Reborn in The Vampire Diaries/TO/Novel TVD With the World

The flicker of black candles cast a dance of shadows on the stone walls, their light feeble against the weight of the room's dark energy. In the center of the chamber, a man bound to a wooden chair whimpered, his head lolling forward as sweat dripped from his brow. His cries had subsided to broken, shallow breaths -- his spirit crushed long before his body would follow.

Klaus Mikaelson circled him with the lazy grace of a predator playing with its prey, the blade in his hand gleaming faintly with carved runes. He hummed a soft, eerie tune, pausing only to glance at his captive with a look of faint amusement.

"Courage," Klaus murmured, crouching to meet the man's panicked eyes. "It's such an elusive quality these days. And yet, here you are, standing -- or rather, sitting -- on the precipice of greatness." He tilted his head, smirking. "Well, my greatness."

The man whimpered incoherently, his lips trembling as he tried to form words. Klaus waved the dagger with mock impatience. "Oh, no need to thank me. Your sacrifice will be most appreciated. By me, of course."

From the far side of the chamber, Rebekah's exasperated voice rang out. "Must you always draw things out, Niklaus? He's terrified enough without you making a grand production of it."

Klaus sighed theatrically, rising to his full height. "Sister, your inability to appreciate the finer points of a ritual is as tiresome as it is predictable. If you'd bothered to study the texts I so generously procured, you'd know the ritual thrives on emotional energy. Fear, desperation, anguish -- it's practically fuel for the fire."

Rebekah rolled her eyes and stepped closer, her heels clicking against the stone floor. "Don't pretend this isn't just another excuse for you to indulge your sadistic tendencies. Admit it --you've been itching to spill someone's blood since breakfast."

"Ah, there's the cynicism we all know and love," Klaus quipped, flashing her a grin. "You wound me, truly. This isn't about indulgence -- it's about necessity. A ritual of this magnitude requires precision, dedication, and, yes, perhaps a dash of theatrics."

Elijah entered then, his gait unhurried, his posture immaculate. He held a glass of wine in one hand, the picture of composed disapproval. His sharp gaze swept over the scene -- the bound man, the altar carved with glowing runes, and his younger siblings bickering as usual.

"Niklaus," Elijah began, his voice as smooth as the wine he sipped, "do you ever tire of drenching your endeavors in blood and torment? Surely there are more dignified methods to achieve your aims."

Klaus spread his arms as if inviting the heavens to agree with him. "Dignified? Brother, I'm nothing if not dignified. What you see here is art. A carefully crafted masterpiece."

Rebekah snorted. "More like a cheap imitation of something actually meaningful."

Klaus turned to her with a sharp smile. "And yet, dear sister, it works. You, of all people, should appreciate that. Results matter, after all."

Elijah shook his head, his tone clipped. "Results achieved without care for the cost are often fleeting, Niklaus. You'd do well to remember that."

"Spare me the sermon, Elijah," Klaus shot back, his voice hardening. "What I do here ensures our survival. Or have you forgotten the enemies that lie in wait, eager to see us fall? This ritual isn't a game -- it's our chance to tip the scales in our favor."

Rebekah raised a brow, skepticism plain on her face. "And what exactly does this grand ritual of yours achieve, Nik? More chaos? Another grudge to add to your ever-growing collection?"

Klaus smirked, the dagger now pulsing faintly with power. "This ritual, dearest sister, creates a space -- a meeting ground where even the most powerful cannot wield their strength. It summons their very souls to the Dreaming Realm. There, we'll have a… discussion."

Elijah's brow furrowed. "And by 'discussion,' you mean manipulation."

Klaus shrugged, feigning innocence. "A bit of persuasion never hurt anyone. Well, not permanently."

Rebekah scoffed. "Who are you calling into this little dream summit, then? And more importantly, why should they bother with you?"

