Chapter Six

3rd POV

The hut had been filled with a sorrowful silence that had lasted for days. Nobody spoke much to one another, mostly, it was "dinner time," or "I'm going to hunt for a little while." But it wasn't like it had been before.

The Mikaelson's may had not been the liveliest family or the most loving family to one another; in fact, in this family someone held a deep loathing/grudge towards at least one other. The only exception being Henrik and Camilla, who have never really had any spats with any of their siblings or parents that caused a major rift. No, their family was not like some of the other families, who worshiped their god(s) every evening in belief of a good after life, or tried (or at least pretended) to be happy and joyful all the time, ignoring the reality of their bleary life.

The Mikaelson's accepted their dull life. They accepted the fact that their family was screwed up and each had major flaws; which even included Henrik and Camillia, (the two who were considered the most "perfect" in the Mikaelson family) had flaws as well.

But now, their life had hit rock bottom, Henrik's death weighing heavily on them. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that it appeared the family was mostly in shock more than anything. And due to the shock it was much quieter than before; it seemed no one had anything they wanted/needed to say anymore. Some days, I would be so silent, that one could hear a button drop.

In fact, the Mikaelson family had gotten so quiet and withdrawn, that they even had stopped talking to their neighbor's altogether. Not like they had spoken much to their neighbors before anyways, but now it became a little bit, to none at all.

There were times where they couldn't help but wonder which werewolf it had been that had killed Henrik, which neighbor that smiled their way, that offered them a hand, was actually the one that bore their family's blood on their fingers.

While they once had been indifferent to their fellow villagers, they now held great a distrust and disgust towards them, warily watching their every move like a prey watching it's predator, waiting for it to snap.

But their blasé attitude wasn't only towards the villagers; it was also towards each other as well. The atmosphere in the Mikaelson home had become so tense and cold, that it seemed it could even freeze hell over.

So that indifference, mixed with her depression from the sudden loss her brother, made the Mikaelson's youngest member more and more distant. Most days (which was now starting to become everyday) Camilla found herself hanging around the edge of the village just to get away from it all. Anything was better than to see her entire family with their backs towards each other, grieving while pretending as if everyone didn't exist.

The maroon haired girl would then spend her day playing with her doll lifelessly and completely isolated, even though she would wistfully wish her family were with her right then. She missed them dearly despite how it had been recently, and by the end of the day her heart would always feel like the world was weighing down on it. But when morning came, Camilla would then remember why she wanted to get away, and she would once again go by herself as the rest of her family remained unengaged somewhere else.

Today was no different; Cami spent the day playing with her doll and keeping away from her cold-as-ice family (who were also keeping their distance from each other). It was starting to get dark, with the sun slowly setting, and the young girl knew she would need to get back home soon, especially since everyone seemed to be in their own little bubble due to their grief and wouldn't even realize she was missing until too late.

Camilla couldn't and wouldn't ever put herself in danger, especially with how it would affect her family with her brother's death so fresh in their minds.

"What are you doing out here so late? Don't you usually go running back to your family by now like the baby lamb you are?" Jethro snarled, which caused Camilla's head to jerk up in surprise, which in seconds, turned into fear.

Without a sound, and with her neck bent as her mismatched eyes locked onto the grass under her feet, the lithe girl quickly tried to get around the boy. But she barely got a step in before his shockingly strong hand grab a hold of her arm, rooting her in place. "Where do you think you're going, have you not been taught that it's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you," the boy a couple years older growled angrily, not liking the way Camilla had "dismissed" him.

He wanted her attention, and he was tired of her always ignoring him.

Looking up at him with doe-wide eyes, the maroon haired girl froze; Jethro may have said cruel words to her in the past, and may have ripped her doll from her hands and thrown it around, but he had never gotten… physical with her. She had never experienced someone tightly gripping her arm like Jethro was doing now.

Curling in on herself, Camilla held the doll that was in her free arm closely towards her body, scared and unsure of what to do with Jethro's aggressiveness. She may be used to standing up for Nik, but having someone treat her that way was not something she's ever experienced.

