So I just read this story from the beginning to current for the first time in a long time and omg, the inconsistencies and errors irk me so much. I am so grateful to everyone who stuck around despite it all, yall the real MVPs.

Chapter 74

Flashback:

Marcel stood outside of Kol's bedroom attempting to build up the courage to go inside. He was sure that the man would blame him for being the reason he got the dagger six years prior and wondered if he hated him for it but Marcel still wanted to meet him. The Mikaelson Estate was his home. He knew every worker, every servant, every man, woman, and child that lived in their home. He needed to know Kol too. Besides, he knew there would be one advantage to having Kol as a friend that the humans living in the Compound didn't have. He was a vampire. More than that, he was an Original. Like his father and like his father, he knew that no one would mess with Kol so if they went out in public together, he would be safe with him. But, unlike his father, Marcel also knew that Kol was, at times, dangerous.

He remembered how frightened he was when Kol made him watch the gruesome display he called entertainment and how, after the man forced him to feed on his blood, he was sure that he would die next. At the time, he wanted to run to his father for protection but he feared Kol would catch him first and he'd be angry at the boy for running away.

C'mon, Marcel thought to himself. You're not a little boy anymore. Knock. Just knock.

As if sensing the teenager's trepidation outside his bedroom, Kol suddenly slung the door open.

Marcel froze under Kol's glare. The man snarled down at him like he'd opened the door to see a spider's web in his way and Marcel feared he just might swat him away like one.

"What do you want?" Kol growled.

Marcel stammered nervously for a moment before finally saying, "M-My party will be starting soon. I-I thought you'd like to know." As Kol continued to glare at him, Marcel felt moved to say, "There...there'll be jugglers."

Kol let out a hearty laugh but the guileful look in his eyes told Marcel that the laugh was at him, not with him.

"Jugglers," Kol repeated in disbelief. "I'm sorry. Do I look like the type to be entertained by jugglers?"

"There'll be acrobats too," Marcel added, assuming Kol simply didn't find the jugglers impressive enough. "And a surprise entertainer poppa won't tell me about but the servants whisper that it might be a bear."

Kol scoffed as he began easing the door closed. "Then you'd better hurry along, little boy. You'd hate to miss the entertainment."

Before Kol could close the door, Marcel jammed his foot in it.

"I am not a little boy anymore." Marcel said, speaking with an unprecedented bass in his voice.

Kol eased the door open, eyeing Marcel from his head to his feet as if he'd only just noticed he had grown since the last time he'd seen him.

"Well," he muttered. "I suppose you aren't. And yet," Kol leaned against the door frame, his searching gaze suddenly making Marcel feel exposed, as if the man was reading his mind. "You're having a little boy's celebration."

Marcel narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Jugglers, acrobats. Surprise bears." Kol chuckled at the thought. "Are you turning sixteen or six?"

Heat rose up Marcel's neck. Every boy for miles were jealous of his celebration, from the witches to the wolves. His father was the wealthiest man in all of Louisiana, Marcel was certain he was the wealthiest man in the world but he didn't have any proof, and because of it, Marcel's parties were always the biggest and most lavish and he got everything he wanted and everything he didn't know he wanted. Every year his friends would wax with jealousy over his extravagant parties.

"Tell me something, lad," said Kol. "Have you ever been with a lass?"

Marcel blushed. He'd gotten to an age where girls were all he thought about but he had no one to talk to it about. He knew his father would only tell him he was too young for such thoughts and his Uncle Elijah would probably scold him for letting his mind run away from his studies with such lechery. He used to have friends to talk about girls with but all the boys his age seemed to be moving on to more mature things now, like starting families of their own with actual women or preparing for wars. And the ones who were not ready for such mature conduct were, like him, too nervous to talk to real girls and too inexperienced to talk about them.

No one knew more about the female anatomy than his old friend, Sheldon Nilson. The boy learned far more than other boys Marcel knew from the werewolf girls around his pack. But after his father died a year before, Sheldon had to activate his werewolf curse to take his place as pack leader and he no longer had time to spend with Marcel doing such childish things like talking about girls when he had an entire pack to run.

