Grief; deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.

Everybody experienced it differently; some buried it deep down within themselves and refused to acknowledge the pain, masking it with a layer of denial. While others basked in the reminder of the past, they celebrated the life that the deceased had lived and clung to those they loved in case they were the next to fall. There was no right way to handle the pain because when you lose someone, it stays with you, like a permanent wound carved on your heart, a constant reminder of how easy it could be to lose someone else in your life.

Rousseau's was packed to the brim with members of the community who were mourning the loss of Father Kieran by participating in an Irish-style wake in his honour, complete with Irish music playing loudly over the speakers and lots of alcohol flowing freely from bottles. People gathered around to share stories of Father Kieran, only speaking of him in the highest respect, and celebrating his life with laughter and excessive amounts of booze.

Klaus Mikaelson glared absently at his glass of scotch where he sat alone in a booth in the corner of Rousseau's, swirling the amber liquid and ignored the wake going on around him. His mind was plagued with the memory of the nightmare that he had suffered through earlier that morning, the image of Mikael impaling him was imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He thought he could distract himself into forgetting about the dream; that was the main reason for disturbing Elijah and Imogen so early in the morning, an added benefit was irritating his brother. But even the newly acquired grimoire and his brother's support wasn't enough to derail the nightmare plaguing the hybrid's mind.

"Hey! Earth to you!" a familiar voice interrupted his silence as he snapped his head up and his gaze immediately landed on Camille, who was now sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

Klaus sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze traced over the wound that graced her face and he lowered his empty glass as he muttered under his breath, "Your face –"

"– Will heal." she finished for him in a firm tone of voice as she waved a hand dismissively and he adverted his eyes as he sculled the last of his scotch before she continued, "Listen, I wanted to thank you –"

"Unless you've come equipped with the means to fill this, no additional platitudes are necessary." he interrupted her midsentence as he held up his empty glass without making eye contact and she furrowed her eyebrows in concern as she leaned her folded arms on the table in front of her.

"Okay... I'm in a crap mood because my uncle just died, and people are partying like its Mardi Gras. What's your excuse?" she asked him in a slightly flippant tone of voice as she quirked an eyebrow at him and he scowled to himself as he gazed across the bar to avoid her eyes. "Klaus, seriously, what's going on?"

"I've been having these dreams about my dead father. No diagnosis necessary, love. I've already got this one covered: my fears of fatherhood, of scarring my child as my father scarred me, are manifesting as nightmares." he deduced on his own in a bitter voice as he offered her a fake smile and he shook his head as he swallowed the last of his scotch in one long pull. "It's horrifically cliché."

"Truthfully? I'm just surprised to hear you acknowledge out loud that you're going to be a dad. Your baby mama has been living out in the bayou for months, it's not exactly What To Expect When You're Expecting." Cami commented idly as she cocked her head to the side with a half-smile on her lips and he sighed in resignation as he placed his empty glass down on the tabletop. His gaze absently wandered across the bar where Marcel was entering and he sucked in a breath when he was met with familiar dark brown eyes, holding a hint of misery he was sure was reflected in his own.

"I know more about the trials of fatherhood than you might imagine, Camille."

"And it worked out for you so well the first time, why change a thing?" she asked sarcastically with a roll of her eyes when she noticed where his attention had turned and she gave him a pointed look as she stood up from the bench.

Klaus closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the memories of the past wash over him and he grimaced as he recalled the words he had spoken to Marcel so many years ago: 'Family can be more than just those with whom we share blood. We can choose.' It was those words that had cemented Marcel's fate, that welcomed him into fold and that was the moment everything changed between them. The hybrid scoffed to himself as he grabbed a glass of scotch from a waiter's passing tray and he slouched down lower in the booth, glaring blankly at the tabletop as he continued to sip his drink.

The sound of glass hitting glass erupted over the noise of the bar and everyone's attention was drawn to the dark-skinned man that had climbed on top of the bar counter. Marcel offered the gathered crowd a grin as he held up a glass in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other as he inclined his head in greeting to the masses.

"I know I haven't been around these parts lately. It's a testament to Father Kieran that we could come together and share a drink, and a story or two. Kieran rolled into town on a rusty old cruiser after his daddy died twenty-five years ago. And damnit, that guy could party!" the former king stated with a chuckle as he shook his head, causing the audience laughed softly along with him and he bit his lip for a moment before he continued with a smile on his lips, "That was, of course, before he took his vows. But, even then, he was committed to the Quarter. He knew that this town needed him. And, we still do." he finished solemnly as he made eye contact with Cami across the room and she smiled shakily with tears in her eyes as he raised his glass in the air, "To Father K!"

"To Father K." the audience murmured quietly in return as they copied the gesture and Cami discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes as she departed from the disbanding group. The ambiance was slightly overwhelming as she hurried into the backroom for some privacy and everyone continued parting in honour of the man of the hour.

Marcel sighed sadly as he kept his gaze locked on the blonde's retreating back and then climbed down from the counter of the bar once she was out of sight. He took a long pull of the scotch bottle in his hand before setting it down on the bar and pouring himself a glass of the amber liquid. While vampirism had many positive attributes and many negative traits, one of the few that was a combination of the both was immortality. Eternal living gave you amble opportunities but out living the ones you love was the ultimate definition of a curse. It was painful existence.

The former king sculled the glass of scotch before slamming it down on the countertop and he stiffened when he felt a hand press against his back as he closed his eyes. He felt hot breath on the side of his neck as rage boiled inside of him and he curled his hands into fists on the counter as he clenched his jaw. He was about to open his mouth to snap at whomever it was but the familiar scent of vanilla assaulted him and he immediately relaxed under her touch as she pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Hello, handsome." Imogen greeted him with a sedate expression as she took a step back and he turned around to face her as he leaned his elbows on the counter behind him. He took a moment to look over the modest black outfit with a smirk on his lips and she glared at him until he held his hands in surrender.

"Good. Come here, I'm sorry about your friend." she told him sincerely as she pulled him into a tight embrace, guilt marring her features and he melted into her touch as he allowed himself to grieve for the loss of his friend.

While he could be himself with his followers, his friends, he was the leader and it fell on his shoulders to maintain morale so he couldn't seem weak or vulnerable but he didn't need to do that with Imogen. The witch had seen him broken down in tears, enraged until the point he could see red and all she did was patiently wait for him to calm down and held him while he cried into her shoulder. Imogen was the one person he could count on through everything, they had their differences but he knew she would never betray him. They were family.

Marcel pulled back from the embrace enough to press a kiss to her forehead and she smiled slightly as she took the glass of scotch out of his hand with an innocent smile on her lips. He mocked glared at her in response as he reached over the bar counter to grab an empty glass and she giggled under her breath as she took a sip of the burning liquid while he poured another glass. His gaze strayed towards the doors that led to the backroom of the establishment as a sigh escaped him and Imogen followed his gaze with a frown until she realised what must have caused his attention to drift.

"You should go check on her. She needs someone." The witch murmured sadly as she lowered her head guiltily and Marcel placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically as he shook his head in denial. She offered him a wane smile as she took a step backwards so that his hand dropped to his side and she glanced over her shoulder before turning back to face as she continued, "Just go, okay? I'm fine. Go be with Cami for the both of us."

Imogen leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek and then quickly hurried away before he could say anything in an attempt to change her mind on the matter. The sound of her high heels on the floor was lost among the chatter and laughter that was taking place in the bar, masking her footsteps as she casually searched the room for any familiar faces. She had arrived at the wake arm in arm with Elijah moments before Marcel's speech to the masses, the both of them dressed in mourning black and she had opted not to wear any make up in case she started crying at the drop of a hat like she had been doing since the night before. Elijah, of course, had been patient and accommodating whenever she broke down in tears, calmly holding her in his arms and soothing her fears with kind words spoken in soft whispers.

Earlier that morning had been a milestone in their relationship. It marked the occasion of their first fight, granted it only lasted ten minutes, but it contained raised voices and differing opinions on whether or not it was appropriate to illegally break into your girlfriend's apartment and deface the structure of her apartment by installing a wall safe without her knowing. In the end Imogen agreed to concede that a wall safe would be beneficial and Elijah agreed that he wouldn't permanent change anything in her apartment without first discussing it with her. After that they had made out on her couch like teenagers until he responsibly decided to cook them breakfast so they would still have time to get ready and they wouldn't be late to the wake.

Imogen glanced around the crowded bar, searching for Elijah and Klaus since she knew they would be together somewhere probably drowning their sorrows in alcohol. It crossed her mind what a good thing it was that they couldn't do any damage to their livers with the amount of alcohol they consumed on the daily basis. A fleeting smile speared on her lips when she caught sight of them sitting in a secluded booth in a dark corner of the bar and she automatically changed the direction she was walking.

There wasn't much talking going on between the brothers as they drank scotch together without a word; Klaus was slouched down low on the bench with a brooding expression as he glared at the amber liquid in his glass and Elijah glanced around absently with an expression of indifference while periodically sipping his drink.

Neither of them glanced at her as she approached and she quirked an eyebrow at them as she slid into the seat beside Elijah, stealing his glass from his hand. Both the Originals brother's turned their attention towards her as she took a sip of the drink and Klaus smirked faintly in her direction while Elijah draped an arm on the back of the seat behind her head. Elijah pressed a kiss to her temple as he took poured some scotch from the bottle into the empty glass he had procured the bar before sitting down and she accepted it with a small smile on her lips.

"Seems rather uncivilized to laugh and dance around the body of a loved one." Klaus mused out loud as he glanced around the crowded bar in distaste, swirling the amber liquid around his glass absentmindedly.

Elijah rolled his oak brown eyes subtly at his brother's words as he refilled his now empty glass, amusement evident on his features as he remarked drily, "Yes, far better to practice your process of grief, Niklaus – denial, rage, and hoarding coffins in basements."

The witch sitting next to him breathed out a chuckle as he settled back against the booth with his drink in hand, allowing his free hand to brush against her bare shoulder teasingly in the process. She automatically leaned into his side in response, it wasn't a conscious thought but more of an instinctively manoeuvre, like she had done it a million times before. Klaus rolled his eyes subtly at his older brother's dig at his hypocrisy but didn't bother arguing the point as he continued to sulk and sip his scotch without another word to either of them.

Imogen caught sight of a familiar werewolf entering the bar and watched for a moment as Hayley glanced around like she was searching for someone in particular. The moment her gaze landed on the booth she started making her way towards them with a purposeful stride, dodging other partygoers who got in her way. It appeared like her heavily pregnant stomach acted like a protective barrier because everyone seemed to step out of her path the moment she entered their eye line. The werewolf huffed in annoyance as she threw herself down on the bench next to Imogen, glowering at one particular intoxicated man who had attempted to touch her stomach without permission.

"I will warn you, Hayley, Niklaus is in a spectacularly foul mood today." Elijah quipped honestly as he brought his glass closer to his lips, his oak brown eyes scrutinising his brother's features as he took a sip.

"Sod off." Klaus grumbled under his breath as he refilled his empty glass and Imogen frowned in concerned as she discreetly studied his darkened expression, the psychologist inside of her listing all of the symptoms he seemed to be presenting.

Hayley narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two brothers in confusion but she decided to ignore the tension as she folded her arms over her chest and turned her attention to the hybrid across the table. "What's the deal with these moonlight rings? Oliver's trying to set a revolution every five seconds. People are scared, angry, and frankly, I'm tired of stalling."

"It's a day of peace, Hayley. Try and enjoy it. And, in the meantime, with all manner of unknown enemies conspiring against our family, you'll move back in with us."

"Awesome! Then, we can do that thing where you lock me in the tower, I escape, there's drama, and then you two both realize I'm very capable of looking after myself."

"The rings are in progress. I will live up to my word. We will find and punish whoever launched the attack on the Bayou, and you will return to the compound for your own safety!" he snapped in frustration as he glared at her heatedly, tightening his grip on the empty glass in his hand until it was in danger of breaking and the werewolf rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn't argue anymore. "But, right now – "he continued solemnly as he grabbed the bottle of scotch from the centre of the table and popped open the top, " – I'm gonna finish this bottle, and the next, in the hopes of drowning the demon who has chosen today to haunt me." he grumbled in annoyance as he tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling before chugging straight from the bottle and then slamming it down on the tabletop, causing Imogen to jumped slightly at the sudden sound. "Cheers, Mikael. Impeccable, Freudian timing."

Imogen snapped her head around in shocked concern as she felt Elijah stiffen next to her and his arm tightened around her shoulders as he leaned forward in an attempt to meet his brother's eyes but Klaus kept his gaze locked on his glass. The tension was radiating off of the oldest Mikaelson so Imogen rested her hand on his thigh, silently reminding him that she was there with him, that he wasn't alone.

There was a lot about the Mikaelson family that was still a mystery and Imogen was self-aware enough to know that it always would be, no matter how long she was in their acquaintance. A thousand years was a long time to create memories, it was hundreds of lifetimes, but she knew enough to know that the subject of Mikael was taboo unless one of the siblings brought him up in conversation. In a strange occurrence, Klaus was the most open about the subject; he would ask the witch out for a drink with the sole purpose of discussing the man he called father because he knew that she would be the one to understand the complicated relationship he had with the man. Elijah had mentioned him in passing, never divulging too many details on the subject, but just enough that she had a vague concept from his point of view.

"Elaborate." Elijah demanded harsher than he meant to but he was far too stunned to filter his tone, distracted by the feel of Imogen's hand on his thigh as he tried to find something to anchor him to the present. "Have you dreamt of our father?"

"Go ahead, have a good laugh." Klaus muttered bitterly as he lifted his head to glare at his brother and Elijah held up a hand to stop any further comments as he leaned forward to catch his brother's eye.

"I can assure you there is no piece of this that I find even remotely amusing, Niklaus. Especially considering I've been dreaming of him, too."

"What?"

"That's what your nightmare was about this morning?" Imogen asked in concern as she placed her hand on the side of Elijah's neck, her thumb grazing the underside of his jaw as he nodded his head in answer. She left her hand resting there as she sifted through the information in her mind; it was an unlikely coincidence that both brothers would be haunted by the nightmare of their father in the same night. "If you are both seeing him..."

The sentence trailed off mid-thought when her gaze landed on the redheaded witch entering Rousseau's and Elijah followed her gaze in concern, his expression contorting in distaste when he recognised the witch. A spark of realisation flashed through his oak brown eyes as Genevieve caught his eyes from across the room with a small smile evident on her lips and he instinctively tightened his arm around Imogen as he continued her thought out loud in a grim tone of voice, "Perhaps our elusive, unknown enemy is orchestrating a further attack?"