Klaus's grin turned predatory, his eyes alight with wicked anticipation. "Who else but my rival? The so-called Mortal Angel -- Samael, as our compelled spies have so dutifully uncovered. And of course, how could we forget Mikael, our ever-charming father? The relentless hunter who's stalked us across centuries, finally stepping into the open rather than skulking in the shadows before his strikes. Bold, wouldn't you say?"

He paused, his voice turning mockingly light as he continued. "And then there's our angel's little entourage. Elena, the doppelgänger I've yet to have the pleasure of sinking my teeth into. Stefan, the ever-conflicted ripper who fancies himself a saint now that he's found his humanity again. Damon, the insufferably reckless sibling he has to endure. Oh, and let's not overlook the Bennett witch—because there's always a Bennett witch -- and the poor, traumatized human girl tagging along."

Klaus tilted his head, his grin widening. "Quite the colorful collection, don't you think?"

Elijah's brow knit in contemplation as he stood still, his posture tense but composed. His voice was calm, but beneath it was a tremor of concern. "The Mortal Angel… It's not merely a fanciful title, is it, Niklaus? The way you speak of this Samael -- this rival of yours -- it suggests something far more profound. And if Mikael has allied himself with him, then we are dealing with a force that transcends mere mortal meddling."

Rebekah blinked, her shock momentarily breaking through her usual icy demeanor. "Wait… you're saying this Samael is the one in the prophecy? The prophecy? The one we've tried to forget? You're not… You're not just obsessed with some mythical nonsense, are you, Niklaus?"

Klaus's wolfish grin widened as he spread his arms. "Ah, you see, dear sister, you are beginning to grasp the scope of it. The so-called Mortal Angel is indeed the subject of the prophecy. A singular figure, neither wholly mortal nor divine, destined to -- well, that part's open to interpretation. Some say he is meant to destroy, others to save. Either way, he's meant to ascend to a power rivaling ours, or maybe even surpassing it."

Elijah's shock mirrored his sister's. "Niklaus, are you saying that this Samael... this mortal angel is real? And the prophecy... it's not just an old tale meant to keep us in line?"

Klaus's eyes narrowed, an intensity to his gaze that spoke of his ceaseless vigilance. "Indeed, and unlike you both, I never let it slip from my mind, Elijah. Not for a moment. While you two played in the luxuries of our eternity, I always kept an eye out, wary of what might come. Nature herself couldn't control me, but this prophecy -- this warning -- was something I knew I had to heed. I had no choice but to watch and wait, to make sure I was ready when it came to fruition."

Rebekah's expression shifted from disbelief to frustration. "So, all of this... All these years, this prophecy has been the real threat? Not Mikael, not even the witches, but this Mortal Angel, Samael? And Mikael thinks he can use him to destroy us?"

Klaus nodded gravely. "Oh, they've certainly been threats in their own ways, but nothing like this one. Nature herself seems to fear this Samael more than it fears us, despite its many attempts to keep us in check.

The prophecy isn't a warning against us, no. Nature does not warn those who have earned its scorn. It acts against them, unrelenting. No, the prophecy is a warning against Samael. A warning of his potential. And more importantly, a warning for him, to stay away from me."

Rebekah frowned, her thoughts racing as the weight of Klaus's words began to sink in. "A warning for Samael against you? How is that possible?"

Klaus's grin turned sly, his voice dropping to something darker. "Nature knows, just as I do, that Samael has the potential to become something far greater than even the gods could imagine.

His power is not of its making, its just like ours, but a consequence of what it is. And I, naturally, plan to bring him to my side. To bend him to my will, to make him see the truth of his power. It knows this, and it is trying to stop him before he realizes what I can make of him."

Elijah's face hardened as he absorbed the implications. "So, the prophecy isn't just about Samael's fate -- it's a message about your plans, once you'd have found out about him. The way you would've -- and still do -- intend to use him, manipulate him into your fold. To break him."

"Yes," Klaus affirmed, "To break him. But in doing so, I will control not only him, but the very forces that seek to control me. That is the power I will claim for myself." 

