"Well…" I sighed, facing Jenna as we sat across from each other at the kitchen table. "Ask."
I went straight to the point where it mattered. I could see the curiosity in her eyes.
"Are you really a thousand years old?" she asked uncertainly, and I knew that would be the first question.
"Yes and no," I replied with a sigh. "It's called depersonalization. A witch messed with my head… I remember my entire past, but it's like watching a movie or a documentary—not like I actually lived it."
I told a lie woven with a grain of truth. Yes, I had access to Niklaus's memories… but they weren't mine. This wasn't me. It was just a soul reborn into the body of a depressed vampire who never fought against my presence.
"Wait," Jenna exclaimed indignantly. "Always witches? Do they just ruin everything?"
I couldn't help but laugh at her overreaction.
"Well, if you realize that 90% of supernatural problems have some witch interfering at the start, middle, or end," I said, still chuckling, "then yes… they always ruin everything."
"Do you drink blood?" she changed the subject abruptly.
"Yes, once a month," I told her the truth. "This body is already old enough to go long periods growing weak."
"Ummm… Garlic?" she asked, tilting her head.
"I don't care for the taste, but apparently younger vampires love it," I replied, remembering the flavor. "Though as a spice? It's wonderful."
"Crosses? And saying the name of Jesus?"
"Well, I'm not a demon… so I don't tremble at the name of Jesus like you've seen," I said with a faint smirk. "But the cross is more about the institution it represents than the object itself. The Vatican was extremely harsh toward vampires during the Middle Ages."
"Really? The Inquisition actually hunted monsters?" Her eyes seemed to light up with fascination.
"Yes," I smiled. "But they aren't nearly as extreme these days."
"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes wide, growing even more animated. "How did they become more tolerant?"
"Well, even though the world has become more peaceful…" I began, drawing on Klaus's memories. "They realized that former humans make a pretty good defense for humanity against demonic beings and other annoying creatures."
"Wait…" Jenna's mouth fell open in shock. "Demons? Demons actually exist?"
"Yes, annoying creatures… though the Devil himself is actually a pretty decent guy," I answered. I saw the confusion in her gaze, but she didn't ask about Lucifer. I figured she just chose not to ask—rather than face the brutal realization that her husband knew the Devil personally.
"So… not all vampires kill people?" she asked, her tone shifting to concern as she looked at me.
"If I told you that most of this new generation of vampires has never tasted human blood, would you believe me?"
"Wait? That's even allowed?" Jenna stammered, struggling to wrap her head around the concept.
"It's just that unlike Mystic Falls—which is basically a hellmouth that attracts every weird monster out there and where nobody is exactly morally good," I explained, "big cities like New York, São Paulo, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Tokyo, Shanghai, and plenty of others have rules and a supernatural hierarchy. You can't just go around killing people without consequences—unless you're as powerful as I am, of course. Which isn't many people."
I had no idea if Buffy existed in this world or if the show itself existed here, but if Jenna got the reference, things would be easier.
"Hey, no need to roast us like that," she replied, sounding personally offended. Oh great, she'd just proven my point without even realizing it.
"My love… I just revealed that I'm a thousand-year-old vampire and admitted I'm powerful enough to get away with murder," I said gently. "And you get offended when I say everyone here is morally sketchy? Really? Are you going to tell me you wouldn't react this way just because you're not a bad person… or is it because you're sleeping with me and figure I won't hurt you?"
Seriously, I felt genuinely exasperated by her worldview for a moment… though she was still adorable.
"…." She stared at me thoughtfully, then her eyes went wide. "Holy crap… you're right. I am morally compromised."
It was almost a shout—equal parts shock and sudden realization.
"But don't worry, love," I soothed, leaning in to kiss her neck. She melted instantly. "It's not entirely your fault. This town is soaked in magic… it changes people."
She straightened up immediately, snapping out of that soft, surrendered mood.
"What do you mean?" she almost yelled.
"There's so much supernatural activity here that magic just saturates the air," I explained with a sigh. "It makes the place powerful. And the rule is simple: power draws power."
"How does that change me?" Jenna pressed, her gaze intense. She wasn't going to let me dodge the question, was she?
"It doesn't, not really," I said with a soft laugh. "In the worst-case scenario—all that extra life force could accelerate cell growth. If you already had some damaged cells, it might increase cancer risk. But since you had that tumor removed and your scans came back clear… that's not going to happen to you. Best-case scenario? You'll probably never get sick. And every human living in this town has a higher chance of having a child who's a witch."
"Oh my God." She looked more stunned by the minute.
And we kept talking, unpacking everything that had happened.
Later that same week…
I stepped inside the mausoleum where my siblings lay resting and sighed. I walked along the row, pausing to run my hand over the dagger in each of their chests.
When I reached Rebekah, my chest ached. Come on… you put her in this situation.
