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

The moment the ritual's energy surged, reality itself seemed to collapse in on itself. A whirl of shadows and light swept through the chamber, and the world Originals had known began to stretch, warp, and dissolve. The air grew thick and heavy, suffocating in its surreal weight, as if they were being drawn through an unseen threshold.

For a split second, everything was frozen -- still, silent. Then came the sudden pull, a gravitational force that yanked at the very core of their beings, as if the universe itself had decided to tear them free from their physical forms and thrust them into an alien realm.

And then, with a sharp exhalation, they were no longer in the stone-walled chamber.

The shift was almost immediate. The cold stone beneath their feet vanished, replaced by a softness -- grass, or perhaps something more ethereal. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient trees, though no trees were visible.

Instead, there was an unsettling landscape -- a vast, boundless expanse of mist, endless and stretching. The very ground beneath their feet seemed to ripple with an energy that defied comprehension, as though the landscape itself was constantly shifting, caught between states of dream and reality.

The sky above was a swirling blend of colors -- rich purples and deep blues, with flashes of silver that flickered like distant stars. The horizon bent and twisted unnaturally, as if it were a painting caught in an endless loop of movement.

The sky here didn't feel real, nor did the mist that clung to their skin. It was a place suspended between sleep and wakefulness, a liminal space where time held no meaning and every breath they took felt both heavy in the first moment and weightless in the next.

Klaus, standing tall and composed despite the surreal environment, surveyed the endless expanse with a gleam in his eyes, his senses alert to every strange shift in the atmosphere. His breath came in slow, deliberate inhales, savoring the power of the Dreaming. Beside him, Elijah and Rebekah appeared equally unaffected, though there was a hardness to Rebekah's gaze -- a tension between awe and discomfort.

The air around them hummed, alive, aware. It wasn't quite a voice, but something deeper, a resonance that reverberated through their bones, made their hearts beat faster. The Dreaming was watching them. The Dreaming was alive, and it knew they were here.

For years, Klaus had been the one to probe the limits of their abilities, to test the boundaries of the Dreaming. It had always fascinated him -- how it had two sides. The first, a domain of peace and clarity, where dreams unfolded like soft whispers in the dark. And the second, a place of nightmares, where even the most resilient minds could be torn asunder.

This place had always intrigued him, called to him. For Klaus had learned something the others at first didn't know: an Original Vampire, with enough concentration and will, could carve themselves into the fabric of this world, could manifest here, in the Dreaming, with a clarity none but the strongest could achieve.

Though, the peculiar thing has always been that the Dreaming, for all its power, had always yielded to him. He, unlike his siblings, who rarely ventured much in these unknown lands, had become not merely a visitor but a force within it.

It was as if the Dreaming itself had bent to his will, a realm shaped by his mind, his whims. He had in some ways made himself a master of this place.

Rebekah, herself, could feel it, the faint pulse of Klaus's presence, but stronger now than it had ever been. It was as if he had reached beyond the veil, stretching his essence into every corner of place, binding them together in a way they could not escape. She knew not whether it was intentional or based more his possessive instinct towards them, his family.

It in the end mattered little, for they all had more important things to put their attention towards.

For, from the ever-shifting mists, figures began to form. At first, it was little more than a shadow, a distortion of the air. But it grew, solidified, until it became undeniable. Standing before them, emerging like a specter from the void, were others.

Samael.

Mikael.

Elena.

Bonnie.

Caroline.

Damon.

Stefan.

Each of them appeared one by one, drawn from the edges of the Dreaming, where memories and thoughts twisted into tangible forms. Their figures were not fully solid, not entirely real, but they were undeniably present. Samael's fiery gaze cut through the mists first, his form a mass of shifting tendrils and dark smoke, and golden light.

Mikael followed, towering and imposing, a man molded from vengeance and pain. Elena's presence was soft but distinct, her energy warm like a flickering flame, while Bonnie's form seemed to ripple with an otherworldly pulse. Caroline, ever the beacon of light, stood firm, though her eyes were wide with disbelief at the strange, surreal world around them.

And then there was Damon, his presence cutting through the mist with the same cocky arrogance that had once defined him in the waking world. His eyes, cold and calculating, swept over the others before landing on Klaus, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. 

