Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything. All rights go to their rightful owners. This is for entertainment, not profit.

Appearances: The King looks like Victor from the Underworld series. Queen Raven looks like Athena from Xena: Warrior Princess. Mikael's Half-Brother looks like the Prince (Sam Claflin) from Snow White and the Huntsman. Lazarus looks like Nicholas Cage in Season of the Witch. Rebekah (Rebekah Mikaelson's Namesake) looks like Cersei Lannister from the Game of Thrones TV Show. For Mikael and Esther just picture younger versions of Sebastian Roche and Alice Evans. In this chapter, Mikael is 16 and Esther is 10.

Chapter 1:

Mikael

The Old World

Mikael was clad in his armor as he walked down a long hall with purposeful strides. When in the sun, his golden armor gleamed. On his gauntlets, etchings along the cuff depicted a hunting scene. Dogs lead the crowned hunter onward toward a clutch of nested fowl. The greaves ornate etchings were inlaid with gold, and were intended as much for ceremony as for battle.

He was returning from a two-year-long battle that he doubted that the world would ever hear the end of. Despite being merely a boy of sixteen, he was already leading men into battle. The battle had not only gone smoothly, but perfectly. His men had had the fewest amounts of casualties than any battle in history. In the throne room that he headed toward, he could hear the sound of the party going on. Despite the fact that the party was meant to be in his honor, he noticed that it had started without him.

He motioned for the guards to open the doors to the throne room and they did so. As soon as he entered, all sound, music and voices stopped, just before the entire room erupted into applause. Multiple people shouted him praises, but it wasn't theirs that he wanted. His eyes were on the one who sat on the throne: the King, who was also his father. The Queen, Raven, was on the smaller throne beside him.

Mikael strode forward toward the thrones, slowing at first when the prince stepped out of the crowd and went up the steps to stand by their father, clad in his own black intimidating armor. The prince's eyes were cold as they watched him. Mikael ignored his brother as he continued forward, but as he nearly reached the steps, his father held out a hand to stop him from approaching further and Mikael came to an abrupt stop. The partygoers all watched tensely, as everyone was aware of his father's temperament, especially towards him.

His father just looked at him a moment before settling back in his throne. "I am surprised that you have returned, boy." His father had rarely ever used his given name, and it hurt that he still didn't use such now, even in public. "Considering how worthless your skills usually are on the training field, I expected to merely have your bones returned to me."

Mikael knew that he should just keep his mouth shut, but he had never learned to do so. "And how would you know of my skills? You have never bothered to watch me. And ask any of my trainers and they'll tell you just how skilled I am. I have won battles that lesser men could not, while you sat on a throne safely behind your walls while your subjects and son risked their lives for you, Father."

"Enough!" his father snapped as he shot to his feet. He stormed down the stairs, and paying no heed to the others in the room, backhanded him across the face hard enough to snap his head to the side. The partygoers all gasped as one, but no one dared to speak out in defense of him, too afraid of the King's wrath turning onto them. Mikael placed a hand to his lips to staunch the sudden blood flow, causing his father to instantly snap, "You are showing weakness! And in front of all my subjects and your men!"

Mikael immediately lowered his hand and allowed the blood to run from his lip to his chin. "And how would you like me to look strong, Your Majesty?" he asked, reverting back to the formal in an attempt to appease him. "It's kind of hard when you show me such brutality in front of your subjects and my men." He noticed the black fury in his father's eyes and could tell that he was two seconds from hitting him again and probably harder this time. "I didn't win the battle for them. I just…. I wanted to make you proud, Father." It was the wrong thing to say.

"You forget yourself!" his father said to him coldly. "You are not my son!" He pointed up the stairs at his brother. "Do you see him? He is my son, the Queen's son." He grabbed the medallion at his throat that bore his own seal, a white raven upon a black shield, and ripped it from him, causing his red cloak to fall to the floor, and held it up to him. "You wore this into battle to show your enemies and your allies alike who owns you. The rest were gifts of my good will. This…." He yanked his breastplate off and threw it aside, doing the same to his gauntlets. "All of it was given to you by me! And it wasn't because you're my son. It was because you are my property." He backhanded him again, hard enough to make him fall this time. "You were gifted to me by a tavern whore. Did you know that was what your mother was? And even she didn't want trash like you. That's why she threw you aside before killing herself for begetting you. You are nothing to me, but the bastard you were born to be."

