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Isabel Mikaelson

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Black expensive shoes, polished to a shine, crunched the dead, fallen leaves into nothing but dust as the owner walked down the street, not a car in sight. Impeccable as ever in his standard suit that he insisted on wearing, he walked. He walked with purpose, with authority, with a certain power that seemed to shake the very ground he walked on.

His brother once again found himself in trouble, facing an enemy his paranoia had created. It was time to stop this nonsense, he decided, as the sound of a man struggling met his ears. Not slowing his pace in the slightest, he turned sharply at a corner, his feet swinging to a stop. He walked forward slowly, methodically.

"Niklaus." His voice rang with the same tone it always carried; boredom, admonishment.

His brother, who had his hand wrapped around a man's neck, backed away just enough to peek at his, "Brother!" The man against the wall slumped without his brother's hand. Klaus raised both arms for no apparent reason. After a second he lowered them, keeping one hand to his chin in feigned thoughtfulness. "I do believe the last time I saw you there was a dagger in your heart." A dramatic gasp. "I distinctly remember closing the lid to your coffin and placing you right next to our dear sister."

"If my memory serves," he said neutrally, taking a single step forward. It was not lost to him the way Klaus took the smallest of steps backwards. "You daggered the entire family," he finished. "Again."

"Well, you lot do get to be quite the handful from time to time. Except for Rebekah dear, there's no exception for her." His blue-green eyes danced with amusement, as if it were a game rather than a gamble on his siblings' lives. "Who removed the dagger?" He dropped the pretenses, his warm face morphing into a glare so deadly he would've fallen dead had he been human.

"And risk the life of some mortal? No," he said, shaking his head. "The question you should be asking is why you put us all in the same room."

Klaus grew pale as the implications dawned on him. Behind him, two feet landed on the ground as they jumped. He spun around, taking a step back in surprise at the sight of Kol, having expected either Rebekah or Finn. He could charm his sister and take down his brother as he was sure to be out of practice, what with the nine hundred years in a box.

"Hello, brother," said Kol, a grin of childlike wickedness on his face.

Another voice spoke up, this time from the shadows. "Oh, Kol," they sighed in amusement. "Things are never dull with you around." Out stepped Finn, the moonlight casting his skin in a brilliant glow. "Then again, you are a Mikaelson."

"Don't flatter him Finn," said Rebekah as she walked up, stopping next to Elijah. "We all are."

Klaus, composing some of his shock, rolled his shoulders, the easy grin falling back into place. "What a shame it is that the bastard isn't here to see this lovely reunion."

"Think again."

The hybrid froze, not daring to turn around to face Elijah and Rebekah, and surely the man who stood with them. He was too terrified to put on a mask, and both Kol and Finn could see that.

"It's been a long time Niklaus," Mikael said as the aforementioned man slowly dared to turn. Once he did, all of the blood drained from not only his face, but his entire body. Kol and Finn walked over, creating a line of his family members. Elijah and Rebekah on the right, Kol and Finn on the left, and Mikael and Esther in the middle. After glancing at his wife, Mikael returned his piercing gaze to Klaus. "If I'm not mistaken, you are your mother's bastard."

"Hush, Mikael," hissed Esther.

Face still white as a sheet he opened his mouth, "I see, you've all gathered to conspire against me. Finally decided to put down the big bad hybrid?" His voice had taken on a hint of terrified hysteria.

"You couldn't be further from the truth, Niklaus," Esther said calmly, taking a single step away from the line. "Mikael and I wish to reunite the family. The whole family."

He thought of his oldest sister who had succumbed to the plague's wrath. Henrik, the youngest, taken by the werewolves. And, oh surely not- "Yes, Niklaus. I meant what I said," Esther smiled. "Freya, Henrik, and…" she trailed off, smiling as comprehension dawned upon him.


"Resurrection is impossible!" Klaus exclaimed as he paced the living room floor, his family looking on. He laughed to himself, for he never once thought he would be in this situation. Whoever had undaggered Elijah had left, leaving him to remove the daggers from the rest. Of course, exactly when he needed the daggers, they were nowhere to be found, Elijah's doing no doubt.

"It's not impossible. Not if you tap into the right power. You forget, my son, that I have nearly a thousand years of stored magic."

"How can you be sure it's enough to raise three people back from the dead?" Finn asked, having been an apprentice to the craft before he became a vampire. He knew that no amount of power could be summoned to bring three dead into the land of the living, and certainly not at the same time.