Now Marcel kept all of his feelings and thoughts about girls and what one could do with them to himself.

But as Kol smiled slyly down at his reddening face, Marcel knew the man knew exactly what he thought.

"Y-yes," Marcel said, forcing his thin chest out to seem more manly. "Of course."

Kol chuckled. "You haven't even been with one, have you?"

"I've been with dozens," Marcel barked, shame causing his voice to crack.

"You haven't been with a single one," Kol repeated definitively. "It explains why you let my bastard brother throw you such childish celebrations. Real men know that the only thing one needs to have a proper birthday celebration is fine women and even finer wine."

Marcel chewed on his lip. He wanted to say that he wasn't allowed to drink wine yet. He'd asked his father for permission on his last birthday but Klaus insisted he was still too young. But he didn't want Kol to think him even more immature as he already did.

"Tell ya what." Kol stood straight, his hand wrapped around the door handle. "I'll come to your little celebration tonight. When you get bored of my dear old brother's banalities, come find me. I will be the one surrounded by all the liquor and lasses."

Marcel didn't stop Kol as he tried to close the door this time.

End Flashback

Marcel woke to a room empty of all Mikaelson except for him and Klaus. His father was wide awake, still running his hand across Marcel's curls with one hand as he balanced a book in the other.

Klaus drew his attention away from his book as Marcel struggled to sit up straight on his sore behind.

"What time is it?" Marcel groaned.

Klaus flipped his wrist over to check his watch and answered, "Quarter to noon."

Marcel furrowed his brows. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"Because," Klaus turned his attention back to his book. "You were tired."

"Where are the others?"

Klaus sighed. "The chop wood for the fire. Kol was starting to get fitful from boredom and Finn was awake so we decided that would be better than him sitting around here with me, watching you sleep."

Even with his eyes on the book, Klaus did not miss the excitement on Marcel's face as he stood.

"Where do you think you're going?" Klaus asked, only half looking away from his reading.

Marcel paused before moving towards the front door. "I thought..."

"I am reading, Marcellus. I'm hardly in the mood for physical labor. The three of them should be able to handle chopping a few logs without us, besides," Klaus finally looked up from his book, eyeing the sweatpants hanging on Marcel's behind. "I'm sure once you start the activity, you will find...performing extraneous labor more off putting than you would like."

Marcel narrowed his eyes and muttered, "Kol's doing it."

Klaus sighed and returned to his book. "I doubt, if you walked outside right now, you would catch my little brother anywhere near an ax. Chances are he's standing around making idle chit chat while Elijah does all the work, as is custom."

"According to you, I can't walk anywhere." Marcel groaned as he eased himself back on the sofa.

Without hesitation, Klaus reached out to Marcel's shoulder and guided him back down until his son was lying on his knee again.

"You can certainly try," Klaus stated firmly. "But I think you may find the consequences difficult in more ways than one."

Marcel laid on his father's lap, staring ahead at the dead fireplace in silence as he waited for the others to come back.

"How are you feeling?" Klaus finally spoke.

Marcel shrugged. "How do you think?"

"Marcellus, I am serious."

"Sore," Marcel bit in response.

"Just sore?" Klaus peeked over the cover of his book to gaze at the back of Marcel's head. "You can tell me if this all becomes too much? I will end the trip early and take you back home."

Marcel rolled over to his back to look his father in the eyes. The switch was absolutely terrible, but he'd had worse war injuries to be honest. Sure, his past injuries had to luxury of healing in a timely manner and his current soreness was to last the rest of the weekend, but it was still not something he couldn't handle.

"You don't have to baby me all the time. I can take whatever Kol can take."

Klaus chuckled. "That's what I'm afraid of. Apparently, over the past ten centuries, Elijah and I have overestimated what Kol could handle. Turns out our little brother is a lot more delicate than we gave him credit for. And you are-"

"More delicate?" Marcel spat the word as if it pained him to say.

Niklaus cut his eyes up at his son's petulant response. "Younger. I don't want to make any assumptions that could end up backfiring in a thousand years."

Marcel saw the shimmer in Klaus's eyes as he spoke and knew his sincerity.

"It's not like I could lie to you right now if I wanted to," he grumbled.