Mikael avoided the looks of the others in the room, who had gone deathly silent, not a one of them brave enough to challenge the one they feared more than an enemy army. He looked up at his father. "I may be your bastard, but that still makes me your son."

His father actually smiled slowly at that. The utter contempt on his expression hurt even more than the hits. "I can't decide if you're bold or foolishly impulsive."

Raven, his stepmother, was smiling as she watched, and now spoke up. "Love, why not teach him a lesson for his impudence? Better yet, tell him the news." She had always hated him, due to the fact that he was a product and constant reminder of her husband's infidelity. She doted on his brother, while treating him like the bastard he was. Even his earliest memory of her was one that he would never forget. You can always tell a bastard from a trueborn child, she had said to him icily. All children carry the appearance of both their parents. Which is why your brother is perfect, and you might as well have been raised in the brothel that you were birthed in. Maybe we should have had you sold, make the kingdom even richer than it already is.

His father held out a hand and his half-brother went over to him. His father placed an arm around the prince's shoulders as he looked back down at Mikael. "I have named your younger brother my one and only heir." The partygoers uneasily clapped at the news, knowing the penalty for not showing a member of the royal family their "proper" homage, though Mikael knew that his fourteen-year-old half-brother had to be the least liked person in the entire realm. This was not good news to them, though he wouldn't have exactly been a better option for them. "Congratulate him," his father said to Mikael, ignoring the others in the room. Mikael merely moved to stand back up angrily, but his father kicked him back down. "Congratulate him, boy." He made a gesture and a servant quickly brought him a whip.

Mikael saw the whip and closed his eyes a moment before opening them again, looking at his half-brother. "Congratulations, Brother." He stayed silent as his half-brother whispered something to their father, keeping his eyes on Mikael icily.

His father nodded and addressed the ones gathered. "Lords and ladies of the court!" Everyone paid wary attention. "My son wishes a change in the celebrations, and I will grant it. This party will instead be to celebrate his crowning as my heir." More wary applause was given in answer to that announcement.

His half-brother smiled cruelly at their father's words. "I also wish a change in the entertainment." He looked straight at Mikael then. "I want my filthy bastard brother publicly beaten here in the throne room. It should teach him his place."

Their father held out the whip to him, which he took. "So granted. When you're finished with him, have the scolds beat him until midnight. He can prove his strength, by surviving till dawn," he said cruelly as he walked off, snapping his fingers to signal for his wife to follow, which she did.

Mikael merely watched his half-brother walk closer as the scolds appeared. His brother smirked and cracked the whip, actually making him flinch. "Some warrior you are. Afraid of me? I guess that makes me better than you."

"Or just adept at hiding behind our father and your guards," Mikael couldn't help retorting. If not for the fact he'd be executed if he did so, he would kick his brother's ass here and now, and easily, as his brother's fighting skills were truly horrible.

His half-brother's eyes darkened and became even crueler than usual. "Everyone here will join in on punishing him," he told the partygoers. "Any who don't will have their hands cut from them, will be beaten themselves, and their families will be executed. Running would not be advisable." When some actually moved to speak up, his half-brother continued in a merciless tone, "And any who speak up in my brother's defense will have their tongues ripped from their mouths!" No one spoke, causing his half-brother to smirk.

Snapping the whip again, Mikael not even flinching this time, his half-brother commenced with the beating.

Mikael woke up in utter agony. He was only faintly aware that he had been going in and out of consciousness. He was used to this happening though. His parents' and brother's beatings tended to vary in terms of severity, and this wasn't the first time that he had been left near death. Every single part of his body hurt. It even hurt to blink, though it didn't help that he was being blinded by sunlight. He attempted to look around, but the pain caused him to nearly spasm as he sucked his breath in sharply.

"Don't move too much," a woman suddenly said. Her voice was not unkind, but he still didn't trust her. He trusted no one. He had never really known the sound of kindness. He was a bastard, and society had deemed them unworthy of such. "And do so carefully. You were hurt badly and have been out for days." That was a severe understatement. He said nothing though. He was unsure if he even could, and one thing his family had taught him was to never show weakness. Everyone would always and undoubtedly take advantage. He didn't even look at her. If she had been one of the ones in the throne room, his humiliation would only be that much worse. "My name is Rebekah. I'm a witch. I've given you some potions and done a few spells. And you've been bandaged. You should heal, but for a while there I was unsure if you'd survive." Mikael remained silent, and for a moment he almost wished that he had died. Rebekah sighed. "I must go. But my daughter will remain to tend you. Her father and I will come to get her once you are well."

