ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ
1914 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐎𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬.
"It is curious," Darcy mentioned, her unique accent runing out of her lips like syrup. Her old, ocean blue orbs glistened as they bore into a similar set of eyes. Hers seemed so ancient compared to the wide, excited ones of the taller woman "to see a witch as lovely as you dating my brother."
The witch's eyes sparkled, knowing something the original didn't "Oh, it's not really a date."
Darcy narrowed her eyes, glancing at Kol over the witch's shoulder, before shifting them back to meet the witch's gaze "For your sake, I hope so. I love my brother, I really do. But, he has a track record with women." Darcy tilted her head "Do I know you, from somewhere, someplace? You seem familar. Some how."
The witch's smile widened, the original before her wasn't someone you forgot easily. With her beauty, her strange accent - a cocktail of Swedish and British - and her eyes. So old. So cold. Constantly appearing as if they were to unleash a tear - despite the original's wishes "So do you."
Darcy raised her head, brows narrowing. She kept a long stare before she claspped the witch's forearm, in a friendly impression, leaning forward, whispering in her ear "You can do better."
She withdrew smoothly. Heading for the staircase, taking a confident stance next to her only full blooded brother: Klaus, before lifting her gaze and shot a smile to Kol. Who grinned at her. His normal mischief swirling in his orbs. Rebekah and Marcel joined the group, stepping on the end of the stairs. Darcy turned her head, raising it with pride, lips twisted in a light smirk. The camera man shot a picture of them before Klaus tapped a fork against his glass, earning the guests attention.
"As you know," Klaus began, gazing over the compound, eyes light and lips seemingly cheerful "when the Mikaelsons arrived in Louisiana, we brought with us, the tradition of hoilday bonfire season. Now we invite you chosen few, to join us in our family's own tradition of writing wishes for each other and burning them for luck." Kol tilted his head, smirking, gaze aimed at Klaus "The holidays are a time for celebrating family and friends." Klaus met Rebekah and Marcel's gazes breifly "It is espectially gratifying in times when treachery runs deep-" Kol's face dropped, eyes drifting to his older brother. Whilst his sister frowned at the look on his face, what had he down now? "-to know you have someone you can trust."
Darcy looked towards Klaus. She knew he was up to something. Klaus raised his arm, hoisting his glass in the air "A toast," Kol's brows furrowed as Darcy narrowed her eyes, worried for her youngest brother "to you my sister, to Rebekah."
Kol started to make his way hurriedly to the upper floor. Elijah moved to let him pass, as Darcy moved to follow. Kol sent a harsh glare to his brother, as he passed. Elijah sped after him. Darcy growled, brows drew in a fierce glare, stepping to interfere. Rebekah grabbed her arm, sending a pleading look which was missed, due to her orbs sticking to Kol's movements.
Elijah blocked his path. Kol's glare heated, turning on his heel to find Klaus before him. Elijah withstrained him. Klaus smiled, turning to address their guests as Kol gritted his teeth with fustration.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the disturbance. What's a Mikaelson family party without a little squabble." He produced a dagger before stabbing it in Kol's chest, as he screamed.
Darcy growled deeply making Rebekah's smirk fall. The elder sister ripped her arm from the younger one's grasp and sped towards the brothers. Grabbing Klaus by the shoulders before throwing him on to the wall. Hand around his throat.
"Careful, sister." Klaus warned.
"You can't dagger me, Niklaus." She seethed, baring her teeth and shoving her hand into his chest, rapping her fingers around his heart, Klaus gaspped, wide eyed "We're the same, you and I. Let's see how long it takes you to come back this time."
"Do that and you'll never see your precious Kol again." He warned, but they both knew, he never actually endangered their daggered sibings. Darcy's eyes hardened, knowing if she retaliated by hurting or threatening his precious Rebekah, he'd do the same to Kol. And she wouldn't do that. She knew what she would do. She'd beat him at his own threat.
"Not by your hand." She smirked sarcasticly, breifly raising her brows before ripping his heart out. Marcel gulped as did Rebekah, eyes peeled on the angry sister. Who shifted her gaze to Elijah, who bowed his head in shame. Later that night, Darcy left but not before leaving fire in her wake.
_________
1916, 𝑾𝒚𝒄𝒉 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅.
Something had shifted in the world. People, mortal, witch, werewolf, vampire a like suffered under the sleepy sickness. In which all manner of people feel asleep like normal, and never were able to be woken up. The cases had been ripe since earlier in the year. Darcy, herself was not effected by it, but she certainly knew about it. The sickness was especially ripe in London, but also everywhere. The original found it curious how even vampires were affected by it.