At last there was Stefan, who materialized with an intensity that cut through the mist like a shard of light in the dark, his form emerging slowly, painfully, as though the very fabric of this place was struggling to hold him. His eyes -- dark and filled with sadness -- sought out the Originals with a kind of quiet defiance.

His stance was guarded, the weight of many lifetimes pressing down on his shoulders, but there was a clarity in his gaze that suggested he had fought this battle before. His presence seemed to resonate with the others, an echo from a world they had long since left behind.

Klaus smirked at the sight of his old friend. It seems the lessons he ingrained in his ripper had stuck, memories of their time compelled away or not.

Stefan stood with an air of stoic resignation, his body a fluid silhouette against the surreal backdrop. The edges of his form flickered, caught between substance and shadow, as if the Dreaming was reluctant to fully claim him.

His hair fell in soft waves around his face, his features etched with a calm, almost resigned hardness, the kind born from years of struggle, both internal and external. His eyes, however, burned with a familiar intensity, as if he were fighting against the pull of this realm, as though the Dreaming sought to hold him, but Stefan refused to yield.

He scanned the gathering, his gaze briefly meeting Klaus's, his lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Really, Klaus? Back to old tricks again?," he said with a quiet, cutting dark amusement. "A dreamscape? Seriously?"

His voice carried with it the weight of experience, the weight of someone who had lived already experienced this many times. And he had. Klaus was quite fond of the younger Salvatore in the 20's. Some would think that a boon, for it would mean they could walk away with their lives, which in essence is true, but there are somethings worse than death. 

Those Klaus liked, he wanted the best for, and those he wanted the best for, in his twisted mind, needed to understand suffering and cruelty to be able to overcome it, and who better than him, who can dish out and withold like no other, to make them understand it?

Stefan remembering all the tortures in the Dreaming he'd experienced had his expression hardened and distant.

Klaus watched him closely, the faintest of smirks forming on his lips. Quite proud at the resistance the Ripper was expressing towards realm's attempts to claim him.

Stefan was quite the talented vampire, Damon as well for that matter. Unknown to all, this was because of Silas's blood running through their veins, Stefan who is his direct doppelganger, had an inferior version of the first immortal's mental abilities.

Samael, still shrouded in the swirling smoke, pierced through the group with fiery eyes, instantly absorbing every detail around him. Meanwhile, Mikael's towering presence emanated pure violence, as though he were poised to crush everything in his path, ready to reduce it all to dust.

Elena, herself, in the mean time had trouble against the feel of the place, her warmth fighting against the cold. Bonnie herself though, was the opposite, her magic hummed in joy at being in a place central to all spells. 

Klaus observing all this took a deep, steadying breath, and began to address them, while ignoring Stefan's earlier remark. "Welcome," he intoned softly, his voice smooth like velvet, echoing through the very atmosphere of the Dreaming. "To the Dreaming. Where the strongest minds can bend reality itself."

"And who the hell are you, exactly? The mysterious figure my dear brother seems to know so well?" Damon quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement. Deep down though, he was wary. 

All of them instinctively knew, they were no longer in their bodies.

Samael, whose form finally broke past the dark smoke, stood with the World, seen by all, turned his gaze toward Damon, his eyes narrowing slightly, at his presence, "Shut it, Damon. You're out of your depth here." His voice cold and sharp. "Let the adults handle the talking."

Damon looked both bewildered and insulted by the reaction, his arms spread wide in a gesture of confusion as Samael pointedly ignored him. He wanted to comment that he was practically nine times his age, but chose the better of it and closed his mouth, reluctant to provoke the Stand User's wrath once more. It took him days of nearly constant drinking from blood bags to finally regain his arm.

Samael's voice rang out, laced with mockery as he addressed Klaus. "Now, to what do we owe the pleasure of being called here, by the mighty Klaus Mikaelson himself?" His words carried an air of challenge, but unknown to him, every eye was drawn not to him—but to the towering golden avatar standing behind him and the crown of black thorn around his head. The World and the Passion, his Stands, were no longer silent entities. They loomed like stars in the Dreaming, their intense presence rippling through the atmosphere.

The Originals were visibly affected. Klaus's gaze sharpened, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. There was real, tangible power here. The power he could sense the potential of growth of, the one he desired to make submit to him.