Klaus's eyes continued after his words to gleam with an intensity that made the air in the chamber feel thicker, laden with unspoken thoughts and desires. His gaze after a moment turned to Rebekah, lingering on her with something darker than mere familial affection. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and commanding.

"Samael," Klaus began, his lips curling into a dangerous grin, "is a man. Though his ascension grants him godlike power, beneath it, he is still bound by his human instincts. A part of him will always crave what is mortal, unlike me. That is where you come in, Rebekah."

She stiffened at the mention of her name, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. "Me?" she asked, though her voice betrayed a thread of reluctance, as if she already knew what Klaus would ask.

Klaus stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers, his voice dripping with subtle manipulation. "Yes, you. You, my sister, are the key. A creature like Samael, so powerful and yet so vulnerable to the pull of his mortal desires, can easily be swayed."

He paused, studying her with an almost predatory focus. "Drive a wedge between him and Elena. Remind him of what he could be. A god, untethered to the petty limitations of mortals. The doppelganger is a distraction, a weakness. His connection to her -- her love -- is a fragile thread, and it can be severed."

Rebekah's expression remained guarded, but inside, something stirred -- something she couldn't quite place. The familiar pang of bitterness twisted in her chest as Klaus's words echoed in her mind. His usual conviction that love was nothing more than a weakness. It had virtually always been like this, hadn't it? He used it, twisted it, turned it into something cold, calculated -- nefarious. And yet here he was, calling on her, asking her to be the instrument of his desires. To use affection for his own purposes.

There was something almost ironic about it -- Klaus, so bent on destroying love, and yet unable to stop himself from weaving it into his plans. The thought of it tasted bitter on her tongue, though she masked it with a practiced indifference.

"You think I'll be able to break them apart? This Elena and Samael?" Rebekah's voice was cool, measured, but there was a flicker of doubt beneath her calm exterior.

Klaus's grin widened. "I know you will. You've always been able to get into those men you foolishly fell in love with's heads, to make them see things as you wish. I expect you to use that same empathy to remind him of the futility of his attachment to her. After all, we're both aware that love doesn't hold the same weight for us, does it?"

There was a pause, the weight of Klaus's words hanging in the air. Rebekah, despite herself, found her heart sinking, though she would never admit it aloud. His words hit too close to home. The bitterness of his cynicism was something she had grown used to, but it still stung, like a wound that refused to heal.

"Love," she murmered, her voice quiet but laced with an edge. "You mean to say that love is a weakness. That it doesn't matter. That it never matters." She hissed, angered.

Klaus's eyes softened for a moment, but it was the softness of a predator, lulling his prey into submission. "Love may have sway over you, Rebekah, but not over me. Not anymore." He gave a half-smile, one that held a trace of sadness. "Elijah and you, you're both fools in your notions, but proof enough of the effectiveness of my plans. You've grown, you've adapted, but still -- love is your tether. Your anchor. It makes you weaker than you realize."

His gaze flickered briefly to Elijah, who stood just a little farther back, watching with an unreadable expression. Klaus's tone shifted, turning more reflective, as though the bitter weight of his own loneliness seeped through.

"You cling to each other," Klaus continued, his voice colder now. "You find strength in that -- in family, in love." He sneered, as though the words were a bitter pill on his tongue. "But family is only a chain that keeps us from rising. Love is a weight that will pull you down, not lift you. Something that still you've failed to realise. Something that will always prove that I am a breed apart."

Rebekah's jaw tightened, and her gaze turned hard as she met Klaus's eyes. She tried to hide the frustration roiling inside her, the realization that she had always been a part of his plans, that she was once more the tool in his machinations. A pawn in his endless game.

"Perhaps," she muttered, a note of sharpness creeping into her voice, "but at least it gives us something real. Something that holds us up when everything else falls apart. Something that doesn't involve manipulation and control."

