The Boy King's Journey in TVD/TO As A Mikaelson

The Mikaelson estate in the north, surrounded by towering pine forests and windswept mountains, was waking to another bitterly cold Viking morning. The smell of wood smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the scents of freshly baked bread and the faint metallic tang of iron from the blacksmith's forge.

Inside, the great hall was alive with the sounds of preparation -- servants bustling about, warriors sharpening their axes, and the steady hum of life moving forward.

Vali sat at the long wooden table, his fingers wrapped tightly around a mug of warm ale. His dark hair fell over his face as he stared at the fire in the hearth, lost in thought. Despite the warmth of the flames, there was a chill in the air around him.

The tension in the room weighed heavy on his chest, the same weight he'd felt ever since he could remember. His heart beat steadily, but his thoughts were filled with the thrill of violence, the anticipation of blood.

He stole a glance at the table's other occupants: Mikael, his father; Elijah, his younger brother by a year; Niklaus, his younger brother by five years; Kol, the second youngest, his younger by seven years; and Finn, the eldest, the one who had always seemed the most distant.

They were all there, but none of them seemed truly present -- not in the way Vali would've preferred them to be.

Niklaus, ever the spirited one, sat at the edge of the table, his wide grin lighting up the room with an energy that contrasted sharply with the brooding silence of the others. His gaze flickered between Vali and the group, but there was a restlessness in his eyes that always pulled him toward mischief.

Elijah, the ever-responsible brother, sat closer to their father. His demeanor was calm, as always, but Vali could see the weight of responsibility in his eyes. His younger brother was dutiful, following the path set for him, and yet, there was something quietly defiant about him -- an undercurrent that Vali could never quite figure out.

But it was Finn who occupied Vali's thoughts the most. Finn, with his cold eyes and distant expression, stood by the window, looking out at the gray sky. It was impossible to miss the quiet disdain Finn held toward him -- the resentment that had grown over the years, despite all the attempts to patch things over.

Despite them once being so close, they were practically inseperable. At least that was until their mother's poison started to be bled into his ears.

Vali could feel it now, the invisible rift between them.

Since the day Vali was born, since the day he had come into this world bearing that mark --cursed, tainted, according to their mother -- Finn who had been warm to him, slowly began to grow colder.

And now, as Vali looked across the room, he couldn't help but wonder if that gap between them could ever be bridged.

But truth was, Vali didn't care about his mother's words. Her influence on Finn. The constant attempts at driving wedges between him and his family.

The constant attempts on his life through curses and poison that no one noticed, but he.

Not anymore, at least.

The guilt he had once felt for the blood he spilled, for his mother's hatred -- the terror that had gnawed at him as he wondered if she was right and he was destined to be a monster -- was long gone.

The mark no longer shamed him. If anything, it was a part of him he had come to embrace. The rush of power, the pleasure that surged through his veins with every kill, was more intoxicating than anything he had ever known.

With each life taken, the mark seemed to whisper to him, urging him to take more, to spill more blood, to feel the world tremble beneath his hands. And Vali had learned to listen. He had learned to savor it.

There was no guilt anymore. No hesitation.

His family might see him as a shadow, a monster in their midst, but Vali knew better. He was alive in a way they could never understand. The others were content to follow the rules of civilization, to play their parts in the great game of survival. But Vali had tasted something beyond that -- something pure and savage. And he would never go back.

Mikael's voice cut through the stillness, snapping Vali back to the present. "Vali, what are your thoughts on the raid in the north? The clans are growing restless. They've been gathering more warriors. Do you think we can strike before winter sets in?"

Vali looked up from the fire, forced to pull his mind back to the task at hand. His father's gaze was firm, expectant.

"I think we should move swiftly," Vali replied, his voice steady, even as a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He felt the old rush stirring in his chest, the anticipation of the bloodshed to come. "The weather holds for now, but if we wait, we'll be caught in the snow. We should strike while we have the element of surprise."