Mikael, whose own presence was often overwhelming, now stood beside the others, his stance a picture of restrained violence. The flicker of interest in his eyes was almost imperceptible, buried beneath a deeper sense of contempt for anything that could be perceived as a threat. His body was poised, a silent predator waiting for the opportune moment to strike, his hands resting loosely by his sides but ready to draw forth his weapon at the slightest provocation.

Elijah's stance remained poised, though his brow furrowed, sensing that this thing is of some sort a manifestation of the soul.

Rebekah's lips pressed into a thin line, her curiosity tinged with caution. They'd faced many dangers, but this was unlike anything they'd ever encountered.

Meanwhile, Damon stood slightly apart, shaking off the residual sting of insult. His expression was harder to read, but his eyes never left The World, the power he held no true understanding of, but felt its immensity. A flicker of grudging respect flickered in his gaze, though his lips were still twisted in that ever-present smirk. "Well, this is new..." he muttered under his breath, though his voice held an edge of fascination.

Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline, in contrast, were all drawn to the sheer force of Samael's manifestation, awe in their eyes. Elena felt it most acutely -- The World's gaze fixed on her with a warmth and protectiveness she couldn't ignore. There was a connection there, deeper than she'd ever anticipated, as though the Stand itself recognized her, honoring her with Samael's fighting spirit and the reverence it held for her.

Bonnie, her magic humming softly in response to the power around them, stood motionless, her thoughts awash with the weight of the aura that surrounded them all. Caroline, too, felt a mix of awe and unease, her hands unconsciously clenched at her sides, but her gaze remained transfixed on the golden form.

Klaus's voice dripped with dark amusement as he glanced toward the figure. "I thought it was about time I met the one who's been foolish enough to attempt to spy on me. Don't think for a second I didn't notice," he said, his tone laced with the unspoken threat of a predator aware of its prey.

Samael's expression hearing his words turned colder. He has indeed been attempting to gain more information about Klaus and his whereabouts through the Passion's sight abilities. It gave the clearest when it came to direct blood relations, but vampires, such as Stefan do have Klaus's blood running through their veins as they are sired by him, and are therefore effective conduits.

Yet his attempts never gave a clear picture. He at first assumed it being because the blood connection was simply too weak, and that may be a factor as well, but the clearest explanation is before him, Klaus was directly aware of being watched and interfered.

"Alright, you've caught me," Samael said, raising his hands in a dramatic gesture of mock surrender. His lips curled into a sardonic grin, and his posture remained relaxed, leaning slightly back as if he were completely unfazed.

He took a step back, eyes flicking lazily over the group, the very picture of someone who didn't feel the least bit threatened. His voice dripped with a mix of sarcasm and amusement, almost as if the entire situation were a mere game. "So, what are you going to do about it?" he drawled, his tone a challenge, an almost playful gleam flickering in his gaze.

Opposing Klaus meant entering a battle of minds, a mental war that would stretch both their wills to their limits. Ignoring Klaus's provocations was an option, but that was never Samael's way. He wasn't content to simply play defense; he wanted to be the one to take control, to push Klaus to the edge and force him into the role of the prey, not the predator. It wasn't enough to respond -- Samael needed to be the one to dictate the pace, to assert his own dominance in this twisted game of wills.

The mist seemed to pulse in response to the challenge, as if the Dreaming itself anticipated the clash of wills between two titanic egos. Klaus's smirk deepened, his expression a mixture of amusement and predatory glee. He stepped forward, his presence radiating an unshakable authority that caused the mist to ripple away from him like a receding tide.

"You're bold, I'll give you that," Klaus purred, his voice velvet smooth but edged with steel. His gaze never wavered from Samael, though his words seemed to encompass all present. "But boldness alone has a tendency to get one killed -- or worse."

Samael's grin remained fixed, a deliberate defiance. "Is that so? I'm still here, aren't I?" His tone was light, dismissive, though his eyes were sharp, assessing every movement, every flicker of intent that crossed Klaus's face. The World hovered behind him, its golden form glowing brighter, as though feeding on the tension in the air.

The Originals were silent but watchful. Elijah's calm exterior betrayed a flicker of intrigue, his sharp mind piecing together the implications of Samael's presence and power. Rebekah's wariness was tempered by curiosity; this was unlike any adversary they'd faced before. Mikael's lip curled in disdain, though his eyes never left Klaus, his hunter's instincts keenly attuned to any sign of weakness.

