Malik stood in the corner of the study, arms folded, expression unreadable. Klaus was pacing before him, glass in hand, speaking with that low, deliberate cadence of a man used to commanding obedience.
"There are two covens in the Bayou. Both unaligned. Both a nuisance."
"And?" Malik asked.
"And I want them… persuaded," Klaus said, tilting his head. "Not destroyed. Not yet. You've proven capable of tact. I want you to go alone. Represent the Mikaelsons."
Malik frowned. "A test."
Klaus smiled, but there was no warmth. "Everything's a test."
Marcel's Warning"You know what this is," Marcel said later as they walked toward the stables.
"Yeah. He's seeing if I'll play the good little soldier."
"He's trying to draw lines. See where you stand when the city isn't watching."
Malik paused. "And where do you stand?"
Marcel stopped beside him. "Where I always do — next to the man who gave me this life."
Malik met his gaze. "Even if that life doesn't belong to you?"
Marcel didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Bayou – Witch TerritoryThe air here was different. Wetter. Wilder. The trees whispered secrets in a tongue Malik didn't recognize, and the earth pulsed faintly with natural magic.
He found the first coven near a small creek. They were younger witches — maybe twenty, led by a girl with amber eyes and a jagged scar along her jaw.
"We don't serve the Originals," she said.
"I'm not asking you to," Malik replied. "I'm offering you something better."
She narrowed her eyes. "And what's that?"
"Protection. Access. Power."
She scoffed. "Sounds like control."
Malik took a step closer, his voice calm. "Klaus wants loyalty. I want stability. If the witches burn, the whole city burns with them. Help me keep it balanced. Or keep hiding in the trees while the rest of us decide your fate."
The witch stared at him. And then — slowly — nodded.
Back in the City – Klaus's StudyKlaus read the signed agreement, fingers drumming on his desk. "You didn't threaten them?"
"Didn't have to," Malik said. "They're tired of running."
Klaus gave a quiet hum. "You could be dangerous, you know."
"I'm already dangerous."
"No," Klaus corrected. "You're still growing. One day, you'll either serve beside me or try to take what's mine."
Malik smirked. "Guess we'll find out."
Emily's Journal – That NightMalik sat on the rooftop, reading by moonlight. The book was old and worn, its corners curling with age. His mother's handwriting filled the pages — notes on spells, rituals, and scattered warnings.
"Do not let power define you. Shape it, or be shaped."
He closed the book and exhaled.
He was shaping something. He just wasn't sure what yet.
A Message from Afar
Later that week, a messenger vampire brought a letter sealed in wax — not from Klaus, not from Marcel.
Malik opened it in silence.
"There are others watching. The Originals are not the only ones who rule. When you're ready to talk about legacy, find me in the North Quarter."
— V.
Malik folded the letter, staring into the fire.
The world was bigger than Klaus Mikaelson.
And his story was only beginning.