The Mikaelson mansion was exactly the kind of ostentatious display he'd expected.
He stood at the edge of the circular drive, taking in the sight. The building was massive, all white columns and symmetrical windows, lit from within by what must have been hundreds of candles. Music drifted out through the open doors—a string quartet, playing something classical. Cars lined the driveway, sleek and expensive, their owners already inside.
A ball. In the twenty-first century.
How predictable.
He walked up the steps with measured confidence. A man in a suit stood at the door—security, probably, though he looked more decorative than functional.
"Invitation?" the man asked.
He smiled slightly. "I don't have one."
"Then I'm afraid—"
He met the man's eyes. Didn't compel him, exactly—that was vampire magic, crude and blunt. He simply suggested, the way he'd been doing since before humans had written language. The man's protest died in his throat.
"Of course, sir. Please, go in."
The man stepped aside, and he entered.
The foyer was grand—marble floors, a sweeping staircase, more candles. Guests mingled in small clusters, dressed in gowns and tuxedos, making polite conversation. He recognized the type immediately: Mystic Falls' elite, the wealthy and connected, the kind of people the Mikaelsons would want to cultivate. Or manipulate.
Probably both.
He moved through the crowd easily, not bothering to make small talk. He could feel them in the house—the five Original vampires, their presence like bright flames in his awareness. And Esther, her magic thrumming with dark intent, preparing for something.
The ballroom was through a set of double doors, and he headed toward it.
The room was stunning. Crystal chandeliers, walls painted in cream and gold, tall windows overlooking manicured gardens. The string quartet played in one corner while couples danced in the center of the floor. Around the edges, more guests stood talking, laughing, performing the social rituals humans—and vampires pretending to be human—had perfected over millennia.
And there they were.
The Mikaelsons.
He spotted Elijah first—tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, standing near the windows making polite conversation with a councilman. The noble one. A thousand years of trying to hold his family together through honor and carefully maintained composure.
Rebekah was dancing, a vision in a dark gown, smiling at her partner with practiced charm. Still desperate for humanity after all these centuries.
Kol was near the entrance, offering pleasantries to arriving guests with barely concealed boredom. The wild one who'd never learned restraint.
Finn was near the back, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Still hating what he was.
And Niklaus stood alone near one of the tall windows, his attention fixed across the room. Following the hybrid's gaze, he saw a blonde woman in a blue dress—young, pretty, talking with friends. The hybrid watched her with an intensity that suggested far more than casual interest.
Curious. The great Niklaus Mikaelson, distracted by a human girl.
But he wasn't here for them. Not yet.
He found Esther near the staircase, dressed in an elegant gown, playing the role of the returned mother. She was talking to a woman he didn't recognize, but her attention wasn't on the conversation. She was watching her children.
He walked across the ballroom floor and stopped directly in front of her.
Her conversation partner trailed off mid-sentence as Esther's face went completely white.
"Hello, Esther," he said pleasantly. "We should talk."
She stared at him. Her mouth opened. Closed. No words came out.
"Somewhere private," he continued, his voice quiet but firm. "Now."
The woman Esther had been talking to looked between them, confused and uncomfortable. "Esther? Is everything all right?"
"Fine," Esther managed. "Excuse me a moment."
She led him toward a side door with shaking hands. As they walked, he pulled his awareness inward, creating a bubble of silence around them. Not a spell, exactly—more fundamental than that. A manipulation of space itself that would make their conversation inaudible to anyone with supernatural hearing.
The vampires would notice. Particularly the observant ones.
Good. Let them be curious.
Esther led him into a smaller sitting room off the main ballroom and closed the door. The moment it clicked shut, she turned on him.
"Who are you?" Her voice was barely controlled. "How did you get in here?"
"You don't know?" He raised an eyebrow. "You took something from me a thousand years ago. Used it to create an entirely new species. And you never wondered what you'd stolen from?"
Recognition and horror dawned in her eyes. "The cave. The coffin. You were..."