Kol grinned widely, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Now that's the spirit! I've been itching for a fight."

Elijah, ever the voice of caution, nodded thoughtfully. "We need to be careful, though. The northern clans are known for their strength. They'll retaliate fiercely."

"I'll deal with them," Vali interjected, his voice low, the thrill of battle already thrumming in his veins. The weight of his mark, the pull of violence, was already beginning to draw him in. He could almost taste the blood on the wind. "Let's make them fear us."

Finn, who had been silent until now, gave a brief glance in Vali's direction, his face unreadable. The disdain was there, Vali could feel it, but Finn said nothing.

Nothing at all.

Vali's smile flickered. It had always been that way, hadn't it? Finn had never been able to hide his distaste, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to openly confront Vali, either. Vali was too far gone. The mark had already claimed him. Finn could never understand that, never see the allure of it.

But Vali didn't need Finn's approval. He didn't need anyone's approval. The bloodlust was his, and it made him powerful. It made him something his brothers could never be.

Mikael looked at him sharply, his gaze intense. "I expect you to lead the vanguard, Vali. Precision. No mistakes."

Vali's chest tightened with anticipation. "Of course, Father," he said with a grin. Leading the vanguard meant being at the front of the battle. It meant he could drink his fill of blood, savor the carnage without anyone getting in his way. His bloodlust would run wild, and he would embrace it.

As he turned to leave the hall, he cast another glance at Finn. The eldest brother was still staring out the window, his posture stiff and unyielding. The distance between them felt endless.

But Vali didn't care. He didn't care if Finn hated him.

For once, he didn't feel the sting of rejection. The mark had taken that away. All that was left was the burning hunger, the longing for the rush of power, for the high that only blood could give him.

And as Vali left the hall, the cold air biting at his skin, he couldn't help but wonder: How long before the world would fall beneath his hands?

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The battlefield stretched before them like a canvas waiting to be painted with blood. The sun had barely risen, casting a cold light over the snow-covered earth, its pale rays gleaming off the steel of the warriors' weapons.

The air was thick with the scent of iron, sweat, and anticipation. The northern clans were ready for battle, armed and roaring, prepared to defend their land with everything they had. And the Mikaelsons were prepared to bring hell to their doorstep.

Vali stood at the front of the line, his heart pounding with the thrill of it all. His blood stirred, his mark pulsing faintly beneath his skin, urging him forward, urging him to spill more. His hands tightened around the hilt of his axe, and his smile was one of pure, unrestrained delight.

This was what he was born for -- this was where he felt alive. The battlefield was his playground, and every swing of his weapon, every death he dealt, was another brushstroke on the canvas of carnage he was painting.

Finn, standing a few paces behind, was focused on the chaos unfolding in front of him. His jaw was set tight, his eyes cold. He watched as Vali charged forward, his movements fluid, precise, deadly. The way Vali moved was almost effortless -- he was a force of nature, unstoppable, a man born to kill.

But it wasn't just his skill with a blade that struck Finn. It was the expression on Vali's face --one of pure pleasure, a dark ecstasy that Finn couldn't understand. Each swing of his axe, each warrior he brought down, seemed to fuel him further. Vali didn't just fight for survival. He fought for the joy of it, for the intoxication of death. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no regret. Just a sickening joy that made Finn's stomach churn.

Still, as much as Finn despised what Vali had become, a part of him couldn't deny the deep, buried affection for his brother. Finn had always been the one to carry the weight of responsibility, the one who had been told to lead with honor and dignity, and yet -- beneath all the resentment he felt -- he remembered the good times. The laughter, the quiet moments before the darkness had fully taken hold.

Finn's gaze lingered on Vali, but his thoughts twisted painfully.

'I hate you for what you've become, but I still love you. I don't know how to reconcile that…'

Finn's breath hitched. The old poison of their mother's words still echoed in his mind -- "He is cursed, Finn. You cannot trust him. The mark has claimed him fully. He is lost to you."