Damon broke the silence with a low whistle. "Alright, I'll admit it -- this is starting to get interesting." He shot a glance at Stefan, who remained quiet, his gaze locked on Klaus with an unreadable expression.

Klaus turned his attention briefly to Damon, his smirk sharpening. "Oh, it will be interesting, I assure you." Then his focus snapped back to Samael. "But I'll warn you, meddling in my affairs is a dangerous pastime. Whatever you think you've seen of me, whatever you think you know, it's a mere shadow of the truth."

Samael tilted his head, feigning consideration. "And yet, here you are, Klaus, rather than showing me, you're talking. That shows only that you're not confident against me. From you having called us here, I presume you know who -- no, what I am?" 

Klaus's smirk faltered, just slightly, his eyes narrowing. The subtle shift was not lost on the others, especially Samael, who took an almost perverse satisfaction in it. Klaus's silence was its own admission, though he recovered quickly, his tone smooth as silk, dangerous as a knife's edge.

"I know enough," Klaus replied, his voice low and deliberate. "Enough to see you for what you are -- a curiosity. A threat, perhaps, to those less prepared. But to me? You're nothing more than an amusement."

Samael's grin widened, sharp and mocking. "Amusement, is it?" He took a slow step forward, his golden Stand -- The World --looming behind him like an ancient sentinel. "Let's not pretend you don't feel it, Klaus. The weight of what I carry. You brought me here not out of curiosity, but caution. You don't want me meddling in your affairs because you know I could undo them. The question is, are you willing to admit it?"

The tension in the air thickened, the Dreaming itself seeming to pulse in response. Klaus's siblings watched in silence, their expressions guarded. Even Mikael, whose hatred for Klaus burned like an eternal flame, remained still, his predatory instincts telling him to wait, to watch.

Both of them needed not to truly introduce themselves, or get to know one another in anyway. Both understood that the other had done quite the homework on the other. Now the question was, who could push the others buttons best and break their mask of control.

Klaus took a slow step forward, his predatory smirk returning as if Samael's words had reinvigorated him. "Admit it? Oh, you mistake me, Samael. What I feel isn't caution -- it's anticipation. You think your power sets you apart, but you fail to understand one simple truth: this place," he gestured broadly to the swirling, surreal expanse of the world he created inside the Dreaming, "belongs to me. And here, power bows to me."

The very air around Klaus seemed to shift, the mist swirling tighter, denser, as though drawn to him. A low hum began to resonate through the realm, the sound of a vast, unseen force awakening to its master's call. Klaus's aura flared, not just the power of a vampire, but something older, darker -- a presence honed over centuries of domination and survival.

Samael's grin didn't waver, but his golden eyes glinted with sharp intent. "A king in his castle," he murmured, his voice soft but cutting. "But kings who rule alone are the easiest to dethrone."

With a flick of his wrist, The World surged forward, its golden aura colliding with the thickening mist. The energy rippled outward, a shockwave of raw force that caused the ground beneath them to buckle and twist. Klaus didn't flinch; instead, he raised a hand, and the mist surged back, a tidal wave of surreal energy that crashed against The World's golden light.

The clash sent a shockwave through the Dreaming, the ground beneath them fracturing into jagged, shifting plates. The figures from the mist -- ghosts of memories and nightmares --screamed and dissolved, unable to withstand the intensity of the opposing forces.

From the sidelines, Rebekah took a cautious step back, her expression a mixture of awe and unease. "This is madness," she muttered under her breath, though her words were lost in the roar of clashing energies.

Elijah, ever composed, watched with narrowed eyes. "This isn't just a battle of power," he observed, his voice calm but laced with tension. "It's a battle of will. And in this place, will is everything. It seems our brother went back on what he told us. A peaceful approach has been thrown out the window. "

Samael took another step forward, his stance relaxed, almost casual, as The World pushed back against the mist with unyielding force. "You're trying to overwhelm me, Klaus," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "But you can't. My power isn't bound by the same rules as yours. The Dreaming doesn't bow to me -- it recognizes me as its equal." 

The Stand User sensed it from the moment he arrived. The Dreaming was a part of nature, one of its aspects, and it had no direct ill will against him.

