Mikael's Little Necromancer.

4. A Father, A Son, and A Few Corpses.

Mausoleum, USA, Present:

Damon hated the predicament he found himself in right now. All agency and control were stripped from him. He was now merely a puppet and some kid was pulling his strings. Damon made a promise to himself that he would slowly kill his captor in the most brutal way possible. When he is able to regain his freedom.

He didn't know what was worse being some toy for a boy. Or that the boy who's in charge was listening to Lifehouse in a corner of the mausoleum. The relatively young vampire broke the chains that have bound Mikael for years. He then lowered his neck near Mikael's face.  The desiccating Original didn't hesitate when to expose his fangs and use them to tear into Damon's neck and drain him almost dry.

"Not the worse vampire, I've fed off smelt like a cheap motel room meets bourbon," Mikael said his son was oblivious to his return to full health. Mikael then used his supernatural speed to run over to Henrik. He snatched Henrik's MP3 player off him.

"Papa, you're awake," Henrik said with a smile.

"That's better my boy. Now let's have a proper look at you." Mikael replied. The Original examined his youngest carefully.

"I'm fine." Henrik insisted the pair had something much bigger to turn their attention to. 

"Your neck." Mikael pointed out there was slight bruising present.

"Vampire." Henrik simply shrugged.

"And just where is the vampire that laid a hand on my little boy?"

"You just fed off him," Henrik answered. Mikael turned his head back to an unconscious Damon.

"Pity for him." Mikael sighed sometimes after feeding on a vampire, he would let them live. But Damon hurt his little boy and there was only one punishment fit for that crime in the Original's eyes and that was death. 

"Papa."

"Yes, my boy."

"I have news."

"Well don't stand on ceremony."

"Freya's alive," Henrik said.

"Child..." Mikael started it was an unwritten rule in the Viking family, that Freya shouldn't be mentioned it would be a cruel reminder of what Mikael lost.

"Pa, I wouldn't mention her or make a comment like this. If I didn't have proof that you could see her again." Henrik interrupted his father.

"Whatever sources you have or abilities you've acquired have misled you. My daughter passed away a long time ago."

"Papa, I..." Henrik started.

"I will hear no more of this." Mikael cut his son off.

"My sources are valid, I have spoken to twenty seers."

"All of which have taken you for a ride."

"The Children of Morgause!"

"Pardon." Mikael frowned. 

"A coven of witches blessed by the Arthurian witch Morgause with the gift of prophecy far greater than any other."

"I am very aware of that coven." Mikael said, "They have not and never will help our kind."

"There was an article in the papers today day, three of their witches died in a car crash..." Henrik started to explain.

"You wish to call their spirits to convince me." Mikael butt in.

City Morgue, USA, Present:

Breaking into a morgue was easy if you happened to be an Original or hang around with one. Most people believed vampires and witches were purely pieces of fiction and didn't exist. Lucky for the pair as that meant it would be highly unlikely that anyone there would be on vervain. They made their way to a room where the most recent deceased people were kept.

Mikael closed the door behind them the two then searched the room to find the bodies of the dead witches. If the Original had to be honest he'd rather not be here. He had and will always love his dear Freya, but she died a long time ago. A time when his wife lacked the power and means to bring back the light of his life.

But Henrik was determined to prove his point and if there is anything Mikael knew it was that his children were stubborn by nature and they would end up in this very room at some point. At no point across the many centuries, Henrik has lived visiting a morgue has ever been on his bucket list same with cemeteries really.  The dead often talked more than the living and oh boy was he tired of spirits harassing him. 

Once they spotted the three dead witches, they lined the trio up so they would be laying next to each other. While Mikael stood at the witches' feet, Henrik stood at their heads. 

"Here goes nothing." Henrik sighed as he rubbed his palms together for a minute. He then placed his left index fingers on each of their foreheads one by one pulling their spirits from the Afterlife and back into their bodies. The witches hadn't had the chance to take in their surroundings or move.

"My firstborn child Freya what became of her?" The Original asked already expecting the three to say, she found peace after dying from a plague. 

"A barren Esther left her Viking home one night to visit her ostracized sister desperate she was to bear you a child. She made a pact that would curse all firstborns in your line." The first of the three witches answered. Mikael in a fit of rage grabbed the witch by her throat.

"My wife wouldn't give up our child!" Mikael snapped his grip on the dead witch strong.

"We only speak of what we saw." The second witch spoke up. The three witches didn't feel threatened. And why should they? They were dead and soon they would have to return to the Afterlife. 

"Where is she?" Mikael demanded his grip lessened. 

"Go to the city, your children called their second home." The third witch answered before their spirits were sent back from whence they came. The youngest Mikaelson then dropped to the floor unconscious!