"Resting, yes." He studied her, noting the new body, the way she carried herself. Different from the desperate woman who'd stumbled into his cave, but the essence was the same. "I felt you enter the forest. Felt you find me. I let you take the blood."
"Let me?" She looked like she might be sick. "Why?"
"Curiosity. I wanted to see what you'd do with it." He shrugged. "What a desperate witch might create with something like that."
"The vampires," she breathed. "You've been watching."
"Every moment worth watching, yes."
Esther's shock was giving way to something else now. Calculation. "If you've been watching, then you know what they've become. What they've done."
"I do."
"Then you understand why I have to stop them."
"Stop them?" He tilted his head. "You mean kill them."
"I mean correct a mistake." Her voice hardened. "They're abominations. They've killed thousands of innocents—"
"And you created them," he interrupted. "You don't get to uncreate them just because they didn't turn out the way you wanted."
"I never wanted this—"
"You wanted your children to live forever. They do. The method is irrelevant."
"The method created monsters!"
"The method created variables," he corrected. "Some turned out more violent than others. That's the nature of free will, Esther. You gave them immortality but you couldn't control how they'd use it."
She stared at him, her hands clenched into fists. "You don't understand. I have to end this. The spell is already prepared—"
"I know. A linking spell using my blood as the foundation." He smiled without warmth. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't feel you trying to corrupt what I gave you?"
"I'm trying to fix—"
"You're trying to murder your children because they're inconvenient." His voice was still pleasant, but there was an edge to it now. "You made a choice a thousand years ago. These are the consequences. Deal with them."
In the ballroom, Elijah frowned.
He'd been monitoring the room with half his attention, making polite conversation with Councilman Fell while keeping track of his siblings. Kol greeting guests with false enthusiasm. Rebekah dancing. Finn sulking in the shadows. Niklaus staring at the Forbes girl with that particular intensity that meant trouble.
And their mother, who had just left with a man Elijah had never seen before.
That alone would have caught his attention. But when he focused on the space beyond the sitting room door, there was... nothing. Not even the sound of breathing.
Sage, most likely. Their mother was being cautious about her conversation.
Still, it made him uneasy.
"Brother."
Elijah turned to find Niklaus beside him, hands in his pockets and an expression of mild interest on his face.
"Did you see the man Mother left with?" Elijah asked quietly.
"I did. Never seen him before." Niklaus glanced at the door. "Can you hear them?"
"No. She must be using sage."
"Secretive." Niklaus's tone was light, but there was an edge to it. "Makes one wonder what she's hiding."
"Everything, most likely," Elijah said dryly. "She always does."
"True." Niklaus's eyes drifted back toward the ballroom, toward where Caroline Forbes stood. "Should we interrupt?"
"Let's give them a moment," Elijah said. "But stay close."
Niklaus nodded absently, his attention already returning to the blonde across the room.
"You can't stop the spell," Esther said, though she sounded less certain now. "It's already in motion—"
"I can unravel it with a thought," he said. "It's using my blood, Esther. My essence. Do you really think you have more control over it than I do?"
She went very still. "You wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because... because they're monsters. Because they've destroyed countless lives—"
"And created others. Built things. Changed the world." He shrugged. "They're complicated. Like all beings who live long enough to make real choices."
"You're defending them."
"I'm defending my investment." He corrected her. "I gave you that blood freely, out of curiosity. You created something unexpected with it. I want to see what happens next."
"What happens next is more death. More suffering—"
"Possibly. Or possibly something else." He met her eyes. "Either way, they're not yours to unmake. You lost that right when you used magic you didn't understand."
Esther's composure was cracking. "I understand perfectly—"
"You understand nothing." His voice was colder now. "You took one drop of blood and thought you knew what it was. You didn't. You still don't. But you used it anyway, and now you want to destroy the results because you're afraid of them."
"I'm not afraid—"
"You're terrified. Of them. Of what they represent. Of your own failure as a mother." He took a step closer. "But that's not my problem, Esther. My problem is that you're trying to use my gift to commit murder. And I won't allow it."
She looked at him for a long moment, her expression shifting through rage, fear, desperation.
Finally, she spoke. "What do you want?"
