𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄. Blitzkrieg,

"YOU'RE WASTING YOUR TIME," DAMON IGNORED HIS BROTHER'S WORDS, CONTINUING TO HIT THE COFFIN WITH THE METAL SHOVEL. Stefan walked to him, stopping in front of the other contained that contained Klaus' siblings. "It won't open." He continued, making Damon throw the shovel to the ground in frustration.

Damon nodded sardonically, breathing heavily from the force he used trying to even dent the coffin—he tried smashing it, setting it on fire, had Bonnie run spells all night yet nothing seemed to cause any damage to wooden box. Irritated, he began pacing around the old witch house. "Alright, Klaus has 6 siblings."

He paused, turning to his brother as he listed. "Rebekah is now with Klaus. There was one dead kid in the old world, one dead kid in the new world, which leaves Elijah and two others. Three sleeping originals, four coffins. So, who is in the locked box?"

Stefan looked uninterested as he ran a finger over the dust-covered surface of the coffin. "No idea," his brother shrugged. "But whatever is in here, Bonnie seems to think will help us kill Klaus. So, the sooner she can get this open, the sooner we will know if she's right."

Damon opened his mouth to retort but the sound of footsteps approaching caught his attention. Turning around, he saw Bonnie and Elena approaching; judging by the doppelgänger's expression, she isn't very happy by being kept in the dark about the coffins.

"What the hell are you doing?" Stefan demanded as the two girls entered the room.

Bonnie looked at Stefan with hard eyes, unapologetic. "I needed her to know about the coffin." She turned to Elena, who crossed her arms over her chest as she looked around. "I've been having these dreams for days now. It's like the witches are trying to send me a message. Stefan thought, if you knew where the coffins were, Klaus could threaten people to get the information out of you."

"I just can't believe that you guys kept this from me this whole time," Elena's eyebrows furrowed. At Stefan's irritated scoff, she turned to her ex-boyfriend. "So, what are you gonna do now that I know, Stefan? Are you gonna kidnap me, so that I won't tell anyone?"

Stefan looked at her coldly. "Don't tempt me, Elena."

"I think I know who can open the coffin, Stefan." Bonnie interrupted the pair. "And I need Elena to help me find her." At the vampire's confusion, she pulled out a picture out of her mother, showing it to the Salvatore brothers as Elena gasped. "It's my mom."

Damon looked at Bonnie curiously, intrigued by Elena's reaction. "I'm sure there's some sad, tragic story to explain that reaction that will make me shed a few tears but to be honest Bonnie," the vampire raised his hand mockingly. "I don't really care about your mommy issues right now. Let's go get the old voodoo hag,"

"Damon!" Elena chastised, looking horrified.

Bonnie's grip on the photograph tightened. "I don't know where she is—she ran away fifteen years ago."

The vampire rolled his eyes at Elena's displeasure, taking the picture from Bonnie hands as he walked out the room. "I'll be back with some info, then. The sooner we will open that coffin, the sooner we can get rid of those pesky hybrids and the Original freak show."




















ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN, KLAUS MIKAELSON SAT CALMLY WITH A GLASS OF BOURBON AT HAND. Staring at the brown amber liquid, he thought of the great wars and all those terrifying offensive strategies that led to victories; personally, he preferred methods like Blitzkrieg, concentrated forces to overwhelm the enemy, rapid speed to break through.

A guaranteed battle victory for the strongest side—but even someone as short-tempered as him realizes that it is strategy, nothing else, that truly warranties victory in the final hours of a war.

He let out a low chuckle as the door of the Salvatore manor opened.

Stefan glared at him as he drew near, far too hatred in his eyes for someone who has flipped the switch. "What are you doing here, Klaus?" The youngling vampire asked.

Several thoughts filtered through Klaus' brain within second—the fourth and fifth ribs for the heart, the quickest way to the tear the neck ligaments protecting the spinal cord to paralyze him—but he smiled at the vampire instead. "Enjoying our stalemate," he said simply.

"What do you want?" Stefan clenched his jaw, hovering above the sitting hybrid threateningly.

Klaus wondered if the difference in height made him feel better, more powerful and in control; simple gestures please weaker men, Finn taught him as a young boy.

"The question is what you want?" Klaus asked lightly. "My hybrids left town as you demanded, so please tell me what I need to do to get my family back."

Stefan smiled, arrogant as if fate is on his side. "Well, see, Klaus. I'm not negotiating." He looked at him with prideful disgust, a champion making demands of those he deemed lesser.

Klaus returned his gaze fully—an outsider's revulsion meant nothing to him.

He is a Mikaelson. The urge insult back and establish himself as the alpha is strong, to shatter apart the Salvatore bone by bone is undeniable, but his family's safety is compromised. He'll allow the young, foolish vampire to strut as vain as a peacock for once.

