Chapter One

"Busy night slaughtering witches, Marcel?"

Since the night of The Harvest it seemed that Marcel's favourite pass time seemed to be ripping the witches of New Orleans apart in the streets, which Elle had no time for. Witch business was witch business, whether it involved children or not, it was nothing to do with vampires and Marcel was messing with the balance of the city.

"D seems to understand why I do what I do, why can't you? Or maybe you can explain to her why you sympathize with the witches that wanted to kill her." Marcel shot back, he had had a long night and wasn't in the mood to deal with Elle's bitching.

Rising from the bench she had been reclined on in the compounds courtyard, Elle turned her attention to Marcel fully, her baby blonde hair whipping around her face as she did. "Do not use Davina as leverage over your poor argument, we both know why you keep her locked in that attic and it's not for her safety." Marching over to her adoptive brother Elle snatched the drink he was nursing from his hand, tipping the contents out onto the ground. "You call your self King, Marcel. But I see no crown."

Marcel's anger began to spike; fifty years had passed since their feud yet Elle wouldn't let it go, and he was growing tired of her using it as an excuse to undermine him. "And I made you Queen of this city! I could have left you for dead like the Mikaelson's did, but I made you part of my uprising. I chose to share it with you, but apparently that isn't enough for you!"

"Queen?" Elle yelled with disbelief. Was that what he'd convinced himself she was? As the years had rotted away did Marcel truly believe he acted like they were equals? If he did he was far more deluded than Elle had thought. "I am your prisoner Marcel, just like Davina is. Except my prison isn't a dusty attic, it's this damn city."

Raising his arms Marcel gestured at the lavish compound that surrounded them. "This is a prison to you? You have everything you could possibly want. Look around you Elle, no one would call this a prison. You might complain but you still walk around the streets using the power I gave you to get what ever you want."

"I don't have everything I want!"

"And what is it you don't have? The lavish house you grew up in with your Daddy? Because I think most people would say the compound isn't exactly slumming it."

"I want my freedom!" Pulling back her hand Elle struck Marcel, sending him sailing across the courtyard and crashing into one of the supporting columns. It had been a while since they had gotten in a physical fight, mainly because Elle kept as much distance between her and Marcel as possible, but since he had taken Davina as a prisoner Elle found it almost impossible to keep her temper in check.

Dusting off crumbs of concrete from his shoulders Marcel got to his feet, ready to fight back if Elle made another advance on him. "Don't push me Elle. Just because you're my sister doesn't mean you can disobey the rules."

Elle knew exacty what Marcel was refering to; there was no way he would ever kill her, but that didn't mean he wouldn't put her in his garden for punishment. "Just because you're King doesn't mean you can't be overthrown. And when that day comes I'll be there, watching as you find out what if feels like to treated like a belonging."
The argument was over as far as Elle was concerned, there was nothing that could be said that hadn't been said a thousand times before, the only thing that could be done was to lose herself at the bottom of several bottles. It was how she spent most of her nights, making her endless existance just barable.

"Where are you going?" Marcel called out to Elle's retreating back before she could make it out of the compound.

Without turning around, Elle shot her reply over her shoulder. "Where I always go."

Although they fought constantly Elle was still his sister, there was no way to just turn of the switch that made him care. He had messed up in the past, Marcel knew that all too well, but he had tried his best to make up for his indiscretions. It just seemed that Elle had no intention of ever forgiving him or letting his already hectic life be any less stressful. She was a spitfire, uncontrollable at the best of the time, and many of his men had asked him why he kept the blonde around when she caused so much trouble. But what they could never see was the sweet, young girl he had grown up with. Over many years he had watched her blossom from a naive girl into a vicious woman, and he couldn't blame all of it on Klaus. No, he had his part to play.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket Marcel quickly punched in the number of one of his Night Walkers, the dial tone playing down his ear until a deep voice answered. "Keep an eye on her. She's in a mood again and you know what she gets like." Problem dealt with Marcel ended the call, there were much larger issues falling in his lap if rumour was to believed, and in New Orleans it was always best to listen to rumour.

A/N/ I love The Originals (especially Klaus) and this idea has been knocking around my head for a few days now,so I thought I'd give it a go. I know the first chapter was really short but I wanted to see what the interest was like first :)
If you do read this story let me know what you think by leaving a comment.