Cousin, Dearest.

Family

Clara scoffed at the ridiculous suspicions he had. "Marcel is basically my nephew and he basically hates me."

"You don't get it do you? Clara, you've have this gift. A gift you've had all your life and vampirism only enhanced it. People can't just hate you. They can pretend by they can't truly. I should know. I've tried."

"Oh."

With an awkward cough, Lucien pointed behind her. "Is that the fellow you were looking for."

Low and behold, Alistair Duquesne stood next to Marcel. Alistair seemed to presenting him with a sort of present: a knife. She tucked her hair behind her hair and listened to the two immortals converse.

"Very nice." Marcel stated, grabbing the sword and eyed it.

"I took that from a sultan." Alistair said, "It is a blade meant for a king. Given in gratitude for your generosity."

"Alistair," he began, "I like your style. Now, allow me to return the favor. 70-year-old Scotch, in honor of your native Scottish Highlands. To be enjoyed along with our feast."

Alistair didn't seem impressed with his fake smile and that alone made Clara's stomach drop. Lucien gave her a questioning look. she bit her lip, nervously. "Klaus is going to cause this scene."

"What do you-"

"Now, that that is a kind gesture. Though I don't believe one can be free if one's oppressor still lives. Niklaus turned me and then he compelled me to slaughter my entire estate, including my wife and my child." Alistair said, angrily. "All so that I could serve as a distraction to lure away his vile father. I spent a century hiding in the shadows. Where is my justice? Hmm? Now, five years ago, you made him suffer. And you tell us that he suffers still, and yet we have no proof. And now the only thing that prevents him from returning to wreak untold havoc is your word."

"I have him right where I want him. He's not going anywhere." Marcel responded, calmly.

"Then I want to see his suffering with my own eyes. And perhaps procure just a drop of his blood. If only to test a theory. See, we've known for some time that Elijah Mikaelson somehow still lives. My witch advisors suggest that his life is linked to some powerful, immortal force. Now, I believe that to be Klaus himself."

"Well, that's an interesting theory."

"Klaus' blood will allow us to confirm that link. And, if true well, surely that would be cause to kill him and eradicate his abominable family as well. You kill Klaus, it will ease the minds of all of your brethren. Refuse, it will prove you to be a sympathizer."

"Stop!" Clara stepped foreword. "Please."

Alistair looked at her with a vicious grin. "And who might you be, my dear?"

"Clara de Martel. Someone 5x your age." She replied, glaring.

"Ah." His eyes lit up as he turned to the crowd. "It's the half blood bitch." He said. "Half Mikaelson and Half de Martel. She's a traitor to her true family."

"If you haven't already heard: my sister was mental. But, if you say one more thing-"

"Hold up." Marcel held up his hands, trying to ease the tension, "I don't know about a sympathizer. But I do know that I don't take ultimatums."

Alistair nodded. "You know, it's bad form to deny your guests. It could sour their mood. And it would be an awful, awful shame if I or any of my followers were to go into your city with a soured mood. A bloody awful shame, indeed."

Marcel looked directly at Clara with an apologetic expression when he spoke next. "Well, now, Alistair I never meant to be rude. How about we settle this tonight? The Mikaelson compound. Midnight."