Elijah, who had been standing in quiet observation, finally spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with a quiet sorrow. "Niklaus," he said, his gaze settling on his brother with a mixture of sadness and something else, something distant, "there is strength in family. In love. You've always tried to reject it, but I've seen it -- we've seen it. It's not just weakness.

It's what binds us, despite everything. It's what makes us stronger than anything else. Even when everything else falls apart, family is what holds us together. And that's something that can never be manipulated or controlled."

Klaus's gaze flickered briefly to Elijah, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes -- a flicker of the old brotherly bond, the one that had been buried for so long beneath the layers of betrayal, anger, and years of grudges. He looked at Elijah with a complex mix of admiration and regret.

"Perhaps," Klaus murmured, his voice softer than it had been in years. "But you know as well as I do, brother, that love can be a double-edged sword. It can bind us together, yes... but it can also tear us apart."

Rebekah's frustration deepened, and she turned her gaze away, trying to steady the emotions that bubbled just beneath the surface. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her voice, when it came, was quieter, but no less firm.

"And yet, Klaus," she said, her words sharp with a quiet intensity, "it's the only thing that truly matters. Love is the reason we're still standing. Not because we've ascended, or because we've made power our only goal. But because we have each other. And maybe that's the only strength you've never truly understood."

Klaus's eyes narrowed as he stared at her, but beneath the tension in his gaze, there was something that flickered -- a brief acknowledgment, perhaps even a longing, buried beneath his usual cynicism. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his voice softened in an almost imperceptible sigh.

"It's not love, Rebekah," he muttered, his eyes dark. "It's control. I control my fate."

Rebekah didn't respond to him immediately. Instead, she looked down, as though collecting her thoughts. But when she met his gaze again, there was something different in her eyes—something colder, something resigned. "You control it for now. But don't pretend you're the only one who can change. Love might be something you see as weakness, Klaus, but one day you'll see. It's also what makes us human. And it's why we survive."

Klaus looked at her, his expression unreadable, before his gaze shifted to Elijah. There was a tension in the air, thick with unspoken words and long-held resentments, but also with the smallest trace of hope. A hope that perhaps, just perhaps, something within him would shift. Would maybe react to her words against all the odds. That he could once more believe that love could be the one thing that saved them. But it didn't, and he squashed that piece of hope within his heart, beneath his boot. 

He looked back at Rebekah then, his expression sharp and focused. His voice dropped to a low murmur.

"Rebekah," he said, his words now harder, more determined, "you will help me turn Samael to my side. You will make him see that love, in the end, will not save him. That his destiny is not with a mortal girl. It's with us all. As our weapon against nature."

Rebekah's eyes flickered with something dark, though she said nothing in response. She couldn't help but feel the weight of his words, but this time, she would not let herself be a mere instrument in Klaus's plan. Not again. She was more than that.

With a slow, deliberate exhale, she nodded. "Fine. But don't think for a second that I'll enjoy what you're asking of me."

Elijah, still watching them both, felt a familiar sadness tug at his heart. But beneath it, there was a quiet, stubborn hope. He would always believe that Klaus could change -- that Klaus could learn to see the strength in family, in love. It was the one thing that had always been worth fighting for, and Elijah would fight for it, even if he had to fight for it alone.

"Enough of this chatter, it's time." Klaus suddenly stated as his gaze turned back towards the altar, his face hardening with renewed purpose.

He held the orb, its dark surface gleaming under the flickering light of the candles, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe in the tension that filled the chamber. His siblings, Elijah and Rebekah, stood still, watching him intently, each of them sensing the gravity of the moment. The captive man, still bound to the chair, had long ceased to be of any significance; his presence was merely a catalyst for the ritual that was about to unfold.

With a flick of his wrist, Klaus activated the orb, and a low hum vibrated through the room, the air thickening as the spell began to take form. The orb pulsed with an eerie energy, its surface shimmering as ancient incantations whispered in the air, curling like smoke. As Klaus spoke the words of power, his voice became deep and resonant, the cadence of the ritual carrying an unearthly weight.

