Dispersora | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 3

November 3, 1835

Marcel was starting to lose it.

Yara hated seeing him stressed. Lately, it was all he seemed to feel, no matter what she did. And as a grown man, he was less in the habit of listening to her advice to calm himself down.

He'd recently turned twenty-five. Yara had baked another marvelous cake and bought him new shoes to go with a new suit she'd made by hand for him. She looked as youthful as she had when they first met. He, on the other hand, had grown into a young man, as tall as she predicted he'd be.

Time had flown. A minute ago, he'd been a twelve-year-old with a broken arm she nursed back to health. A minute ago, he'd been thirteen and still crawling into her bed during storms, wanting to be held.

It hadn't been that long since he first began to learn languages, and now he was fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and German. It felt like it was just yesterday when she, Klaus, and Marcel took their first walk through the city, and she'd introduced Marcel as her son when a shopkeeper had asked who they were.

More recently, he'd finally turned nineteen and learned all about her past and the awful things she'd done to survive. He'd decided that day he most definitely did want to become a vampire. Since then, he'd talked their ears off about turning. Klaus insisted he would turn him when he was ready. Marcel hated hearing the words 'not yet.'

He knew Yara would never turn him. She couldn't bring herself to cause him any harm. Though he knew she was more than capable of violence (some of which he'd witnessed when she and Klaus had freed every last slave in the state), she refused to be the one to snap his neck and make him a vampire. Elijah would not comply, neither would Rebekah. Everyone knew it was Klaus's choice alone. He had to decide when Marcel was ready.

But the decision had not been made yet.

"Yara, please," begged Marcel as she washed some clothes in the fountain. "Please, convince him that I'm ready."

"You know as well as I do that nothing will convince him if he does not already believe you are prepared for this," said Yara pointedly. "I know you want to be one very badly, my little prince, but–"

"I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm a grown man. I've done everything that was asked of me, I excelled in all my lessons, I have remained cordial and good and I've continued to listen to what you all tell me, but I'm twenty-five, I don't know what more I can do before he sees that I wish to be a vampire like the rest of you!"

"Marcel, I am sorry," she sighed. "Klaus needs to be the one to make the decision. And you know how he gets when anyone tries to push him in a direction he doesn't want to take."

"But he listens to you more than anybody!"

"And I've spoken to him about it in the past and even then he has not changed his mind. You know I want you to be happy, and I want what is best for you, but... this one is up to him. I didn't turn until I was twenty-six. Maybe that's what he's waiting for. He wants to make sure you are as mature as he wants you to be when you get locked in place. We cease to age when we turn, and some part of our growth is stunted. Better you are fully-developed mentally."

"You had a very specific reason for turning at twenty-six," argued Marcel. "It can't be compared."

She faltered, eyes dropping sadly. "I know, Marcel. He wants your experience to be better than what we had. Murder and suicide are no way to be turned."

"Marcel."

He straightened up as Klaus walked in. "Let her be," urged Klaus. "We will speak of this another time."