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

twenty-eight

| crossroads (n): a point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences |

THE ROOM WAS dimly lit, the only source of light being a few candles that were scattered throughout the room. She glanced to her right to look at her uncle, seeing that his attention was completely taken with the vampire in the middle of the room, currently strung up by chains in the same way that Mercy had been with Greta. The sight was a little more than unnerving, stirring a feeling of deja vu in her body, but she ignored it easily. Instead, she focused on Tokala on her other side; when she looked in his direction, he was already staring at her, as if knowing that she needed a little bit of silent encouragement.

She wasn't regretting asking Tokala to find Aamon for her, but she knew that this wouldn't be as easy as she originally thought it would be. Already, she was on edge, and her nerves were bouncing against the inside of her body, as if everything was electrified. The last time she had looked into Aamon's face, he'd been mocking her, playing with her mind and emotions in ways that she didn't think possible. It made her feel vulnerable, violated, weak; she wanted to make him feel the same. So, swallowing down the feelings in her chest that threatened to overtake her, she tilted her head at Kol.

"So, where should we start?" She asked lightly, and Kol raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you want to do?" Kol questioned her back just as easily. "First lesson, darling. In torture, you can literally do anything you want." He eyed her closely, smirking a little as if he knew something she didn't. "The only limit is how much you can stomach."

Mercy nodded, watching as Tokala circled Aamon with a curious expression on his face. Kol was busy watching the boy as well, so Mercy took the time to look around the room closer. She wasn't sure if the weapons had been there before Kol came down there, but there was a small table pushed up against the wall. She noticed a knife that was left relatively unused, and Mercy drifted over to the table.

"He looks better this way," Tokala commented slyly. "I think I gave him an upgrade."

"It makes sense," Kol said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall behind him. "The ugly ones are always thinking they know better. Call it self-victimizing, superiority complex, whatever the bloody hell you want."

"Since when did you become a psychiatrist?" Mercy asked quietly over her shoulder, honestly interested in how her uncle might answer her. He only turned his head slightly to her, eyes still focused on Tokala and Aamon. The wolf boy was raising an eyebrow while nudging the vampire slightly, checking to see if he had passed out or not.

"Your father used to have one hanging around, and I love eavesdropping," Kol answered shortly, and Mercy shrugged, turning back to the table in front of her.

"Hey," Tokala muttered, and Mercy glanced back to see the boy shoving Aamon roughly. "I know you're awake asshole."

"My apologies," Aamon muttered out, spitting at Tokala's feet. Mercy clenched her jaw at the sound of the man's voice, remembering things she'd rather forget. "But did anyone ever tell you that it's not the smartest tactic to say that you're a rookie in front of an experienced torturer?" He chuckled darkly, and Mercy crossed her arms, ignoring the goosebumps that formed. "Already off to a bad start, I see."