Klaus brought his hand down to Marcel's cheek, caressing it as he said, "Not intentionally. But sometimes a person can believe a strong enough lie that it becomes indistinguishable from the truth."

Flashback:

Klaus announced Marcel's entrance with a lengthy speech, naming the boy everything from his son and heir to the future King of the Quarter. When Marcel stepped out onto the staircase overlooking the balcony, he couldn't help but smile. On the first celebration his father threw for his 'birthday', he was so nervous that he couldn't make the entrance without Klaus right beside him holding his hand. He stayed underneath his father the entire night, smiling graciously at every compliment and gift he received but feeling as though it was all underserved. Now, he knew exactly who he was and lavished every moment of it.

The courtyard was filled with people in dark suits and fancy dresses of all ages. Marcel saw a few familiar faces as he made his way to the bottom step where his father waited and he couldn't wait to get out to his friends and mingle but he knew that he still had to go through the tedious custom of thanking the other leaders for coming.

Kol stood next to the other Mikaelsons and, without thinking, Marcel waved at him as he came downstairs. Kol simply scoffed and looked away, amazed by the boy's childishness in front of such a crowd.

Klaus wrapped his arm around Marcel's shoulders as soon as the boy was on the bottom step next to him. He kissed his son's cheek and, without thought or hesitation, Marcel returned the gesture as he'd done a thousand times before in the past six years.

Kol stared at the interaction with narrow eyes but he tried to keep his feelings hidden as best he could, especially since he was sure Rebekah was watching him just then to tattle about anything out of the ordinary he did. But still, to see Klaus kiss Marcel so openly, so confidently, as if showing such affection was second nature to him when none of them had ever been shown such affection by their own father, took him aback.

"You are very dashing in your new suit," Klaus complimented Marcel, causing the boy to blush.

"Thank you, poppa. Can I go talk to my friends now?"

"Not yet," said Elijah, appearing behind Niklaus to Marcel's displeasure. "You must socialize with the important members of the factions first. Many of them had to set aside age-old rivalries to be here together today. We mustn't disrespect their efforts."

Marcel groaned. He didn't care about some old faction leaders. If he had it his way, his parties would consist only of his friends and family but, since he was bound to be King of the Quarter and all it entails, his father and Uncle always insisted on inviting the other faction members. All but the humans, which was the one faction Marcel insisted on never attending his parties. The Governor was a part of the human faction and because of the current state of human society in New Orleans, neither Klaus nor Elijah ever pushed Marcel to change his mind. They'd decided amongst themselves that once Marcel was King, he would be the sole leader of the human faction and they would personally see to it that his decisions regarding human life in New Orleans would come to fruition. But until then, they'd simply agreed to ignore the humans problems as long as it did not interfere with any other factions dealings.

As Marcel walked away with his father, Kol turned to go find some entertainment of his own, but he was stopped as Rebekah stood in his way.

"And where are you going, dear brother?" she sang.

Kol rolled his eyes. "If you must know, little sister, I'm going to see how many wenches I can bed before the night's over."

Rebekah scoffed at her brother's crudness. Unlike Elijah or Klaus, Kol was rarely one for discretion. She left him and his crudeness to go mingle with the more gallant guests of the evening.

Marcel greeted each of the faction leaders amiably as his father escorted him around the party. He dreaded it every time his father ran into someone he liked, which was not often for Klaus but often enough when one was in a hurry to get through such tiresome salutations, and Klaus would spend close to ten minutes talking to them.

Nearly an hour had passed before Marcel finally repeated the final, almost meaningless, phrase 'Thank you again for coming'.

"I know how much you don't enjoy the humdrum palaver of kingship," Niklaus said as he motioned over a servant carrying a tray of champagne flutes. "But I do appreciate your effort, son."

"Can I go talk to my friends now?" Marcel asked rather impatiently.

"One second," Klaus chuckled. He grabbed two glasses from the servant's tray and, to Marcel's surprise, he held one out to his son. "First, share a toast with your father, if that's suits you."

Marcel stared at the glass wide eyed. "Really?" he sang, his voice cracking with joy.