Looking up hesitantly, Camilla's orbs caught onto Jethro's own darkened ones. His grip became tighter, if that was possible, and for some odd reason, the boy started to lean his face towards her, causing the young girl to grimace back at the closeness, uncomfortable with the entire situation. She just wanted to go home…

The maroon haired girl breathed out a sigh of relief as the boy's mother's voice yelled out across the clearing.

"Jethro, it is time to come in now," the older woman called sternly, causing her son to huff and grumble under his breath.

Releasing her arm, the boy instead grabbed onto her hair a bit harshly, moving it to the back so he could whisper into her ear. "See you next morrow, Camilla," he spoke huskily, before finally completely releasing her and leisurely making his way back over to his family's hut, where his mother stood outside. Her hands were fisted at her hips, and she watched Jethro stiffly and carefully through narrowed eyes as he entered his home.

I'm glad he's gone, Camilla thought to herself as her body went lax with relief, cuddling her black doll against her chest now with both arms. But… something was off with Jethro. He may be verbal with me, but he's never touched me before. I… I wonder what was wrong with him tonight.

Sighing, she headed back to her own hut, finally noticing that the sun had now actually set, and the sky was now a hazy gray. As fast as her small legs could move, the maroon haired girl quickly hurried over to her own hut, frowning sadly when she saw that despite light shining through the windows, the inside of her home was not all that lively.

OOO

"Jethro, what in the devil were you doing staying out so late? You know we are supposed to be inside when the sun just starts setting," Jethro's one of many sisters sneered nastily, her eyes squinted in accusation with her arms crossed over her chest. She liked to think of herself superior to the boy, which only irked Jethro to no end.

The boy hated his sisters; they were all ugly, annoying, and bossy in his opinion (despite what the other villagers would say, who always complimented his sisters for being the most gorgeous women they have in this village). Though to be fair, Jethro hated his entire family; and it wasn't like he simply disliked them but would cry if they died, he fully and completely loathed them.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Another one of his sisters asked (more like demanded) snottily, her arms crossed in a no-nonsense sort of way as well.

"What does it matter, I'm here, are I not? Besides, it's really none of your concern," Jethro snapped back after he rolled his eyes.

"…. Jethro," the boy's father said calmly but with a tone filled with ice as he sharpened the hunting knife in his hand, the blade looking menacing as he questioned his son. "Answer your sister's questions, for it is the questions I wish to ask you as well." Jethro knew the man wasn't asking though, despite his words; his father never asked.

Gulping down both his nerves and anger, Jethro raised his chin, but never made eye contact with his father. "I was speaking with some friends, and completely lost track of time," he said with a softened voice, trying to appease to his father knowing the older man's extraordinary temper. Though in reality, Jethro was seething; he really despised authority figures.

"Don't you lie to your father boy!" His mother accused, before turning towards his father. "I saw him; he was out with that Mikaelson girl again. The youngest one; the freak!"

Lightning fast the father of the not-so-happy family jerked his head towards Jethro's tight form, fury and disgust lighting in his eyes. "Is that true boy?! Don't you dare lie to me," his father bellowed, having finally lost his cool as he threw down the knife against the table, the blade sticking into the wood.

Jethro wet his lips as he took in a deep breath, surprisingly undisturbed by his father's fury for a boy his age. Despite knowing that his father would go through with any threat he would give Jethro, the boy remained stoic to his father's wrath. The older man had punished him too many times, for too long, for him to be scared of the man any longer.

"So, what if I had been with her; how does that concern you?"

With gritted teeth, and an animalistic growl, the father grabbed his son by the throat, lifted him up, slamming him against the wall, and keeping enough pressure on his neck to make it uncomfortable but not enough to strangle him. "How. Dare. You. Ask. Me. That… I told you to stay away from her; I told you I didn't want you being around her any longer! I forbade it!"

After a couple scratchy coughs, Jethro merely glared daggers at his father. "I don't see how me being around her has anything to do with you! I don't see how all of this is such a huge problem!"

"You want to know why it is a problem?" The older man asked in a deadly calm voice, his jaw clenched. "It is a problem because she is no good! Just look at her; her freaky hair, her mismatched eyes, the fact that she can't speak?! She's practically the spawn of darkness! Add to the fact that she's a Mikaelson," he laughed cruelly. "The Mikaelsons are definitely not shy in the village knowing that they are not religious in the least, that they would spit on the heavens if given the chance!"

