The air in the clearing hung heavy with grief and the scent of death. Henrik's small body lay still, a stark, brutal testament to the wolves' power and their own vulnerability. Mikael's face was a thundercloud, his eyes fixed on the forest. Esther knelt, her sobs quiet but wrenching, one hand on Henrik's cold cheek. The siblings stood in a numb huddle, the horror of what had happened etched onto their young faces.
Luãn remained kneeling beside Rebekah for a moment, his hand still on her shoulder. He felt the tremors running through her, the raw, innocent grief of a sister who had just lost her beloved younger brother. He squeezed her shoulder gently, a silent promise in the gesture. 'This is why,' he thought, his gaze sweeping over his family. 'This is the cost of being human in this world.'
Esther slowly rose, her tears ceasing, replaced by a terrible, burning intensity in her eyes. She looked not at Henrik, but at Mikael, then at her surviving children, her gaze lingering on each one – Finn, Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah, and finally, Luãn.
"We cannot live like this," Esther's voice was low, strained, but firm. "We cannot lose another child to sickness, to wolves, to the cruelty of this world."
Mikael turned, his eyes meeting hers. "What are you saying, Esther?"
"There is a way," she said, her gaze sweeping over them again. "A way to protect you. To make you stronger than the wolves, stronger than any threat."
Luãn's heart pounded. He knew this conversation. He knew these words. The canon was unfolding exactly as he remembered, spurred by the inevitable tragedy.
Esther looked at her children, her face a mixture of love, desperation, and unwavering resolve. "It is an ancient magic. A ritual passed down through my lineage. To grant eternal life. To make you... immortal."
A hushed silence fell over the clearing. Immortal. The word hung in the air, impossible and intoxicating.
"Immortality?" Finn echoed, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," Esther confirmed, her voice gaining strength. "You will not age. You will not sicken. You will not die from mortal wounds. You will be faster, stronger, your senses sharper than any creature of the night."
'She's selling it,' Luãn observed internally, listening to her words, remembering the show's depiction. 'Painting it as a gift, a protection. Not mentioning the thirst, the blood, the cost to their humanity, the curse she'll put on Niklaus.'
Klaus stepped forward, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. "Stronger than the wolves?"
"Stronger than any," Esther promised, a hint of a smile touching her lips.
Mikael stared at her, his hunter's mind processing the implications. Power. Protection. The ability to finally stand against all threats. "What must we do?"
Esther knelt beside Henrik's body, placing a hand on his wound, then on the earth. "It requires magic. And sacrifice. The blood of a celestial being for strength," she looked towards the sky, though Luãn knew this was more about the magic she intended to use, drawing from ancient sources, maybe even the tree itself, "the blood of a vampire for speed, though we have none, so I must adapt... the blood of the earth itself for resilience... and the blood of those who wish to turn." She looked at them, her gaze unwavering. "You must die, with my blood in your system, and then feed on human blood to complete the transition."
A collective gasp went through the siblings. Die? The promise of eternal life was suddenly tempered by the terrifying reality of death.
"Die?" Rebekah whispered, fear blooming in her eyes.
"Only for a moment," Esther reassured them, though her voice was tight. "My magic will guide you back. But you must be willing. All of you. Are you willing to embrace this change? To be strong?"
One by one, their eyes went to Henrik's body, then back to their mother. The fear of death paled in comparison to the pain of loss, the constant threat they lived under.
Finn, ever the obedient eldest, nodded first. "If it means we are safe, Mother. I am willing."
Elijah, his face solemn, met Esther's gaze. "For our family. I am willing."
Kol, though still shaken by Henrik's death, the thrill of the promised power sparked in his eyes. "To be immortal? To be strongest? Yes, Mother. I am willing!"
Rebekah, her eyes red from crying, looked at her brothers, then back at Esther. The yearning for security and belonging outweighed her fear. "I am willing."
All eyes turned to Klaus and Luãn. Klaus, the most sensitive, the most artistic, hesitated, fear warring with a desperate need to be seen as strong by Mikael. Luãn watched him, a strange mix of pity and anticipation swirling inside him. 'He's afraid. Of the death, of the change. And probably terrified of Mikael's reaction if he refuses.'
Finally, Klaus swallowed hard and nodded, his voice shaky but clear. "I am willing."
Now it was Luãn's turn. They all looked at him – Mikael, Esther, his siblings, his new family. The adopted son. The outsider who trained harder than any of them. The one who had faced down the wolves just hours ago.
He met Esther's expectant gaze. He had known this was coming. He had trained for this. His entire purpose since waking up in this body had been to reach this moment, and surpass it. He had seen the future, seen the endless cycle of destruction and pain caused by their weakness, their fragmentation. Immortality wasn't just a shield; it was the essential tool for achieving his goal.
'This is it. The beginning of the rest of eternity. No going back. Not that I ever could.' He thought of his old life, the skyscraper, the truck. It felt like a distant dream. This was real. This was now.
"I am willing, Mother," Luãn said, his voice calm and resolute, echoing Elijah's earlier sentiment but with a fiercer undertone that was uniquely his. "I will stand with my family. And I will fight for us."
