The cries of a newborn filled the dimly lit chamber, echoing like a hymn of life. Esther clutched the edge of the birthing bed, her breathing shallow, her body trembling from the ordeal. Sweat slicked her brow, and her golden hair clung to her pale face. The midwife worked quickly, wiping the child clean and swaddling him in soft linen.
Mikael stood by the doorway, his arms crossed, his frame stiff with tension. His sharp blue eyes darted between his wife and the squirming bundle in the midwife's arms. For all his stoicism, the faintest flicker of hope softened the hard lines of his face.
"A boy," the midwife whispered reverently, holding the infant out to his father. "Your thirdborn, my lord. Strong and healthy."
Mikael took the baby with a careful reverence, as though cradling something sacred. The infant's tiny face was scrunched in protest, his fists clenched. Mikael chuckled softly, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"Vali," he murmured. "He will be called Vali."
The name felt powerful, ancient. Mikael looked down at his son, pride swelling in his chest. But as he shifted the swaddling cloth, his gaze froze. His breath hitched.
There it was. A mark. Red and sinuous, like the curling branches of a cursed tree, it sprawled across the boy's left forearm. The mark glimmered faintly in the flickering firelight, almost alive in its malevolence.
As the midwife left them, to give them their privacy, Esther sat upright, her exhaustion replaced by a chilling wave of dread. She was lost, afraid and angry. "Mikael," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her eyes fixed on the mark, her heart plummeting.
She could practically see the waves of evil radiating off the boy like smoke rising from a bonfire.
Mikael shook his head, dismissing her unspoken fear. "It's nothing," he said firmly. But his grip tightened on the child.
Esther pushed herself upright, ignoring the lingering pain in her body. "It's not nothing. You see it. You feel it."
Mikael glared at her, his jaw tightening. "It is but a birthmark."
"It's a curse," she snapped, her voice trembling. "I've read the old texts, Mikael. That feeling, that form, it is a mark of murder -- he is a sign of death and destruction. It's a warning from nature."
The baby stirred, his cries softening into an eerie silence. His tiny eyes, a piercing shade of gray, flickered open, meeting Esther's gaze. For a brief moment, she swore she saw something unnatural -- a depth far too ancient for a newborn. Her blood ran cold.
"Mikael," she pleaded, her voice shaking, "we cannot keep him. He will bring ruin to our family. We have to-"
Mikael stepped forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over her. His face darkened, his expression carved from stone.
"Finish that thought, Esther," he said, his voice dangerously low.
She flinched but forced herself to meet his eyes. "We have to kill him," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible. Mikael's face twisted in fury, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the child closer to his chest.
"If you even think of harming him," Mikael growled, his voice a venomous snarl, "I will bury you myself. Do you understand me, Esther?"
Her breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. This was not the man she knew -- the protector, the patriarch. This was something darker, more primal.
"Mikael," she began, her voice barely audible, "he's not just a child. He's..."
"He is our son!" Mikael roared, his voice shaking the walls of the chamber. "Whatever curse you imagine is but a delusion! I will not hear another word of this!"
Esther's lips quivered, but she said nothing more. Mikael's fury had made his stance clear, and she knew better than to push him further. But deep inside, her unease lingered, gnawing at the edges of her soul.
The room fell silent, save for the crackling fire. Mikael turned his back to her, shielding Vali as though the infant needed protection from his own mother. Esther stared at them, her heart torn between love and a growing, inescapable dread.
In the stillness, she swore she heard it -- a faint whisper, carried on the air like a ghost's breath.
Kill it.
Esther shuddered, her eyes darting to the shadows. But there was nothing there. Only the haunting weight of a choice that could tear their family apart.
Soon enough the chamber felt suffocating, its air thick with unspoken tension. Esther sank back onto the bed, her hands trembling as she clutched the furs draped over her lap. She watched Mikael pace the room with Vali, his heavy boots striking the stone floor like war drums.
The baby had gone quiet, unnervingly so. His tiny hands occasionally flexed, his gray eyes staring into the dim firelight with a focus that seemed impossible for a newborn. Esther couldn't shake the sensation that he was listening, watching, waiting.
