Henrik Mikaelson died a horrible death. Torn apart by the werewolves, his last minutes on this earth were unbearably painful. He also served as a catalyst and unknowingly assisted his mother, who turned her family into the Originals. Alan Mason, a 1...
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"Did you have fun?" asked Finn entering the room, where Henrik was skimming over the grimoires.
"Define the fun," looked at him Henrik, closing the grimoire shut. "Kol got drunk," winced Henry.
"Did he hurt you?!" demanded Finn, overprotectively.
"No, Kol would never hurt me," assured him, Henrik, his words warming Kol's undead heart, who was eavesdropping on the conversation. "Mortals there, weren't as lucky though," remarked Henrik.
Finn just snorted at the usual Kol behavior.
"Just because he's not the same Kol I remember, it doesn't mean I love him any less," Henry looked Finn in the eyes, trying to get across the message. "He's still the big brother, that hang out with me when everyone else was busy or thought it lame," Finn looked down in guilt.
"I'm sorry Henrik, I was never a role model for you," admitted Finn.
"Don't you get it Finn?" asked Henry, confusing his brother. "It's our chance to be a family again. Yeah, we're a bunch of weird supernatural creatures, but we're still family," passionately told him Henrik, whose eyes were shining with the brightness of the sun. Kol left, he has heard enough, his heart aglow with light and love he hasn't felt in a thousand years.
"I'm starting to see that as a possibility, Henrik. It's all thanks to you," kissed Finn his forehead and left.
Henrik enjoyed his morning, spending it with his family. Drinking coffee while observing his siblings interact. Elena and Jeremy arrived later. Rebekah and Lena planned to go shopping, while Jeremy and Kol played video games together, having fun. Henrik decided to hang out with Cheryl and left to visit his favorite Donovan.
He was talking with Matt about specifics of witchcraft and how Devil had no part in it when Cheryl went stiff. Her eyes blanking and posture awkward. Both boys quickly went to her, to ask if she was okay when Cheryl let out a piercing scream. Scream of a Banshee.
"Cher, what did you see?" asked Henry, dreading the answer. For the scream was too loud, for it to be for an unknown person. Banshee's screamed louder for those they cared for.
"Twelve," told them, Cheryl, confusing the fuck out of them.
"What?" eloquently asked Matt.
"Twelve witches, who were hung right in this forest, will rise from the dead. To bring vengeance to the ones who betrayed them," Cheryl sobbed out. "Blood and fire, brilliant flames of perdition," she mumbled freaking out Matt, while Henry looked at her, contemplatively.
"Where will they rise?" asked Henry.
"Forest. Big tree. The hanging tree," Cheryl muttered, still out of it. Henry and Matt shared a look.
"Take care of her, she needs to rest. I'll try to take care of this," sighed Henry, weary.
"Be careful out there, bro," hugged him Matt. Henry just nodded and left, returning to the Mikaelson manor, where Jeremy and Elena were lying on the couch, he walked in when Elena knocked the laughing Jeremy on his ass.