"For you to stop the spell. Abandon this plan."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll stop it myself. And you." He said it matter-of-factly, without threat or emotion. Simple statement of fact. "I've existed for longer than you can imagine, Esther. I've ended threats far more significant than one witch with delusions of righteousness."
She flinched.
"But I'd rather not," he continued. "You created something interesting. I'd prefer you stay alive to deal with the consequences rather than running away from them."
"Deal with them how?"
"That's up to you. But not by killing them."
Silence stretched between them. He could feel her mind working, trying to find an angle, a way to regain control of the situation.
There wasn't one.
"Fine," she said finally, the word bitter. "I'll... I'll reconsider."
"You'll stop."
"I'll stop. For now."
It wasn't a real concession—she'd try again eventually, find another way—but it was enough for tonight.
"Good." He turned toward the door. "I'm going to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. Observe. You'll leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone. Unless you try this again."
"You're staying?" She looked alarmed. "Why?"
"I've been watching from a distance for a thousand years. I think it's time I saw them up close." He glanced back at her. "Consider it research."
Before she could respond, he opened the door and walked out.
Elijah and Niklaus were both in the hallway, positioned to intercept him.
"Excuse me—" Elijah started, taking a step forward.
"Gentlemen," he said pleasantly, walking past them without slowing. "Enjoy your party."
"Wait—" Niklaus turned, but the hallway was empty.
Both brothers stood there, staring at the space where the stranger had been just a moment before.
"Did he just—" Niklaus began.
"Vanish," Elijah finished, his expression tightening. "Yes."
Behind them, Esther emerged from the sitting room, her face pale and her composure shaken.
"Mother," Elijah said, turning his attention to her. "Who was that man?"
"No one," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Just... someone I knew. A long time ago."
"Someone who can disappear at will?" Niklaus's voice was sharp. "That's not 'no one,' Mother."
"It's not your concern—"
"Everything that comes into this house is our concern," Elijah said, his tone polite but unyielding. "Particularly when it upsets you this much. What did he want?"
Esther looked between her two sons, and for a moment, it seemed she might tell them the truth.
But then her expression hardened. "Nothing. He wanted nothing. It's handled."
"Mother—"
"It's handled, Elijah." She brushed past them, heading back toward the ballroom. "We have guests. Let's not neglect them."
The brothers watched her go, then looked at each other.
"That was enlightening," Kol said, appearing at the top of the stairs. "Who made Mother look like she'd seen a ghost?"
"We don't know," Niklaus said, still staring at the empty hallway. "But I intend to find out."
He materialized outside the mansion, having moved through space in the way he'd done for millennia—not quite teleportation, more like stepping between one moment and the next.
The Mikaelsons would be curious now. Would ask questions, investigate, try to figure out who he was and what he wanted.
He didn't really care
He made his way back to the forest, to the cave where his coffin still sat. But he didn't enter. Instead, he stood at the entrance, looking back toward the lights of the town.
Mystic Falls. Small, unremarkable, and yet somehow the center of so much supernatural activity. The Mikaelsons had chosen well—or perhaps the town had chosen them.
He could feel them even from here. Five bright points of transformed life, each one carrying a piece of him within them. The hybrid was the most interesting variable, but the others each had their own patterns worth observing.
He'd destroyed Esther's spell preparations. Found the study on the second floor where she and Finn had been working, sent Finn away with a suggestion to forget, and scattered the carefully arranged components.
The spell was ruined. They were safe.
For now.
But Esther would try again. She was too committed to her righteousness to give up easily. And when she did, he'd be there to stop her.
In the meantime, he had research to conduct.
A thousand years of watching from a distance had only shown him so much. To truly understand what his blood had created, he needed to see them up close. Interact with them. Observe how they functioned in their natural habitat.
Starting tomorrow, he'd begin that work.
But tonight, he simply stood in the forest and watched the distant lights of the mansion, listening to the faint strains of music carried on the wind.
The Mikaelsons were dancing, talking, playing their roles.
And he was patient.
He'd waited a thousand years. He could wait a little longer.