How Would You Paint Me?

If you were an artist

How would you paint me?

With deep solid strokes

Or your brush sweeping softly?

Would you paint me by number?

Quickly fill in the lines or sketch me first, taking your time?

Would you use vibrant colours

Or plain shades of grey?

Would you change me in anyway?

Would you hang me proudly

And gaze at me often?

Or tuck me away

Until I'm forgotten?

Christy Ann Martine

Oh How The Mighty Have Changed Indeed. Vincent thought as he made his way into the vast, previously luxurious home of the Mikaelsons. The once stunning palace is now broken and dusty, giving everyone visual proof on how much had changed during the past five years.

What hadn't changed was the constant way the Mikaelsons managed to dominate New Orleans the minute they set foot into the ground. The numerous amounts of people that despise them and the countless amounts of threats they have brought upon this city doesn't matter. They just walk in, create chaos, and drag in everyone else, making them their collateral damage.

And yet, here he walked, right into their home, ready to play tune to their song, hoping that he doesn't end up dead at the end of this. But he needed their help. Because this time, he brought in the danger. So he has to do anything humanly possible to get rid of it, even if it includes aligning with a family of ancient, selfish vampires.

He looked at Marcel, who walked beside him. Although he didn't completely trust the man enough, he could shove his pride and admit that the vampire has grown into a loyal and honorary friend during the last five years. Marcel looked at him questionably, disbelief evident on his face.

"Hey, we can think of another way. We don't need to make more deals with the Mikaelsons then necessary." He told him.

Vincent shook his head and swallowed the remains of his pride.

"No man. We need all the power we can get if we're going to defeat The Hallow. And there is nothing more powerful than the spells in Esther Mikaelson's grimoire."

"Except for The Hallow." Marcel countered back.

Ya. Except for that. Vincent murmured under his breath, stopping at the middle of the house and wondering which Mikaelson to call.

"Ah. Vincent, Marcellus. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Klaus Mikaelson himself walked down the great steps and Vincent internally cringed at the prospect of dealing with the worst Mikaelson of them all.

"We need your help." Vincent said before Klaus could even finish his sentence.

"Of course you do. What is it this time? Which one of your petty friends got themselves into a mess that we Mikaelsons have to pull them out of?" He cockily asked with a smirk evident on his face.

Vincent internally took a deep breath, knowing that he couldn't argue with Klaus if he wanted the grimoire.

"Esther Mikaelson's grimoire. It contains loads of spells. Hopefully one that would help us defeat the Hallow." He explained quickly, combining his explanation with his request to speed the conversation up a notch.

"And tell me why you thought that I would grant you possession of the most powerful spell book mankind has ever set eyes on?" He looked genuinely shocked.

Vincent wasn't surprised, he knew that it would take a load of convincing to acquire the book, and he was prepared for it.

"Look man, we are fighting the same evil. And I don't want to have to team up with you as much as you don't want to rely on me, but we ain't got no choice. Now, your mother's grimoire along with the Hollow's book could possibly contain some sort of spell we can use to put her away." He needed that book. But he wasn't going to go beg at Klaus' feet for it. He was going to lose a lot in this war but pride was not one of them.

"Klaus we're not looking for a fight..." Marcel began, but Klaus interrupted him.

"Alright, I'll give you the grimoire. Under a requirement that Freya must accompany you along for the spell."

Vincent deviated from Marcel arguing as to why Freya was necessary when he saw the brief flash of ginger hair, which he knew belonged to the littlest Mikaelson of the house. He then saw Hayley vamp speed to the chaise longue, place what seemed like a covered canvas on the sofa and speed back into the room, while Hope tentatively walked out.

"And what's wrong with Freya? She's clearly the more powerful witch and the spell will probably work better when someone of Mikaelson blood is performing it." Klaus argued with Marcel who was starting to lose patience. Marcel only ever lost his patience around the Mikaelsons; he'd always turn into a time bomb around them.

"What's wrong is you sending your sister to babysit us and to make sure that we..." Marcel immediately quieted down when he saw the little girl walking towards her father.

Klaus noticed his attention stray, turned around in the same direction, and spotted his daughter. Although he had seen it many times when Hope Mikaelson made an appearance, Vincent could never contain his surprise when Klaus' eyes would immediately soften when she did.

She walked right up to Klaus and nervously stringed her fingers together, looking at the ground for a few seconds before she concentrated her aqua eyes on him and Marcel. Vincent felt himself shift slightly at the scrutiny of her gaze and her furrowed brows. She inched closer to her father, who lightly placed a hand on her back, presumably to keep her from falling.

"You've already met Marcel, Hope. And I'm sure you remember Vincent. They're helping me defeat the Hallow" Klaus filled in for her.

Both Marcel and Vincent hear her mumbled 'hi' before Klaus knelt down so that he was eye to eye with Hope.

"What's wrong love?" He asked her.

"I need to show you something." Hope told him, nervousness laced in her voice.

"Is it the blue light?" His voice was calm, but Vincent could hear the anger simmering in the bottom.