"Wait," Mikael stopped her as he heard her stand from the chair by his bed. His voice came out a mere weak whisper. He only now realized that he was in his room at the castle. He didn't consider the place home. As far as he was concerned, he had none. "…. Thank you." The woman said nothing as she left then.

He started to just go to sleep again, but was interrupted by another voice, again female. It was most likely the witch's daughter. "Can you stay awake for a bit?" she said. "You need to eat and have some water. It will help you heal." Mikael turned to her at the sound of her voice, moving more carefully this time. He had no idea why, but the sound of her voice actually soothed him. She was a beautiful girl, and probably no more than ten. "Oh. Now you bother to look? Would you honor me by speaking to me as well, my prince?"

"I'm not a prince," Mikael responded, his voice stronger this time, but still hoarse. He could taste the potions that they had given him now, as his mouth tasted bitter.

The girl tilted her head as she glanced over at him, busying herself with ladling what appeared to be broth into a bowl. "Are you not? More so than your brother is. You're handsome, if I may be so bold as to say so." She blushed lightly. "And my father has told me that you're the greatest warrior of your time. I've always pictured warriors as brave, honorable and proud."

"You're naïve, girl," Mikael responded. His voice was not unkind though, which surprised him. Normally his inner rage and hatred caused him to be much more callous towards others. But for some reason, he couldn't be cruel to her. "What is your name?"

The girl came over to him and placed the bowl of broth on the nightstand beside him. "Esther," she said to him with a smile. "And you are a prince… Mikael. As fine of one as I have ever seen." Mikael looked at her strangely at her words, but for once in his life, he felt at peace. He reached for the bowl of broth slowly, wincing as pain knifed through him again. Esther moved his hand back down, her touch soft and even gentle. "Water first." She picked up a cup full of water and started to help him sip it, but he just took it from her and forced himself not to flinch in pain as he sipped it. Only when he finished the water, after a time, as he couldn't gulp it down, as much as he wanted to, did she let him have the broth. She gifted him with a smile when he managed to eat it without help. "A proud one, are you?"

"And here I thought that that had fled with my dignity," Mikael responded, actually earning a laugh. "Find my pain amusing, do you?"

Esther shook her head. "I find it… uplifting. That you can take such a beating and retain your sense of humor, and your good heart."

Mikael frowned at her words, more at her last words than anything. Good heart? She was adorably naïve. He wasn't good. He treated her with the kindness that she was due. The same with her mother whom he now owed a debt to. But others got very different treatment. Sixteen years of abuse and near torture, of feeling a deep inner rage and hatred, had caused him to earn the title of bastard. He could become hostile, aggressive and extremely violent at the slightest provocation, real or imagined; he was cold and he was bad tempered, with an attitude that got him in trouble more often than not. And he loved the sight of fear. He also tended to degrade and talk down to others, despite his own station, having surprisingly high standards.

Mikael raised a hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand gently. "Your light just makes me kinder. For now. But my dear, you have no idea what I'm capable of."

Esther was silent a long moment, just looking at him. She then raised a tentative hand and placed it to his as she leaned her cheek against his hand. "Will you show me?" she whispered.

Mikael merely smiled and managed to sit up, leaning toward her as if to kiss her, but not doing so. "Oh, I intend to, love."

Esther walked along with her parents as they walked the halls of the castle, an arm in each of theirs as she walked between them. She wished that her father would stop talking. He kept asking her about Prince Mikael. Not that he was really a prince. But he might as well have been. Other than the King, Queen and the heir, everyone treated him like a prince.

Over the past few weeks, as she stayed in the castle to tend him, she had learned more about him, and about his life. He was treated horribly by his father, stepmother and half-brother, to the point that while normally someone treated by her mother and herself would have healed in days, it had taken him weeks, since he continually got hurt, which tended to reopen past wounds. But more importantly, she had learned about Mikael himself.

The gravest of his wounds were not physical, but emotional, and definitely mental. The rage and hatred he carried went deeper than anyone would ever know, deeper than anyone she has met, which included those in sanitariums that she sometimes went to with her mother. Every day, the well of it seemed to only get deeper and deeper. But she had noticed that his hatred was not just directed outward. Of all people, Mikael despised his family the most, and rightly so from what she'd seen. But there was one person, and only one, whom he hated even more so: himself. And that wasn't even the worst of it.