"Let the Dreaming Realm open to us. Let the minds of gods and mortals alike be drawn into the fold of this moment," Klaus intoned, his voice echoing through the chamber, each syllable laced with ancient power. "May they fall, not into death, but into slumber... a slumber that binds them to this world and draws them to me."

The orb flared brightly in Klaus's hands, casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls. A chill ran through the air, the temperature plummeting as if the very fabric of reality was being stretched. The edges of the room seemed to blur, the boundaries of the waking world fading away. Klaus's voice rose, each word dripping with the certainty of his intent.

"Samael, Mikael, Elena, Stefan, Damon, Bonnie, Caroline... your time is now," he murmured, barely audible, as though speaking directly to the minds of the souls he sought to ensnare. "Sleep, and hear me. Come to me, for your fate is in my hands."

Rebekah and Elijah stood close, feeling the weight of the spell, the oppressive silence that stretched between each word Klaus spoke. Rebekah glanced at Elijah, her face tight with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. She could feel the tension in the air -- an unsettling mix of power and something darker. She couldn't help but wonder if Klaus was going too far, if he was opening a metaphorical door they would never be able to close again, with his plans and actions.

Suddenly, a ripple of energy surged outward from the orb, sending a shockwave through the room. It was like a soundless explosion, and before any of them could react, the air seemed to thicken, like a heavy fog rolling in. The shadows grew deeper, the light from the candles flickering violently, as if fighting against the pull of the spell.

Then, without warning, the world around them began to dissolve.

Rebekah's eyes widened as she tried to steady herself, but it was as if the floor beneath her feet was being pulled away. She stumbled, her body swaying as the pull of the spell intensified, drawing her into the vortex Klaus had conjured. She fought to stay awake, but it was hopeless. The edges of her vision blurred, her limbs growing heavier with each passing second. It felt as if every inch of her body was being dragged into an infinite sleep.

Beside her, Elijah, ever the steadying force, remained calm, though his eyes were narrowed with concern. He could feel the power of the spell wrapping around him, the pull of the Dreaming Realm threatening to swallow him whole. His thoughts raced, but there was no escaping it. Klaus had set it in motion, and now they were all bound to its course.

"You did it," Rebekah murmured, her voice faint as she began to lose her grip on consciousness. Her words were not meant for Klaus, but they lingered in the air, filled with a bitter resignation.

Elijah's lips parted, but no words came. The weight of the ritual was too heavy. Instead, he reached out, grasping Rebekah's arm as if trying to keep her tethered to reality, but the connection slipped away just as easily as the rest of the world did. He wondered where Klaus had found such a dark object, capable of even being used by one without magic.

Klaus stood unaffected, his expression focused, his control absolute. The orb burned brighter still, and the power of the spell surged, sweeping through the chamber like a tide. "This is not the end," Klaus murmured to himself, watching as his siblings succumbed to the pull of the Dreaming Realm. "This is only the beginning."

One by one, their eyes fluttered shut, bodies sagging as the pull of sleep deepened, binding them to the dreamscape that Klaus had summoned. The ritual was complete.

As the last flicker of light from the orb dimmed, the chamber fell silent. The sounds of their breathing slowed, their bodies heavy in slumber. In the depths of the Dreaming Realm, their minds were now bound to the world Klaus had created -- a world where Samael, Mikael, and the others would be drawn into the same trap.

Klaus smiled to himself, the power of the ritual still humming through the air. Now, all that was left was for him to wait -- for his enemies to fall into his hands, for the pieces to align, and for the prophecy to unravel according to his design. He would use this moment, this powerful advantage, to bind Samael to his will, to draw him into his fold. The Mortal Angel would have no choice but to obey, and Klaus would make sure of it.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

How did you find, Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah's interactions? Were they in charachter? 

Also what do you think about Klaus's plans? Will it work?

Do please tell me. 

Also, do please comment and review, I'd really like it if we could get past 10 reviews,

Well, hopefully I'll see you all later,

Bye!)