Why are you feeling this guilt? And this anger at yourself? Just shut up. I can't take the risk of waking them yet.
They're a danger to my children.
But at the same time… the urge to talk to them, to introduce them to my kids, felt completely real.
Why? I'm not Niklaus… so why do I feel all of this?
I know Niklaus's body reacts when something matters to him. But I'm not Niklaus… so why does it hurt?
I stopped by Freya's coffin. Nothing. Makes sense—the original Niklaus never even knew her, so this body has no emotional attachment to her.
I stroked her face gently.
"Don't touch her."
The voice came from behind me—low, growling.
Oh for goodness sake… do you really want to keep playing this game?
I turned around and looked at Mikael. He glared back with pure rage. I met his gaze with a faint, amused smirk.
"So? Did you get what you came for?" I asked, holding out a hand. "Or did you just come here to annoy me?"
He curled his lip in disgust. Wonderful. If you knew how much your misery entertains me, you wouldn't make those faces.
"I have the ashes of a Viking," he said, holding up a jar. "Now we need the blood of who he loved most. And step away from my daughter, you abomination."
"No," I said flatly, rolling my eyes. "Are you going to break our deal? Attack me, Daddy? You don't have a white oak stake anymore… and I've got plenty of silver ash stakes that just so happen don't work on me. So what's it going to be?"
He snarled, clearly frustrated, and scowled again. Oh come on… you're really that slow on the uptake?
The old Niklaus would have been trembling in fear. But I'm not him. I'm not afraid of you, Mikael. All I feel toward you is the hatred this body has carried for you its whole life.
"We still need the final ingredient," Mikael growled. "Do you have it?"
"Of course." I nodded toward Esther's coffin. "The blood of your wretched wife. Unfortunately, she's sealed away. The witches intend to use her against me. But know this—my life is bound to Freya's. If you help the witches… Freya dies with me."
"You son of a bitch," he roared.
"I'd be inclined to agree—though she was more of a lying witch of a wife to you, wasn't she?" I laughed. He clenched his fists, shaking with fury.
The air shifted around us. I could feel his magic surging—just as powerful as mine, maybe even stronger. The atmosphere grew heavy, and thunder rumbled outside. His power was affecting the weather itself. Looks like I'd finally pushed him too far.
I stepped aside instinctively, grabbing a dagger without looking—pure reflex—and slashed it across my own arm.
In that exact instant, Freya let out a cry of pain even in her sleep, and the scent of blood drifted up from her coffin.
"NOOO!" Mikael screamed. The thunder stopped instantly. The pressure in the air vanished. "You damned creature… I understand now."
"About time," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"Nik?"
My heart lurched. Rebekah's voice… Before I could even think, I was staring down at the dagger still in my hand. It was hers.
"Mikael?"
Her voice shifted—sleepy confusion turning instantly to alarm. Faster than I could blink, she lunged at him.
She was fast. Blindingly fast. Even to me she was nothing but a blur.
Usually I saw the world in slow motion. But this time? I watched her move like a normal human watching another human—fast, fluid, impossible to track perfectly.
She threw a punch. Mikael dodged it as easily as a professional boxer avoiding an amateur. He twisted her arm aside, struck her chin with a sharp crack, and she collapsed to the ground, limp and unconscious.
"NOOO!" I shouted, and I charged at him, driving the dagger forward. He barely sidestepped it and landed a counterpane.
I threw myself sideways, barely ducking the blow that would have shattered my jaw—but I couldn't avoid the knee that slammed into my ribs.
Damn it. A thousand years of vampire warfare and ten years of Muay Thai in my old life… and I still forget to keep my guard up.
The breath left my lungs in a rush. But then I heard Freya—clearer than before.
"AAHH!" she screamed in agony. Shit. I'd forgotten about that link.
When I looked up, Mikael was already standing over her, shouting her name.
I dragged myself upright and stepped between him and Rebekah's unconscious form.
"Relax, you old fool," I said, positioning myself firmly. "As long as she's bound to me, my healing is hers too."
"Never do that again!" Mikael roared, trembling with rage. "Don't you dare cause my daughter pain ever again."
Oh, how sweet. If you'd been this protective of Klaus… he wouldn't have grown up a broken, paranoid mess whose body got taken over by a random human soul.
I sighed and slid the dagger back into Rebekah's chest. Not yet, Bekah. It's not time for you to wake up.
"Mikael…" I looked him dead in the eye. "In seven to ten years, your wife will wake up and try to kill me. That's when we take her blood. Not before."
"I want my daughter back now," Mikael snarled.
And I want my children to grow up without a psychotic, all-powerful witch hunting them down.
"We can't have everything, can we?" I snapped back. "I don't know—go find yourself a woman, enjoy life, and come back in seven years."
I waved him off dismissively.
"You ungrateful little bastard," he spat.
"I've been told," I grinned, genuinely amused this time.
And then he was gone.