Klaus laughed at the boy's youthfulness. "Yes, really. You're almost a man now. I think you're finally ready for your first glass." As Marcel reached out to grab the flute, Klaus pulled it back a bit, drawing the boy's attention back up to his eyes as he said, "But just the one glass. I know that your friends will probably drink more but you are a Prince. Your conduct is held to a higher standard."

"Yes, poppa. I promise," Marcle quickly took the glass from Klaus's hand before he could take it away again. "Just one."

Klaus held his glass out to Marcel and said, "To my Marcellus. May you be the best of all of us."

They clinked their glasses together and Marcel's round eyes grew rounder as he took his first sip. He forced himself not to giggle as the bubbles tickled his throat.

"Alright," Klaus nodded. "You may go to your friends now. The servants have Ginger Tea and Hot Chocolate should you find yourself parched for something else later on."

"Yes, poppa."

As Klaus leaned down to kiss the boy's cheek once more, Marcel returned the kiss in favor. "Happy birthday, my son."

Marcel lost Klaus's sight in a crowd of young people. He spoke to some familiar faces and listened as they praised the entertainment, taking long, slow sips from his champagne glass in hopes of making it last the entire party. It made him feel so mature to have the glass, even when it was regrettably empty. At least people knew he had had a drink, that he was old enough to drink. They didn't need to know that he was only allowed the one glass.

Soon it was time for the entertainment. Just as he'd suspected, his father had acquire a performing bear from Siberia that danced for pieces of fish and jugglers and acrobats, everything a young heart found amazement in. But as he listened to his friends praise the entertainment, he remembered Sheldon Nilson. He was one of the faction leaders he had to welcome with his father. They were the same age but as Marcel stood beside Klaus as Sheldon stood next to his pregnant wife, he'd never felt more childish. He had plenty of friends his own age who were not married and who's families treated them with the same over-cherished behavior as Klaus treated Marcel, but Sheldon's indepence called to him.

It reminded him of Kol's invitation earlier.

Breaking away from his friends, Marcel went in search for his father's younger brother. He left the courtyard, following the sounds of women giggling and drunken men singing, until he found Kol in the Drawing room, just as he said, surrounded by beautiful women and booze. There were other men in the room but none of them commanded attention like Kol Mikaelson.

"Marcellus," Kol drunkenly screamed Marcel's name.

The young heir blushed as all eyes fell to him.

"K-Kol," he muttered shyly. "I was just..."

Kol bounded from his plush, pink armchair, lifting the woman from his lap in one go as he staggered over to Marcel. He still held his bottle of bourbon in one hand as he stood in front of the young Prince.

"Didn't think you'd actually come find me."

Marcel looked around the room nervously, afraid he'd see a dead body tucked in some corner, but there were none. "Hm...yes, well...I just thought that maybe I would come see what you found more interesting than a dancing bear."

Kol cuffed Marcel's shoulder with a hearty laugh. Then, turning to the witches in the room, he said, "Come see for yourself."

Marcel recognized some of the witches in front of him. They were the older sons and daughters of the witch leaders, all between 18 and 22, that rarely paid him any attention. Because he was Klaus Mikaelson's son, none of them were ever rude to him upon meeting, but he could hardly call any of them 'friend' either. But they all seemed to adore Kol.

"Everyone," Kol's voiced rang attention through the room. "This is Marcel Mikaelson, my brother's son, so be nice. Today is his birthday."

Marcel blushed as the young ladies cooed pleasantries at him.

Kol sat him on the sofa between two young witches and said, "Be careful with him, loves. He's never even kissed a lass before."

"I have too kissed before," Marcel barked, his blush deepening at his own lie.

Kol chuckled and returned to his armchair, pulling a different girl into his lap. "Your poppa doesn't count," Kol mocked.

"I've kissed girls," Marcel nearly screamed. His face was redder than it had ever been. "Dozens of them. I've kissed girls from all across the Quarter. The world even."

A delicate hand upon his cheek drew Marcel's heated face from Kol up to the soft eyes of a young brown skinned witch.

"Oh really, mon ami," she said in a thick creole accent. "Alor montrez-moi."

