𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀, hayley marshall

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘

"Some people truly have no appreciation for their local pub." Klaus said mockingly before walking towards the man on stage. She followed him and saw Marcel having the time of his life singing along to a song on the stage. Completely forgetting the reason they were there, Belle had a million thoughts and questions racking at her brain. For one, how did he escape the fire?

Marcel had thanked the audience before he jumped off the small stage and walked over to the main bar which was most of the seats happened to be vampires. He took a drink before pausing, feeling familiar presences around him. He turned his head to see none other than Klaus and Belle Mikaelson. While Belle was looking at him with a mix of shock and relief, Klaus looked at him with a scowl. All of the vampires that were seated at the bar went quiet and followed Marcel's gaze, becoming defensive.

"Klaus? Belle?" He said almost questioningly.

"Marcel." They state in sync.

"Must be a hundred-years since that nasty business with your papa." Marcel said, almost amused.

"Has it been that long?" Klaus asked, moving closer to him.

"They way I recall it, he ran you out of town. Left a trail of dead vampires in his wake." Marcel drawled, also moving closer to Klaus.

"And yet how fortunate you managed to survive." Klaus said. Anyone who didn't know their history would've assumed they were enemies. "My father, I'm afraid, I recently incinerated to dust."

As Klaus moved closer, the vampires that sat at the bar had stood up, ready to defend Marcel at any cost. Belle moved right next to Klaus to try and scare off some of the vampires.

"Well, if I knew the both of you were coming back in town, if I had a heads up—"

"What . . . Marcel?" Klaus interrupted. "What would you have done?"

"I'd have thrown you a damn parade." Marcel laughed before bringing Klaus in for a hug. When they pulled away Marcel put his hands on the top of Klaus' shoulders. "Niklaus Mikaelson. My mentor, my savior, my sire." He turned to Belle. "Oh, and how could anyone forget the beautiful Belle Mikaelson." He pulled her in for an embrace.

"You truly are a survivor, Marcellus." She sighed with relief. She pulled away from Marcel and looked behind him at the group of vampires. "If they try anything—"

"They won't." Marcel assured her, putting an arm around each of their necks. "Let's get you two some drinks." He led them to the back of the bar, laughing as he sat down on a chair. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to be home." Klaus said before sitting down with Belle following soon after. "Although please tell me the current state of Bourbon Street is not your doing."

"Something's gotta draw in the out-of-towners." Marcel laughed. "Otherwise we'd all go hungry."

Belle looked behind her to one of the men that was ready to fight for Marcel. She saw he had a daylight ring on his hand and turned back to Marcel, "I see your . . . friends are daywalkers."

"Yeah, yeah, I shared the secret of your daylight ring with a few buddies. Just the inner circle, though. The family." Marcel said, pouring Belle a drink.

Belle found that sentence odd. A hundred-years ago, he was their family and vise versa. But when he had gotten out of the Oprah house safe and sound, he hadn't even attempted to get into contact with them. Did he not consider them family anymore? Or did he simply take the opportunity to rule over New Orleans?