Mikael was not the prince that she had at first thought he was. He had told her that he would show her what he was capable of, and he had, many times. He hurt people, tortured them, killed them, and it never mattered whom, sometimes even women and children. There was sometimes a reason, other times there was none, sometimes he'd cause a reason himself, and still other times there was a reason, but not a good one. During the latter times, in the beginning, she had thought him illogical, and some of his reasons were completely pointless or inane. But then she had learned. It wasn't that he actually believed the reasons valid, because even he knew that they were not; he merely didn't care. He took any reason to harm others. She had asked him once why, and it was not something that she would ever do again.

Most times, Mikael was kind to her, a gentleman and gallant. Other times… he scared her. The slightest thing could set him off, and sometimes he even hurt her. His reaction after he did or lack of one rather, scared her even more, if possible.

They stopped outside of Mikael's room. On the floor of the castle that they were in, there were multiple rooms. The King, Queen and heir had several each. And Mikael only had the last. One room. Esther removed her arms from that of her parents, but she couldn't knock. She didn't want to see him. He was well again. There was no reason for them to come to see him. Her mother nudged her toward the door though, so she reluctantly knocked.

Mikael opened the door a bit later, which she knew was because he was expecting a beating at any moment. One of her opinions about him that had never changed was that he was handsome, and he was, but unfortunately the curtains didn't match the window in his case. He opened the door wider to let them in. "Come on in." They walked inside. Despite the fact that Mikael only had one room, it was vast at least. He looked at her. "I was hoping that I'd see all of you again." He really only meant her and her mother. He didn't like her father, Lazarus, much, but she and her mother had to be the only ones that he genuinely liked. "I wasn't expecting to though."

"We wanted to make sure that you were really well," her mother said to him politely.

Mikael shrugged to that. "I expect my good health will last only so long, milady." Her mother didn't seem to know what to say to that. Mikael pretended not to notice her sudden discomfort. Mikael had that effect on people. Despite what brutality had turned him into, he surprisingly spoke of his life casually, albeit with a hidden edge to his words. "Your daughter has taken excellent care of me, and has provided me with much needed company. Which is why I had something to ask the both of you, my lord, milady. May I ask for her hand in marriage?" Esther froze where she stood. No. She took her mother's hand, causing her to look down at her, and Esther gave her mother a pleading look. "I am aware that she is not of age yet, but it can be a betrothal, and we can marry when she is of age."

Her mother thankfully noticed the look and looked back at Mikael. "We are honored by the request, of course, my prince."

Mikael's expression darkened as he sensed what was coming. "Of course."

Her mother paused at the new note in his tone, but went on nervously. "But—"

Her father suddenly waved at them both to be silent, and her mother instantly went quiet. "Esther will marry you, my prince. She'll accept." Esther started to argue, but her father gave her a look. "Graciously." Esther was silent and her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Will your parents agree to the match?"

Mikael's look darkened even more, but he was also clearly happy at the acceptance. "I have informed them of my plans. My father has disowned me. He does not wish those of magic in the family, you see. Regardless, I have my own riches, and have bought my own land. And I am still extremely wealthy. I will be leaving the castle as soon as I gather my things and will send a raven when I have settled."

His father inclined his head. "Being a wealthy landowner still places you in the high class, my lord. We shall go then, and leave you to pack." He ushered her and her mother out.

Once they were away, Esther snapped a look at her father. "Father, please. You don't know what kind of man he is. Being married to him, being the mother of his children, it will be hell."

Her father stopped walking and spun toward her. "Do you know what is hell, Esther? Being married to a demon and having another for a daughter. That's hell. Your magic is unholy. But it seems that you have done something right for once, Daughter, getting the eye of one such as Mikael. The marriage will make me not want for anything. Just when you do beget more demons? Make sure to do as your mother does. When he inevitably hurts them, smile prettily, and mind your tongue." He walked off then.

Esther shook her head, tears in her eyes. She looked at her mother. "Mother? Please—"

"He's right, Esther," her mother told her, not looking at her. "A good wife does as she is told. It is not her place to question her husband or his actions." She walked off too then.

Esther was left in the hall, tears pouring down her cheeks. Both she and her father were wrong. Hell was what they were all in now.