Marcel did not pull away as she brought her soft lips down to his. He closed his eyes, breathing in the alluring scent of Sandalwood soap wafting off her skin. He wondered if she could tell it was his first kiss as her tongue dove into his mouth and he clumsily wrestled it with his own.

As she broke the kiss, he stared dumbfoundedly, unsure of what to do or say next.

"I'll be damned," Kol's voice shook him back to reality. "I don't know if you kiss like a Goddess or if you laced him with some sort of magic, but you shut him up, so cheers to that."

Laughter rang through the room as everyone grabbed another drink.

"Here," The beautiful witch, that Marcel now internally deemed the love of his life, poured a finger of bourbon in a glass and held it out to him.

"I-I shouldn't," he muttered, remembering his promise to Klaus.

"Come now," Marcel turned to the woman on the other side of him, another beautiful witch, this one with bright red hair and smoldering eyes. "It's just a bit of bourbon."

"Yes, but-" Marcel shut himself up before he said 'I promised my poppa I wouldn't drink anymore than the glass of champagne he gave me'. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his new friends.

"The lad's never drunk bourbon before," Kol informed the room.

"I have," the boy shouted again. "I just...prefer champagne."

"Me too." The redheaded girl grabbed the bottle of champagne from the table in front of them and said, "How 'bout we share a bottle." She gulped straight from the bottle and before Marcel knew what was going on, her mouth was on his.

This girl had a dab of rose perfume behind her ears and Marcel fell in love with her just as deeply as the first girl. He vaguely wondered if the witches were putting spells on him, but only vaguely, as his mind was more focused on her tongue and the champagne she poured into his mouth with hers.

Marcel spent the next hour kissing the two witches, finishing off the bottle of champagne, and enjoying the company of Kol and his friends.

He did not notice the Drawing room door open until he heard the heavy reverberation of Klaus's voice bark, "What in the bloody hell is going on here?"

Marcel broke his finally kiss with the Sandalwood witch to see Klaus and Elijah standing in the doorway, both with intense glares on their face, and other faction leaders who had apparently gone looking for their young heirs when they realized they'd all gone missing.

"Poppa," the boy squeaked as he shot up to his feet. "We were just..."

The sudden movement of standing shook the champagne bubbles floating around inside of his empty belly until the only place they could go was up. Marcel couldn't cover his mouth in time before he spewed all across the table. The girls jumped over the sofa just in time to avoid any splash back but the damaged had been done as Marcel stood in front of everyone in the room, puke on his new suit, face red with shame and drunkenness.

He didn't know what to say to the silent room. Apologizing would only acknowledge his embarrassment but silence seemed to be worse.

He looked to his father with watery eyes.

Klaus sped across the room to Marcel, wrapping his arm over his shoulder as he guided the boy out of the room. Elijah waited until Klaus and Marcel were out of the room before turning his attention to everyone else and saying, "We do apologize to everyone but we will have to end this gathering a bit sooner than expected. Please, see yourselves out. Kol."

A shiver went down Kol's spine as his brother bit his name.

"A word in my study, please."

-M-

Marcel pulled his knees up to his chest as the servant added another bucket of hot water to the bath. He was so ashamed of puking in front of the older teens that he never wanted to show his face in public again.

Niklaus sat on a stool behind the boy, pouring a cup of water over his head before he massaged his fingers into Marcel's hair, gently working the day's knots out of his curls as Marcel pouted.

"How much did you drink?" Klaus finally asked once the servant had left them for good.

Marcel shrugged. "Too much, poppa."

With a sigh, Klaus said, "Is your stomach still upset?"

Marcel shook his head no.

"Good. We must make sure you eat something before bed. I will have servant bring you up a platter of roast duck and potatoes."

"Are you angry at me, poppa?"

"No, my son." Klaus guided Marcel's head back so the boy was looking up into his eyes. "I am disappointed, but not angry."

Marcel's lip trembled as he asked, "You...you're disappointed?" I...I didn't mean to be a disappointment."

Klaus wrapped his arms around Marcel's shoulders, pulling the boy back into a hug a tears welled in his own eyes. "Disappointed in your actions, Marcellus," he corrected. "Not in you, my son." He broke the hug and guided Marcel's chin upward so that he was looking back into his eyes. "Never in you."