"What is with your obsession anyways," one of his sisters popped in, a disgusted frown on her lips at thinking about someone actually wanting to be close to Camilla Mikaelson.

"Isn't it obvious; Jethro is in love with the little freak," another one of his sister's cooed mockingly, eating up the drama like a glutton. "I saw him too father; the way he tucked her hair behind her ear, the way he leaned his face in very closely to hers. I swear to the heavens above that if mother had not called his name, then Jethro would've been kissing her only moments later." Like his sister planned, the father instantly gobbled it all up as his fury increased tenfold; and the sad thing for Jethro was that his sister was for once telling the truth, even if she didn't know she was speaking the truth.

Jethro likes Camilla; he liked her unique eyes, how her hair was a color he had never seen before, he liked how quiet she was (unlike other women who found the need to talk constantly and gossip like it was their job), and he liked just how different she was. The problem was that he struggled to tell her that, and as he struggled to just say the words, Jethro would grow frustrated, and that was how he ended up bullying her; to relieve his angers about how the girl affected him so much, he was unable to just tell her how he felt.

And with the whole "kissing" thing, well he had grown up quickly after all, with a family like his and nearing his official manhood. He already knew what kissing was, what sex was, and he knew he wanted to kiss Camilla badly. And almost did when he was outside, when he had been attempting to show her his affections through verbally assaulting her and finally decided he needed actions to speak for the words that refused to come out.

As the scene replayed in the boy's head, Jethro's father didn't even question whether or not that was the truth; the look in his son's eyes were telling him all he needed to know. "What in the hell is wrong with you?! If I were any less wise I would take you straight to that church a couple villages over and have you immediately be exorcised since you obviously must be under some evil spirit's control to have some silly infatuation with the devil spawn! Why can't you like some other girl that's more like your sisters; ones with normal hair, and normal eyes, and can talk?!"

"I still don't understand how all of this matters?! I getting close to manhood, so soon I will officially be able to do whatever I want without you in the mix, besides, you told me that you are going to allow me to pick whatever wife-to-be I wanted. And I have chosen Camilla, and you cannot go back on your word; you vowed to me that you would allow me to choose who I want." Jethro snapped, finally losing his dwindling patience (1).

"I only allowed you because I had faith in you, at the time, to choose a bride that would be respectful for our family and our stature; not choose some outcast from the Mikaelson's misfit family! I cannot believe you would turn your back on your own flesh and blood just for a girl who can't even speak!

"You are a disgrace to this family, and unless who promise to me, to your family, to the heavens that you will stop seeing her, only then will I lessen your punishment… but if you don't…" the older man trailed off, his meaty, strong fingers flexing against the boy's neck threateningly.

Jethro stayed wisely quiet as he glared at his father, but the fact that Jethro never promised the man that he would keep away from the said Camilla Mikaelson was proof enough that Jethro still planned on "dishonoring" his family by talking to the freakish looking girl.

That night the village stayed eerily silent; the slight rustle of leaves from a soft breeze being the most sound that filled the night. Even though in a hut in that village, a boy was being tortured and beaten to the brink of death, the marks that marred his skin and the heavy bags under his eyes that were there in the morning being the only indication that something had happened that night.

To be continued…

Remember, back then people died young, and so marriage and creating families happened at a very, very young age. Most people were even lucky enough to even be alive at 30.

A/N: Hey, I know it's been a while; had a temporary job for a while, and was packed to the brim with school. Also I understand that a lot of the chapter was OC stuff (and that can be boring), but this stuff is very crucial to the story, and please pay close attention. Thank you to everyone who followed/faved/reviewed! Also, if you would like to keep up with the updates I will be posting progress with chapters I'm currently writing on my profile page, so you can know whether or not you'll see a new update soon.

To Guest: sorry it's late, please enjoy the chapter!

To Bootzy: haha, thanks, sorry it's been a while, please enjoy the update. Also cute username, lol

To TWD: Thank you, please enjoy the chapter!