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Hunter H. Mikaelson had been twelve years old 29 times throughout the centuries, and each time he managed to find a new way to piss of Mikael. Yet, no matter what he did, or how much his father yelled, Hunter always knew Mikael would never abandon him. Mikael had made a promise after all, and he could never break his word.

"The de-aging is both a blessing and a curse." Mikael had told Hunter, when he gave the boy his own—apparently magical—Viking arm-ring. It was one of Hunter's favorite memories of his father and it came to pass in a warm summer night, as they sat around a fire, in the woods of Britain. It was the first time Hunter made it to his twelfth birthday and Mikael seemed to be overjoyed.

"This will allow you to keep your powers and live for as long as you wear it." He informed, frowning as though the words left a bad taste on his mouth, "It will heal you faster. But—," his eyes held a strange light as he messed with his son's hair. 

"Sometimes new starts can get old, my boy." 

Hunter frowned, "I won't get bored. If that's what you mean." He retorted, raising his chin to face Mikael. "As long as I have you, I'll always be alright. Won't I ?"

Mikael beamed like a bloody fool as he heard his son's words. That night, after a light session of pleading, he even agreed to sing a lullaby  to help his son sleep. He went as far as letting Hunter rest his head on his chest as the boy fell asleep. Still, he could not help but whisper before he son closed his eyes:

"Just because you won't die, doesn't mean you can be foolish!"

His voice was stern and full of worry. Yet Hunter chuckled softly, hiding his smile from his father.

Even at a young age, Hunter knew why his father had given him the arm-ring. It was the same instinct which had prompted Mikael to turn all of his children into vampires. In the end it was always simple. The old Viking only ever wanted one thing: to let his children be as foolish as they wished to be without facing any consequences. 

Of course, he could have done such a thing without elaborate curses. But Mikael knew more about curses, wars and pain than he knew about trust and love. Hunter wouldn't be surprised if his father had turned him into a monster.

At least this way, Mikael would not have to worry about losing his little boy and Hunter would never have to lose a piece of himself. 

Or so they both hoped.

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Mikael never liked to talk about his children. 

Hunter had to annoy Mikael to the edge of madness before he reluctantly agreed to say a few words about his children. Even then, the boy had to use his all wits to put the pieces of the story together, and his imagination to fill in the missing parts. 

However, Mikael told the story of his hunt a few times over the years, when it was absolutely necessary. He would always be brief about it. Only mentioning what people needed to know. Esther’s name was always the first he spoke, closely followed by Henrik’s. The lie Klaus told his siblings was rarely even suggested, but he made sure to speak of his children in a better light, as though he simply lost them. For him they were never monsters, not even when he heard of the evil deeds they had done. 

The only exception to such rule had to be Klaus. Yet if Mikael saw his bastard son as a monster, he never said so out loud. Mikael never talked about Niklaus, and Hunter thought his father would never do so, not even under torture. It took Hunter centuries to understand the true nature of his father’s mission. He had never heard Mikael say he would kill Klaus when he found him. Sometimes, even after there should be no doubt about Mikael’s intentions for his bastard son’s future, Hunter did not believe Mikael actually wanted to kill Klaus.

Hunter knew better than to doubt his father. But he also knew Mikael well enough to catch when his father tried to lie. 

 After a few years, Mikael added massacres to the list of things he was to avenge. But first, he would get testimony of the survivors, making sure he would not blame Klaus for something he had not done. Still, the list grew ever longer. Mikael made sure never to mention Klaus’ werewolf side as a reason for his hunt. If Hunter had not shown signs of being a werewolf himself, perhaps Mikael would have been comfortable in calling Niklaus a beast. But if his son was not a monster solely for his nature, then neither was Klaus.

Finn and Kol’s names started to be mentioned in the later centuries when Mikael realized it was more than likely that Klaus had somehow neutralized both of them. Mikael would clutch his fists on such occasions, enraged by the circumstances his sons may find themselves in, and saddened by the thought their own brother was to blame for their pain. He only hoped Klaus had used daggers and not… Well, Mikael was more than certain he had all the remaining White Oak Stakes. Yet the thought he might have missed one stake crossed his mind. Still, for as much as he might hate Niklaus, Mikael doubted his son’s cruelty could reach such a level. 

There were moments, brief and far between, when Hunter thought his father was having second thoughts about his mission. Mikael always rushed to pursue a lead on Klaus’ whereabouts, and it always made Hunter furious. How could he not, when Mikael chose Niklaus over Hunter time and time again? 

But once they arrived at the place, Mikael would dwell on memories. He would go slowly, strolling through the city or village. Not enthusiastically; nor to be seen or feared. Not even to gloat over his victory. 

Mikael would simply wait. Yet he always looked undecided while he waited. As though he wanted his children to know he was there; as though he wanted them to run. 

Hunter thought Mikael did not know what to do with himself. The old Viking had never thought about what life would be like after he killed Klaus, and perhaps he never wanted to. Hunter saw his father freeze a hundred times. Each time he could have killed Klaus, if only he had moved to do so. Yet he did not.

Mikael would simply stay still, staring and waiting. He would go out of his way to be cruel, to make Klaus fear him. But he hardly ever actually attacked Niklaus. Even when he tried to harm his bastard son, Mikael would hesitate during the fight. Only for a moment, only long enough for his children to run away. 

Hunter always wondered if his father truly wanted to catch his children… or if there was some other reason behind his never ending hunt…

Still, part of him could not help but hate Mikael. Hunter hated his father for his hunt. He detested the way his mission consumed Mikael, devouring his soul, and destroying every chance he had to be truly happy. Though, most of all, Hunter loathed how Mikael left him, over and over, to chase after Klaus. 

Mikael always chose Niklaus. 

Until the day he didn’t…

But Hunter could never stay angry with his father for long. 

Besides, for all he knew about Cruel Bastard, all the massacres and stories, Hunter never managed to hate Klaus either.

The boy always had a nature too kind for such a foul thing as Hate. 

Or that least, that is what Mikael told him, when they saw each other for the last time. 

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Hunter had seen Death before.

 It would be a lie to say Mikael did not attempt to keep his son—and all his children—as further away from the bloodbaths he usually found himself in. Hunter knew his father would have chewed off his hand to keep his children safe and innocent. Yet, as always, Mikael was powerless against Fate.

Hunter hated the sight of blood. The gruesomeness of it all often made him sick. Of course, he was no stranger to violence. No matter how Mikael tried to keep Hunter away from it all; the word bloodshed was so closely connected to the word Mikaelson. It was unavoidable.

After his first kill, Hunter cried like a damn baby, as if he was a newborn, being pushed mercilessly into a cruel world for the first time. Mikael was by his side, making Hunter feel safe.

“The arm-ring will keep the wolf curse away, my boy. It will.” Mikael repeated frantically, while wrapping his arms around his son’s body. “It will be alright. You did nothing wrong. It’s alright, my boy. I’m right here, you’re safe. I’m not going anywhere...”

Hunter never loved Mikael more. It was one of his favorite memories of his father. It always put a smile on Mikael’s face to recall their past ‘adventures’ as he liked to call them. Hunter laughed every time Mikael reenacted the first time his son saw him bleeding.

“I could never call my boy a mute,” Mikael would say, as Hunter almost died from laughing after hearing his father’s impersonation of a screaming child. “But his little scream even surprised me! Damn all the Gods, I didn’t even knew children could scream that bloody loud…”

 Yet when he saw his father’s burning body, Hunter’s voice died in his throat. His legs failed him, forcing him to sit on the lawn, watching his one and only family burn to death.