Klaus's smirk turned into a snarl, his composure cracking ever so slightly. "Then let's see how long you can hold that delusion."

With a sharp motion, Klaus thrust his hand forward, and the Dreaming erupted around them. The ground beneath Samael fractured into a chasm, shadows clawing upward to drag him down. But The World stepped in, its golden form blazing as it slammed its fists into the rising darkness, shattering it with a deafening roar, "Useless!"

As they continued, the Dreaming surged and writhed around them, a living, breathing entity caught between the wills of Klaus and Samael. The clash of their presences was like the meeting of two storms -- one honed and precise, the other untamed and vast. The ground beneath them rippled like water under immense pressure, while the sky above bent and twisted, caught in the gravitational pull of their power.

Klaus stood tall, his composure unshaken, the smirk on his lips carrying an air of unassailable confidence. His control over the Dreaming was evident in every move he made, every gesture precise and deliberate. The mist around him bent to his will, forming spirals and eddies that lashed out at Samael with pinpoint accuracy. It was the power of a mind that had mastered itself, a predator who had spent centuries refining his dominion.

Samael, on the other hand, was the embodiment of raw power. Where Klaus's energy was like a scalpel, cutting with precision, Samael's was a tidal wave -- vast, overwhelming, and unrelenting.

The World stood behind him, its golden aura blazing like a miniature sun, its sheer presence forcing the Dreaming to ripple and buckle. Samael's path was clear, his vision unclouded by doubt. He had set himself on the road to Heaven Ascension, and that certainty made the power of his will almost limitless in scope.

The clash of their wills caused the Dreaming itself to tremble. Klaus's mists struck with the precision of a blade, but each time they closed in on Samael, The World would intercept them, its fists shattering the attacks into harmless vapor. In turn, Samael's golden aura would surge forward, overwhelming and relentless, only to be met by Klaus's controlled barriers of shadow and light.

Klaus's voice cut through the chaos, calm and sharp. "You're strong, Samael. I'll grant you that. But strength without control is nothing more than a storm. And a storm, no matter how vast, always falls to preparation."

Samael tilted his head, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "You mistake my power as chaotic, Klaus. My path is clear, my dream absolute. I don't need control because my very existence bends this reality to my will."

With a surge of energy, Samael raised his hand, and The World struck forward, its golden fist slamming into the ground. The impact sent shockwaves through the Dreaming, causing the mist to ripple outward like a tidal wave. Klaus didn't flinch; he raised his hand, and the mist coalesced into a barrier, absorbing the force with eerie precision.

The exchange continued, each of them testing the other, probing for weaknesses. Klaus's movements were deliberate, every strike and defense executed with surgical precision. He was the hunter, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Samael, by contrast, moved with a reckless abandon that belied the sheer force behind his attacks. His power was unrefined but undeniable, a testament to the clarity of his dream.

The atmosphere grew thick with tension, the energies of the two forces crackling in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. Just when it seemed the struggle could escalate beyond all reason, two figures appeared, seemingly out of nowhere -- Rebekah and Elijah. Their presence was immediate and undeniable, an anchor in the swirling chaos.

Elijah stood tall, his expression as dignified as ever, his gaze piercing through the tumult like a beacon. Without a word, he walked forward, his steady movements cutting through the intensity. Rebekah, ever graceful, followed closely, her sharp eyes observing the conflict with a quiet, calculating air.

Their combined presence seemed to challenge the energies at play. A ripple of calm spread through the chaos, the forces of light and shadow beginning to withdraw as though instinctively responding to their strength. The air hummed for a moment as everything stilled.

"I must say," Elijah began, his voice smooth and controlled, "I do hope you're both done with this childish display. The theatrics are... tiresome."

Rebekah arched an elegant brow, the faintest of smirks touching her lips. "I thought you two had more sense than to allow your pride to blind you so completely," she added, her tone laced with the dry humor that only she could wield so effortlessly.

The two opposing powers in the air seemed to falter, their energies neutralizing as the clash between them finally came to an end, their aggressive forces dissipating like smoke in the wind. What had once been an unyielding standoff was now a fragile truce, held in place by the quiet authority of the pair who had joined the fray.

