Familiarity – Chapter 1; A Mere Mortal Mistake

1400

Dear Gabriel,

Emotions are a hindrance to my kind, but I find that I am incapable of flipping that off switch any time soon, my love. Perhaps it is your fault, I suppose, because you are that one object that I refuse to walk around and completely leave behind in my haste footsteps. Do you enjoy making me unintentionally suffer, Gabe?

My emotions are unstable because of the main fact that I cannot feed properly. I look at the jugular vein, at the main artery in the right side of mortals' throats, and I see it throb – I feel the immediate desire to sink my fangs deep into their flesh – but I cannot perform the task. My senses roar for want, for that precious nectar from the main source, but I discovered that my feelings only allow me to drink from a gauntlet, or anything other than my mouth against skin.

Are you happy with this? I cannot revert to drinking something as lowly as animal blood, or anything downgraded, I need human plasma to keep my strength. There are far worse predators then me, my love, and I must keep the Original legend, the stories, to withhold their purpose.

I am currently traveling with my dear brother Kol, and we locate ourselves currently in a grand country known as Greece. The very place you had promised me to go in another life.

I think I shall now live it through you, Gabriel.

Love Always,

Myrella Mikaelson

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin. However we always recommend to keep your seat belt fastened while you're seated. You may now turn on your electronic devices such as calculators, CD players and laptop computers.

In a few moments, the flight attendants will be passing around the cabin to offer you hot or cold drinks, as well as breakfast, dinner, supper, a light meal, or a snack. Alcoholic drinks are also available at a nominal charge, with our compliments. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. Thank you."

Myra Mikaelson unbuckled her seatbelt swiftly, crossing her black legging-cladded legs as she felt the international plane begin to advance forward through the stratosphere. She was a fan of flying, it was very familiar and despite the negativity comments toward noises – she always stationed herself on the upper-class seats where champagne was served as well as pleasant food.

She gently thanked the attendant who set down an elegant of champagne that was the highest quality that the plane occupied, a bottle of Ace of Spade, with as well as a few tablespoons of the attendants crimson blood. But the kind older woman would not recall ever cutting her palm to mix in with alcohol, in fact, all she could remember was slicing her palm on something sharp and small. Myra took a careful sip of her drink, the blood and champagne blending smoothly to create a heavenly taste.

As she swallowed the liquid, Myra begrudgingly discovered that her mind persisted on pondering of her unexpectedly departed father. But it was not the recent Original Vampire Hunter that kept on crossing her thoughts, it was the man that was. The man that had once allowed her to jump on his back and carry her through the house, despite the fact that he claimed it was inappropriate in her dressing gown.

She kept thinking of that night.

"Father, what have you done?!" I clutched Kol's face in absolute horror, tears trickling down my cheeks steadily as I gasped for breath between my aching sobs. My hands trembled against my brother's face, trying to process the fact that I had watched him jump over the cauldron to sprint to the front door of the house to attempt a hasty escape from our mad father – but with speed unknown and unreal, Mikael had jabbed Kol through the chest with a broad sword.

My palms were stained crimson from his fresh blood, and I glanced up with hazy wide eyes to see Rebekah lying prone on her side, a red stain blooming across the torso of her white nightgown. "No," I moaned in desperation. Staggering up to my feet, I held my hands prior to me in some sort of self-preservation act of a shield. "Father," I choked on my tears, "why is this happening? Explain this to me!" The demand was not how I spoke to my father, for I knew the consequences of ever raising my voice to him in any motive or manner. But the grief was all-consuming, and my eyes roamed everywhere, from Niklaus propped up against a fallen chair, from Elijah on the floor beside the kitchen table.

I could not even recall when everything had begun. We had ate a healthy supper, mother had discussed departing to Ayanna's household for a short while, and the next event I knew, Finn was being tossed on the floor from Mikael, a gaping wound puncturing his heart. There was no warning, no preparation. My father had gone mad with dementia.

His blue eyes mirrored my own, and I inhaled sharply as he blurred in my vision with a speed and agility that abandoned my vision with nothing but an intensifying dizziness. My feet instinctually stumbled backwards in fear and confusion, and I bellowed a cry of terror when something poked sharply underneath my collarbone.

