Elsewhere in the city, Marcel tossed and turned in bed.
Vampires didn't need much sleep.
But they still needed some.
And sleep was dangerous.
It was one of the few moments when a vampire could truly become vulnerable.
At least for those who never bothered training their mental defenses.
Marcel happened to be one of those people.
Which was unfortunate.
Because tonight, someone was waiting for him.
He found himself standing beneath a fallen tree.
The same dream.
Again.
Marcel groaned.
"Oh, come on."
The scenery shifted.
Suddenly he was centuries younger.
Standing beside Rebekah.
Listening to a conversation he hadn't thought about in ages.
Kol was smirking.
Rebekah looked annoyed.
"Seriously, what do you even see in that kid?" Kol asked.
"He's a newborn vampire. He'd never be able to keep up with you."
Rebekah punched him in the shoulder.
"Oh, shut up."
Kol laughed.
"No, really."
She rolled her eyes.
"Unlike you, I don't spend my time chasing pleasure."
"That's rich."
"Maybe you only chase humans and witches because you know vampire women would break you."
Kol looked horrified.
"Silence."
The memory shattered.
And suddenly Marcel remembered.
The battles.
The bloodshed.
The impossible strength.
The way Rebekah could walk through armies.
The way she could do things he never could.
And doubt crept back in.
The same doubt he'd buried years ago.
Was she with me out of pity?
Was I ever enough?
The darkness swallowed everything.
Then another memory appeared.
Klaus.
Always Klaus.
Angry.
Demanding.
Controlling.
Taking.
Deciding.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Marcel clenched his fists.
"No."
The dream ignored him.
Now it was Elijah.
Honorable.
Calm.
Reasonable.
And yet every single time it mattered...
He chose his family.
Every time.
Another memory.
Kol laughing at him.
Another.
Rebekah.
And somehow that one hurt the most.
Because love always carried fear.
Fear of not being enough.
Fear of being left behind.
Fear of being compared.
A mist rolled across the dreamscape.
Then a woman appeared.
Elegant.
Ancient.
Calm.
Marcel instantly became wary.
"Who are you?"
The woman smiled.
"Someone who understands your pain."
Marcel frowned.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Maybe because my name isn't important."
She slowly walked around him.
Watching the memories.
Watching the wounds.
Watching every insecurity rise back to the surface.
"What's important is you."
"I don't believe that."
She pointed toward Klaus.
"How many times did he make choices for you?"
Marcel stayed silent.
Another memory appeared.
Rebekah crying.
Klaus separating them.
Again.
"How many things did you lose because an Original decided they knew better?"
"Enough."
"It still hurts."
"Enough."
"You spent centuries trying to prove you were their equal."
"I never wanted to be like them."
The woman smiled sadly.
"That's a lie."
And the worst part?
Part of him wasn't sure she was wrong.
The dream changed again.
Now he saw the recent battle.
Rebekah.
Kol.
Nik.
Power beyond reason.
Power that dwarfed almost everyone around them.
The woman watched.
"They're still above you."
"No."
"They are."
"No."
"They are."
Marcel looked away.
Because he had asked himself that question before.
More than once.
The woman stepped closer.
"You worked harder than they did."
...
"You suffered more than they did."
...
"You fought harder than they did."
...
"And you're still beneath them."
The anger returned.
Old anger.
Deep anger.
Dangerous anger.
"What do you want?"
The woman finally stopped.
Then she raised her hand.
The dream transformed.
Marcel saw himself.
But stronger.
Far stronger.
A being capable of rivaling Originals.
Perhaps surpassing them.
His breath caught.
"What is that?"
"A possibility."
"No."
"Yes."
Her voice was warm.
Comforting.
Manipulative.
"You spent your entire life in their shadow."
"No."
"You did."
"No."
"You did."
The vision remained.
A Marcel free from doubt.
Free from insecurity.
Free from comparison.
A Marcel who never had to wonder if he was enough.
"I can give you that."
His heart started racing.
"Who are you?"
This time his voice was harder.
Suspicious.
Demanding.
The woman smiled.
"My name is Esther."
The world seemed to pause.
"And I'm offering you a choice."
She tilted her head.
"Nothing more."
"No coercion."
"No chains."
"You can accept."
"Or refuse."
Marcel said nothing.
Esther looked around at the memories.
The wounds.
The resentment.
The old scars.
All reopened.
All bleeding.
Exactly as she intended.
"Tell me, Marcel."
Her voice became a whisper.
"If you had the chance to finally stand above the people who kept you beneath them for centuries..."
The Mikaelsons appeared.
Klaus.
Elijah.
Kol.
Rebekah.
Then vanished.
Replaced by that stronger version of himself.
More powerful.
More respected.
More feared.
More free.
"Would you really say no?"
Marcel remained silent.
Because it wasn't a simple question.
And Esther smiled.
Not because she had won.
Not yet.
But because she had accomplished something far more important.
She had made him think.
And for a woman who had manipulated hearts and minds for over a thousand years...
That was always the first step.