Darcy wasn't one for parties in general, but this spacific night, crashing one was necessary. A witch had contacted her, claiming that she had a way to put down her father; Mikael. Suspicion ran deep, and lurked in her being. There was no way a witch's offer to help an Original was ever genuine. But, there was little ways of dealing with Mikael. And, sometimes, there's an odd ball, a rule break in the nature lackeys' rank - no offence to nature it's self. Darcy supected it that it had long since moved on and adapted. It was just the witches who were ignorant and short-sighted.
Adored in gold gloves who's sleeves stretched up to halfway up the humerus - upper - part of her arm. Flattering the deep, v-necked, gloomy royal blue dress, perfectly. The shining garment's skirt made no difficulty to her movements. The original entered the grand house smoothly, blending with crowd. The stench of witch hit her nose like a mallet. She followed the trail, which led to a corridor underground. She scanned the area, getting a annoyed and fed up. She detested being messed about.
She scrowled, turning to enter a room, her gaze landed on a giant glass ball bound by a odd structure. A figure - a man sat inside, knees bent under his elbows, his gaze down-casted. He had raven black hair, pale white skin. Her features loosened. He was entirely bare - creatures claimed her, her family and every bad apple of the supernatural community were unkind - humans tended to be crueler. How cold and alone he must be. She understood how he must feel. She understood what if felt like to be caged. Confinded to one's own thoughts, own mind - Kol had explained what it felt like, being daggered "What the hell..." she raspped in disbelief.
He raised his head, eyes flying to the original, surprise written in his features. Sliver met blue. The incaged being felt the dangerous arua omitting from the woman in royal blue. He observed cautiously. Darcy slowly, but cautiously crept to the glass cage. Keeping eye contact with the ravenette as she halt, breifly glancing at the golden markings on the floor: witches. Darcy lifted her gaze, meeting the stranger's eyes. Their eyes peered into the other's, observing.
"Well," Darcy raised her brows, eyes breifly widening "this won't do." He perked up, eyes wider, it was a change to not having demands thrown at him. A wicked glint flickered in the original's eyes, a smirk picked up her lips "I'd mind the face, love."
She warned, before lifting her fist - making him frown, was she made? She wouldn't have enough strength to break the glass. She punched the glass, a crack appeared...not too small. Not too big. His lower lip fell, eyes broadened, but trained on the crack. Before shifting to the blonde. How? How can someone - anyone have unnatural strength.
"You came."
Darcy sighed, a unsettling glare - similar to her brother Klaus's - stretched over her face. She gave a look to the incaged man as if she were saying 'I'll be with you in a moment.' before turning "I did." She seethed, narrowing her eyes "It is strange a witch offering help to someone like me, of their, own free will." She stalked forward "Screams dodgy."
"I'm genuiue," the witch swore, wisbly shaking "I swear."
"Do you?" Darcy raised her brows, not believing a word of it, she was paranoid like the rest of her siblings "I assume you are aware of what befalls thoses who..." she glanced upwards to the left, brows furrowed ''...how do I put it..." her expression returned to a glare "...had over."
The witch scrowled.
"There it is." Darcy stalked forward "What is this?! Witch!"
"Your brother condemned my cousin. Now, I'll do the same to you." The witch informed as if she had a chance of getting out alive "She's here."
A growl slipped though Darcy's lips. A old man appeared, followed by a boy, he looked at the original, addressing the witch "Is this it? The way to bring my son back?"
Darcy's lips twitched, amusment swirled in her eyes, she laughed "She told you that? Bringing back the dead is more of her kind's thing. She's had you over, mate."
A glare formed on the man's face "Tell me!"
"Enough!" Darcy growled, her voice bounced around the room powerfully, yet she had not raised her voice. She turned her sights on the witch "How dare you comand me! Threaten me!" She sped toward her only for her brain to burst, growling deeply, she reopened her eyes, hand straying from her skull, a cold glint in her eyes - so cold it put Klaus and Katherine's to shame "After I kill you, I'm going to hunt down everyone you know, and everyone you love."
She sped but was thrown to the wall, on the right of the cage. The original roared angerily, attenpting to move her arms. The witch trembled, finding that her coven were right; Klaus's sister, the Greatest Shieldmaiden in the whole of Norway, was not one to cross. But she couldn't turn back now. The original's arms were forced behind her, twisting around the column enbeded in the wall. The mortal flagged in a pair of men, who carefully, managed to chain the original. Darcy shot a hard glare at the witch, only for darkness to consume her sight.
Her neck had been snapped.
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