But deep inside, Finn's heart ached with something more than hatred. A part of him still longed to save his brother, even if he didn't know how. The bond they shared was not so easily broken, for they were close ones, when they were children. So, no matter how much Finn tried to convince himself otherwise, that love remained.

Elijah, ever the voice of caution, stood with Kol, watching the chaos unfold before them. He wasn't as repulsed by Vali's savagery as Finn, but it disturbed him, nevertheless. His eyes were filled with concern, his thoughts racing as he calculated the risks, the losses.

There was a part of him that had always hoped for Vali to pull back from the abyss, to find balance -- but the more he saw his brother embrace the bloodlust, the more the fear gripped him. Elijah feared that the man Vali was becoming might one day be beyond saving.

But then, even through his worry, Elijah found himself torn. He did care. That bond between brothers -- it still existed, even now. And while the warrior in him understood the need for strength in their world, the brother in him still hoped to see Vali return to them, to reclaim the man he had once been.

Kol's voice broke through his reverie, a sharp laugh leaving his lips. "Look at him, Elijah! Our brother's like a wild beast unleashed. It's both terrifying and impressive. I must admit, I've always thought he'd be more than but a fighter, but I never imagined he would embody this madness so completely."

Elijah shot Kol a disapproving glance. "It's not madness, Kol. It's danger. And I fear for him. If he continues down this path, there may be no coming back."

Kol's eyes softened for a brief moment, a rare flicker of understanding passing through them. He might have enjoyed the chaos and the bloodshed, but even Kol wasn't blind to the toll it took on their brother. "I don't know, Elijah. Maybe this is who he was always meant to be. He thrives in it. Look at him, do you truly wish to deprive him of what he enjoys?"

But there was more to Kol's words than the casual, playful tone he so often adopted. Kol's heart ached for Vali, just as Elijah's did. Even Kol, the one who had always been seen as the most carefree and distant, could feel the weight of what was happening to their brother. They had all felt it -- the growing chasm between them and Vali, a distance that had only deepened with the passage of time. 

'He's our brother, Elijah. Even when he's like this, he's still our brother.' these words were unspoken, yet Elijah could see they were what Kol really meant to say. That they should accept him no matter what.

Mikael watched from the rear of the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. He was proud of Vali, yes, but that pride was tempered by a colder, more distant understanding of what his son was becoming.

Vali was strong -- there was no doubt of that -- but his embrace of the bloodlust troubled Mikael deeply. He had always expected greatness from his sons, but this -- this unbridled hunger -- was something he couldn't reconcile.

And yet… even as he watched Vali carve his way through the enemy ranks, a flash of something deeper crossed Mikael's mind.

'I'm proud of him, yes. But I also fear for him. For what he's becoming. For what he might lose in the process.' the patriarch of the Mikaelson family still, behind his pride in his son's strength could not ignore the warning words of his wife echo through his mind, and feared that one day, he may lose his beloved son. 

The complexity of his feelings left Mikael with a bitter taste. He had always been the one to push them toward strength, to teach them the ways of warriors, but now he found himself standing at the edge of something much he couldn't control.

In the midst of the slaughter, Mikael's thoughts drifted briefly to Klaus, his eyes seeking the figure of his youngest son. Klaus was still at the rear, far from the bloodshed, his posture stiff with uncertainty.

Klaus, the one who had always been different. The one who wasn't consumed by the bloodlust. Mikael had always feared this softness in Klaus -- his reluctance to embrace what it meant to be a Mikaelson.

But something in his chest twisted, something unfamiliar and almost painful, when he saw his youngest son's pained expression.

'Niklaus wasn't a killer, not like Vali. But was that really a weakness?'

Mikael tried to ignore the thought, but it lingered, uncomfortable. Was Klaus weaker for not sharing his brothers' hunger for war? Or was it possible that Klaus, in his own way, was the strongest of them all?

He did not truly know. Both Vali and Niklaus were the extremes of the two sides. Vali was his strongest son. He had everything one needed to be able to survive in this world. But that was it.

