The air inside the mausoleum was thick with something ancient, something that didn't belong in the world of the living. Dust swirled through the cracks in the stone, shifting like the breath of something waking up after too long in the dark. Mikael Mikaelson sat upright in his coffin, his gaunt face stretched tight over sharp bones, his hunger a tangible thing in the room. He hadn't spoken in a long time, but when he did, his voice was nothing but razor-edged disdain.
"Tatia."
Katherine Pierce, always so good at staying three steps ahead, went still in the doorway. Her eyes flicked between Mikael's face, the worker's twitching body at Enzo's feet, and then finally to Sam, who stood behind her, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She wasn't stupid. She could feel the weight of the trap closing in around her.
"…This is new," she murmured, shifting her weight slightly, testing the space around her.
"Tatia, no Katherina." Mikael's lips curled into something that could have been amusement or disgust. "I remember you."
"Do you?" She gave a tight smile. "Funny. I've spent my whole life making sure people don't remember me."
Mikael's eyes, cold and calculating, flickered with something unreadable before he turned his attention to Sam. "You brought me her? As what? A gesture of goodwill?"
Katherine's jaw tightened.
Sam didn't flinch. He met Mikael's gaze head-on, his stance easy but solid, like a man who'd spent his life facing down things bigger and stronger than himself. "You need a reason to stay your hand from slaughtering me on sight. She's it."
Enzo smirked slightly, amused by the sheer audacity of the statement.
Mikael, however, wasn't so easy to entertain. "You assume I won't just kill you both and take my own path."
"Go ahead," Sam said simply. "Kill me, kill her, kill Enzo while you're at it. Then what? You've been out of commission for decades. Klaus has built an empire in your absence. You think you can just waltz back into the world and take him down without knowing what's changed?"
Mikael stared at him, his expression darkening. He didn't like being told he wasn't in control. He was Mikael Mikaelson—the first and greatest vampire hunter, the man who made monsters fear the dark. But Sam wasn't wrong.
Enzo, leaning casually against the stone wall, chuckled. "It's been a long time, mate. You don't even know what game's being played anymore."
Mikael's jaw flexed, the tension in his shoulders coiling tighter. Then, slow and deliberate, he turned to Katherine.
"You," he said. "My son is hunting you."
Katherine lifted her chin, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides. "You say that like it's news."
"And yet, you still live." His tone held the barest trace of amusement. "That tells me one thing—Nicklaus is still his useless self."
Katherine exhaled through her nose. "My skill in disappearing also has some part of it."
Mikael studied her for a long moment, then turned back to Sam. "This is your leverage? A woman my son wants dead?"
"No," Sam said. "This is the beginning of a deal."
Mikael raised a brow.
"I need something from you first," Sam continued, stepping forward, his voice steady. "Your blood."
Katherine stiffened slightly. Even Enzo, who rarely looked surprised, tilted his head.
Mikael's gaze sharpened. "Why?"
"I'm looking for someone," Sam said. "Your daughter, Freya."
Mikael's expression didn't change. He didn't blink, didn't breathe. But the air in the mausoleum seemed to drop in temperature.
"…Freya is dead."
"No," Sam countered. "She isn't."
Mikael was silent.
Sam took another step forward, slow and deliberate. "Your wife lied to you. Freya wasn't taken by the plague. Esther gave her up to her sister, Dahlia, who has her in a slumber spell, to live for a year per century. Freya's alive. And I need your blood to track her."
Mikael's fists clenched at his sides. The rage in his eyes was volcanic—deep, slow-burning, a fury that had been simmering for centuries without him even realizing it.
Esther. His wife. The woman he had once trusted above all else.
A lie. Another lie.
When he finally spoke, his voice was ice. "What do you want with her?"
Sam didn't hesitate. "There's a supernatural connection between two people—Katherine and my niece. That connection is going to keep on pulling her into things she shouldn't be a part of. I need the power of an witch with enough magic power to break it and your daughter is by no mean lacking in that department "
Mikael's eyes flickered briefly to Katherine. "And why should I help you save your niece?"
Sam's face remained unreadable. "Because if Klaus ever gets his hands on Elena, it's game over for both her and you once Klaus unlocks his werewolf lineage, becoming an unkillable hybrid."
A beat.
Then—slowly, Mikael turned his wrist over, dragging a sharp fingernail across the pale skin. A bead of dark red blood welled at the cut. He caught it on his fingertip, studied it for a moment, then flicked it toward Sam.
A single drop.
Sam caught it on the edge of a silver flask, watching as it slid down the metal.
"You have your blood," Mikael said. "Now I expect something in return."
Sam nodded once. "You'll get your shot at Klaus. I'll make sure of it."
Mikael's lips curled. "Good."
A slow, predatory smile.
"And now," he murmured, "I believe I'm owed something else."
His gaze landed on Katherine.
She stiffened.
Sam exhaled. He had expected this. He had planned for this. But that didn't mean he liked it.
Enzo watched, amused. "Well, love," he murmured, "seems you've got a new fan."
Katherine shot him a glare before turning back to Mikael. "You think handing me over to Klaus is going to get you anything?"
Mikael smirked. "Who said anything about handing you over?"
Her stomach twisted.
Before she could react, Mikael moved.
Faster than she could track. Faster than any vampire she had ever seen.
One second he was across the room, the next—his hand was locked around her throat, pressing her against the cold stone wall.
She barely had time to inhale before his fangs were at her pulse.
Panic flared, white-hot and immediate.
"Mikael," Sam said, voice calm but firm.
Mikael didn't let go. "You'll get her back. But not before I taste what my son has been chasing for five hundred years."
Katherine's nails dug into his wrist, struggling, but his grip was like iron.
Then—
"Let her go."
Mikael's eyes flickered toward Sam.
Sam didn't repeat himself.
For a long, slow moment, Mikael didn't move.
Then, just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, he released her.
Katherine stumbled forward, gasping, rubbing at her throat.
Mikael stepped back, unconcerned. He licked his lips, tasting the faint trace of her blood. "Interesting."
Katherine's pulse was racing. But she was Katherine Pierce. She recovered quickly. "If you ever try that again—"
Mikael chuckled. "You'll what? Run? Hide?" He smirked. "You're welcome to try."
Katherine's glare was lethal.
Sam, meanwhile, ignored the exchange entirely. He pocketed the flask of Mikael's blood, already moving toward the exit. "We're done here."
Mikael watched him go, amusement flickering behind his cold gaze. "For now."
Sam didn't look back.
But as he stepped out into the night, he felt the weight of what he had just done settle over his shoulders.
This was just the beginning, Elena will never hurt as long as he is alive.