"I never said I had to resurrect three of my children, did I not?" Esther said with a simple raise of an eyebrow.

The room gasped, immediately followed by questions and concerns.

"So we're meant to choose between our siblings?"

"No, that can't be right."

"You're not bringing them all back?!"

Esther held up a hand, instantly quieting the voices. "My time on the other side has shown me a great deal. For one, I have never seen any of my children join me. Henrik joined the mortals' dead. The only option for Freya and Isabel after death was the other side, but I have never seen them."

"What are you saying, mother?"

"What I'm saying, Elijah, is that Freya and Isabel are alive. I don't know how, and I don't know where. The world is a large place, and I never traveled away from any of you."

Finn stopped pacing long enough to realize an oddity. "Mother, Freya was taken by the plague. She's been dead over a thousand years."

Mikael turned to Esther accusingly, and the latter closed her eyes to gather herself. "I made a deal," she started, and the rest of the Mikaelsons already had a bad feeling in the pit of their stomachs. "I was unable to carry a child, so I went to Dahlia."

"Esther," Mikael said slowly.

"She granted me fertility in exchange for my firstborn." Tears sprung from her eyes as she remembered her oldest screaming her name from Dahlia's arms. "And every firstborn that was to come," she finished over the gasps, choking on her words.

"How could you?" Finn whispered incredulously, hurt beyond words. Freya had been the closest person to him, the person he loved most, and Esther just...gave her away? Not only that, but every first child any of them had. Then realization came to him. "That's why you made us what we are."

Her eyes shot open, rimmed with red. "Yes and no. I didn't want you to lose any of your children-"

"So you took the choice from us!" Elijah exclaimed. He had never told anyone what he had wanted, because it would do no good to dwell on the past. But one of the things he had looked forward to as a child was growing old, finding love, and starting a family of his own. To know if that had happened, he would've lost his first child...

"And I didn't want to lose any of you. Not like how we lost Henrik," she finished, acknowledging Elijah's outburst with a grief-filled glance.

"And what about Isabel? She died the same way as Henrik. We all saw it with our own eyes." Klaus stated as if it were the most obvious thing.

Esther shook her head. "Have you forgotten that a werewolf's bite isn't lethal to an Original?"

"But she wasn't-" Rebekah started, closing her mouth when the Mikaelson matriarch gave her a sharp look.

"How is this possible?" Kol asked after running a hand through his now short hair. He felt as he and Finn were the most anxious to get the girls back, he having been extremely close with Isabel, and Finn with Freya. "How do we find them?"

Esther's answer was bleak at best, only offering the tiniest bits of hope. "I don't know. The best we can start with is a locating spell."

Forks, Washington

Bella woke up with a yawn, stretching her arms and listening to the bones as they popped in her back. She stood from the bed, glancing at the open window, her room doused in the cold temperature from the night's snowdrift.

She walked to her mirror, throwing her messy brown curls over her shoulder. Nine hundred years and she still marveled at the fact that she could see her reflection, unlike what the myths said. She still didn't know how she came to be-

Charlie, the poor man she had compelled, knocked on her door, effectively interrupting her thoughts. She felt like the devil herself when she compelled him after learning of the daughter he lost as an infant, but the girl's name was too similar to her own. When she showed up in Forks, the townsfolk believed she had moved from Phoenix, where Isabella's mother lived. Charlie didn't make too big a deal of her death, mourning in silence, so they believed the 'lost' daughter was finally coming home after years away. When she found the man, she'd compelled him to believe she had never died in the first place, believing that Isabel was in fact, Isabella.

"Yes, Charlie?" she asked. No matter how many times guilt overtook her for not giving him the slightest relief of calling him 'dad,' she knew the title was meant for someone else, whoever that was.

Through the door, she heard him sigh. "First day, just checking to see if you're up." His footsteps retreated down the hall, where she heard him go downstairs and leave in his cruiser.

It was the first time she was going to school. She didn't remember if she'd gone before but assumed not as women and girls were treated as nothing more than a housemaid back then. She shuddered at the reminder but smiled, knowing the time was long past, for the most part.

She looked in the mirror again, catologing her appearance. Nothing changed, as per usual. The only two things she was certain of were her name and appearance. The two could never be changed.

The first memory she had was escaping the dastardly box she had been in. She'd bolted from the mildew and the inch of water that remained, killing the poor crew that had found her. She remembered the feeling of pure hunger and nothing else. She had no memories prior to the box, and she concluded that either a witch had erased her memories or she had lost them in her hunger.