Marcel's eyes watered at the thought of disappointing his father. "I-I'm sorry, poppa."

Klaus placed a kiss on Marcel's forehead and, as if automatic, Marcel stretched his neck to kiss his father's head as well.

"From now on," Klaus started as he continued washing Marcel's hair. "You will not drink outside of my company."

"You're still gonna let me drink?"

"In moderation," Klaus quickly stated. "One glass. Perhaps two if it is a celebration with just the family. But no bourbon, or any other spirit for that matter. If you can barely handle a bottle of champagne, you're not ready for anything stronger. Perhaps when you're older."

Marcel ran his hand around the bottom of the iron tub until he found the lost bar of soap. "I don't think I ever want to drink again." He ran the soap across his chest and arms as he remembered the drops of puke that stained his suit. "Kol's friends probably hate me."

"I can assure you, you are not the first sixteen year old to fall victim to a lack of temperance and you will certainly not be the last."

Marcel was silent as he continued his bath, certain that his father was right but that didn't make any of it any less embarrassing.

Later, as he found himself lying in bed, barely able to finish his duck and potatoes as the stress of the evening caused his stomach to turn once more, he heard a knock at his door.

Certain that is was his father coming to wish him a goodnight, he called, "Come in."

Kol pushed the bedroom door open with a devilish grin on his face. "Well, lot at the boy of honor, all tucked in for the night."

Marcel's face scrunched in annoyance at Kol's mocking.

"Don't look like that, now," Kol laughed. "You've gained quite the fellowship with the witches tonight."

Marcel's frown quickly faded. "Really? They...they weren't mad about...y'know..."

Kol laughed as he came further into the room. "Please. The party doesn't usually start until someone starts puking. Too bad my dear ol' brothers found us before the real fun could begin."

"Real fun?"

Marcel's ears perked at the thought and Kol realized the boy might be a bit greener than he'd initially thought. In the past he wanted to exploit that innocence and turn Marcel into a creature like the rest of them so that his brothers would fall out of love with him as quickly as they'd fallen in. But...there was something about that boy that he seemed to like now. His innocence helped to break up the monotony of his usual debauchery.

"Eh, perhaps it was for the best," said Kol. "You are still just a lad. You're not quite ready for...fun yet."

"I'm not a child," Marcel started firmly. "I can do whatever you and the other witches do."

"Can you though," Klaus raised an eyebrow. "I see the way my brother dotes on you with all of his hugs and kisses." Marcel could tell by the way Kol spat the word that he found something particularly vile with Klaus's kisses. "And...I hear talk from the servants that he even still washes your hair in the bath. How endearing."

Marcel's face flushed with embarrassment. "I...I..."

"You are a little boy," Kol mocked as he turned back towards the door. "Maybe in a few years, when you've grown up some, you can join me and the witches in our games."

Marcel sat in his bed, pouting, until the door opened again. This time Klaus stood on the other side. The Original took note of his son's look of displeasure and moved cautiously to his bed.

"Is everything alright, son?" Klaus asked, sitting on the bed next to Marcel.

Marcel nodded, not sure how to explain his emotions, not even sure what exactly his emotions were. He knew that he loved his father and that he loved the way he doted on him, but he also knew that he was ready to be a man. That he was a man. That he was ready for everyone else to see him as a man too. But...he wasn't quite ready to give up his father's affection just yet.

Klaus looked at the plate of food on Marcel's nightstand, half-eaten and mostly picked over.

"Were you not hungry?"

Marcel shook his head, still refusing to talk.

Klaus ran his hand over Marcel's cheek and said, "Please, Marcellus. Tell me what's wrong."

Marcel looked into his father's green eyes and stated, almost against his own will, "I don't want you to kiss me anymore."

Klaus's mouth dropped in shock, unsure of how to respond.

Marcel bit his lip, his eyes dropping back to the bedsheets. "At least...not in public. In front of everyone like I'm a little boy. It's...embarrassing. I'm a man now. I...I should be kissing girls...women at parties. Not my father."