Their gaze now fell upon those still standing in the wake of the conflict. Neither of them spoke again, their silence reinforcing their unspoken command of the situation.

Klaus, ever the one to challenge authority, let a sardonic smile curl across his lips as he observed his siblings' intervention. His eyes, gleaming with mischief, settled on Elijah, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Ah, Elijah, the ever-dignified savior," Klaus said with a theatrical sigh, stepping forward. "How lovely to see you so utterly certain of your superiority, as though your presence alone could solve all of our problems." His gaze flicked toward Rebekah, the slight amusement still lingering in his eyes. "And, Rebekah, my dear sister, the ice queen herself, gracing us with her delicate charm."

He took another step closer, arms folded. "You must be so proud to play the role of the peacemakers. How terribly predictable."

Elijah stood unmoved, his gaze sharp as ever, though a flicker of annoyance passed through his features. His calm demeanor did not waver. "Klaus," he began, his voice unwavering, "you know as well as I that your games have consequences. While you indulge in your little theatrics, people suffer. It's tiresome. And your incessant need for chaos only makes things worse."

Klaus chuckled darkly, undeterred by Elijah's reprimand. "You always have such high expectations of me, brother. It's almost endearing." He leaned in slightly. "But in case you haven't noticed, it's not the theatrics that are causing the trouble -- it's your inability to control your little world."

Before the tension could build further, Rebekah, always quick to draw attention away from her brothers' never-ending verbal sparring, elegantly shifted her focus. Her gaze flickered toward the other group, where Samael stood, an enigmatic figure whose presence seemed to pull the attention of the others.

With a casual, almost nonchalant air, Rebekah strode toward them, her attention locked firmly on Samael. "Forgive my brothers," she said, her tone smooth and unbothered, "especially Niklaus. We didn't bring you all here to provoke a fight. Rather, we simply wish to understand why you've allied yourselves with our... maniac of a father." Her gaze briefly flicked to Mikael, her expression unchanged, as she added, "Though, I do expect that your reasons won't impress me."

Mikael's gaze hardened as he looked at Rebekah, his voice cutting through the air with cold certainty. "Your weakness, daughter, has always been your undoing," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "No matter how many times Niklaus has daggered you or your siblings, you still choose to side with the abomination that he is."

Rebekah's eyes flashed with anger, her stance unwavering as she met his gaze. "Don't pretend like you care about any of us," she retorted sharply, her voice dripping with contempt. "It's all an act. You want us all dead -- because of the monsters you believe you've created."

Caroline had been silently absorbing the tension building in the room, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the chaos surrounding them. But as the battle ended, and the verbal sparring between the Mikaels and the Originals began she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, mustering up as much courage as she could, her voice cutting through the thick air. "Okay, enough," Caroline demanded, her words laced with a mix of annoyance, fear, and uncertainty. "What the hell is going on here?! Would someone-"

Before Caroline could even finish her sentence, Bonnie, wide-eyed and panicked, grabbed her arm and yanked her back with surprising strength. "Caroline, stop!" Bonnie hissed under her breath, her voice frantic. "You can't just-"

But Caroline, still a bit dazed from everything, the confusion caused by it all, wasn't fully aware of the weight of her words, not yet understanding how much danger she had just walked into. Bonnie pulled her further into the background, just far enough to shield her from the direct wrath of the Originals.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bonnie whispered fiercely, her hands shaking as she tugged at Caroline's arm. "This is way more dangerous than you think. You're asking the wrong questions at the wrong time, and these people-" Bonnie's voice trembled slightly as she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze flickering to the Originals, who were still caught in their verbal clash. "-they don't play by the same rules we do. They could kill you without even blinking. They-" 

"Forgive me, Rebekah, right?" Samael suddenly interjectsaid, his tone steady but laced with a quiet challenge. Attempting to divert her attention from the two girls going a bit further into away, "If you didn't come here to fight, as you claim, then what exactly is your purpose? If not to provoke us, why are you even here?"

He raised an eyebrow, the skepticism in his voice unmistakable as he subtly stepped forward, his stance still poised but deliberate. His gaze flicked briefly over the room, taking in the Originals, the divided allegiances, and the chaos that had just barely settled.

"You claim you didn't come to fight," he continued, his arms still crossed, "but your presence speaks volumes, as does the company you keep. So, enlighten me -- what is it that you truly want?"