A flicker of something complicated crossed Esther's face, perhaps surprise at his intensity, perhaps relief at his acceptance.
Mikael simply nodded, a rare, grim sign of approval directed at Luãn. 'He respects strength and resolve. Good. He'll see plenty more of it.'
The preparations began immediately, somber and urgent. Henrik's body was taken to rest. Esther gathered her ingredients – herbs, stones, bowls. She instructed Mikael to gather wood from the White Oak tree, the ancient, powerful tree at the center of their village. Luãn felt a shiver run down his spine. The tree. The only thing that could kill them. A symbol of both their salvation and their ultimate vulnerability.
As Mikael went to retrieve the wood, Luãn watched him. 'He has no idea that this wood will become the instrument of his obsession, his children's fear.'
The siblings gathered around Esther as she mixed potions in a large wooden bowl, chanting softly in a language Luãn didn't understand but felt the power of resonate in the air. The smell was earthy, potent, laced with the metallic tang of blood Esther had drawn from some source Luãn didn't question.
She instructed them to each cut their palm and let their blood drip into the bowl. One by one, they did. Luãn watched his own dark blood mingle with the lighter shades of his siblings' blood, a strange, visual representation of his place in this family – part of them, but forever distinct.
Finally, Esther took a small amount of the mixture and poured it into several small cups carved from wood. She held one out to Finn.
"Drink, my son," she commanded. "Drink and prepare to die."
Finn, stoic and obedient, took the cup and drank. He coughed, his body trembling. Then, he fell to the ground, eyes wide, breathing shallowing.
Elijah was next. He drank, his expression resolute, and collapsed beside Finn.
Then Kol, who looked momentarily scared but drank with a gulp and fell.
Rebekah, tears streaming down her face, looked at Luãn, then at her fallen brothers. Luãn gave her a small, encouraging nod. She took the cup, her hand shaking, and drank. She fell, quieter than the others.
Klaus swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he reached for the cup. He glanced at Luãn. Luãn met his gaze, offering a silent message: You can do this. Be strong. Klaus took the cup, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then drank, gagging slightly before he too fell unconscious.
Finally, Esther turned to Luãn, the last cup in her hand. "My adopted son. You came to us from the forest. Now you will be reborn from my magic. Drink."
Luãn took the cup. He looked at the dark liquid, the culmination of ancient magic, sacrifice, and a desperate mother's love. He thought of Leon, the fan who watched this on a screen. He thought of Luãn, the boy who just wanted to belong. He thought of his goal – to be the strongest. This was the key.
'Bottoms up, I guess. Here goes… forever.' He couldn't help the slightly absurd, modern thought filtering into the solemn moment. A tiny spark of the 'goofy' he was meant to develop. The juxtaposition of the ancient ritual and his modern consciousness was jarring, almost comical in its extremity.
He raised the cup and drained it in one gulp. The taste was foul, metallic and earthy, buzzing with strange energy. His body immediately reacted. A wave of cold washed over him, followed by intense pain. His limbs felt heavy, his head swam. He gasped, stumbling, and then the world went black.
Darkness. Cold. A strange, buzzing silence. He felt… nothing. No pain, no weight, no body. Just awareness, floating. Was this death? If so, it was surprisingly… empty.
Then, slowly, sensations returned. A faint awareness of his body, cold and still. A new kind of hunger, deep and visceral, different from any hunger he'd ever known. It was a gnawing emptiness, a desperate craving that consumed everything else. And sounds. Distant whispers, amplified tenfold. The rustling of leaves miles away. The beat of a rabbit's heart. The flow of blood through veins. The air, filled with a thousand scents he'd never noticed before.
His eyes snapped open. The world was sharper, colors more vibrant, shadows deeper. The dim light of dawn seemed blinding. His body jolted, a sudden surge of raw power coursing through his veins. He pushed himself up, muscles responding with startling speed and strength.
He looked around. His siblings were stirring, gasping, their eyes wide, dilated, adjusting to the overwhelming input. Esther stood watching them, her face etched with exhaustion and a fragile hope. Mikael stood nearby, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
And the thirst. Oh god, the thirst. It was unbearable. It clawed at his throat, burned in his gut, screamed in his mind. Blood. He needed blood.
He heard the frantic thumping of a heart nearby. A villager, drawn by the sounds, peering cautiously from behind a hut. The smell hit him, rich and intoxicating. His new senses fixated on it. His body tensed, poised to strike.
'Whoa, easy there, killer,' the modern part of his mind screamed, struggling against the primal urge. 'Don't just go full Ripper on the first guy you see!'
He saw the same look in his siblings' eyes – dilated pupils, trembling bodies, predatory focus on the same source of blood. Kol let out a low growl, a sound that was undeniably inhuman.
Esther stepped forward quickly. "You must feed! To complete the transition! Go! The village cattle!"
The instruction was a lifeline. Cattle. Not people. A wave of relief, tinged with regret at the loss of the village's livestock, washed over Luãn. His enhanced hearing picked up the lowing of cows from the nearby pen.
