Reincarnated as Elijah Mikaelson: A Power Beyond Klaus

Chapter 10: Klaus, Chaos, and Consequences

One would think that after centuries of immortal existence, Klaus Mikaelson might learn the value of subtlety. Instead, he operates with all the finesse of a bull rampaging through a crystal shop—charming, in his way, but ultimately catastrophic.

Today's masterpiece of mismanagement involved the leaders of the human factions in New Orleans. Marcel had painstakingly gathered them for a meeting at Rousseau's, assuring them that the supernatural order was well in hand. Klaus, naturally, decided to interrupt. Not with words, mind you, but with threats, a bit of bloodshed, and what I could only assume was his version of a friendly reminder: "I'm the monster you should fear."

By the time word reached me, the humans were halfway to forming an angry mob, Marcel was glaring daggers at everyone in sight, and Klaus was—of course—completely unrepentant.

I found him in the courtyard of the Mikaelson estate, sipping whiskey as though he hadn't just destabilized half the city. The audacity was almost admirable.

"Brother," he greeted, his tone casual and infuriatingly smug, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to throw his drink at him. "Niklaus, I've come to thank you."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Thank me?"

"Yes," I said dryly. "For proving, once again, that no situation is so dire you can't make it worse."

Rebekah, seated nearby with a glass of wine in hand, let out a laugh. "He's got you there, Nik. You've outdone yourself this time."

Klaus scowled at her before turning back to me. "I was simply reminding the humans of their place."

"By turning them into an angry mob?" I asked, my voice sharp. "Niklaus, this city is a powder keg, and you've just lit a match."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "A little fear keeps things interesting."

"Interesting?" I echoed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "For whom? Certainly not the rest of us, who now have to clean up your mess."

Rebekah set her wine down, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Elijah, let him have his fun. You know how Nik gets when he's bored. Think of it as his way of contributing to family chaos."

"Contributing?" I shot her a withering look. "If this is his idea of contribution, I'd rather he abstain entirely."

Klaus chuckled, utterly unbothered. "Come now, brother. Don't be so dour. You'll sort it out, as you always do."

"And when I do," I said, my tone icy, "rest assured, I'll return the favor."

His smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To family."

"To survival," I muttered, turning on my heel.

The next morning, I began the unenviable task of damage control. Marcel was already gathering his lieutenants at the compound, his temper simmering just below the surface.

I arrived unannounced, as was my habit, and was greeted by a mix of wary glances and outright suspicion. Marcel stood at the center of the room, his commanding presence filling the space.

"Elijah," he said, his tone carefully neutral, "to what do I owe the honor?"

"I'm here to help," I replied smoothly.

Marcel raised an eyebrow. "Help? Funny, I don't recall asking for it."

"I assumed," I said, stepping closer, "given the chaos Niklaus has unleashed, that you might appreciate a calming presence."

He snorted. "Calm? Is that what you call it? Your brother barged into a meeting, threatened half the humans in the city, and left me to pick up the pieces."

"An unfortunate display," I admitted. "But one we can rectify—if we work together."

Marcel studied me for a long moment, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "And what's in it for you, Elijah?"

"Stability," I said simply. "For you, for me, and for this city. Chaos serves no one."

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But if Klaus pulls something like this again—"

"I'll deal with him," I interrupted, my voice firm.

Marcel smirked, though there was no humor in it. "I'll hold you to that."

Back at the estate, I found Rebekah lounging in the parlor, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She looked up as I entered, her expression one of feigned innocence.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"As well as could be expected," I replied, pouring myself a drink. "Marcel is... understandably displeased."

Rebekah smirked. "And Niklaus?"

"Unsurprisingly smug," I said, sitting across from her. "Though I intend to rectify that."

Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"

I took a sip of my drink, a small smile playing on my lips. "Let's just say Niklaus is about to learn the meaning of consequences."

The first step in my plan was simple but effective. Klaus, for all his bravado, has one true weakness: his wine. He guards his collection with the ferocity of a dragon hoarding treasure, which made it the perfect target.

That evening, as he poured himself a glass from his prized bottle, I watched from the shadows, barely containing my amusement.

The moment he took a sip, his expression twisted in disgust. "What is this?" he bellowed, holding the glass as though it had personally offended him.

I stepped into the room, my expression calm. "Something wrong, Niklaus?"

"This wine tastes like—" He paused, sniffing the glass. "Salt?"

"Curious," I said, feigning confusion. "Perhaps your palate is off. Have you been overindulging in blood again?"

Rebekah wandered in, her laughter ringing out as she took in the scene. "Oh, Elijah, you're brilliant."

Klaus glared at me, his eyes blazing. "This is your doing, isn't it?"

"Prove it," I said with a faint smirk.

The next phase required a bit more effort—and a touch of theatrics. Using a simple recording of distant werewolf howls, I rigged the estate's security system to play the sound at random intervals throughout the night.

At precisely midnight, the first howl echoed through the halls.

Klaus burst into my room moments later, his eyes wild. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I asked, my expression perfectly innocent.

"The howling!" he snapped. "There are wolves nearby."

I shrugged. "Perhaps they're drawn to your magnetic personality."

He growled, muttering curses under his breath as he stormed off. Rebekah, hiding in the next room, nearly doubled over with laughter.

By the following evening, Klaus had reached his breaking point. He cornered me in the study, his expression dark.

"This ends now, Elijah," he said, his voice low.

I looked up from my book, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Don't play coy," he snapped. "The wine, the howls—this is your doing."

I closed the book, meeting his gaze evenly. "Perhaps it's a lesson, Niklaus. Actions have consequences, even for you."

He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"And you're impossible," I replied.

For a moment, the tension broke, and a small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

"Fine," he said. "You've made your point."

As the night wore on and the city settled into an uneasy calm, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. The balance of power in New Orleans was as precarious as ever, but for now, the Mikaelsons remained standing.

Let the games continue.