"I am sorry," Klaus's hand fell from Marcel's face. "It was never my intention to embarrass you. If kisses make you that uncomfortable-"

"They don't-" Marcel found himself speaking again before he could stop himself. "Make me uncomfortable. I...I like them. But...when people see you kissing me, they think I must be some little kid. And I'm not."

"No," Klaus smirked. "You're not." He knew that his son turning sixteen may mean a change in certain aspects of their relationship. He didn't imagine it would happen so quickly.

"But..." Marcel chewed at his lip again. "It...wouldn't be a problem for you to still kiss me goodnight. Or...when you're proud of my paintings and everything. Or when I'm...upset and I can't stop crying because...sometimes it helps then. When I am married and King, perhaps not then, but...if you wanted to now-"

Marcel froze as Klaus stood, afraid his father was going to walk out of the room without another word. But instead, Klaus grabbed two fists full of blankets and lifted them into the air, nodding for Marcel to get under them. Marcel sunk beneath the covers as Klaus tucked them around his shoulders before placing a firm kiss against the boy's forehead.

"Goodnight, Marcellus. I love you, my son. Always and forever."

Marcel yawned, a soft smile on his face. "G'night, poppa. Love you too. Always and forever."

End Flashback

The cabin doors suddenly opened and in walked Kol, leading the way empty handed as Elijah and Finn carried armfuls of chopped wood. Marcel sat up from Klaus's lap, watching the procession as Elijah and Finn marched to the fireplace and Kol strolled over to the armchair to relax.

"Thank you for your help, little brother," Elijah said sarcastically as he piled the wood onto the rack next to the fireplace.

"What did you expect me to do?" Kol responded. "I can barely walk with this sore arse."

Finn mumbled, "I'm walking just fine," under his breath as he passed Kol.

Without thinking, Kol stuck his foot out in front of Finn, causing him to stumble. The logs went flying across the room as Finn fell face first into the hardwood floor.

"Kol," Klaus and Elijah bit in unison.

"It wasn't me," Kol immediately spat.

Finn looked up at his brother with intense, angry eyes but said nothing.

Marcel had seen the entire thing but he too said nothing. He felt bad for Kol. After watching him wail through that switching, he was sure that the man couldn't handle another spanking just yet, though he was certain that with Kol's attitude another one would be inevitable before the end of the trip.

He'd opened his mouth to speculate that maybe Finn had tripped over his own feet since he still wasn't used to his body when he found himself standing again. His eyes watered as he stood in front of Klaus, seconds later, with the brush in hand as he recited the crime of his own attempt at deceit, at the same time revealing Kol's crime as well.

Kol narrowed his eyes at Marcel in anger. He would have gotten away with it if Marcel hadn't tried to 'help'.

Klaus stared into Marcel's eyes tensely, unmovingly, for a long moment. And then he said, "Can you handle another spanking?"

Marcel sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, willing himself to stay silent but he said anyway, "Y-yes...but I don't want it."

Klaus simply nodded and snatched the brush from Marcel's hand, pulling his son down over his lap as he laid into his behind with a firm swat.

"And I," Klaus layered another smack onto Marcel's behind as he spoke and the young Mikaelson squeaked in pain. "Do not want a son who lies to me." Two more spanks in rapid session and Marcel was again in tears. "Is it that common with you?" Klaus asked, pausing before the final two blows. "Would it behoove me to compel you to tell me the truth forever, even after we leave this bloody cabin?"

"Nooo," Marcel whined, burying his tear drenched face into the crook of his arms.

"I had better not," Klaus landed the fifth smack. "Attempt to lie to me again and you will get a dozen of these. Do I make myself clear, Marcellus?"

Marcel nodded against his arms, unable to speak as the sharp burn of the switching entwined with the throb of the brush to leave his entire bottom scorching with pain. He couldn't help the sob that broke free as Klaus landed the last swat across his already inflamed sitspots.

Klaus pulled his crying son to his feet and, fighting the urge to immediately soothe his tears, he said, "Find a corner and stand there. Now."

Marcel covered his face in the bend of his arm as he hurried over to the corner closest to the staircase.

"Kol," Klaus barked. "Come here. Now."