Either way, she had gone on to all but slaughter a village. It took her a few days before sense came back to her, along with a heavy wave of remorse. She personally buried each of the bodies, giving them her own personal rites. After she had moved on, she realized she was a creature of the night, and the ring that had been on her finger kept her from burning in the light. Once, in her grief, she'd taken it off and burned, only to wake up hours later.

The ring didn't matter, she'd live no matter what she tried, but it did keep the humans from seeing her spontaneously combust into a ball of flames. Though she was truly immortal, it still was not fun to experience death.

Once, in her many many years on the Earth, she had met a very powerful witch, freshly awoken from slumber. Though she had never met the girl before, even before the box, she felt a sense of familiarity with her. For the single day she had spent with the girl, Fiona, she said her name was, Isabel felt her fear and worry. Not for herself, but for Isabel. So, deciding to alleviate the girl's worries, they parted ways.

She wandered the planet, eating and compelling the humans to forget after thanking them for their blood, with no goal in sight. Many times she wished she could have the relief death brought, but the curse she had upon her refused to let her die.

Now here she was, a week after finding the perfect opportunity to be seen by the humans and not hiding from them in the shadows. She was finally ready to come into the light.

Isabel bounded down the steps and out the door, approaching the red monstrosity that she had come to love. She was not without wealth and could've bought any car she saw fit, but had appreciated the gift from Charlie, even if it was to a girl who didn't exist. She hopped into the truck, listening to the old excuse for an engine start up.

Before she could pull out of the driveway she felt an intense wave of emotion. She had no explanation for it, only knowing that it was some other person's emotions rather than her own. The last time it happened was nearly a hundred years ago, the emotion being the same familiarity she had felt with Fiona. The emotions this time were perhaps more intense than before; shock, anger - that was one was common, so no surprise there - and the growing sense of hope. As she always did when faced with an emotional wave, she wondered exactly who she was connected to.

She shrugged it off, realizing she had wasted five minutes stewing in her thoughts, filing them away to be pulled up again later. Isabel pulled out of the driveway and headed down the memorized path - she had run several routes to figure out which one was most efficient - to the school.

Forks High was essentially a big, red, square block. 'Home of the Spartans,' the sign read as she passed it, turning a corner and pulling into the student parking lot. A few other cars were scattered around the lot, nothing too conspicuous, causing her to sigh in relief. Her old, beat up truck fit right in.

Isabel walked up to the front office, the door closing behind her, separating her from the cold air outside. A middle-aged woman with coiffed red hair sat behind the desk. Her eyes found the woman's nameplate, 'Mrs. Shelly Cope'. She looked up when she saw her enter, a flicker of annoyance on her face before it was replaced by a seemingly warm smile. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm Isabel," she said, then closed her eyes, flustered. "Isabella Swan," she forced out, because damn it all to hell 'Swan' was not her last name. She didn't know what was, only knowing that it was long and uncommon. She could almost see the letters in her mind's eye, blurred beyond recognition. More than anything, she wished she could take a stab at whoever put her in that God forsaken box.

She had done her research. The box was falling apart at the seams, and only an extensive time in isolation could lead her to the point of hunger that she reached. A hunger so severe it had wiped away all memories of a previous life. She estimated her time in the box to be around a hundred years, give or take. Though it had been nearly a millennia since her escape, she felt as if she would never move past the single century spent trapped inside.

"Of course," Mrs. Cope said, ruffling through her mountain of papers until she found the one she needed. "I have your schedule and a map of the school." She handed the papers to Isabel after briefly going over where each of her classes were. There was also a slip of paper she had to have each teacher sign and bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at the woman, thanking her before she stepped back out into the cold. The map was useless to her as she made sure to create a route to her classes the night before, just as she had done with the route to the school itself.

As she once again hopped in her druck and drove around the school, more students were beginning to filter in. She'd never gone to school before - so she believed - and was feeling on edge. The only thing that calmed her down was the knowledge that, while her car was so old it stood out, another car was so new and shiny and so obviously expensive that the owners were sure to either be misfits or part of the popular crowd. Okay, Isabel, maybe you should cut back on the teen movies.

Her first class was in building 3, which was easy enough to find. It was a white building with a large, black '3' painted on the top right. She followed two students inside the classroom and walked straight up to the teacher. Her schedule said this was Mr. Mason. He was tall, with thinning hair, and a slight scowl that she guessed was permanent on his face. When she introduced herself, he wasn't rude or nice, stuck perfectly in neutral, which was fine with her.