It was almost ironic. Sadistically ironic.

Hunter had never been a quiet child. It would often annoy Mikael, but it was undeniable he preferred his son’s unending chatter over voices in his own head.

 Fortunately, Hunter was the sort of boy who would wake up at 2am, jump out of bed, run to his father’s office, without caring about the noise his small feet made echo through the halls of their house. He knew Mikael rarely slept through the entire night. The Viking often stayed in his studio, reading newspapers and looking for hidden clues in them. It was the perfect opportunity for Hunter to crawl into his father’s lap, place his head under Mikael’s chin and ask the most ridiculous questions.

“Do you think plants have feelings, father?” Hunter asked Mikael during a stormy night in the late 1950s. “Do you think they get sad when we say they cannot feel a thing?”

Mikael chuckled, “I think it’s far too late for this sort of talk.” Mikael let Hunter rest his head against his shoulder as he carried the boy back to his room. “And I think that little head of yours needs some rest,” he laid his son down, gently messing with Hunter’s hair. “Before it has any more brilliant ideas and I end up with a house filled with talking plants.” He gently pressed his son’s nose, while a smile took hold f his lips.

Hunter chuckled, but no more ideas graced his mind that night. Instead, his father laid beside him, and told him some of his favorite stories. With his head comfortably rested on Mikael’s chest, Hunter soon fell asleep.

 In the next morning, Hunter found Mikael sitting by the kitchen table, with his head buried into a dozen biology books. Of course he would try to find an answer to his son’s question. He had to. What kind of father would he be if he didn’t?

Mikael smiled at his boy as he put down the books. After messing with his son’t hair, he marched to the stove to prepare the most delicious breakfast. Hunter’s favorite. Mikael was happy when his son was happy. He did everything with a smile on his face.

His smile. Hunter clung to that image as if his life depended upon it. Though perhaps it did. If he forgot Mikael’s smile, what else would he have? How could Hunter prove his father was not the monster Klaus claimed he was, if he could not remember the way Mikael messed with his hair and made him laugh?

What else did he have but his memories?

 The thought of resurrecting Mikael burned in his mind as soon as he saw the flames, and it stayed there for months on end. He would dream of the fire, the ever-hungry and cruel fire; replaying the scene over and over until he knew it by heart.

The day Hunter realized he could hear his father’s death screams in the singing of birds, he knew he had to do something. Yet without his father’s ashes, there was little he could do. Part of him, the kind and soft side Mikael so desperately fought to protect, wish to let his rage go away. More than anything, Hunter begged for the Gods to let him forgive Niklaus.

Klaus was a mighty adversary, even without his siblings, and apparently he had all of them by his side. Besides, even Mikael knew that, for as good of a fighter as Hunter was, his boy was no cold-blooded killer. Not to mention Hunter’s inability to think of Klaus as a monster.

Mikael’s obsession with Klaus ruined them both. Hunter had to watch pain and rage stop his father every time he had a chance of being truly happy. No, Mikael would never ask Hunter to continue his crusade against Klaus.

Fate, however, had no issue asking such a thing from the (currently) youngest Mikaelson. After all, Nature always had a strange way of getting what it wants, no matter the costs.

So Hunter swore vengeance. If he could not mourn Mikael properly, then he would avenge his father’s death, killing the monster the old Viking had chased for a thousand years. Hunter promised he would do so, even if it killed him…. Because he could promise nothing else.... or so he thought.

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***

The smell of flames would haunt Klaus Mikaelson for a thousand eternities.

It reminded of his mother's cruelest spell...the one she used to curse Mikael and Klaus to an eternity of misery.

Klaus always knew Mikael loved them. Of course he did. The man beamed like a fool whenever he looked at his children, smiling during dinner. He loved them so much he had almost died dozens of times trying to keep them safe...

But the curse Esther put on Mikael...it had to make him hate his children...How else would he be able to accomplish his mission?

Niklaus never loathed his mother more than when she told them her plan.

Apparently , she had hoped Mikael would agree to locking away Klaus' werewolf side, but when Mikael did not, claiming their son would never be a monster, no matter what his nature said, and solemnly declaring his love for their son, Esther decide to speed up her spells.

Klaus could still hear Mikael's screams. His father had tried to stop the spell before Esther completed it. Once Mikael realized he could do nothing about it, he used his gift and protect his son. Mikael took Klaus' pain upon himself, so his son would not feel the curse, so he would not feel the loss of a part of himself. It worked, partially.

Klaus could feel himself losing his father's love. 

"You'll be alright, my boy." Mikael whispered, the chains on his wrists tinkling as he moved closer to Klaus, who sobbed miserably. Esther had manipulated her sons into tying down their father and brother. 

"Please, father...I'm sorry." Klaus muttered as his father softly touched his cheek.

"It's alright. Everything will be alright, my son." He said, softly touching his forehead on his son's. "Some day you'll all be free from my mistakes." Mikael held back a sob. "Some day you'll be happy, my boy. Odin, help me, I'll make sure of it if it's the last thing I do..."

"It's time." Esther said, the flames around them burning brighter. "Your father is right. It'll be alright..." she smiled, a cruel and cold smile which frightened Klaus to his bones.

Although, perhaps, in his mother's  mind, it was a kindness. Esther thought it would be better to have Mikael be the one to kill Klaus, to punish him for his future atrocities... And so she cursed her husband to be the "protector of humanity". He was supposed to hunt down his children and, whenever they did something cruel, Mikael was supposed to punish them. In most cases, the punishment he was supposed to inflict on his children, according to Esther's judgement from the Other Side, was death itself.

Klaus had being condemned to death at least a 100 times by his mother. But his father never tried to deliver the punishment. 

Mikael always found them. He sometimes was cruel, the voices Esther put in his head were too loud for him not to listen. Not to mention the pain, the awful pain he felt whenever he refused to hurt his children. His bones would twist and break, and every wound he ever had inflicted upon his body would reopen...all in a desperate attempt to force Mikael to kill his children.

Yet he never tried to harm his child. Mikael would approach them slowly, telling them all the awful things they had done. He urged them to do better, be kinder so Esther would not try to harm them through him.

Still, after years, Mikael gave up on trying to reason with his children. He had asked them to be better too many times, and they had ignored him. 

So, when he arrived in New Orleans, Mikael simply scared his children, he did so with the least amount of killing. The witches and werewolves had manipulated Marcel and Rebekah's love, using them to lure Mikael in the hopes he would kill Klaus...they should have known better.

Mikael took them down. But not before they could hurt Marcel and Elijah. The trap was ready, but the enemies of the Mikaelsons needed the Destroyer for it to succeed. 

Thankfully, Mikael would rather die than harm his children. 

So, as he sat behind Klaus in the Opera House, Mikael pulled out the stake with the intention of giving it to his son. 

"Niklaus..." he whispered tenderly, his hand reaching for his son's shoulder.

"Father." Klaus spited. "Has mother sent you to kill me again, or are you on vacation?" He jested, his voice trembling as he tried to sound much more confident than he actually was.

Mikael chuckled. "No. I'm afraid a vacation is out of question for me." He smiled, sighing as he watched his son. "You know I never wanted to harm you, my boy...right?" He added quietly, his voice unsteady.