Klaus couldn't hold back the smile teetering at the edge of his lips. "And you understand, that holding them indefinitely is the same thing as dropping them in the ocean?"

"No, no." Stefan pretended to think. "You leave Mystic Falls and then give me call in a few years and we'll talk."

Klaus took a long sip of the bourbon, nodding. "I'm going to give you another chance," he decided. "Just one more—for your sake, let's make a reasonable deal."

Stefan grinned, leaning close as he mocked the hybrid. "Or what? You make one move and I will drop..."

A laugh escaped Klaus. He looked at the ceiling of the Salvatore's home, imagining it up in flames. "Yes, that's right." He said. "Crazy Stefan. How is that working out for you? Any friends left?"

His phone buzzed; a message from one of his hybrids. He glanced at the vampire, just a young child trying to play the role of a dictator with a blue-blooded king, Klaus marveled over his naïvety. To think he can cross an Original as many times as he has and still survive at the end.

Niklaus has a choice to make. It all depends on the Salvatore brothers and their will to remain alive.

Patience, tolerance, self-restraint—virtues he does not value but has grown to appreciate throughout his long life.

Blitzkrieg did not win the war for Germany, after all.

















DAMON HURRIED TO THE WITCH HOUSE, ANTICIPATION FORCING HIM TO RUN FASTER. Elena had called him, urgent as she retold him the events that went down at Abby Bennett's home; Klaus knew. He tried to remain his nonchalant attitude as he stepped down the old, unstable steps of the witch burial ground—all the candles remained burning and the coffins were still cloaked by the spirits.

Damon entered slowly, looking around for signs of Klaus. He heard the heavy footsteps of the Original but couldn't tell where they emanate from.

"What took you so long?" Klaus' voice rose goosebumps. Damon jumped, turning to see the hybrid approaching from behind calmly. He tensed up at Klaus' unreadable appearance, immediately on edge. As long as he has known the hybrid, he has only expressed two modes: an egomaniac bastard with the righteous of a suburban mother arguing with a manager with tear in his eyes, or an overpowered child with massive anger and trust issues planning his next evil masterplan.

Somehow, a silent Klaus unnerved him more than anything.

The hybrid walked around him, relaxed as he spoke. "Hiding behind your witchy friends. And in squalor, no less."

Suddenly, the candles burnt brighter, and Klaus let out a choked snarl of pain.

Damon couldn't stop his smirk. "Insulting a bunch of dead witches...not smart. I made the exact same mistake first time I came in here." But unlike Demon, the hybrid seemed to handle the pain a lot better than him; already standing straight in show of resilience, growling the only sign of a strain as the witches cursed him.

"Well, you know, the funny thing about witches is, that living or death, they care about their own." Klaus gained a manic look in his eyes, grunting as the pain increased. "A hundred dead witches have a thousand living descendants. And I have no problem killing every last one of them, if I don't get my coffins back."

The pain didn't subside. "Ayana," he addressed directly through a hiss. "Our deal is annulled if you do not show me my coffins. As we speak, my hybrid friend is prepared to end your precious line."

Damon's eyes widen as the candles died down, Klaus straightening as if nothing happened. "Now..." The Original scowled. "Show me the coffins!"

At his command, the cloaking spell lifted to reveal his coffins; immediately, most likely out of habit, Klaus' eyes scanned over them as he counted them.

His whole body tensed.

"Where's the fourth?" Klaus ordered in a monotone. When nothing happened, a deep growl ripped its way out of his chest; it was enough to even scare Damon as he shouted at the room. "Show me! Ayana, where's the fourth?"

Damon grinned victoriously. "Well, here's the thing. They can't. It's not here."

"Bonnie gave me the heads-up." He continued. "I didn't have enough time, to get all four, but I did have time to get on—"

He choked on his words as the hybrid turned to him, wrapping his hand around Damon's throat. For the first time since Klaus' arrival to the town, Damon truly feared for his life. It was haunting—no words could describe the hybrid's expression as his eyes burnt a petrifying amber, black webs surfacing, muscles visibly constricting underneath his skin as fangs grew.

He expected threats, promises of being shredded apart that he has heard dozens of times already. But Klaus remained silent, snarling as grip tightened around Damon's neck. His vision began to blur, unable to breathe or speak. For a second, the fire of the candles burnt brighter than ever before, the flames reflecting perfectly in Klaus' unforgiving blue eyes.

"I've made my choice," the hybrid said simply.

Damon's neck snapped before he could begin to decipher what his words could mean.















____
𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐒
𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 & 𝘝𝘰𝘵𝘦 !

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I merged a few scenes to make it shorter since TVD has a fondness for jumps in time and location that aren't logical. Also, I 'm starting to tweak the dialogue a bit. + Next chapter! We'll finally get the family together!

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