Without conscious thought, his legs propelled him forward with incredible speed. He ran faster than the wind, faster than any human could ever run. He saw his siblings running alongside him, a pack of newly-born predators driven by the same insatiable hunger.
They burst into the cattle pen. The cows mooed, startled. The smell of their blood was overwhelming, less potent than human blood, but enough. Luãn lunged, sinking his newly formed fangs into the nearest animal's neck.
The sensation was indescribable. A rush of warmth, of life force, flooding into him, dulling the burning thirst, filling the gnawing emptiness. It was powerful, addictive. He drank deeply, instinctively.
Around him, he heard his siblings feeding, the sounds guttural and raw. This wasn't the elegant, almost sensual feeding sometimes shown in the show; this was desperate, animalistic.
As the initial frenzy subsided, the world came back into focus. His thirst was sated, the burning gone, replaced by a humming energy, a feeling of immense power vibrating beneath his skin. He pulled away from the cow, blood staining his face. He looked down at his hands – they were steady, strong, his nails slightly elongated, sharp.
He looked at his reflection in a nearby water trough. His eyes were still wide, bright, but no longer dilated with hunger. His face was smeared with blood, his lips tinged red. He looked… different. More intense. More alive than he ever had, even in his old body.
'Okay. So that happened. Definitely a vampire. An Original Vampire. Holy crap.' The sheer absurdity of the situation finally hit him, even through the residual buzz of the feeding. He was an Original. The thing he'd spent years watching on screen, theorizing about, was him.
He turned and looked at his siblings. Kol was wiping blood from his chin, a manic grin on his face. Rebekah looked shaken but also exhilarated. Finn was composed, already regaining his solemn demeanor. Elijah was standing tall, observing them all with that familiar, assessing gaze. Klaus looked a mixture of horrified and awed by the power.
And they were all… more. More intense, more vibrant, radiating a new kind of energy that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"We are… changed," Elijah stated, his voice deeper, richer than it had been moments ago.
"We are strong," Mikael added, walking towards them, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Stronger than the wolves. Stronger than any who would threaten us."
Luãn felt it too. The strength. The speed. The heightened senses. He could hear the wind whistling through the trees miles away, the heartbeat of a mouse scurrying in the undergrowth, the distant murmur of terrified villagers hiding in their huts.
'Okay, check the stats,' his inner fanboy couldn't help but think. 'Super strength? Check. Super speed? Check. Super senses? Check. Healing? Probably. Compulsion? Let's not try that yet. What about the hybrid thing? Am I just a regular Original? Or...?'
He felt something else humming beneath the vampiric energy. Something… different. Not tied to blood or speed, but more intrinsic, like a different kind of power source within him. It was subtle, not as immediately obvious as the vampirism, but it was there.
He flexed his fingers, testing the new strength. He looked towards the forest, towards the distant howl of a wolf, now sounding less like a threat and more like prey. A predatory instinct, cold and sharp, flickered within him.
'This is new,' he thought, a touch of 'goofy' intruding on the primal feeling. 'Definitely levels up from 'can lift heavy groceries'. More like… 'can probably punch a hole through a wall'.'
He caught Rebekah's eye. She smiled, a hesitant, bloody smile. He smiled back, a wide, unrestrained grin that felt entirely new, fueled by the sheer rush of power and the bizarre reality of his situation.
"Well," Luãn said, breaking the tense silence, his voice also deeper, richer, carrying a subtle, new resonance. "That was… a lot."
Kol chuckled, a dark, amused sound. "A lot? It was incredible! I've never felt anything like it!"
"We must return to Mother," Finn said, ever the sensible one. "She will know what comes next."
They turned, walking back towards the clearing where Esther waited. Their movements were different now – faster, smoother, radiating an unnatural grace.
Luãn walked beside Elijah, who looked thoughtful, already observing the changes in his siblings.
"We are... different," Elijah mused aloud.
"We are Mikaelsons," Luãn said, meeting his brother's gaze. "Now, truly immortal. Truly unbreakable." He paused, a sly, slightly goofy smile touching his lips as a random thought popped into his head. 'Except for that damn tree. And maybe a few other things the writers haven't thought of yet.' "Though I suppose," he added, a hint of dry humor in his tone, "decorating our huts might become a bit tricky if we keep running into things."
Elijah actually blinked at him, a rare reaction, a flicker of surprise in his usually composed features before a faint, amused smile touched his lips. "Perhaps we shall require more durable furniture."
'Gotcha,' Luãn thought, a small victory. Injecting a little levity, a little unexpectedness, into the stoic future Original. This was part of his plan too – subtly shaping their interactions, their perceptions of each other, maybe even nudging them towards different paths, while pursuing his ultimate goal.
He looked back at the destroyed cattle pen, then towards the forest. He was an Original Vampire. And something more, something he didn't yet understand. The first step was complete. The power was his.
Now came the next thousand years. The fleeing from Mikael, the forming and breaking of bonds, the rise and fall of empires, the endless struggle. And his goal: to be the strongest, to not just survive, but to dominate. And maybe, just maybe, keep his family from complete self-destruction along the way.
He had a thousand years to figure out the rest. And a thousand years to get really, really good at this.