chapter 1

It had been over a hundred years since Kol Mikaelson last stepped into the city of New Orleans, Louisiana, and while there were things that had changed, everywhere he looked he could still see the those that made him love the city so much. People were partying left, right and center in the French Quarter and witches still lined the streets. With a trained eye like his, it wasn't too hard to tell them apart from the rest of the tourist driving crowd.

Kol would've come back to the city a lot sooner, but he'd been caught up in his mother's supposed ideals for bringing their family back together after a thousand years, and her betrayal had sent him packing off to Denver to become friends with the Gilbert boy, all for the sake of leverage against the witch who would save their lives. He'd been willing to do that for his own self-preservation, but no one knew how truly pleased he was when he was finally able to get away from his fake persona in Denver - not before beating up Damon Salvatore - and take off to the one place that he'd wanted to be ever since he woke up and realized that he was no longer there.

New Orleans.

The Crescent City.

Neither Klaus, Elijah nor Rebekah would tell him why they'd left, no matter how much Kol pestered them about it. He'd sensed a lot of bad memories and resentment for the time after he was daggered, but he'd never possessed enough tact that would persuade him to stop digging in his sibling's wounds. Still, his constant questions got him nowhere with any of them.

When he asked after Marcel, their responses had been the same and they continued to tell him nothing.

That was part of the reason he came back.

To find out what happened.

His siblings weren't the only ones that poured their hearts into the city. Kol had his own fair share of influence over what New Orleans became and his own connections to the place, mainly with the witches of the French Quarter.

That brought him to where he was, standing in the middle of Bourbon Street and admiring the appropriately named area around him.

However, as much as Kol wanted to go grab a drink at one of the many bars and relive past memories, he instead made his first stop in the Quarter the place where he, Nik, Rebekah, Elijah and Finn's coffin had lived for centuries.

The compound that they'd built themselves when their influence in the city began to grow.

Despite the fact that it had been over a hundred years, it didn't prevent Kol from striding in like he owned the place, and at one point he had. The place had gone under an extreme makeover, and he glanced around for the perpetrators as he entered. Moving around the main courtyard were several people who all turned to look at the intrusion, carrying themselves with a similar arrogance that Kol had, though he didn't appreciate it on anyone but himself.

"Who the hell are you?" A dark skinned man with large hair and a slightly squashed head came up to him, shoving himself in Kol's face with his demand for an answer. Attitude like that had never gone well with him and his eyes flashed at the unwelcome proximity to this inferior specimen.

"I don't think you should talk to me like that. It would be very unwise." Kol told him, drawing himself up against the man and sizing him up. It was then that he noticed the specific style of ring on his hand that he would recognize anywhere. A daylight ring. "You're a vampire." He observed, wondering what species had gone to these days if someone like this was an immortal.

As if on cue, the vampire lunged forward, fangs bared and eyes red. Kol didn't even blink at the attack and snapped his neck in a flash, not even bothering with the niceties of allowing the vampire to land a hit on him. As soon as this happened, the others began to move forward, all baring their fangs at him too.

Kol hadn't expected his old family home to be overrun by a number of seemingly unintelligent day walking vampires, none of which he recognized from his time in the city, which lead him to believe that they weren't all that old.

It would make them that much easier to kill. Killing young vampires was about as exhausting as swatting a fly.

"What's going on here?" Another voice called out from one of the balconies, this one someone that Kol recognized.

He restrained from ripping out some of the vampires hearts in exchange for looking up with a cheerful smile on his face.

"Kol Mikaelson?"

"Marcel Gerard. It's been a long time hasn't it?"

"So Klaus finally let you out of the coffin he's been keeping you in?" Marcel asked as he poured Kol a drink from a bottle of very aged wine, actually from a year that Kol remembered not being daggered through. They were in one of the top rooms of the compound and from there Kol could see the vampires that had tried to attack him, still milling around the place.

"After only a century, yes." Kol said, taking a sip of the drink before nodding towards the vampires. "Are those all yours?" He'd seen how they'd stopped their attack at Marcel's word and their apparent devotion hadn't been lost on him.

"Well someone had to takeover when your siblings fled the place." Marcel said, earning a surprised glance from Kol as he got a glimpse of the story that Nik had refused to tell him.

"Fled?" He raised an eyebrow. He found that hard to believe but Marcel didn't blink at Kol's surprise.

"About eight years after you were daggered, your daddy found his way to New Orleans and left the place burning while your siblings ran and left me for dead." Marcel didn't bother sparing the gritty details. "However, as you can see, I managed to survive and I rebuilt this city for the ashes. Those out there are my guys and the vampires run the city now. Werewolves aren't a problem and neither are the witches. Everything's under my control."

Kol smirked. Marcel hadn't changed that much. He'd always been a little arrogant and absorbed with the possibilities that came with power and possessing it. Kol had always liked that part of him, even if he'd never been as close to Marcel as Klaus and Rebekah had. Though he didn't dwell on that, not when he still had question and was in the presence of someone who didn't seem hell bent on denying them from him. "How did Mikael find them here?"