Samael's tone had a bite to it, making it clear that he wasn't interested in the niceties or the well-practiced speeches that the Originals were so fond of. He was pressing for answers, his expression showing that he had little patience for games. The tension between them was palpable, and his posture remained rigid, his eyes unwavering as he awaited Rebekah's response, expecting a clear answer.

Rebekah's attention flickered momentarily from Mikael as she turned toward Samael, her eyes assessing him with a hint of amusement. She tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, and her gaze lingered on him a moment too long. Deciding to begin doing the assignment Nik has given her.

"Well, aren't you direct," Rebekah replied smoothly, her voice laced with charm as she stepped a little closer, her posture relaxed but not too deliberately inviting. "I suppose that's what makes you interesting."

She paused, letting the comment hang in the air, before she continued, her tone shifting to something more serious, though still laced with her usual confidence.

"As for what we want, Samael," she said, her eyes never leaving his, "I think you can appreciate that our reasons are far more complicated than a simple attack. We didn't come here to pick a fight -- not yet, at least." She gave a slight shrug, a playful edge still lingering in her words. "We came to understand what your true intentions are. After all, you've aligned yourself with my father, and I'd like to know why."

She leaned in a bit closer, her voice dropping slightly, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "You don't seem the type to follow someone blindly, so what is it that has drawn you to him?"

In the background, Elena's gaze narrowed as she caught the subtle interaction between Rebekah and Samael, a flicker of suspicion passing through her. She had never met the Originals before, save for Mikael, but the way Rebekah was looking at Samael -- so intently, so almost flirtatious -- didn't sit well with her. A flash of irritation crossed her features as she instinctively moved a little closer to Samael, as if marking her territory.

Rebekah's eyes flicked briefly to Elena, catching the subtle shift in her posture as she had moved closer to Samael. The slight defensive stance, the way she positioned herself --Rebekah recognized it immediately, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She tilted her head slightly, the movement almost graceful, before turning her attention fully back to Samael, though not without letting her voice slide toward a teasing edge.

"My, my," she began, her tone dripping with mock sweetness, "it seems the doppelganger is rather protective, isn't she?" Rebekah's words lingered in the air, sharp and cutting, as she allowed the weight of the word to settle. "How charming."

"Enough with the games," Samael interjected, his voice sharp and laced with frustration. His gaze flicked briefly to Rebekah, noting the subtle mind games she was playing with Elena, and the irritation in his eyes was unmistakable. "Stop wasting our time. Tell us why we're really here."

Klaus, having stepped away from his heated exchange with Elijah, smirked at Samael's words, clearly unbothered by the interruption. He took a step forward, his presence dominating the room, and his eyes locked onto Elena with an unsettling intensity. The predatory gleam in his gaze made her stiffen instinctively, drawing closer to Samael as a protective instinct surged through her.

"Ah, it's quite simple, really," Klaus drawled, his tone laced with mock amusement. "I merely wished to meet the so-called savior of the prophecy, and of course, the precious doppelganger herself." He took another deliberate step toward Elena, his voice lowering. "After all, it's not every day I'm graced with the presence of such... intriguing individuals."

The words hung in the air, thick with tension, as Klaus's attention never wavered from Elena. She instinctively pressed closer to Samael, her unease palpable, while Samael's posture remained taut, his eyes narrowing slightly as he evaluated the Originals' motives more critically. Knowing that Klaus lied as easily as he breathed.

Stefan, unable to keep silent any longer, couldn't help but interject, his voice sharp and laced with a biting edge, the challenge in his tone unmistakable. 

"You think you're just casually meeting people?" Stefan's words cut through the tense atmosphere, his gaze fixed on Klaus, eyes cold and unforgiving. "You have a history of killing people, not meeting them, Klaus. So, forgive me if I don't buy your little 'meet and greet' act."

It was rare for Stefan to sound this cold, this combative, but his history with Klaus had made it personal -- his anger still simmered from the horrors of his ripper days, and Klaus's hand in those darker moments.

He stepped forward, the venom in his tone only growing sharper as he locked eyes with Klaus, his anger barely contained. "How many lives have you ruined to satisfy your need for control? For power? If you're just here to chat, then I must have missed the part where you stopped being a psychotic killer."