Mikael was in front of me, expression blank. He extended his arm, and regardless of me flinching away from his hand, he brushed his fingers across my long taupe hair. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, but he was yet to form anything resembling a smile. "You will understand," was all he said, because the next second, pain pierced through my chest, and I coughed on my own adhesive blood.

"What are you thinking about?"

Myra blinked cautiously, and she swallowed dryly and tossed back the rest of the champagne as she revolved her head to gaze into Niklaus's azure blue eyes. "Nothing of importance," she spoke off-handedly, signaling for the stationed attendant to pour her another glass, and asking politely for the middle-aged woman to just leave the bottle in her possession.

She glanced down at him fiddling around with his smartphone. She had a fancy one herself, but she mainly stored it away unless she got a call from a contact. His thumbs danced across the touchscreen swiftly, and she raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking about, brother? You will be quiet the busy man when returning to our delightful hometown." The sarcasm dripped with venom off of her voice, because in truth, she had never intended on ever returning to Mystic Falls, Virginia.

"I've had my Hybrids tail the doppelgänger and her pals for the time being, but you see," he released a forbidding chuckle, "they are a challenging bunch."

"Oh?" Myra smirked, concluding that initiating into a conversation will perhaps capture her roaming mind elsewhere. She shifted sideways into her seat, drawing up her knees and facing the right side of her brother. "Describe to me, brother, how challenging?"

"Challenging enough that they seem to be under the impression that they can outsmart me." A scowl teetered on the edge of his mouth, but he suppressed the urge with a clamp of his teeth. "You have always loved a good challenge, Ella, and I believe this little group will be quiet the dare."

The ancient nickname yanked on a few of her heartstrings, but she remained resilient in her calm expression. A smile ghosted her mouth. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. And they have one of every kind." Niklaus began counting off with his fingers. "A Bennett witch, three vampires, a vampire hunter, and although once upon a time there was a werewolf that blew –"

"Now there is a Hybrid that roars?" Myra grinned widely as his mouth stretched up at her inquiry. "How intriguing, Nik." She tested the nickname back on her tongue with a sentimental sweetness that burned her mouth, but she only found it fitting since he was reverting to using her erstwhile sobriquet. But she found that by the way his shoulders tensed or his back straight that he was not expecting her to state it so casually.

"Well, yes, they've caught me by surprise on several occasions."

"And shall I throw in a guess, you taught them an important life lesson?" Myra balanced the rounded bottom of champagne flute on her knee, studying the red lipstick she had imprinted along the rim.

"One that did not stick, evidently."

She laughed. The Original Vampire tapped a red painted fingernail against the delicate glass of her drink, observing as the liquid in response to her modest rap. The thick golden liquid reminded her of licking flames of a fire in the brightest of moments, and that was when the past resurfaced to swallow her.

The cauldron hovering above the licking flames of the blazing fire was the first and foremost thing that I saw when consciousness dawned me aware of my surroundings. A gag was what my mind could process me to do when I felt the excess of blood clouding in my mouth and throat. I spat on the ground and heaved hazardously, tears watering in my eyes once more.

I felt strange, but it was too strange to be considered remotely good. Everything was loud, the floor beneath me was too cool and then too warm, the fire looked like the sun in my side-view vision, and I rotated my head to breath in short pants. What is this? How am I back from the dead when I had truly felt father spear my heart with his sword?

Kol was no longer near me, neither was Elijah nor Finn. What is happening? The door, a mere three feet from me, swung outwards before two figures stepped inside. I squinted at my clearly deranged father, who held a girl from the village by the base of her neck. "Father," I stared, but then began shaking my head. "What is this madness?"

Niklaus was crouched behind Rebekah at the open fire, glaring dangerously at Mikael. "What are you doing?"

"We must finish what we started," our father clarified roughly.

I scrambled backwards just as Mikael forced the girl to her knees prior to me, my eyes darted to my siblings as if they could somehow help me, but even I knew they would not – for they were merely as confused and helpless as I was, as well. He grabbed his daggers handle and drew blood against the girl's forearm, and I gaped my mouth open in horror as he spoke next. "We must drink in order to survive," he explained coolly.