Kol sunk further back into his chair as he eyed the brush in his brother's hand. "Please, don't, brother. It was just a joke. How was I supposed to know the little twerp had such little control of his balance."

Elijah stood after picking up the last stray long from the floor and bit, "You could make it a habit to not trip others."

"Y-You're right, brother," Kol said to everyone's amazement. "A-and I'm sorry." He turned pleading eyes to Klaus. "It won't happen again, I swear."

Klaus sat in silence, considering Kol's pleas for a moment, before he said, "Finn, come here please."

Finn staggered over to Klaus, unsure of what his brother could want of him but almost certain that it wasn't for a spanking as he'd done nothing wrong. It was wicked Kol that had misbehaved.

Klaus sat the brush down on the sofa and placed both of his hands on Finn's hips, turning him to look at Kol. "What do you say, brother. Kol has apologized for his mistake and swears to never do it again. I believe him to be sincere. Do you forgive him or must he be punished first?"

Finn folded his arms over his narrow chest and said, "He must be punished. I say beat him until he's a wretched, sobbing mess."

Klaus sighed at his brother's request, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Kol."

Kol's entire body stiffened at Klaus's call.

"Find a corner, brother. One hour and not a second sooner."

Kol's eyes lit with relief. He'd hated the original thought of standing in the corner for an hour but compared to the alternative, he would gladly take it.

Finn's pout deepened as he watched Kol scurry off to the corner closest to the fireplace.

Turning back to Klaus, he barked, "I thought you were going to beat him."

"I know you did," Klaus growled. "And that was very vindictive of you. Kol came to us in tears, sincerely apologetic, and instead of hearing his pleas, you sentenced him to the harshest punishment you could think of. That is not what brothers do, Finn. How many times must we remind you of that?"

Finn dropped his sight to the floor, the petulant look on his face telling Klaus that their brother had learned nothing.

Pointing to the corner across from Kol, Klaus ordered, "Go. Stand there until your temper has settled."

Finn's jaw dropped. He hadn't done anything deserving punishment. Kol had tripped him and gotten away with only a slap on the wrist and now he gets the same punishment for simply being angry about the injustice.

"Finn," Elijah's voice called from the fireplace. "Do not make him repeat himself."

Finn slammed his clenched fists down against his thighs and marched to the corner seething with rage.

Klaus simply shook his head as he watched Finn plant his nose in the corner.

"Marcellus."

Marcel dared peak over his shoulder at his father's call.

"Come here, please."

Klaus stood as Marcel drug his feet over to him. Marcel stood in front of his father with his eyes downcast as if he were afraid Klaus would try to compel him again if he looked into his eyes.

Klaus cupped his hand under Kol's chin and lifted his head. He sighed as he stared at his son's tear streaked face.

"You three are not going to make the rest of this weekend easy for me, are you?"

Marcel pouted and pulled his chin out of Klaus's hold.

Turning back to Elijah, hoping his brother hadn't seen his son's iraspiable behavior, Klaus was relieved to see Elijah's back to them as he proceeded to build the fire.

Placing his hand on Marcel's shoulder, Klaus began to guide him to the kitchen, saying, over his shoulder, "Marcellus and I will prepare lunch, brother. I will leave these two in your hands. They shouldn't be any trouble. Call me, of course, should they disappoint."

"I return your sentiments in kind, dear brother," Elijah firmly replied and Klaus knew, even with his back to them, Elijah could sense Marcel's sulkiness. "Marcellus."

Klaus and Marcel paused just as they were about to walk into the kitchen. Klaus stretched his arm across Marcel's shoulders as he turned to face his brother himself. Elijah still had his back to them, idly moving logs around in the fireplace with an iron poker as he tried to get the fire going.

"Yeah," Marcel called back.

"Behave." That was all Elijah said but Klaus knew it was all that he needed to say as he felt his son's body go rigid in his hands.

Marcel burst through the kitchen door without another word to his Uncle, Klaus following close behind.


Review, please :D (the site's been acting a little weird and not showing the views since the new year started so I'm afraid it may have blocked some reviews too *sad face* but try anyway maybe? I appreciate them a lot, especially with everything happening rn)