Insanity or Death?


It was a terrible feeling, being so helpless. His dear mother's disciples had once again taken it upon themselves to kill the abomination that he was. He had heard the words so many times now that they'd lost meaning to him. He heard abomination and thought, 'Someone's calling me.'

But there Klaus was, tied up, daggered, shot up with a cocktail of wolfsbane and and vervain, weakened beyond belief. And yet he hadn't really felt afraid, not when the witches started chanting, not when the runes started glowing. He knew that in the famous words of Gloria Gaynor, that he would survive.

But when a tear appeared in the middle of the drawn pentagram, glowing a deep purple-black that was when he felt scared. The witches didn't look at it, too lost in their chanting and channeling their magic but Klaus saw. Even from the distance he could see a universe inside the tear. He saw stars that weren't part of their galaxy, nebulas, wormholes. He saw a star implode, saw infinity in a matter of seconds before from the tear, like a baby from the womb, emerged a head made of shadows and darkness and then a neck, a torso and the rest of the body as well. When the feet finally emerged, the body of shadows floated up and the tear closed as if sowing itself up and the body descended to the ground. It touched the earth with a crack like sound and the shadow body turned to flesh and bone.

It was a pale, pale woman garbed in twisted gossamer fabric the colour of coagulated blood. Where her bare feet touched the ground formed the epicentre of a spreading illness in the grass as it turned blackened and died, necrotic. But it was her eyes that marked her as something beyond this world.

There was a deep clouding over of the iris like that of a corpse. And then she questioned and then ignored the witches. Walked over to him and cleaned the blood of his face with a flick of her fingers. So close was she now that he could see that under the cloudy iris laid flecks of the original eyes, a brilliant glowing green that looked almost radioactive.

He couldn't help but flirt. And what a glorious reward he got in return. The witches all dropped dead with a single flick of her fingers, the dagger taken out and that mad, brilliant woman peering down at him as he lay gasping, lasciviously looking him up and down.

"I'm in love," He said and found that he had never meant that sentiment before.

"Ah, youth." She said fondly and he picked himself off the ground to take her hand in his. A chill went down his spine as he touched the freezing hands, so cold that he felt closer to death then than he had felt when daggered and drugged. When he raised the hand to his lips it felt like a kick to his gut.

He had never been so moved by a woman in his entire long life.

Although if her words were anything to go by, she didn't consider his life that long after all.

"Who are you?" He asked, desperate to know what name he could call her.

"Hela, or Hera if we're being socially acceptable." She rolled those corpse eyes of hers, "For some reason people think it very morbid. Very silly of them, really. What else would the daughter of Death be called."

"Is that what you are? Death's daughter?"

"Oh, yes!" She leaned in closer and he took in her scent. The gentle fragrance of rot that he so closely associated with forests wafted to his superior nose, "Scared?"

"Scared?! No no no, not scared," Klaus grinned, his smile splitting his face until he felt the stretch of the muscles to be almost painful, a mirror image of her own, "Fascinated."

"You have lovely eyes," She said in that raspy voice of hers, "Why I'd like to pluck them out of your skull and keep them with me forever."

"I need them for now but one day you shall," Klaus promised and kissed her hand once again, shivering with delight and more than a little cold.

"Ahem," A deep voice interrupted their gazing into each other's eyes and Klaus turned, annoyed to see who it was. A toddler, not more than four years of age stared back at him. The boy's pale hair was dripping blood, his mouth twisted into a snarl and his eyes held no iris, only pupils in the white expanse. "Did you handle it?" The boy asked his precious Hela, all but ignoring Klaus.

"Oh yes, I killed all the witches who were summoning me." She said and the boy frowned.

"Then why don't I have their souls?" The boy conjured a heavy time and flipped through it to a page somewhere in the middle. "No mention of a coven anywhere."

"Really? Well I don't know if this is any help but the ritual did make some mention of something called the Other Side."

"It's where souls of the supernatural go," Klaus said, remembering this from something his mother had once said.

"Well they shouldn't!" The toddler stomped his feet and the puddle of blood he was standing in grew bigger as the blood dripped down his hair faster.

"Do you want me to look into it, darling?" Hela said and the boy pouted but acquiesced.

"If you don't have anything else to do."

Hela waved the boy off, "Oh don't worry, they've gone mad with the healthcare in my realm, it'll be a good four years before I have to go reaping."

"Thanks," The toddler said, relieved, "But change the getup if you're going to gallivanting about in the mortal world. People will have heart attacks and I'm too busy with my filing system to deal with something that boring." He said and with a crack he disappeared, the sound of cackling laughter echoing in his wake.

"Your brother?"

"Yes, Damien. He's new to the job but very good. I was an utter mess for decades honestly, Damien just slipped into the role so easily." She sighed, "But he's right, if I'm going to stay in the mortal world I'll have to use my previous form."

Before his very eyes, the ones she adored so much, Hela's hair, once limp and dead rose to form glossy curls, the pale face tanned with freckles running across it, nose a bit broken in a charming sort of way and the eyes went from the bloated mottled grey blue to a hue like the shards of radioactive green he had seen before only deeper and much more acceptable. Her nose wriggled and she twisted her shoulders in discomfort.

"It feels itchy, I haven't worn my mortal person suit it in so long."

"I liked you the other way more." Klaus blurted out and with a bright grin in his direction she shifted back to the other form, threw her cold arms around his neck and waist and twisted around to dip him. Her cold lips touched his and as the touch grew so cold that it burned, Klaus knew he could never let her go.


In a large office, larger than Hogwarts, larger than the Pacific Ocean, larger even than the planet Jupiter from world #573016888, filled with filing cabinets, at the mahogany desk, sat an old tired salaryman from the thirties. He pushed the glasses up his nose and peered down at the reincarnation request when the sound of high heels interrupted him.

His sister Am, or Aphrodite as she liked to go by now, peered at him with a big grin.

"Congratulations!" She said and handed him a file.

"What's this?" He asked, unwilling to take the file just yet. Last time Aphrodite had stuffed a rogue soul in a file and it had gotten out and shoved over an entire shelf full of Mort's favourite Doomsday prophecies. It had taken centuries sorting that out and so Mort was a bit cautious.

"A Life, Death and Undeath companion/Soulmate request that's been fulfilled after millions of years!"

"Indeed?" Mort made to open it but then stopped. While Death and Undeath companion requests did require his signature to pass, he had an automated system for it and Aphrodite wouldn't have come all this way for something that simple. "And why does this concern me?"

"Because it's your daughter's request that's finally been fulfilled!" Aphrodite almost bounced. "I'm so excited to see them fall in love!"

And Mort went through the file carefully. This Klaus Mikaelson would need to be a great man to get his approval. "Good Murder stats, a respectable amount of attempts on his life. Good, good, this might actually work out. I approve." He said and signed on the dotted line. Aphrodite squealed and all but ripped the file out of his hands and Mort leaned back in his chair, looking at the photo of Hela taken on her 1000000th death day celebrations that he kept on his desk. Lourdes was there behind her pulling his lip over his skull, Damien holding a knife to her neck and his little Hela grinning ear to ear making those v signs with the novelty skeleton phalanges Mort had gotten her.

"They grow up so fast."


Why not both?