"Why not?" Klaus cried, tears burning his eyes. "I'm a monster according to mother. I've killed and destroyed thousands of lives just for the sake of doing it..."

 "You are not a bad person, my boy." Mikael blurted out, finally touching his son's shoulder. "You're mother is not right about you. You're not a monster"

Klaus tensed under his father's touch. "Have you broken the curse?" The words flew out of his mouth, his heart drumming in his chest. 

 Perhaps, this time, Mikael would run with them. This time they would be a family again, with their father by their side, guiding them to a better path....For the first time in centuries, Niklaus let himself hope.

"No." Mikael said dryly. "The witches and werewolves were plotting against you." He went on, too afraid to hear his son's reply on the matter of his curse. "I've taken down some of their leaders. But they attacked Rebekah and Elijah. I kept them safe in a side room here in the Opera. I broke their necks, but they should wake soon. I'm afraid your werewolf...lady friend is dead. Or helping in the plot against you." He sighed, hearing his bones breaking. 

"You have little time. I couldn't find your protégé, Marcel. If he's alive, I'll make sure he's alright. But now you must go, my boy. Now." He fell to his knees, panting, trying to hide his pain.

"Have you ever even tried to break the curse?" He cried out, turning back to face his father.

"Did you hear anything I said, boy?" Mikael yelled back, over the sick laughter of the crowded theater—a courtesy of the witches spell. "We don't have time for this. You must—."

"Run?" Klaus raged, his eyes burning Mikael's soul away. "I've been running all my life, and for what?" He chuckled bitterly. "She'll always find me guilty of one thing or another and you..." he bit his tongue, desperate to stop himself from crying in front of his father. "You will never break your curse, will you?" He looked at the stage, the curtains had not yet been lifted. 

"Perhaps you think I deserve it too, don't you father?" Klaus spited out, his lips trembling. "Perhaps you even enjoy torturing me..." the words had a foul taste, and he regretted even thinking them.

"Don't you dare." Mikael cried, grabbing his son's tie and forcing Klaus to look at him. "Don't you dare say I enjoy this, Niklaus..." his voice trembling, he stared at his son. "Every night, I think about a way to end this. A way to set you free from this and all our curses..." he sighed, letting go of Klaus' tie and placing his hand on his shoulder. "Only your mother, or death, can break the curse placed on me..." he lowered his eyes, showing Klaus the white oak stake.

"Father, please—I'm so—."

"Take it." 

"I-I can't." Klaus cried, as his father forced the stake into his hand. "I won't kill you... I refuse to!"

Mikael chuckled. "Well and I refuse to hurt you, my boy." He coughed, blood dripping from his lips. "But we both know what happens when I don't do what your mother wants..."

"No." Klaus shook his head. "I won't..."

"Maybe not today." Mikael sighed, letting his forehead meet his son's. "But someday you'll break your werewolf curse..."

"No." Klaus sobbed, holding on to his father's arms.

"Some day you'll be strong enough to do it." Mikael wrapped his arms around his son, pulling Klaus into a hug. "I want you to do it. I want you to be free...I want to be free..."

Klaus let his head fall on his father's shoulder and cried. Mourning the life and the hope he would never have again.

When the witches set fire to the Opera House, Mikael dragged his children out of it. Leaving them alone on the streets, he went back to help put the fire out. Meanwhile, his children got separated and fled for their lives.

Just as Klaus carried Rebekah to his car, he locked eyes with a young blonde boy, no older than 12. His eyes left a hole in Klaus' heart. But the boy smiled at Niklaus and disappeared. 

Klaus never mentioned him to anyone. Which was not at all surprising.

The Mikaelsons had all chosen long ago to tell a different story. It was far too painful to admit his father was cursed. A curse always seemed to imply they could save Mikael, and perhaps he could. But while he was still a madman...the mere thought of hope, hurt them too much.

So, when they told their story, Mikael was always a madman. The monster, the devil hunter, the Destroyer. 

He was never just a puppet for their mother's cruelty. It would be an offense of Mikael's skills and warrior's honor. And it would be the truth. A truth none of them could ever face. 

Yet Klaus followed at least part of his father's advice. He did all he could to run and hide, always searching for a way to break his own curse. But Niklaus never tried to be kind again.

Partially because he could never see the point. But also because madly, Klaus hoped to see his father again, and kindness never gave away his location. 

Kindness could never free neither Mikael nor Klaus. So who could blame the Original Hybrid for choosing cruelty?

Klaus broke his werewolf curse with all the rage and cruelty he had in his heart. And he waited for the day he could free his father.

Sadly, Fate had other plans for Mikael, Klaus and Hunter, the young boy Niklaus saw as he fled from his home.

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The worst thing about the smell of flames, however, was how it brought back to Klaus' mind the images of his father's burning body...

Mikael was never the perfect father. But he was a damn good one. Everyone in their village could attest to it. If asked, anyone would have said Mikael would give his life to protect his children...

Still, he yelled too much. Mikael tried not to, but after so many years fighting in meaningless wars, being beaten down no matter what he did, and watching his people dying from countless plagues, he was too afraid for his children's safety... too paranoid about some imminent danger surrounding them at all times.

But he never harmed his children. Sometimes, they thought he would. Other fathers, men as angry and less scary than Mikael, would have done so, but not him. Never Mikael. He would raise his hand during arguments—especially with Niklaus, who was always too alike Mikael for his own good—and his children would tremble, thinking he would strike them down. But he never did.

Mikael always caught himself before the beast of rage inside his heart won. He would sigh, as his hand fell softly over his child's shoulder, and, with a tender smile, Mikael tried to explain why, for example: "Sword fighting while drunk is a terrible idea, Niklaus..."

Even when the Mikaelsons still forced themselves to believe their father was a monster, none of them ever claimed Mikael had been a monster in their youth. It would be too much of a lie. He had been the kindest and most attentive father any of them could have hoped for. Yet, as the years went by, they could no longer say he was a good father.

Niklaus never thought much about being a father. If he had, he would have been terrified of being an awful one. After all, he was a horrible brother.... good brothers don't dagger their siblings and leave them rooting in coffins for centuries.

But Klaus was an even worst son.... What kind of child kills their parents?

Sure, Esther had cursed him when Klaus killed her, and he spent a thousand years paying for his mistake. But she was still his mother. Besides, his mother was right about him, wasn't she? All of Esther's fears of Klaus becoming a monster and terrifying innocents had come to pass....

But what about Mikael? What about the centuries Mikael spent suffering just so he could allow his children a few more years of freedom? What about the kind and loving man his father once was? The man who always tried to make his children laugh; who would have carved out his heart to make sure his little ones had a happy life.

Mikael was the best and most fearsome warrior in their village. In Norway, years after his presumed death, there were still songs about his achievements, his conquests. It was through such songs that the Mikaelsons learned about their father's tragic past... But, in the end, all the Great Destroyer ever wanted was to be a father. This much had always been clear in the way he talked and cared for his children... He loved when his sons and daughter crawled over to his lap. Mikael even joked, saying his greatest achievement was never to tear down the gates of Rome, but to be able to hold all of his children at the same time, allowing them to sleep comfortably in his lap...

No. Niklaus had no excuse for killing his father. Not when he could still remember his father's most tender moments...

Once, when Klaus was still a boy, he woke up crying from a nightmare. Mikael promptly jumped out of his bed and rushed to his son. He took Klaus away from his siblings and let him sit on his lap until he fell asleep again.

"So," Mikael said, once it became clear Klaus was doing everything in his power to stay awake. "Do you wish to tell me about your bad dreams, my boy?" he asked, hugging his son. "Maybe there's some evil monster I can scare off?" Mikael messed with Klaus' hair, smiling softly.

Niklaus shook his head."There's no monster, father...." he muttered, his small fingers playing with his father's necklace. "I-I dreamt you left me alone in the woods..." he sniffed, trying to hide his tearful eyes. "Because y-you didn't want me anymore..." he cried, quick sobs cutting his breath.

"That's nonsense!" Mikael said, barely refraining from yelling. "Niklaus, you know that, don't you?" Mikael asked, concern mapping his face as he held his son tightly against his chest. "You know---you must know I'd never abandon you, my boy.... where the hell did those ideas come from, Klaus?"

"Sometimes..." Klaus sniffed, his voice low. "I think I'll do something stupid and you'll stop loving me, father..." a quick sob cut his breath. "Because I can't make you proud so you won't—you won't love me..."

"Look at me." Mikael let go of his son, grabbing his arms and raising the boy high enough to hold his gaze. "I will never stop loving you, Niklaus. No matter what you do. I will love you always and forever. Until my last breathe and beyond..."

And Mikael did.

Between 1914 and 2010, Mikael had learned a bit of acting. He played the part well. Letting Elena and the Salvatores believe he actually wanted to harm Klaus. It all worked as Mikael had planned. He knew what to say to let his son know it was time...time to put an end to their curse.

Mikael only prayed his boy would not hold back. Klaus did not disappoint him...

So, when Klaus carved the white oak stake into his father's chest, Mikael smiled.

The old Viking had his back pressed against the cold asphalt as his son stood over him.

Klaus' eyes shined with horror when he realized what he had done.

He could still hear his father's cruel words ringing in his ears. Sometimes Esther could speak through Mikael. It was one of the most painful moments, and Klaus was aware of it. Yet, he allowed himself to be baited. Klaus let himself commit an atrocity... kill the father he loved, to escape his mother's cruelty.

It was what Mikael wanted. But Niklaus hated his father for his sacrifice almost as much as he loathed himself for the sin he had committed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He repeated, desperation and sobs muffling his words. "Please God, please let me take it back..." Klaus muttered as he tried to pull out the stake.

But Mikael held his son's hand in place, keeping it over the stake with one of his hands. With the other, he softly touched Klaus' cheek.

"You're free now, my boy. We both are." He whispered, a smile on his lips, as his skin turned gray. "Don't waste your life being cruel. Don't be the monster your mother thought you to be. You have a good heart, my son." He chuckled, holding back a scream when his chest started to burn. Mikael pushed Klaus aside, making sure the flames killing him would not harm his son.

"No." Klaus screamed, trying to put out the fire with his hand. "No. God, please. No..."

 "You have so much greatness in you, my sweet boy." Mikael said, touching his son's face. "Be kind. Be a good brother. And for fuck's sake, don't be afraid to be happy." He smiled, tears mapping his face and his voice growing weaker. "You deserve to be happy. You and your siblings." He sighed, feeling his final breath drawing nearer.

"Father, I'm-I'm sorry..." Klaus stuttered, tears burning his eyes almost as malignant as the flames consumed his father.

"It's alright, my boy. I'm so proud of you. You've been so, so brave." Mikael smiled, gently cleaning a tear from Klaus' face with his thumb. "I love you, Niklaus. Now, always and forever..." he beamed, his eyes shining with a peaceful happiness. "I..." Mikael added, as though he had just remembered an important secret. "You need to know about your—."

The flames devoured Mikael before he could finish. Whatever secret he was about to tell Klaus died with Mikael. It was lost alongside Niklaus' last chance of redemption and happiness.

Klaus sat down beside his father, watching the fire burn out, as part of his father's ashes flew away in the wind. There, hugging his knees close to his chest and crying until dawn, Klaus swore to never be a father.

 Being a vampire made it easier, of course. But even if he could, Niklaus promised himself never to do it. How could he curse another human to this tragedy?

Besides, if Mikael, the strongest, kindest and most devoted father Niklaus had ever seen; if Mikael could not protect his children from misery, if he could not make sure his family was happy.... What hope was left for Klaus?

As Klaus swore his oath to never know fatherhood, he heard another cry. Someone else was mourning Mikael's death....and whoever it was, they were nearby.

Raising his head, Klaus gazed around the yard of his new house. His eyes fell on a boy, no older than 14, with blond messy hair and deep blue eyes which stared straight at Mikael's burning body. The boy had fallen to his knees, sobbing quietly.

With a hollow heart, Klaus opened and closed his mouth. Desperate to think of something to say, something that could fix his mistakes. In his soul, he wanted to make that boy smile.

"Did you know him?" Klaus whispered halfheartedly, almost afraid of the answer. He knew the boy was too far away to hear him, unless he had supernatural abilities. But perhaps....

"Yes." the boy replied, holding back a sob, his eyes still fixed on the flames. "I know him better than you do..." he said, his voice low and full of rage. Yet, he still avoided meeting Klaus' eyes.

"Hunter!" A high-pitched yell come from afar.

Klaus blinked, and a woman appeared next to the boy—Hunter. She was around forty years old, with curly blonde hair, and Klaus had the strangest sensation as he looked at her. He had seen the woman before... many years ago. She was strolling through a square somewhere, hand in hand with Mikael...

The woman kneeled down, gently wrapping her arms around the boy.

"What's wrong?" She asked, cleaning the tears from Hunter's face. "Where's Mikael?"

For the first time, the boy raised his eyes to meet Klaus' gaze. His eyes were filled with a dying warmth, and it slowly shrunk Niklaus' soul.

Hunter pointed at Klaus and the pile of ashes beside him.

If the boy looked at Niklaus with a mix of misery and rage, the woman stared at him with utter pity.

She held Klaus' gaze for longer than Hunter, even managing a small smile.

"We need to go." The woman said, holding back a cry. "Now, Hunter..." she pulled him up gently.

"Wait." Klaus called, jumping up. "Did you know my father?" He asked, his tired legs barely able to keep him standing. "How did you know him?" His mouth was dry, his heart drumming in his chest.

"I'm sorry." The woman said, throwing back a pitiful look at Klaus. "Truly." In the space of a single breath, she disappeared just as fast as she had appeared, taking Hunter with her...

Leaving Klaus alone with his guilt and his father's ashes. His thoughts scattered around, always out of focus. It was maddening, but trying to make sense of his mind was too painful.

So Klaus sat down by Mikael's remains. Allowing his mind to wonder....

Could Mikael have another child? Had he married again?

And why the fuck did Klaus feel such a strong connection to Hunter?

Niklaus would not have answers to any of his questions, not for a long time. 

But one day, Klaus Mikaelson would learn the truth, even if it destroyed everything he ever loved...

Chapter Text

Klaus Mikaelson was left alone. 

His family had forsaken him... after all he put them through, not even Elijah stood by him.

Although, Klaus always blamed the Salvatores for his siblings leaving him, he could not deny it was—at least partially—his fault.

After being free from their coffins, the Mikaelsons siblings left Klaus behind. But not before they turned Elena into a vampire. 

It was strange, their revenge. Klaus could not be sure if they turned Elena to punish him, for all his transgressions, for killing the father they all loved...or, if they turned Elena as a way to punish her and her friends, for the sin of standing in the Mikaelsons' way, and, most of all, for the conspiracy which led to Mikael's death.

Regardless of their reasons, the Mikaelsons left.  

Klaus' newly built empire had barely seen the light of day and it had already been burned to the ground. He should have seen it coming.

It is said all dynasties and empires carry within them, at the very beginning, the seeds of their downfall. Klaus Mikaelson always built his homes and kingdoms out of fear and paranoia. So it was only fair such things would bring upon him the downfall.

Klaus had an one night stand with Hayley sometime after he broke his curse. At the time Klaus had daggered Elijah and began to make his hybrids. He had half a dozen loyal hybrids. All his siblings were daggered and Mikael was no where to be found. So when Hayley walked in,  promising to help Klaus rule out a few bad apples in his  new pack, he was more than happy to give her a chance. 

Klaus Mikaelson was not easily tricked, and so Hayley never tried to trick him. She told him the truth: his pack was plotting against him. She only told him  when it was far too late for him to do anything about it. Yet she kept her part of their deal. So he had to keep his and tell her where to find her family. 

The very next morning she left. 

Two days later Mikael showed up at Klaus' door and the whole ordeal went down....

Klaus had barely stopped grieving when, a week after his father's death, the Salvatore brothers freed his siblings.

They were furious with him, of course and reasonably so. So they left.

Finn barely looked at any of them. Kol called Klaus and Elijah every insulting name he could remember  before leaving to enjoy life. Rebekah almost stayed, she might have if Elijah had decided to do the same. But with him gently touching her arm and guiding her out, she was sure it was the right thing to do.

 As for Elijah... He never planned on leaving Klaus alone for too long. It would be a recipe for disaster. Elijah thought that in a few months  he would be able to forgive Klaus for putting a dagger in his chest. But the path to forgiving Niklaus for the death of their father...Elijah knew it would take him at least a decade to be able to look at his brother again.

In the end it was Klaus' fear and paranoia who ruined everything. He was cruel to his hybrids and to his siblings, too afraid to trust anyone, and too lost in his cruel was to allow himself to open up. 

So Klaus was left alone...for months...brooding and rolling over his grief and guilt...

When Klaus was called to New Orleans, with talks of a deadly conspiracy against him, he was almost glad. At least now he would have more to do, other than sulking in his miserable loneliness, replaying his father's last words in his head and going mad thinking about the boy he saw the night Mikael died.

Klaus swore this time he would do something differently. This time he would win.

But as soon as he got to the French Quarter, he slid back into his patterns. The news of Hayley's pregnancy, brought Rebekah and Elijah back to his side, but his other siblings were not so easily persuaded. Not to mention, Elijah and Rebekah had not yet forgiven Klaus for his actions. They were always one fight away from leaving again, and Klaus knew it.

Still, his siblings presence and the conversations with Cami slowly started to have some effect on him. But not much, and certainly not enough to prepare him from what came next... 

Davina Claire had only been dead for a week, when Sophie Deverox marched into the Compound bearing news...

The Good News: she had found a way to bring all the harvest girls back to life...

The not so good news: it required immense power and the help of a hybrid child who should (yet) not exist.

The possibly terrible news: Klaus Mikaelson had a son, before Hope, who had some inexplicable connection to Mikael and appears to hate Klaus. 

The Bad News: Hunter Mikaelson was on his way to the French Quarter to have a long overdue conversation with his biological father...

Chapter Text

Klaus had nightmares every night. He was used to dreaming about Mikael, sometimes Esther and his siblings. It all depended on what type of guilt he was drowning in.

After his father’s death, however, Klaus began to have dreams about Mikael and Hunter more often.

There was something odd about these new dreams. They felt too much like memories, and they were far too peaceful.

Klaus used to dream about his childhood years. Those were always peaceful too, but only at first. His dreams always turned into nightmares.

He was Klaus Mikaelson after all. The Gods would most likely cut out their hearts before they allowed him to have a night of peace and happiness. Or at least, that’s what Klaus believed.

But these new dreams with Mikael were different…As though Mikael was challenging the gods, daring them to bring misery to his boy’s mind…Not even the gods would dare cross the Destroyer, not while he watched over his children’s dreams.

In such dreams, his father sat beside Klaus as they both watched Hunter play or draw.

“He’s a very smart kid.” Mikael would say, wrapping his arm around Klaus’ shoulder and pointing at Hunter. “He reminds me so bloody much os you, my boy…”

“Will he hate me for what I’ve done to you?” Klaus finally mastered the courage to ask one night.

“No, no…. He’s too kind to hate. Besides, you two have too much in common…He’ll adore you, son.” Mikael touched Klaus’ cheek, cleaning a tear. “You two will be good for each other. You’ll feel less lonely…And I’ll always be watching over you…”

Klaus woke up from his dreams in a cold sweat. His undead heart beating fast in his chest. It took him hours to shake off the feeling of dread which had taken over him.

When he finally managed to drag his mind away from his dreams, Sophie Deveraux stormed into the Compound.

It had been a week since Davina died and none of the harvest girls had come back from their graves. So, obviously, she and Marcel were extremely frustrated. But Klaus had no intention of making that his problem. Especially not when he had so many other problems of his own.

"What is it now?" Klaus said, strolling down the stairs to meet Sophie, Marcel, Rebekah and Elijah in the entrance patio.

“Something happened last night.” Sophie said, her hands shaking and her  voice filled with sorrow and fear.

Klaus had never seeen her this scared before. Sophie was not easily scared.

“Tell then what you told me.” Marcel said, touching her shoulder.

“Someone—a boy. He couldn’t be older than 16. Maybe 14? I don’t know, but he…” Sophie sighed, shaking her head. “He stole cursed objects and magical ingredients from the cemetery last night and…he opened Davina’s grave…and took her body.”

“Could the boy be a friend of hers?” Elijah asked, “Some young witch who thinks he can resurrect her on his own?”

“Could he do it?” Rebekah asked, gazing at Marcel.

Klaus followed her gaze. He wasn’t a fan of Davina. But she was just a child, and Marcel cared for her. Klaus had always seen Marcel as a younger brother, and he hated seeing him so miserable.

“No.” Sophie said, “He might be able to bring her back, but he’s definitely not a friend…”

“Well, either way, it’s best you get on with a location spell so we can find both Davina’s body and this strange boy.” Klaus said with a smile. “You have my permission to do the spell.”

“I didn’t come her for your permission!” Sophie said, staring at Klaus defiantly.

“Tell him the rest of it, Sophie.” Marcel said, touching her arm and glancing at Klaus.

Sophie sighed. “He’s powerful. The boy. I felt it.” She said, biting her lip. “He has the same kind of power that my sister and I felt when Hayley arrived in town… Only a thousand times stronger.” She gazed at Klaus. “He’s a hybrid, just like you, but able to use magic. He shouldn’t exist. And I think…” she laughed bitterly. “I think he’s be your son. And the only way we might have to bring our girls back.”

Klaus stared at her, his heart almost carving its away out of his chest.

“You’re lying.” He whispered, shaking his head as though that would make the world make sense again. “This is a lie. A plot against me…”

“You said the same thing about Hayley,” Rebekah said, holding her breath. “And you were wrong, Nik.”

“No.” Klaus repeated numbly, he strolled through the patio, searching for liquor. “This can’t be true. I just broke my curse…” he babbled.

“Niklaus may have a point.” Elijah said sternly. “The child couldn’t be as old as you claim he is.”

Sophie scoffed. “I said he looked no older than sixteen.” She said, “But his powers are much older. A thousand years older…”

The three Mikaelsons stared at Sophie, their mouths half open and their hearts beating to mixed rhythm of dread and happiness.

“Can you still do a spell to locate him?” Rebekah asked at last, a half smile on her lips. She was excited to be an auntie, even if the idea of a “mini Niklaus” was absolutely terrifying.

“Could you also perform a spell to determine if the boy is in fact Klaus’ son?” Elijah asked, glancing at his brother and trying to smile.

“Sure. With one condition.” Sophie said, raising her chin and holding their gaze. “Whoever this boy is, he might be my only chance to get my niece back…so no matter who his father is, you’ll help me get him to bring the harvest girls back.”

“You have my word.” Elijah said, “We shall help with whatever we can.”

Sophie nodded, laying her purse over the table and preparing the spell.

Klaus watched her, his heart drumming in his ears. Images of Hunter and Mikael flashed behind his eyes. Perhaps his dreams were an omen. Perhaps his son would kill him, just as he had killed Mikael…With his soul shrinking into the abyss of his chest, Klaus thought dreadfully: “I’ll never be as good a father as Mikael was…”

“Brother…” Elijah said, his eyes full of concern as he touched Klaus’ shoulder. “Can you remember if—.”

“Not now.” He said, his lips trembling. “This boy is an impostor…he has to be.” Klaus whispered, without looking at his brother.

“And if he isn’t?” Elijah asked, glancing at Sophie. “What do you want to do about it then?”

Klaus held his breath, as though he was under water. Everything around him was too slow and too fast at the same time.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, tears mapping his face.

What in hell’s name could he do? Other than try to be a good father…although, in his heart, Klaus knew he would fail miserably…

***

The spell took longer than they expected. Or, at least, it felt as though it took too long.

Marcel sat beside Sophie, watching the spell closely. Rebekah had sat across Sophie, anxiously reading a magazine. Elijah set beside her, reading his book. His gestures seemed calm and precise as he turned the pages. But his eyes jumped around the words on the paper, only partially paying attention to their meaning. Time and time again, he looked up at Sophie.

Klaus, however, paced around the patio, as though he was a caged animal only hours away from being put to death.

“So?” Klaus blurted, as Sophie stopped chanting. “Have you determined the location of this impostor?”

“Yes.” She sighed, getting up. “But I’m almost certain he’s not an impostor, Klaus.”

“But you do need the boy’s blood to be certain, do you not?” Elijah …

“Yes.” Sophie said, a tired smile on her lips. “I do.”

“Well, then,” Klaus waved his hands. “Give us the fucking location and will extract some blood from whoever is plotting against me.”

Sophie rolled her eyes with a sigh. She looked down to the map laid on the table, ready to give Klaus the location. But only a gasp escaped her lips.

“It’s not possible.” She whispered to herself.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! what is it now?” Rebekah said, getting up.

“He’s here.” Sophie said, swallowing dryly.

“Well I’ll be damned!” A boyish voice echoed from behind them. “I suppose I made quite an impression with my antics last night, didn’t I ?”

Hunter Mikaelson stormed in, sweet as only the Devil could be. And he came bearing gifts! In his arms rested  an unconscious Davina Claire.

“I’m Hunter, by the way.” He said, running his eyes over the surprised faces of his audience. “Hunter Mikaelson.”

“Is she alive?” Marcel asked, stepping forward, his eyes full of dread.

“You still have ears, don’t you?” Hunter replied, a smile shaping his face as Marcel listed to Davina’s heart beats.

“Can you bring back all the others?” Sophie asked, tears in her eyes.

“Yes.” Hunter said simply, his dark blue eyes fixed on Klaus, shining with a mix of curiosity and anger. “But I’d like something in return for my services.”

Klaus stared at the boy. He could not hold his gaze, but he could not look away. Klaus opened his mouth, but the words stuck to his throat. Hunter…the boy Mikael raised for only God knows how long. The boy who watched Klaus kill Mikael… how could he ever expect Hunter to forgive him?

“And what would that be?” Elijah said, slowly analyzing the boy’s features. He was the spitting image of Niklaus when young, yet something about the boy’s posture, the way he spoke…he reminded him of Mikael.

“I have a proposition.” Hunter said, raising his chin. “You give me something I want, and I bring the harvest girls back to life.”

“Alright.” Marcel said, watching Hunter carefully lay Davina on a sofa. “What do you want?”

“This is about Mikael, isn’t it?” Klaus whispered, his heart twisting in his chest.

“Yes.” Hunter said, his lips trembling as he held Klaus’ gaze. “This is about Mikael…” he looked down, swallowing his tears. “He raised me…but I guess you already knew that.” He raised his chin, glancing at Klaus defiantly. “I want his aches. He’s my father. You killed him, and I—.”

With a move of her hand, Sophie broke Hunter’s neck.

Klaus speeded to catch Hunter’s body before he hit the floor.

“What the fuck did you do?” Rebekah asked, grabbing Sophie’s wrist.

“He’ll be fine.” Sophie said, her eyes cold and determined. “This way we have more time to think about what to do…” she glanced at Klaus. “Make sure he’s not an impostor and all that…”

Klaus held his breath, his arms wrapped around Hunter’s body. With all his heart he wished this boy was Mikael’s. It would be much easier to beg for his forgiveness if Hunter was his brother. But with every fiber of his being, Klaus Mikaelson knew the boy he held on his arms was his son by blood and love…

“The boy will not hate you.” Mikael’s words rang on Klaus’ ears. “He’s too kind for that. And you’ll be too good of a father for that, my boy…”

Klaus held Hunter’s head close to his chest, praying that his father was right, both about Hunter’s kind heart and Klaus’ ability as a parent.

But only time would tell what would become of Hunter Mikaelson. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

***

Klaus Mikaelson paced up and down the corridor, stopping in front of Hunter’s bedroom door now and then; raising his hand to knock, only to freeze in place, then go back to pacing. He listened to the soft noises in the room, but nothing could bring him to knock. Hunter cried during the night. Klaus could hear it. His son needed him, yet his fear paralyzed him.

Cursing himself, Klaus was sure he would be the worst father in the history of fathers. He panted, walking in circles. With an angry scream stuck in his throat and close to tears, Klaus leaned against the wall. Staring at his son’s bedroom door as though it was a black hole, ready to swallow all his hopes for life.

“He’s just a child, Niklaus.” Finn’s voice echoed from the other end of the corridor. He smiled, walking slowly towards his younger brother. “I’m sure your quick wit won’t fail you. Just make the boy laugh. You can play the fool well enough. Or is the mighty hybrid that scared of a teenager?” He chuckled, leaning against the wall. His tone was playful, but his eyes were soft.

“How did you know?” Klaus scoffed, glaring at his brother. “Did Rebekah really call you over to mock me?”

“Elijah called me.” Finn smirked, clearly amused. “He thought this occasion called for a proper family reunion. Kol just arrived. Freya and Henrik are on their way, too.” He shrugged, glancing at Hunter’s door.

“How wonderful.” Klaus groaned, feeling the sudden urge to slam his head against the wall until he was unconscious. “The family reunion of the century! That’s truly all I needed right about now...”

“It would take father and mother raising from the grave to make this a complete family reunion.” Finn said slowly, staring at the ceiling.

“And you blame me for that, obviously...” Klaus said, his heart twisting in his chest.