"No it's just...Close your eyes." Hope's voice grew ever so slightly, indicating her confidence.

"What?" Klaus seemed sceptical.

Hope rolled her eyes and shook her head disappointingly at her father for not being able to understand such a specific command. Opting to take matters into her own hands, she walked around so the she was behind him and placed both her tiny, delicate hands over her father's eyes, effectively leaving him blind.

"Hope..." Klaus started, but never got to finishing.

"Stand up dad." Hope told her father, to which he immediately and willingly obliged.

He slowly stood up, and his daughter had found a way to perch on his shoulders, her hands still covered his eyes. The slight smile on the hybrid's face was noticeable, as was the excitement on the tribrid's face.

"Now, walk straight." Hope commanded, and after releasing a small chuckle, Klaus did as she said.

"May I ask what is going on?" He amusedly said.

"I have a surprise for you. Now keep walking straight until I tell you to stop" Hope responded.

"Yes Ma'am."

The little witch placed her chin on top of Klaus' head as he slowly walked closer and closer towards the hidden painting. His arms stretched out in front of him to understand his surroundings and his legs shuffled on the ground in case he bumped into something. Overall, seeing the almighty Klaus Mikaelson like this was extremely comical.

"Okay, you can stop now." Hope said when they arrived directly in front of the mysterious painting.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Klaus good-naturedly asked his daughter.

"No, not yet. Keep your eyes closed." Hope warningly told him.

She removed her hands from her father's eyes, which remained closed, and he blindly carried her off his shoulder and onto the ground. She tore the white blanket of the canvas and said,

"You can open them now."

Vincent could hear Klaus' sharp intake of breath from where he was standing. Or maybe it was his.

The painting was absolutely phenomenal, way too advanced for anything a seven year old could accomplish. It was a painting of Klaus carrying what seemed like a newborn Hope. The baby looked beautiful, precisely how he imagined the girl to look like when born during the occasional times he saw her in the past. However, the picture of Klaus made him feel slightly disoriented.

The picture looked exactly like him, but at the same time not. It had his facial features, the same coloured eyes, same shaped nose, and the curls on his hair were almost identical to his own.

The Klaus Vincent knew had hard, cold eyes; merciless and harsh. He never really smiled, just smirked or glared. His cheeks were usually hollowed in and his face was usually devoid of colour, so that it would show no emotion. The Klaus Vincent knew was emotionless.

Painting Klaus' eyes were bright with joy and love. The green orbs twinkled with pride and crinkled at the edge to emphasize happiness. His white teeth were visible due to the wide smile, which could have been a laugh, on his face. His whole face was soft; a word that no one would even dare use to describe the hybrid. But, as painting Klaus looked at his daughter, he looked soft and gentle, so unlike the murderer he is.

"You painted this?" Klaus breathed out, finally awake from his trance.

"No, not exactly. Aunt Freya showed me a new spell. I took my first memory of you and put it into paper. Almost like a photo since mom said we didn't take any when I was born." she hesitated before asking him,

"Do...you like it?"

It was then that Klaus realized why his daughter was so nervous before. He bent down to her level, scooped her up into the air and twirled her, making her squeal in laughter.

"I love it Hope. This is by far the best gift anyone has ever given me." He said with a huge smile on his face, a smile so similar to the painting, it made Vincent's jaw open.

Klaus gently put Hope back down and lifted up the painting, examining it closely, then from a distance. He turned to his daughter and asked her,

"Where should we hang it?"

"Hmm, maybe in your room. On top of the desk where you keep all your brushes and paint." Hope suggested and Klaus nodded agreeably.

He held the painting with one hand and picked up Hope with the other and made his way to the steps all the while calling out,

"Hayley, our child is an art prodigy!"

On mid-step, he stopped and turned to face Vincent and Marcel, displaying his great balance skills.

"I'll bring my mother's grimoire when I come down."

And with that, he disappeared up the steps.

Moments Later...

Oh How The Mighty Have Changed Indeed. Vincent thought as he made his way out of the Mikaelson compound, Esther Mikaelson's grimoire tucked safely away in his bag, and Freya Mikaelson's phone number in his contact list for when they perform the spell.

Klaus was in an exultant mood after his gift, which boded really well for Vincent since the hybrid handed his mother's spell book over without a flinch of doubt or a second glance. All he did was brag about how his daughter was the most talented witch the world would ever see and how she was a child prodigy. For a moment, Vincent saw the pride and happiness of most dads whose children accomplished something great, it was something that he could have potentially been, if not for the Hallow.

Vincent turned to Marcel, who offered to walk with him to his home in case the Hallow decided to make a reappearance. God forbid she takes Esther's grimoire because something tells him that Klaus won't be as generous next time.

"Who knew that all it took was a little girl and a painting to tame the beast?" Vincent spoke to both Marcel and himself.

"Na, it didn't take a little girl and a painting. It took Klaus Mikaelson's daughter and a painting of him holding said daughter for the first time."

Oh How The Mighty Have Changed Indeed.