The thing that earned him brownie points, though, was the fact that he sent her to a desk in the back without forcing her to introduce herself. It wasn't that she had issues with speaking in public, she just didn't want to draw unwanted attention to herself. If being invisible was the key, then she would be invisible. The sole reason she came to school was not to socialize, but to get a grip on the modern curriculum.

When the bell finally rang, after she had spent the entire class period analyzing the books on the list she had already read, a boy with oily black hair and a face of acne turned to her. "You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

"Isa-" she started to correct herself, but fell silent. Should she just go by Isabella or her actual name, the one that made her feel connected to her past? By the time she decided, it was too late as the boy nodded.

"Where's your next class?"

She didn't have to refer to her schedule, already having memorized it. "Government," she said quickly, standing as she grabbed her bag, hoping to get away from him. "Building six."

They left the classroom, the boy following at her heels, struggling to catch up with her fast pace.

She all but felt him trying to find a way to stay with her longer. "I'm heading to building four," he said. "I could show you the way…" the boy trailed off. "I'm Eric."

"How nice for you," a voice cut in, snarky and beautiful.

Eric skidded to a stop, his sneakers squeaking on the tile, a shrilling sound to her sensitive ears. "Ros- Ro-"

"Rosalie Hale, the one and only. Back off." The person the voice belonged to strolled up to her side, her heels clacking against the floor. Ahead of her, she saw a pair of unusually pale people, paler than herself, with golden eyes and defined features. The two strange people looked alarmed and more than a little concerned, but she couldn't tell for who. The boy, more a man with all of his muscles and curly black hair, carried an expression of pure shock, while the girl, short and petite, had a look of knowing curiosity.

"What's happening?" she asked, feeling like it was an uncommon experience to have this girl talking to her, if the stares of the students were anything to judge by.

"How are you liking Forks, Isa? There certainly is less sun compared to phoenix."

She did not like the emphasis Rosalie put on 'sun'. How did the girl know her- well, her accidental nickname? Rosalie hadn't been in the class. She decided to fix that errant mistake right here and now. "Isabel," she said, ignoring Rosalie's question just as the girl had ignored hers.

"Isabel then. How do you like Forks? The selection of food is certainly smaller and less…" she licked her lips, "appetizing." Holy shit, did this girl know? How was that possible? It had barely been an hour and she'd somehow given herself away already!

"F-Forks is fine," she said, cursing her nervous stammer. She steeled her voice quickly, realizing that she wasn't the only odd one in the bunch. "How do you feel about the sun?" Isabel threw back, knowing she hit the jackpot as the girl's eyes widened marginally for a split-second.

"I love the sunlight," Rosalie said flippantly. "I love the way it feels, the way it lights my skin up almost like a...thousand tiny diamonds." She giggled then, as if it were an inside joke. But that little clue was enough for her to figure it out. Cold one. Isabel had heard tales of them but never met one for herself.

The students, finally breaking out of their shock as Rosalie glared at them, scurried to their classes. Just in time, too, as the bell finally rang, leaving Isabel alone in a hallway with three Cold Ones.

The two others, who stood at the end of the hall, walked forward. "We, my dear, are vampires," Rosalie said, and she turned to look at her at last. She was tall with long, flowing blonde hair, and piercing golden eyes. She wore designer clothes and heels that looked more expensive than her entire wardrobe. "But you already know that, because you are an Original."

Rosalie suddenly burst into action, her arm pulling a wooden support beam from the wall and breaking it over her knee. She could barely blink before she felt the jagged edge enter her heart.

Isabel fell to the ground, faintly noticing the cold but soft arms that caught her. One thought was on her mind before she was trapped in the darkness: What the hell just happened?

A/N - So, this chapter's definitely not great, but it's an idea that's been floating around in my head for a while now. And I need some kind of outlet for all my crazy ideas to go while I work on my actual book, that, unfortunately requires a sense of cohesiveness. But this is fanfiction, and I can do anything I want. Let me know what you think. Good? Bad? So terrible you wish it would throw itself into the deepest depths of the internet?

Also, I'm a day late, but Happy Thanksgiving if you're someone who celebrates it!

I'm thankful for my readers, my family, and my two cats, Nicodemus and Mittens.

Thanks for reading. - Alruix

Tacking this on last sec- Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot