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◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: ❛ vows new and broken ❜ ◢
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KINGDOMS WERE ALWAYS DOOMED TO FALL. The Roman Empire, so high and mighty, nothing could tear them down – except, something did. The British tyranny and conquest of the world, oh how they fell and how their land turned harsh against them. Empires, kingdoms, they always fell, always broke down because someone else came and killed them.
It was the natural part of living, seeing the rise and fall of kingdoms and their rulers. The high and mighty...oh, how they always fall one day. On top of the world one second to be thrown towards the ground the next. Kings could always be replaced, and usually they were. One day the subjects overruled them or another king came to steal their kingdom to have the riches for themselves.
Kingdoms weren't always countries, sometimes they were cities. Sometimes they were just having complete authority of everything going on in the shadows which no one wants to talk about. Marcel was a king – and how he loved that title. The King of New Orleans, the one who existed in the shadows but had his hand in everything with everyone obeying his command. He was in charge, he made the rules, and everyone bowed to his mercy.
But Marcel had been overthrown, just like all mighty kings were one day, and now Niklaus Mikaelson stood tall. He ruled everything, existing in the shadows with his hand everywhere, taking all the riches Marcel once enjoyed and built up. Now, he was king – Marisol helped him get there.
At least, she was complicit in it anyway. She didn't stop him, she didn't warn Marcel, she played into his hand and slipped away from her hand because of past loves and past lives. Now, Klaus was king and the Mikaelsons were in charge of New Orleans. Marcel was just another subject now.
"You did it," Marisol turned to Klaus, looking down at the compound. A place she was familiar with, a place she intertwined with Marcel because this used to be his. This was where he threw his parties, this was his palace, and now this was the Mikaelsons.
"Yes," he looked awfully proud of himself, looking around at his old home turned new one again. It was empty now, just them and Hayley was somewhere else in another room. Marisol didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. "I'm king."
"Don't get too cocky, kings always fall one day," she reminded him, eyes looking him up and down in a study. "You've been around long enough to at least know that."
Klaus didn't meet her eyes, but he didn't look pleased with her reminder. One might think it came from a friend as a warning, a caution not to be too arrogant out of care, but they both knew the truth. It was a simple fact, strained by the betrayal of friends and their own tangled history. This was not friendly; it was merely fact, small talk.