Survival was all he was capable of, for love of anything but battle save his family wasn't something he noticed in his son's heart and that saddened him. To thrive one also needed peace, but Vali seemed only to be at peace when the scythe of death was around his neck. He had no other thing that could bring him peace outside of the battlefield.

Niklaus though was everything Mikael feared in a child of his after his beloved Freya was lost to him. He did not have the aggression, the ruthlessness necessary to survive in this cruel world. He was soft, just like Freya was. He reminded him of her, the most, and that is way in some ways, he cared for him the most out of their children.

He tried to teach him the path of a warrior, through training, sparring, hunting, yet nothing worked. His gentle nature always overcame any attempt at directing it away from those undeserving of it. In the he decided to opt for cruelty. Be rougher with him in sparring matches. Crueler in his words. Beat him even. Have him at least hate something, even if it him, so that he'll gain the strength necessary to be able to defend himself, yet still It did not work.

Nothing ever worked. 

Mikael's frustration at the remembrance nearly reached its peak, and so before he lashed out at Klaus, he turned his gaze back towards his cruelest son.

As the battle raged on, Vali's face twisted into a cruel grin. He was unstoppable, a force of nature, and nothing could stand in his way.

Suddenly, though, as he cut down three more warriors in a single circular swing, a wall of fire rose up like an angry wave, swallowing the air between the two opposing sides. The heat was immediate and suffocating, crackling with magical power.

The Northern clans had summoned witches to the battlefield.

A hush fell over the warriors for a brief moment as the flames roared high into the sky. It wasn't just the fire that had everyone on edge -- it was the unspoken agreement that had always existed among the people of the region.

No witches on the battlefield. Ever. It had been a rule, a sacred pact, passed down through the ages. To summon witches was to dishonor the very nature of combat. It was a battle for warriors, not for spells and sorcery.

Mikael, at the sight of the wall of fire, narrowed his eyes. His voice rang out, loud and commanding. "Fall back! Fall back, now!"

Elijah, Kol, and Niklaus obeyed without hesitation, retreating swiftly. They knew better than to challenge their father's orders. They understood that they were fighting not just against warriors but now, against the very forces that made a man's heart tremble.

But Vali. Vali stood still, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the wall of flames, his chest heaving with adrenaline. The heat seared his skin, a welcome burn, a reminder of the power he carried within him -- the power that the mark had gifted him. He could feel its presence pulsing beneath his skin, stronger than ever, urging him forward.

With a savage grin, Vali growled. "A wall of fire? Really? You think I fear fire, when my very soul burns brighter and hotter than the flames of Surtr himself?"

He threw himself forward, charging into the flames with all the reckless abandon of a storm. His body absorbed the heat as if the mark protected him, though it burned him slightly, the flesh on his arms and face beginning to smolder. But Vali didn't care.

The pain was nothing, a mere spark in comparison to the hunger inside him. He reveled in the sensation, letting the fire lick at him, feeling it deepen his thirst for violence. It only made him stronger.

The Northern clans' witches stood at the heart of the fire, cackling in dark glee as they watched Vali's approach. Their power was palpable, their magic wild and untamed, but Vali was something else entirely. He was an unstoppable force -- a creature born from the very blood of war.

He barreled through the fire like an animal unleashed, each step a fury of rage. His axes cleaved through the first wave of warriors, their cries mixing with the roaring fire, the sound like music to his ears. He could hear the witches chanting, feel the magic swirling around them, but it only spurred him on. Vali's eyes burned with a fire of their own, his teeth bared in a feral grin.

From the edge of the battlefield, the leader of the Northern clans watched in wicked satisfaction. A tall, imposing man with dark eyes, he had seen the flames engulfing the battlefield and knew that Vali, the cursed son, was charging headlong into their trap. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he spoke to his followers.

"It is no tarnish to our honor if there is no one left to speak of it," he said, his voice cold and calculating. "Let them come. Let them fight against our magic. We will show them how a battle truly ends."

The witch's magic swirled stronger as they summoned fire, ice, and shadows, but Vali surged forward with renewed strength, his savage grin never fading. Each swing of his axe felt more exhilarating than the last as his enemies fell before him. He reveled in the carnage, the blood spilling beneath his feet, his senses heightened, and the thrill of the kill consuming him entirely.

His brothers -- Elijah, Kol, and Niklaus -- watched in horror and disbelief as Vali tore through the battlefield, uncaring of the flames that seared his skin. They had never seen him like this, not with such abandon, such joy in the destruction. It unsettled them, though they would never show it. This was a side of Vali they had always feared, a side that seemed to embrace the darkness within him more than ever, without hesitation.

Elijah's eyes were filled with concern, his mind racing. "Father was right to order the retreat," he muttered, but the words were hollow, drowned out by the madness of battle. Even he, the strategist, could not deny the terror that gripped his heart at the sight of Vali.

Kol's expression was unreadable, his gaze flickering between the destruction and his father, as if searching for the right course of action. He had always been the one to follow his instincts, but even he knew there was something deeply unsettling about Vali's slaughter.

Mikael's face was cold and stern, his grip on his axe tightening as he watched his son push forward. Part of him wanted to order Vali to fall back, to stop the madness, but he knew it was useless. Vali was too far gone now. There was no turning back for him. The mark had taken hold of him completely, and Mikael knew, deep down, that it was something he could never control.

As Vali cut down another group of warriors, his body covered in blood and ash, he didn't pause for a breath. The fire, the magic, the blood -- it all fed into the hunger that burned within him. It was no longer about the battle -- it was about the thrill of the kill, the rush of power that coursed through his veins.

Vali had become something else entirely. And no wall of fire, no witch's spell, could stop him now.

"Fear me! For I am the death you invited!" Vali roared with wild abandon, his voice echoing over the battlefield, a dark proclamation that seemed to carry the very weight of the world's violence. His laugh followed, a terrifying, manic sound, ringing with the thrill of slaughter.

His body, scorched by the flames and riddled with the sharp sting of cuts, healed rapidly, the mark driving him forward, its power surging through his veins like fire.

And yet, unknown to all, somewhere beneath the bloodlust, beneath the haze of violence, there was a flicker of something more.

As the battle raged on and Vali continued his rampage, a momentary pause came over him. He stood amidst the flames and bodies, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his eyes wild, but then his gaze flickered. In the distance, he saw his family retreating, pulling back from the wall of fire.

At first he thought they abandoned him, to which he felt hurt, but also acceptance, since he expected it. Yet, he was proven wrong, for as he looked closer, their faces were tense, filled with worry, fear, and something deeper -- something that stirred in Vali's chest.

'They still care…'

His brothers, despite their horror, had not abandoned him. Elijah stood at the forefront, his usually composed face betraying a rare crack of unease. Kol's expression was guarded, but his wide eyes and clenched fists spoke volumes. And Finn, lingering at the rear, wore a mask of simmering resentment -- yet his gaze never left Vali, a thread of reluctant connection holding fast even now.

He through the years thought they had began to abandon him as he let go of his pain, of keeping his bloodlust at bay and began going to raiding towns and villages all on his own, without true need for it like it was accustomed.

But it seems he had been wrong. He did not know what to make of this truth and that both confused and terrified him.

'They still love me.'

Vali's grin faltered, just for a moment, before he snapped back into his bloodlust driven state. The mark surged within him, drowning out his fleeting thoughts of family, of love, of control. The blood lust overtook him again, and with a roar, he surged forward into the thick of the fighting, as unstoppable as ever.

Amidst the roaring chaos, Vali fought like a wild beast unleashed. His axes cleaved through warriors and witches alike, their bodies falling like broken trees beneath the force of his onslaught. The wall of fire flickered and twisted, crackling with magic, but the heat no longer fazed him -- nothing mattered except the blood rushing in his veins, the intoxicating rhythm of battle.