"No clue." Marcel replied, almost a little too quickly. "But he left when they did and I can tell you that he hasn't been back here since, and neither have your siblings. Not since 1919."

"1919." Kol mused over the year. That particular century seemed like only a few months ago to him and it was hard to remember sometimes that decades had actually passed.

"So, how are you adapting to modern times?" Marcel asked with a slight smirk. Kol knew that he was all too familiar with Klaus' enjoyment of keeping them daggered for a long time.

"Quite well, but as you know, I've already had to do that a few times here and there." Kol told him. "Though, the advancements mankind has made in the last hundred years have been quite astonishing I will admit."

His favorites were the cell phones and computers. It had taken him a while to grasp the concept of a laptop but while Nik hadn't exactly been forthcoming with information relating to New Orleans, he had given Kol the rundown of this century's new technology and thus he was quite adept with using one now.

Kol didn't know how long he spent with Marcel, drinking and talking and filling him in with everything he knew about his family's current endeavors while Marcel told him more about New Orleans' development in the time that he'd been daggered, but at some point Kol stood up with the intention of taking his leave.

"It's been quite enjoyable to catch up with an old friend, Marcel." Kol informed him as he headed to the door. "But the sun's going down and I think I'd like to see what a party is like in the French Quarter these days. I have a lot to catch up on after all."

"Wait!" Marcel hurriedly stood up as Kol made to leave, grabbing onto the Original vampire's arm in a manner that usually would have Kol rip it off, but Marcel was lucky that he could be considered close to him.

"What is it?" He asked, surprised by the sudden outburst, though he was able to hide it well.

"You used to run with the witches didn't you?" Marcel asked, though he didn't wait for any clarification on the matter. "How much do you know about ancestral magic? You spent a lot of time with the French Quarter coven didn't you?"

Kol's eyes narrowed. "I guess I can say that I know quite a bit. I was quite close with the witches in my time." He replied carefully, digging a little. "I thought you said the witches weren't a problem."

"The coven, they're not really the problem right now. I have a way to stop them from practicing magic"- Kol raised his eyebrows at this - "but the way is more of the problem. Did you ever know anything about the harvest ritual that the witches performed? They did it every three hundred years to renew their power from their ancestors."

Kol shook his head. "I was close to the witches but there were always some secrets that they would never share with me, especially not considering that Niklaus was my brother and that had a certain taint to my reputation among them." He told Marcel. "I do know that ancestral magic does require sacrifice to renew the power though. New blood to join the old and restore the balance and flow. Chances are the coven here is bound by a like this ritual too."

Marcel nodded. "They are, but what if it wasn't completed?"

"They would lose their magic. They'd be cut off from their ancestors and would have to draw from other types of power if they wanted to continue practicing. Nature, dark magic, even expression, but they are all much more dangerous and taxing to the witch or warlock than ancestral magic is." Kol said, drawing upon centuries of knowledge to answer these questions before asking one of his own. "Why are you so interested in this?"

"Because I need help with something, and I think you might be the only one that can help me." Marcel replied.

It was something that Kol never thought he would see, Marcel asking for help, and usually he didn't indulge people's requests for his aid but the talk of magic and sacrifice had peaked his interest.

"Go on."

"You're right about the sacrifice. A few weeks ago they were about to complete their harvest ritual and sacrifice four teenaged girls to the ancestors, with the supposed promise of resurrection, but I don't believe they were to return because they tricked the girls into their deaths. I found out about this and you could say I tried to stop it to prevent them from renewing their power, but I was also disgusted knowing that they had to kill kids for this." Marcel said, looking faraway as he spoke. Kol could understand his reasoning, knowing full well how Marcel had grown up. He'd always had a think for protecting children. "There were three of them that I wasn't able to save, but one of them is still alive. Davina. I'm hiding her from the witches because they still want to kill her."

"And what do you need my help with?"

"Davina is very powerful. She has the power of the three other girls who died combined with her own, but she can't control it. If she gets angry, sad, it all comes bursting out of her and it's hard to hide her when she's surging magic all over the place."

Marcel lowered his voice, as if the next words were something that he thought might offend Kol, or that they were something that shouldn't be spoken. "Your mother was a witch, and you were a warlock before you turned into a vampire. You've spent so much time with witches that you might be able to help her control her powers." As an afterthought he added, "Not to mention that I think she's willing to learn."

Kol wouldn't deny that he knew a thing or two about what Marcel was talking about and he did want to stay in New Orleans for a while. The thought of an all-powerful albeit inexperienced teenage witch was kind of amusing too. "Well with Nik and Rebekah shaking up in some stupid little town and Elijah being god knows where, I think I might stick around and see what I can do."

He would also never admit that between his siblings disregard or desire to use him for their own gain, it was nice to be wanted by someone for his expertize, a change from the expectation for him to follow along with Nik that was the usual fare for someone with the last name 'Mikaelson'.