“No.” Finn smiled softly. “No, Niklaus. I don’t blame you for their deaths. For as much as I missed them—even mother, though it’s a lot easier to miss father...” he scoffed, smiling bitterly. “Even then.... I don’t blame you for that loss. You did what you had to do...”

“Thank you...” Klaus smiled, “Brother, I...”

“I do, however, blame you for being a complete arse, and a whoreson—may our mother rest in peace—and a bastard. In the worst way. You’re also a dick. And an idiot. I can blame for that. It is your fault...”

“Are you finished?” Klaus asked, exasperated. He knew his siblings had every right to hate him, but he could not bring himself to listen to Finn for much longer, or else his shame and guilt would turn into the usual rage.

“No,” Finn smiled pleasantly. “But, for now, that’s enough of name calling. What I actually wanted to say....” he sighed, placing a hand over his brother’s shoulder. “I think it’s good we are all here together. You might hate it, but we will be here to help you. No matter what.”

“I-I thought you... Hated me...” Klaus mumbled, swallowing his guilt.

“I do. You deserve it. But you’re still my brother. And that boy,” Finn nodded to Hunter’s room. “Still needs you. Us. Mikael was a brilliant father to all the children he raised. No one can say otherwise. But he had some blind spots. And... he’s not here anymore. The boy needs his family. Now more than ever.”

Klaus shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do, Finn! How am I supposed to be his father if I can barely... A baby is already scary, and bloody hard enough... But I have Hayley. We’ll start from the beginning. At least that... For now, that child is an idea. I still have time to adapt, to prepare to be a father to her, to be better...” he scoffed, his lips trembling. “But with Hunter... Even if Mikael didn’t tell him enough to hate me, even then... I cannot be better than our father. I’m a far worse man... He’ll despise me. I know it in my bones, brother. He will hate me... Like I’ve always wanted to hate Mikael...” he laughed bitterly, “Maybe that’s just what I deserve. Maybe mother finally found a way to punish me, make me pay for what I own... Gods... Sometimes I wish Mikael was as terrible as Mother wanted him to be... I wish he had put me out of this misery...”

“Oh, just shut up, would you?” Finn said gently, frowning. “There’s a child in there who needs a shoulder to cry—a child who needs you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Even our father knew he could never be perfect, even if he always tried. No one will hold you to your high standards. And,” Finn smiled, light shining in his eyes: “Like our father always said: ‘how can you be so sure you will fail, if you haven’t even tried?’... You should stop mourning Mikael until you can remember what he tried to teach us...” He glanced at the closed door. “Besides, from what Rebekah tells me, the boy is kind and sweet. I’m sure you can manage three words out before he hates you...”

“Gods!” Klaus sneered, exasperated. “Just say something. That’s your bloody best advice? Fuck. I thought you were more articulated than that, brother, with all the books you read.”

“Well, maybe this will be articulated enough for you, dear brother.” Finn Said, smiling menacingly.

He moved swiftly, knocking softly on Hunter’s door with one hand and grabbing Klaus by the end with the other.

“Come in...” Hunter’s voice rang softly from within the room.

“No, no, no.” Klaus protested. “I have no idea what to say!” He muttered angrily, turning away from Finn.

Klaus was ready to run, throw himself into a ditch or off a building.

“Not so fast, dear brother.” Kol said, grabbing Klaus’ shoulders as he turned away from Finn.

The two wankers had planned it all, Klaus realized, cursing under his breath.

“Stop being a bloody baby and go talk to him, you idiot!” Finn said, smiling as he opened the door and pushed Klaus inside.

***

Hunter giggled softly, but it was loud enough for Klaus to hear from the door. He cleared his throat before approaching the couch where the boy sat, reading.

“Sorry about that.” Klaus muttered, smiling awkwardly. He quickly gathered all his slyness back, putting on a mask of calm confidence. “Those two fools thought it would be funny to just—it was childish. I can leave. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.“

“That’s okay. You can stay. I’m not doing anything.” Hunter laughed, clearly able to see right through Klaus. “I never had siblings—Well, I had Fran, and a few others that Mikael sorta just adopted... But I guess that’s just what siblings do?” He shrugged, “Seems fun, though—the whole siblings and pranks thing... When it’s not annoying.”

“Oh, it’s very often extremely annoying...” Klaus laughed, looking hopefully at the boy.

Hunter held his gaze, smiling. Then his blue eyes got wider. He remembered something deadly important all of the sudden. In the long silence dwelling over them, both father and son swallowed, their throats dry, their eyes avoiding each other, looking down anxiously.

“So...” Hunter stared at Klaus with his bright eyes. “I’m guessing you’re here to finally tell  me—” he took a deep breath, his lips trembling. “Am I... Mikael’s son?”

His teary eyes begged Klaus for an answer he could not give him. Shaming burning his cheeks, Klaus looked down, avoiding his son’s question.

“His biological son, I mean.” Hunter added, a touch of anxiety and anger in his voice. “I am his son. Even if not by blood. I am... So... am I his son... by blood, too?”

Klaus held his breath. He had no idea how to say it. How could he say to his son the same thing that had ruined his life a thousand years ago? How could he do this when Klaus knew how awful it felt? Wasn’t it better to live in blissful ignorance ?

Then it flashed in his mind. The perfect words, the best way to tell Hunter the truth.

“You know... Many years ago, I asked my mother the same question. I was just as desperate as you are—at least I think you are desperate—for the answer to be yes... I wanted to be his son more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life....” he held his breath, smiling as softly as he could. “I’m really sorry to say... your answer is the same as mine...”

“That’s alright.” Hunter sniffed, silent tears running down his face. “Family doesn’t end in blood. This doesn’t change anything to me.... shouldn’t change anything to you either...”

Klaus laughed awkwardly, stepping forward to sit in front of Hunter.

 “I don’t think it ever changed much for me...” Klaus said, sadness drowning his voice. “It made me miserable for a while. Still does... If I think too much about it... but you’re right. Family isn’t just about blood...”

“Yeah... but you said I was family...” Hunter said slowly, his tearful eyes studying Klaus. “And I’m guessing you didn’t mean it like that. I mean—from what I heard about you—I don’t think you’d be this nice to me if I was just Mikael’s adopted son...”

“Well, we have kept you prisoner...” Klaus said jokingly, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. “Though I have to say I’m a little heartbroken, you think so little of me...” He swallowed, smiling to pretend the thought didn’t break his heart completely.

“I don’t think little of you.” Hunter said softly, shrugging. “But you have a terrible reputation...like seriously bad... So, it’s not really my fault for being cautious, is it?”

“No... I suppose you are just being cleaver.” Klaus smiled, almost unable to hide how much happiness Hunter’s words brought to his heart. “Just like Mikael thought you to be...”

“Yeah... Well, some of his teaching stick better than others,” Hunter chuckled, grinning. “He also taught me not to jump headfirst into a dangerous situation....”

“And yet here you are,” Klaus mused, analyzing Hunter more closely. “Arriving at the lion’s dent, with an unconscious teen in your arms, ready to bargain in good faith...”

Hunter laughed. “You are really full of himself if you think you’re the big bad lion in this story, man. No offense, but Mikael always thought of you as a puppy—and you can make scary faces all you want---I’m still not scared of you.” He held Klaus’ gaze, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m glad...” Klaus said slowly, looking away. “I’m glad you aren’t scared of me....”

Hunter frowned, his mind racing to understand just what had prompted Klaus to act like this.