I was transfixed on the female opposite of me, our eyebrows, mouth, or eyes gave no indication of her ever being in any harm or pain, which bothered me. As I observed the warm blood pooling around her arm, the increasing urge was present, but I shoved it away with my own skepticism of the circumstances.

"Drink, Myrella," Mikael ordered, his hand extending the girl's arm by her small and fragile wrist.

"No," I moaned with dread, looking away with tears. A wrenching cry pried from my mouth when my father curled his fingers into the back of my hair, wrestling me forward as I resisted with my hands braced against his wrist and shoulder. "Father, stop! You cannot force this on me!" I pleaded, knowing that only worse and terrible things would outcome from this witchcraft that our parents had performed dangerously.

"Father, please!" Rebekah begged, hot tears streaming down her blood speckled cheeks.

"Shut your mouth!" he demanded coldheartedly. "Myra, look at me," he ordered. His hand was still locked into my tresses, tightening with each word. My lips trembled and my eyes wavered but I obeyed as he had commanded. "You need to drink. Now. To complete your survival. If you resist, I will force you by hand. Do you wish that?"

A whimper passed my throat and I began weeping. "P – Please, I beg of you, I – I cannot."

"Myrella, now!"

"You have already murdered us once!" I finally shouted in-between cries, "What is the difference now?!"

Something within my father snapped like a frayed yarn rope being strained too much for its deplorable endurance. His hand, like a flash of lightning, snatched me directly underneath my mouth, seizing my jaw in an agonizing grip as I unleashed a pained scream as he dragged me forward with a strength untold. It did not take much effort to pin me on my back, immobilizing me by pressing his knee against my wheezing chest.

"This is insanity!" I heard Niklaus roar in outrage.

Mikael used his middle finger and thumb to pry my gritted teeth open, slamming the girl's injured arm against my lips as they were wide enough to sink in. I tried to resist, but the wound on her skin was too deep. The blood spilled down my throat at a steady pace, and I felt myself coughing in revolt, but at the same time, craving more.

It was petrifying.

Brusquely, the forearm attached to my mouth was ripped away. Without a second thought someone had me cradled into their arms, holding me up with their arm supported my back and the crown of my head, pressing my face into the chest of their tunic that smelled nauseatingly akin to metallic blood.

I faintly heard Mikael and Niklaus shouting at one another as the person holding me lead me the bedrooms that were all situated left of the small house. Their yells mingling together to form a massive blearing headache blaring in the temples of my head.

"Quiet down, sweetheart," the voice shushed, and I recognized the comforting voice of Finn from anywhere. Despite his quietness, his shyness, he was someone that I would always trust with all of my soul. He wiped away droplets of blood from my lips with the sleeve of his shirt, but did not smile that encouraging smile that I was commonly used to.

"What have they done?" I asked him in fear.

"A mistake, a mere mortal mistake," he kissed my forehead.

A tug of the plane as it gently fought to control the increasing winds was what snapped Myra out of her trance. But as she felt her hand empty of the champagne flute, the lights darkened, and her cheek pressed against a cushiony pillow that had somehow been provided, she comprehended that she must have somehow dozed off during her memory lane transition.

Myra raised her head a fraction, glancing over at Niklaus. His breath was evened, his head leaned back, and he seemed asleep. She unclipped her seatbelt and stood to her numb feet, arching her back to loosen the stiffen muscles. Her neck popped and she let out a soft groan. Pulling her crème cardigan closer around her waist, covering her draped black top and the thighs of her leggings, Myra strolled over to the vacant restroom.

She splashed her face with water and scrubbed free of the makeup that had smeared down her face, you could clearly tell she had been crying tenderly while asleep. Running her fingers a few times through her shoulder-length chocolate brown hair, Myra walked out in search of a stronger liquor within her premises reach.

The only thing she could discover from a very disgruntled young attendant was a half-empty bottle of brandy. But brandy is always disgustingly strong, so she had the human pour her a straight glass and she nursed it slightly while walking casually back over to her seat adjacent to the window.

"A little early, don't you say?" Niklaus murmured when she returned, and somehow without opening his eyes he knew of her agenda for the remaining trip.

"A little early, a little late, it is midnight, darling – the perfect time."

He smirked unhurriedly, in a relaxed manner. "Certainly, Ella. Certainly indeed."