Yet in the swirling carnage, the witches' magic grew stronger. The Northern clans had placed their trust in their power, and their leader stood at the heart of it, a tall man with jet-black hair and eyes like midnight, casting spells that shaped the very battlefield. His followers, both male and female, cloaked in black robes, chanted in unison, their voices a haunting melody that vibrated with ancient power.

Vali's eyes narrowed as he barreled through the smoke and fire, his senses heightened by the mark. He could feel them -- those who were pulling the strings from behind the flames. The witches. They stood at the center of this madness, their power intoxicating, and they had to be stopped.

With a savage roar, Vali cut through the last of the enemies standing between him and the leader. The witches scattered, their magic swirling around them like a deadly storm. Vali didn't slow. His gaze locked onto the leader -- the one whose cruel smile spoke of his belief in victory, of his faith that no warrior, no monster, could stand against the power they had summoned.

But Vali wasn't a man. He was a storm.

He cut down the first of the witches who tried to stop him with a fiery blast, his axe slashing through her in an instant. The air was thick with the scent of burning flesh and the acrid sting of magic. The others tried to hold their ground, but they were no match for the rage burning within Vali.

Finally, the leader stood before him, a wicked grin still curling on his lips. The witch leader raised his arms, summoning dark tendrils of magic to encircle him. "You think you can stop me, cursed one?" he sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "You think you can kill a force of nature?"

Vali didn't hesitate. He didn't care for the leader's words, his magic, or his arrogance. He swung his axe with a roar, cutting through the air as if it were butter. The first blow struck the witch leader's arm, and the dark tendrils faltered for a brief moment. The leader's expression turned to one of surprise, but it was too late.

The second strike was a clean blow to his neck, severing his head from his body. The leader's eyes widened in shock, but Vali didn't care. The head hit the ground with a sickening thud, and with it, the magic that had been swirling around the battlefield faltered. The fire and ice that had once roared in defiance flickered and died, leaving nothing but silence in their wake.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The warriors, the witches, even the Mikaelsons, paused to take in the victory. Vali stood there, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with adrenaline and bloodlust. The mark beneath his skin pulsed, still hungry, but the battle had ended.

With a wild, victorious grin, Vali raised his axe high, blood dripping from the blade. He turned to face his brothers -- Elijah, Kol, Niklaus, and Finn -- standing at the edge of the battlefield, their expressions a mixture of disbelief, awe, and wariness.

"I told you," Vali shouted over the field, his voice full of dark amusement. "No one can stand against me."

His brothers were silent for a moment, watching him with a mix of emotions. But it was Finn who finally spoke, his voice low and strained. "You've won, Vali. But at what cost?"

Vali's grin faltered, but only for a moment. He wasn't here to answer to Finn. He wasn't here to explain himself. He was here to revel in the victory -- the blood, the power, the rush. The rest of them could decide what to do with their victory. He didn't care.

He turned his gaze to the remaining warriors, those who had witnessed the fall of their witch leader. Their fear was palpable. Vali reveled in it, the echo of his roar filling the battlefield as he raised his axe once more, his voice carrying like a dark proclamation.

"We have won this day," Vali declared, his voice carrying far and wide. "Let the world tremble. Let them know that the Mikaelsons are the storm that can never be stopped."

As the remaining warriors dropped their weapons, surrendering to the weight of their defeat, Vali's grin returned. His brothers were still watching him, but now, there was no hesitation in his movements. The bloodlust had won, and he had proven to himself, and to them, that he was more than just the cursed son. He was the storm. And no one -- no one -- could stand against him.

The battle was won, but for Vali, the war had only just begun.

His family, his brothers, still loved him -- no matter how far he'd fallen. And that, deep down, was the victory that mattered most.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! How was the chapter?

I hope you liked more context on his relationship with his siblings and their thoughts.

Do please comment how you found it and what you found bad or good and what you want improved.

Also, how did you find the battle and Vali's rampage? Was it cool?

Do tell.

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)