“Well, I was raised by Mikael. And he could do really scary faces. He was a lot better at it than you. And I still never thought he was scary, so...” He shrugged, soft memories of his father flashing behind his teary eyes. “Besides,” he cleared his throat, straightening his back. “I wasn’t just gonna let that poor girl alone on the Other Side. My father taught me to be better than that... Believe it or not, Mikael taught me to be kind to people. But I guess you missed that lesson....” There was a judgement tone in his voice, even if his tone wasn’t harsh.

Klaus swallowed. “I must have... Though, in my defense, kindness is not always an option.”

“You can always make it an option.” Hunter said, more severely. “But anyway,” he straightened his back, taking a deep breath. “You still haven’t answered my question...”

“I haven’t?” Klaus pretended to forget the topic of their original conversation. He had been so glad when Hunter fell for his divergency, and went on a tangent. Klaus knew he had to tell the kid the truth now. But he simply could not bring himself to say the words. And even if he did, was it so unreasonable to be scared of how Hunter would react?

“Do you know who my father is?” His voice was desperate.

“Yes...” Klaus said, biting his tongue. He closed his eyes, searching for strength. “I...I...”

“Don‘t say it.” Hunter cried, hugging his knees. “I don’t want to hear it... saying it makes it true. Hearing makes it true. I don’t—I just don’t.” He shook his head, tears marking his face. “I’m sorry, but I just—I just can’t.”

Klaus swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘This isn’t about my feelings’. He forced himself to remember, quoting the phrase Mikael had said to him when they learned the truth about Klaus’ parentage. It didn’t make the pain and fear growing in his chest less heavy, but the thought helped him focus and calm himself.

“It’s alright.” Klaus said, smiling and leaning forward. “I-I understand... We don’t have to talk about anything you aren’t comfortable... Ever...”

Hunter shook his head, sniffing. “I wanna do another test. I wanna be there. I want—I need to see it...” He tried to hold be sobs, closing his eyes to stop the flow of tears running down his face. It was no use.

“I’ll talk to Sophie to arrange that. But only for after you’ve regained your full strength.” Klaus said quickly, his worry about Hunter growing in his chest and numbing all other emotions. “We can do it when you’re ready... There’s really no need for you to do anything you don’t want to do. I—we want you to feel at home here. You are family—no matter what...”

“Thank you...” Hunter smiled, cleaning his face with the back of his hand.

“Of course.” Klaus muttered, nodding.

He smiled, but Hunter avoided his eyes, focusing on stopping himself from crying. Clearing his throat, he stood up as the silence went on. ‘Maybe I should give him some more space to process everything... I sure still need some time...’ Klaus thought, unsure, and turned to leave.

“Klaus?” Hunter called, shyly. “I don’t mean to say you aren’t—or won’t be a wonderful dad... I’m sure you will... but I just... It’s really not about that, you know?” He smiled, still hugging his knees. Hunter looked much younger than he should have. It reminded Klaus of Henrik, bringing both warmth and pain to his heart.

“I understand.” Klaus said, laughing bitterly. “To be frank, I think I’m one of the few people in the world that truly understands what you mean...” He smiled, sitting closer to Hunter. “When I found out about... my parentage;” The word left a foul taste in his mouth, but Klaus went on, closing his eyes and replaying the memories behind his eyelids. “I met Mikael far away from our village. We had both just gotten the news. After an argument with my mother, he left. To think, I suppose. But I followed him... I don’t know why I did that. I knew seeing me was the last thing he needed or wanted at that moment. But I just had to... To see him, talk to him...” He smiled. The memories were so bittersweet. “Then, when I got there, I fell to my knees and begged to be his son. Saying I’d forsake my other father, I’d never even want to know him. All I wanted was to be his son... I meant every word of it. To be his son—to make him proud of me...” Klaus scoffed softly, smiling, sadness glittering in his eyes. “That’s all I ever truly wanted back then.”

“What did he say?” Hunter asked, his eyes wide as he took in every word. “After all that, what did Mikael say?” Desperation and anxiety ringed in his voice. He was afraid of the answer—after all, for all he knew, it could change the way he always thought about Mikael.

Klaus opened his eyes. “He told me it was a gift to be my father... And that he wanted me to meet my—well, my other father. Mikael didn’t resent him, or my mother. Least of all me...” He smiled, gentle tears running down his face. “He said: ‘How could I be angry with them, when their actions allowed me to be your father?’ and then he hugged me...” Klaus laughed, shaking his head and smiling.

“He loved you.” Hunter said softly, smiling through his own tears. He reached forward, quickly and quietly hugging Klaus.

 “Yes... I suppose you’re right. Mikael really loves us both—us all...” He smiled, reaching to hug Hunter back, but in a moment the boy was gone. Sitting back on the cough, hugging his knees and drying his tears.

“Well.. but then... It all went to shit, of course. Mikael’s love couldn’t do much...” Klaus said, surprised at the sudden foul bitterness in his own voice. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that story...”

Klaus swallowed, looking out of the window. His heart twisted in his chest. In a corner of his mind, he could sense something happening. As though long shadows reached for his most precious memories of Mikael, corrupting them. The shadows poisoned everything they touched. Soon, Klaus would be sure his father had always hated him. The corruption would reach even his most sacred memories, forcing Klaus to think his father was vicious. His tender memories turned bitter and violent.

‘This is Mother’s doing,’ Klaus thought numbly, a lone tear dancing down his face. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it. Whatever it is, it’ll make me hate my father. Not even in death Mikael is allowed to just be my father... Gods, what have I done to deserve this new curse?‘

All the love Mikael had shown to his children, all his sacrifices to protect them... It all disappeared from Klaus’ mind in the blink of an eye.

Klaus stood up, motionless, still feeling the pain of the invisible loss he suffered, but already unable to remember it.

“Thanks.” Hunter blurted out, breaking the long silence and bringing Klaus back to reality. “For telling me. Not just the result, but your story with Mika... It meant a lot.”

“You’re welcome...” Klaus said in a weak voice, drying his face. “I—maybe we could... Talk some more...”

“Sure. I’d love that.” Hunter smiled, his eyes dry and almost happy. “But you can take your time. We’re strangers to each other still... I know it’s hard to talk about him. Well, it’s for me, so I’m guessing you feel the same...”

“I’ll admit it’s not the easiest thing...” Klaus said, sighing. “But, if he helps you with... Well, with anything, really. If it helps you at all... We can still try...”

“It will mean a lot to me.” Hunter nodded solemnly, a smile on his face.

Hunter was clearly eager to talk more to him, Klaus thought, perhaps not even about Mikael... But a low growl coming from Hunter’s stomach told Klaus there were more pressing matters for him to attend.

“It’s settled then.” Klaus said, getting up. “I’ll get you some food. It’s lunchtime already... Once I’m back... Maybe we could exchange some stories?”

“Yeah. Sure!” Hunter nodded, excited.

“Klaus?” Hunter called softly as Klaus opened the bedroom door. “Just for the record... I don’t think you’d be a bad dad... From your speech, I dunno. You kinda sounded like him so... I think you’ll be pretty good at the dad thing.”

Klaus nodded, not even trying to hide his bright smile.

Perhaps fatherhood would not be so difficult after all...

Yet, pain tugged at his heart. How could he be so honored to be compared to Mikael, when his father was so awful?

And why, even as he thought about his father’s cruelty, a part of his heart could not believe in it?