.")
Klaus smiled and pointed toward a car in the distance.
("Let's go.")
They raced across the cemetery. Klaus opened the car door to reveal a blonde girl, peacefully asleep.
Mikael fell to his knees beside her.
("My little girl… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Why won't she wake up?") he growled, noticing her pulse.
("She's under a sleeping spell. She sleeps for a hundred years… wakes for one. If you try to wake her, the witch will come—ancient, powerful, and vengeful.")
("Damn it…") Mikael snarled, but softened as he held his daughter close.
("Help me kill the witch, and I'll erase you and your siblings from my family tree.")
("Deal. But to kill her, we'll need three things—her greatest love's blood, Viking ashes, and soil from her homeland. I have the body of the one she loved most. But the Viking…" Klaus grinned.
He handed Mikael a parchment.
("Bleed on it.")
Mikael recognized the spell. He didn't hesitate. He bit his wrist and bled onto it.
They opened another coffin. Esther.
("I know a Viking,") Mikael said coldly.
He broke wood from the coffin and cut Esther's arm, letting the blood drip.
("I'm taking her body.")
("No. Our deal was only Freya.")
The two men locked eyes, but Mika