The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

1492, England

Elijah walked into the grand living room of the castle, his usually composed demeanor slightly ruffled. The rich fabric of his suit—perfectly tailored and trending in the year 1492—caught the firelight as he sat down heavily in one of the ornate chairs. A weary sigh escaped him, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

"She escaped," he announced, breaking the silence.

Rebekah, lounging elegantly on a nearby chaise, rolled her eyes dramatically. "Of course she did," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Why wouldn't she? You've clearly taken an interest in her, Klaus has gone soft, and she's played all of you like a fiddle. Just like the first one—Tatia." She glanced at Ivar, who stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the moonlit landscape outside. "Only Ivar didn't fall for her charms."

Kol, leaning against the doorway with his usual smirk, chimed in without missing a beat. "And that's why he's the best big brother," he added with a mock bow toward Ivar, earning himself a sharp glare from Rebekah.

Ivar turned from the window, his emerald eyes cool and calculating. His gaze landed on Elijah. "Where's Klaus?" he asked, his tone even but carrying an undertone of concern.

Elijah exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He left," he said. "In a fury, of course. Likely heading to her hometown to—"

"Slaughter her family," Freya interrupted, stepping into the room with a knowing look. "I knew this plan was doomed from the start. The way she had her claws in every man around her, especially that Trevor boy. He fell for her the moment he laid eyes on her."

Finn, sitting stiffly in the corner, let out a low sigh. "And now she's of no use to him," he said, his voice grim. "She's a vampire now. He'll have to wait another hundred years for a new doppelgänger to appear."

Ivar chuckled softly, the sound both amused and dismissive. "Or another five hundred years," he said dryly.

Henrik, sitting cross-legged on the rug near the hearth, burst into laughter at the comment. "Five hundred years? That might just be enough time for Klaus to cool off."

The faintest hint of a smirk touched Ivar's lips before he straightened, his expression sharpening. "Enough about Katerina," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "We have bigger problems to deal with—namely, finding Mikael."

A heavy silence fell over the room at the mention of their father's name. Even Kol, who never missed an opportunity for a quip, grew quiet. Mikael—the vampire who hunted vampires, their father turned relentless predator—was a subject none of them took lightly.

Freya folded her arms across her chest, her expression grim. "Do we even know where he is?" she asked. "Last I heard, he was in the New World."

"Chasing shadows," Elijah said, his tone bitter. "He's relentless, but he doesn't know where we are—yet."

"But he will," Finn interjected. "It's only a matter of time. He always finds us."

Rebekah scoffed, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Let him come," she said with a defiant edge to her voice. "I'm tired of running from him. We should face him, end this once and for all."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Kol asked, his tone light but his eyes serious. "Stake him? Burn him? He is our father, even if he is blinded by rage."

Ivar's gaze swept over his siblings, his expression unreadable. "We'll find a way," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. "But first, we need to know where he is."

Elijah nodded, his mind already working through potential strategies. "We'll need to question our contacts, call in old favors. Someone must know where Mikael's trail leads."

"And what about Klaus?" Freya asked. "Do we wait for him to return, or do we proceed without him?"

"He'll come back when he's done," Ivar said with certainty. "He always does. In the meantime, we prepare."

As the siblings dispersed, one by one leaving the heavy air of the room behind, Freya lingered. She crossed the room, her gaze steady on Ivar, who remained by the window, staring out into the night.

When the room was finally empty, she spoke softly. "What's your plan, Ivar? With Mikael?"

Ivar turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. "To talk," he said simply. "To reconcile, if that's even possible."

Freya blinked, surprised. "Reconcile? He's been hunting us for centuries, Ivar. You think he'll just… listen?"

"Maybe not at first," Ivar admitted, stepping away from the window. His voice was calm, measured. "But Kol had a point. He's still our father. Everything that's brought us to this point… it all starts with Mother. Mikael didn't wake up one day and decide to destroy his family. It was her choices that lit the fire."

Freya's brow furrowed, her arms crossing as she leaned back against the edge of a table. "You're saying this is all because of Esther?"

"She made a deal, Freya," Ivar said, his gaze steady. "She traded you—her firstborn—to Dahlia. For power. For children. When Mikael found out, it must've destroyed him. And then, after that betrayal, she had an affair. Niklaus wasn't his, and she knew it. She lied to him for years. That kind of betrayal… it broke him."

Freya looked away, her expression unreadable.

"And then," Ivar continued, his voice quiet but firm, "Mikael forced her to place the curse on Niklaus. A cruel move, yes. But he thought he was protecting the family. And when Klaus killed her and blamed Mikael, what did we expect him to do? He wasn't hunting us out of sport—he thought we turned on him."

Freya let out a slow breath, her fingers curling over the edge of the table. "You really believe he can be reasoned with?"

"I believe he's not the monster we've made him out to be," Ivar said, his tone steady. "He's dangerous, yes. But everything he's done was because of what he lost. His family. His wife. His children."

Freya studied him for a moment, searching his face. "You don't fear him."

"No," Ivar said simply. "I don't. I could take him if I had to. But I don't want to. He's still my father."

A faint smile touched Freya's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You've always been the strongest of us. Not just in power… but in heart."

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I just see the bigger picture. We've spent centuries fighting each other, Freya. Maybe it's time we tried something else."

Freya reached out, touching his arm lightly. "If anyone can get through to him, it's you."

Ivar gave a small nod, his expression resolute but calm. "I wish that was true."