The Year of Our Lord 1010
England
Eight years had passed since the ritual.
Ainz stood on a hill overlooking a small English village, watching as the Mikaelson family rebuilt their lives. They had fled their homeland after Mikael's hatred had grown too dangerous—first to France, then to England, always running, always hiding.
Klaus was nineteen now, though he looked no older than the day of his transformation. He had grown tall and handsome, with his mother's coloring and his father's—his biological father's—restless energy. He painted when he thought no one was watching, filling notebooks with sketches of landscapes and faces and things he would never show anyone.
Elijah had become the family's anchor—calm, dignified, endlessly patient. He mediated disputes, soothed tempers, kept his siblings from killing each other. He had already begun to develop the code of honor that would define him for centuries to come.
Finn hated what he had become. He mourned his humanity, his mortality, his chance at a normal life. He spent his days reading, studying magic, searching for a way to undo what his mother had done.
Rebekah was sixteen—forever sixteen. She dreamed of love, of marriage, of children. She did not yet understand that those dreams would never come true.
And Henrik... Henrik was eighteen now, the youngest of the immortals. He had grown into a quiet, thoughtful young man who spent his days in the forest, watching the wolves that had once tried to kill him. He felt a strange kinship with them—a connection he did not fully understand.
Ainz watched them all, and he learned.
He learned that vampire blood could heal humans. He learned that the Originals—as they had begun to call themselves—could create new vampires by sharing their blood and then killing their victims. He learned that those new vampires were weaker than their sires, bound to obey them, loyal to a fault.
He filed that information away for future use.
---
The Year of Our Lord 1050
France
The Mikaelsons had settled in a small castle in the French countryside—a gift from a nobleman Klaus had befriended and then compelled to forget their encounter. They lived in relative peace for decades, building a life, pretending to be human.
Ainz visited them once a decade, always in secret. He had established a base of operations in a cave system deep beneath the mountains—a temporary Nazarick, a place to store his growing collection of magical artifacts and research materials.
On his visits, he taught them.
He taught Klaus to control his hybrid nature—the wolf that lurked beneath his skin, the rage that threatened to consume him. He taught Elijah to use his enhanced senses for more than hunting—to read people, to understand their motivations, to manipulate them without their knowledge. He taught Rebekah to fight, to defend herself, to never be vulnerable again.
Finn refused his lessons. Henrik embraced them eagerly.
And always, always, Ainz observed.
---
The Year of Our Lord 1075
France
Mikael found them.
He had been hunting for decades, tracking rumors and whispers across Europe, his hatred burning brighter with each passing year. When he finally discovered the castle where his stepchildren hid, he came with an army of vampire hunters—men armed with torches and stakes and the white oak that could kill immortals.
The battle lasted three days.
When it was over, the castle was in ruins, most of Mikael's army was dead, and Mikael himself had vanished into the night. But the damage was done. The Mikaelsons' secret was exposed. They could no longer hide, no longer pretend to be human.
Klaus found Ainz in the forest the night after the battle, sitting on a fallen log as if he had been waiting for hours.
"You knew," Klaus said. His voice was flat, controlled—but beneath it, Ainz could hear the rage. "You knew he would find us eventually. You knew he would never stop hunting us."
"I knew it was possible." Ainz's crimson eyes studied Klaus calmly. "I did not know when or how. But I knew."
"And you did nothing to stop it."
"I am not your guardian, Niklaus. I am not your father. I am an ally—nothing more, nothing less. I gave you the tools to survive. What you do with them is your choice."
Klaus's hands curled into fists. "He killed Henri. Henri is dead."
Ainz went very still.
"Henrik," he said quietly. "Your youngest brother. The one who followed you into the forest that first night."
"Henri," Klaus corrected. "He started calling himself Henri after we left home. Said Henrik sounded too childish." His voice cracked. "He was trying to protect Rebekah. Mikael's men cornered her, and Henri stepped in front of her. Took a white oak stake through the heart."
Silence stretched between them.
"I am sorry," Ainz said finally. "He was... remarkable. Braver than he knew."
Klaus laughed bitterly. "Sorry. What good is sorry? He's dead. He's never coming back."
"No." Ainz rose and moved to stand before Klaus. "He is not. But you are still here. Your siblings are still here. And Mikael is still out there, hunting you. What will you do about it?"
Klaus met his gaze. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to hunt him across every country, every continent, until I find him and drive that stake through his heart myself."
"And your siblings?"
"They'll come with me. They have no choice. We're family. We stay together."
Ainz nodded slowly. "Then go. Hunt. Kill. Survive. And when you need me—when you face a threat you cannot overcome—I will be there."
Klaus stared at him for a long moment. "Why? Why do you care what happens to us?"
Ainz considered the question. "I have watched you for seventy years, Niklaus. I have seen you grow from a frightened boy into a man of power and passion. I have seen your capacity for cruelty and your desperate, futile attempts at kindness. You are not my creation, not my child, not my responsibility. But you are... familiar. You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Who?"
"Myself." Ainz turned away, preparing to vanish into the shadows. "Go, Niklaus. Live. Love. Lose. Learn. And when the centuries have taught you what I cannot, come find me again."
He was gone before Klaus could respond.