r.i.p to my youth <<>> mercy mikaelson

twenty-six

| reunion (n): an instance of two or more people coming together again after a period of separation |

   THE ATMOSPHERE WITHIN the Mikaelson home was stifling, suffocating, and silencing. The tension was so palaple that Mercy somewhat wished that she could turn on music or some other noise to take her mind off of her father's stare boring deep into her face. She wasn't looking at him—she didn't think that she could with her anger at his and Freya's ploy to put these stupid bracelets on her—but she didn't have to. Her father had an excellent way of making his anger and frustration known by seeping the feelings into the entire room.

"I'd like to start with the questioning, if nobody else will," Kol spoke up, and Mercy fought the smile that threatened to appear on her face. He had done exactly what Mercy wanted without even realizing it: giving everyone something else to focus their attention on besides her. The Original was leaning against the bar next to his niece, looking down at her with a quirked eyebrow and an irresistibly intrigued expression. "Why are you killing vampires? I mean, I knew this would happen one day—considering who your father is—"

"Kol," Klaus growled, but the man didn't seem to notice his half-brother at all.

"But I don't recall my niece being very murderous when I last saw you," Kol finished with a snarky smirk—though, if she looked close enough, Mercy could see that the smile was strained. "What happened to you in the last eight years? I'm sure that Rebekah is just as curious as I am."

"He's not wrong," Rebekah chimed in, and Mercy glanced to her once. The teenager scoffed a little, raising the glass she still held in her hand. Her father narrowed his eyes as she sipped at the harsh, burning liquor—and just to spite him, she took a larger gulp of it. She hissed a little as she set the glass on the bar top, and Kol's already-raised eyebrow rose even higher.

"Well, where should I start?" Mercy mused with a bitter laugh, shaking her head a little. "I triggered my werewolf curse the same night that the Hollow was split up between all of you. Killed my only friend in the process," she paused for only a second before continuing as if nothing happened. "Had to endure the horrendous pain of breaking every bone in my body, and then I got stuck as a wolf for three months before I managed to turn back. During all of that time, I traveled across the country, killing anyone that got in my way. I didn't really realize what I'd done until I woke up with the sun on my skin for the first time in weeks."

"We know this," Freya spoke up softly, her eyes conveying a certain understanding that Mercy didn't quite believe. "Hayley and Klaus both told all of us what happened, and well, we've been contacting your father about you in the past few years. Just stories and small checkups here and there."

Mercy shrugged, not exactly mad at avoiding the topic in exchange for a different one. "Well then, I guess I could skip ahead," she began, glancing once at her father. "Should I start with my capture—and inevitable torture—by Greta and her vampires, or the ways that my father is keeping me from fulfilling exactly what I warned them I'd do?"