"Mikael," she tried again, her voice softer, more pleading. "Please... I'm begging you. At least let me consult the texts, seek guidance from the ancestors. This mark-"
"No," Mikael interrupted, his tone final, cutting through her words like a blade. He didn't look at her as he spoke, his attention locked on the child in his arms. "We will not turn our son into some cautionary tale. The ancestors do not decide his fate. I do."
"But you felt it," Esther pressed, her desperation spilling over. "When you held him, you felt the darkness too, didn't you?"
Mikael stopped pacing, his back to her, his broad shoulders tense. For a moment, silence reigned, and Esther thought perhaps she had broken through his stubbornness. But when he turned, his face was cold, unyielding.
"I felt the weight of a father's responsibility," he said evenly, though his voice betrayed a flicker of something deeper -- something uncertain. "And I will bear it, as I have borne everything else. He is my son, Esther. Not a monster. Not a curse."
Esther bit her lip, the words she longed to say trapped behind the dam of her fear. She wanted to scream, to demand he listen, but the fire in Mikael's eyes told her it would be futile.
The baby let out a soft coo, breaking the tense silence. Mikael glanced down at him, and his expression softened. He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Vali as though he were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.
"Look at him," Mikael murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that caught Esther off guard. "He is perfect."
Esther's gaze fell on the mark again, the dark tendrils curling across Vali's pale skin. Perfect? No. She couldn't bring herself to agree. But when she looked into Mikael's face, she saw a man unwilling to let go of his hope, unwilling to see the shadow hanging over their child.
"Mikael," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if... what if it isn't something we can control? What if he..." Her words faltered, her throat tightening. "What if he destroys us?"
Mikael's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "You underestimate me, Esther. You underestimate him."
The baby stirred again, his tiny fingers brushing against Mikael's hand. Mikael smiled faintly, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of Vali's cheek.
"Whatever comes," Mikael said, his voice low and steady, "I will protect him. I will shape him into a warrior, a man who will carry our family's legacy. This mark -- whatever it is --will not define him. He is my son, and I will not allow him to be anything less than extraordinary."
Esther's chest ached, torn between love and dread. She wanted to believe him, to trust in his strength, but the firelight seemed to flicker ominously, casting Vali's shadow long and dark against the wall.
"I pray you're right," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The baby's gray eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, they locked gazes. Esther felt a chill seep into her bones, an inexplicable sense of foreboding that made her breath catch.
Vali's lips curled into what could almost be mistaken for a smile, though it was far too knowing, far too deliberate for a newborn.
Esther's heart raced, her instincts screaming. She tore her gaze away, clutching at the furs to steady herself.
Mikael rose, cradling Vali as he moved toward the door. "Rest, Esther," he said, his tone soft but commanding. "You've been through enough."
"And what of him?" she asked, her voice tight.
"I will keep him close," Mikael replied without hesitation. "He is my son. He is safe with me."
As the door closed behind them, the room plunged into silence. Esther sat in the dim light, her arms wrapping around herself as a cold, unshakable fear settled in her chest.
She closed her eyes, but the image of Vali's piercing gray gaze burned behind her lids. The words she had heard earlier whispered again in her mind, clearer this time, though they were not her own.
Kill it.
Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and unbidden. Esther knew one thing with certainty: the darkness she feared since she sold her daughter to her devil of a sister, was already here. Her sins have called upon it and it has come in the form of her own flesh and blood.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! So, as you see, I have decided to rewrite an original idea I had. A Self-Insert Mikaelson born with the Mark of Cain from Supernatural.
Though don't worry, this one doesn't have the Darkness in it, so no need to worry about Amara or whatever. This is purely TVD/TO fanfic and no other characters from Supernatural will be in it.
Also, the powers of the Originals will be that of the show for the most part. Maybe a bit of powers from the novel, but for the most part it will be show level.
This is basically a reverse of my other tvd fic where the Originals are planetary monsterous, Old Ones from the novel.
Nope, no insane power levels here. Just building to city level monsters.
Hope you all are happy I'm back and like, and I'll hopefully see you all later,
Bye!)