Klaus's expression darkened, a flicker of amusement flashing behind his steely eyes as he met Stefan's biting words with a sharp, mocking smile.

"Ah, Stefan," Klaus drawled, his voice dripping with that signature mix of superiority and a cruel sense of fondness. "You speak as if I didn't give you exactly what you needed. You were always so… eager to play the martyr, yet when I played a bit rough with you, it was for your own good."

He took a slow step toward Stefan, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "You needed to experience it -- your little 'rippling moral compass' required a good jolt to wake up from your delusional sense of righteousness." Klaus' voice dropped to a low, condescending tone. "After all, what is life without a bit of necessary chaos?"

His gaze swept over Stefan, as if inspecting an old, familiar toy. "You, of all people, should know that. How many times did I have to remind you? Pain is a catalyst, Stefan. It changes people. It shapes them." He gave a small, almost affectionate chuckle, though there was nothing warm about it. "You may not thank me now, but those lessons on the mind -- I did you a favor."

Before the tension could escalate further, Elijah stepped forward, his presence commanding the room as always. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the group before landing on the swirling conflict between Klaus and Stefan. He cleared his throat, his voice smooth and measured, a deliberate interruption to the simmering animosity.

"Enough, Klaus," Elijah said, his tone unwavering. "As much as your theatrics delight you, I must remind you that the spell is unraveling. We don't have much time." He glanced briefly at the others, his gaze shifting to Rebekah and Mikael, before turning his attention back to Samael.

Samael's hardened expression did not escape Elijah's notice, but there was something almost like respect in his tone as he spoke next.

"It has been a pleasure meeting you, Samael," Elijah said with a faint, professional smile, his voice warm but precise, every word carefully chosen. "I had hoped our first encounter would be under more… favorable circumstances. Regardless, your presence has certainly added an unexpected complexity to the matter at hand."

Elijah's gaze lingered for a moment on Samael, before he turned to address the group, his posture never shifting from that elegant, calm authority.

"We don't have much time left," Elijah continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge as he moved to make his point clear. "We will all wake shortly, and what happens next will depend entirely on what choices we make in these final moments." 

With that, he turned back to Klaus, giving him a pointed look, as though silently reminding him that there were more pressing matters at hand than the petty squabbles that often consumed them.

Klaus's eyes narrowed, sensing the subtle shift in the room as Elijah's calm authority took hold. The tension still thickened the air, but the threat of an imminent end to this strange, twisted encounter hung just on the edge of their awareness. He paused, his gaze briefly flickering toward Elijah, who had offered him that sharp, knowing glance. Klaus's lips curled into a sly, almost regretful smile as he turned back to Samael.

"Consider this a parting gift of sorts, Samael," Klaus began, his tone carrying an unusual sincerity, though tinged with his usual predatory sharpness. "Know this: you are not truly my enemy. Not yet, at least. You think you understand the game, but you don't know the half of it." His eyes locked on Elena for a split second, before drifting back to Samael. "And as for her… Elena," Klaus continued with a strange, quiet finality in his voice, "I don't want her dead. Not permanently. No, I value her far more than you think. If anything, I wish her to be protected... as much as I would wish the same for you."

The words felt as strange for Samael and the others as it was for Klaus. Promises of protection were never truly his forte. Before Samael could even begin to question what it is he meant the world around them seemed to begin unraveling. The air buzzed with a strange, unnatural vibration, the ground beneath them feeling unsteady, as though the very fabric of reality was starting to fray at the edges.

There was a pause, and Klaus's gaze softened, just for a moment, before the darkness in his voice crept back in, a final warning slipping past his lips.

"But don't mistake my words for peace. You are on a stage bigger than you know. This, what happened today, isn't over. Not by a long shot."

And in the next instant, the world shattered. The voices, the faces, the entire surreal tension of the room fell away as if it had never existed. 

Everything went dark. 

Then, as if emerging from a long, suffocating dream, each of them began to wake.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! This chapter is around 7000 words, I hope you all liked it. 

Do tell me if it was too long and you wish for more shorter chapters.

Also, how did you find, the interactions? 

Do please tell me. 

Do please comment and review as well, I'd really like it if we could get past 10 reviews,

Well, hopefully I'll see you all later,

Bye!)