Born of Chaos ☽ E. Mikaelson¹

eight ☽ vervain

Feeling weak was something that Cora wasn't used to. Hell, she'd been hunted down for the sole reason that she was the opposite of weak. That she was too damn powerful for her own good. Cora looked down at the cursed object in her hand, the one that had been intended to drain her of her magic. It hadn't succeeded, not entirely anyway.

Still, it had done enough, judging by the blood that had dried just beneath her nose. Cora had never had magic take a physical toll on her body, not like this anyway. The fact that it had happened every time since that stupid cuff was put on her wrist was worrying to say the least. It was like her body had become hostile to her magic.

Whoever the cuff was spelled for certainly didn't take into account something like her.

Cora showered and got dressed before she pulled out a case that she'd brought with her to New Orleans. Not that she'd anticipated losing her magic, but she'd been prepared in spite of it. Cora took out a dagger, slipping it into her boot where it could be concealed. Then she took out a gun which she checked was loaded with wooden bullets, which she put in her waistband.

Then she put a bag over her shoulder, putting the cursed magic cuff in the bag, along with another weapon or two. Heading down the stairs, Cora saw the front door was open and Hayley was looking at someone that neither of them had seen before.

"Who the hell are you?" Cora asked, glancing back at Hayley who seemed rather uneasy with the situation. The man looked her up and down.

"I'm Marcel. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you either."

Cora knew who he was now. He was the King of the French Quarter. But before that, he had been Marcellus, a young boy taken in by the Mikaelsons a very long time ago. Elijah had once believed that Marcel would be the turning point for their family, but a series of unfortunate circumstances seemed determined to prove the opposite.

"Hayley, you really need to get some rest. I'll handle this."

Cora stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her. Marcel stood taller than her and he almost seemed amused by her choice to leave the house to speak with him.

"How can I help you, Marcel?"

"I was just curious to where my old friends were staying. Didn't expect not one but two beautiful women to be here. One is Hayley and the other is you." Marcel eyed her. "How well do you know the company you keep?"

"Listen, Marcel Gerard, I know who you are. I don't care about you or your fixation on power and I don't answer to your fucking rules. You ever lay a hand on Hayley and I will personally remove them and hang them on the front door of your home."

In an instant, Marcel pinned Cora against the door, a dark look coming over his face.

"I don't take well to being threatened in my city."

"I don't take well to people putting their hands on me," Cora answered, reaching into her waistband and pressing her gun into his chest. Without breaking eye contact, Cora took the safety off. Marcel raised an eyebrow, looking down at the gun before glancing back at her.

"Wooden bullets," Cora told him, answering his unasked question. "I find it a bit more stylish than a stake."

Marcel took a step back, his hands raised in surrender. Cora watched him a moment before she lowered her gun, pointing it at the ground.

"You don't trust Klaus, do you?"

"Do you?"

"I make it a point not to trust people."

"Seems like you've been in the company of the Mikaelsons for too long," Marcel remarked with a slight chuckle.

"I formed my opinions long before I met the Mikaelsons. It's what happens when the people sworn to protect you try to kill you."