"If you gotta tell 'em you're powerful, you ain't. Simple."

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          /Nameless./ Born into shackles in 1713, I was the bastard product of an enslaved mother and the Governor of the French territory, deemed Louisiana. The patriarch of the Gérard family, wealthy and influential, had much property, both land and enslaved peoples. I, his bastard property, was no different. Enslaved cattle. But, I could never go willingly into the slaughter. I never had the spirit for bondage. Even as I was worked, tirelessly, endlessly, and marked with lashes from whips that slashed through my flesh each time I dared defy slave drivers, I fought back relentlessly and fearlessly. The death of my mother only fueled this blazing courage that up until the age of 10, got me nothing but broken, bleeding flesh, starvation, and never-ending suffering. 
         /Marcellus Gérard./ Until Niklaus Mikaelson arrived, stopping the last leather whip from slashing open my back for the last time. Bloodied, bruised, but never broken, Klaus named me, demanded my freedom from the Governor, and took me in to raise me as his own. From learning how to read and write to learning the chess moves of life, I studied at the feet of my sire and worshipped at the alter of his depravity. I became the prodigal son: his protégé, his unwavering ally against his siblings and foes, and his bestfriend, sometimes his only friend. Despite our ups and downs, namely my unyielding love for his baby sister, it wasn’t until 1919, the year of Mikael’s wrath, that our bond truly shattered. Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah ran from their father’s destruction, leaving me to perish in their father’s flames and never looked back.
        /Marcel./ From the ashes, I was reborn a man with the weight of both his father’s boots lifted from his neck. With the heart of a warrior, the mind of a strategist, and the strength and courage of a leader, I became the King of New Orleans and later the King of the Louisiana Vampires. I revived what Klaus started and let burn to ground at the hands of his tormenting father. I produced a rare jewel greater than he could’ve ever imagined. I rebuilt my home from the devastation the Mikaelson’s left and shaped it into a kingdom where the supernatural community and human alike prospered, Nawlin’s thrived, my territories and influence grew, and my name became synonymous with power, prestige, and entrepreneurship. My own name. My own identity. /Me./ 
            Until Klaus Mikaelson returned…

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Uneasy Is The Head || Parts 1-4 || (Introductory Solo Series)

The Italian || Parts 1-7 ||

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Find my stories here.