The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

Damon wiped the blood from his lip, his eyes glowing an eerie red. He wasn't holding back anymore. This wasn't just a fight between brothers—it was a war between two sides, and Stefan had made his choice.

"Still running from your humanity, huh?" Damon taunted as he flexed his fingers. His nails elongated, turning into razor-sharp claws. His bloodline ability—Transmutation—had finally kicked in. His muscles tensed, his body adapting for the kill.

Stefan smirked, his body already melting into shadows. "And you're still pretending you have yours."

Damon lunged, his claws slicing through the air, but Stefan vanished into the darkness, reappearing behind him. A spear formed from his own blood materialized in his grip, sharp and deadly.

With a flick of his wrist, Stefan sent the spear flying.

Damon barely had time to react. His body twisted as he dissolved into a swarm of ravens, the spear passing harmlessly through the flurry of black feathers.

As soon as he reformed, he retaliated.

A gust of wind kicked up as Damon shot forward, his speed making him nothing more than a blur. He swiped at Stefan's chest, aiming to rip through flesh, but Stefan melted into the shadows again, reappearing above him with another spear.

This time, Stefan didn't throw it. He plunged it down, aiming straight for Damon's heart.

Damon barely managed to sidestep, the tip of the spear grazing his shoulder, drawing blood. He gritted his teeth, grabbing Stefan by the wrist and yanking him down, aiming to drive his claws into his side.

Stefan twisted at the last second, slipping free, landing smoothly on his feet. His smirk was infuriating.

"You're getting slow, big brother."

"Yeah?" Damon growled. "Let's see if you can dodge this."

He raised his hand, and for a brief moment, the battlefield seemed to darken. His veins pulsed as his bloodline ability surged, and suddenly, his claws elongated even further, twisting into jagged, bone-like blades. His eyes glowed even brighter.

Then, without warning, he was gone.

Stefan barely had time to react before Damon was in front of him again, slashing with inhuman speed. The younger Salvatore dodged the first few strikes, his body flickering into shadows, but Damon kept up, his attacks relentless.

Finally, one of Damon's claws sliced across Stefan's arm, drawing a deep gash.

Stefan hissed but didn't slow down. Instead, he retaliated.

A wave of blood shot out from his wound, twisting in the air before condensing into a barrage of blood spears.

Damon transformed into a raven again, dodging the attack with ease, but the moment he reformed, Stefan was already waiting for him.

This time, Stefan didn't hold back. His eyes glowed with raw power as his form shifted—his entire body dissolving into a mist of shadows before solidifying again, faster, stronger. He was no longer just dodging. He was matching Damon blow for blow.

Their fight became a blur of movement—shadows clashing against transmuted flesh, blood spears flying, claws slashing. Every attack was countered. Every move was met with equal force.

It was a battle of skill, of instincts sharpened by centuries of experience. Neither of them was willing to give an inch.

Then, out of nowhere—

"Miss me, boys?"

A familiar voice rang through the chaos, and before Stefan could react, a boot slammed into his back, sending him staggering forward.

Damon didn't hesitate. He lunged, claws flashing, aiming straight for Stefan's throat.

But Stefan recovered fast. He melted into shadows just in time, reappearing a few feet away, glaring at the newcomer.

Katherine.

She stood between the brothers, a smirk playing on her lips, her dark curls wild from the wind of battle.

"Now, now," she said, tilting her head. "I can't let the two of you kill each other before I get a little fun in, can I?"

Damon wiped the blood from his mouth, exhaling sharply. "Katherine, stay out of this."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Like I'd miss a chance to knock Stefan down a peg."

Stefan sneered. "Figures you'd side with him."

Katherine's smirk widened. "You're just mad I didn't pick you."

Before Stefan could respond, she was already moving.

In an instant, she was in front of him, her speed nearly matching his own. She threw a punch at his face, which he barely managed to block. But before he could counter, Damon came at him from the other side.

Now it was two against one.

Stefan growled as he dodged and parried, his mind racing. He was fast, but Damon and Katherine together? That was a problem.

Katherine was ruthless, slipping through his defenses, landing precise, painful strikes. And Damon? He was unrelenting, his bloodline ability pushing him to fight more viciously than ever.

For the first time since the battle started, Stefan was struggling.

Katherine grinned, sensing his frustration. "Aw, getting tired, Stefan?"

Stefan didn't answer. Instead, he shifted into shadows, slipping between their attacks before reforming behind them.

"You talk too much," he muttered before launching another blood spear.

Katherine sidestepped, but Damon was already on him again.

Blow after blow, attack after attack, they fought, the battlefield around them forgotten.

Stefan knew he couldn't win this. Not against both of them.

Stefan wiped the blood from his lip, his expression turning cold as he eyed them both. "You two are fools," he muttered. "Fighting for the wrong side."

Damon narrowed his eyes. "And what are you on about now?"

Stefan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "If the Guardians win—which, let's be real, is unlikely—we're all going to die."

Katherine frowned, folding her arms. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

Stefan looked between them, his gaze serious. "Killing an Original Vampire wipes out their entire sireline. If Klaus dies, you and Damon die. If Ivar dies, I die. We're all sired to them." He scoffed. "What do you think the Guardians meant when they talked about getting rid of 'vile creatures'? They weren't just talking about random vampires. They're going after the ones who started it all—the Originals."

Katherine's eyes flickered with realization before she let out a small chuckle. She tilted her head back, staring at the dark sky. "Guess I'll be running for the rest of my life then."

Damon still wasn't convinced. He crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "And where exactly did you hear this little theory?"

Stefan didn't hesitate. He jerked his chin toward the battlefield. "Idola. Overheard her telling Ryannen. And Ivar confirmed it." His lips pressed into a thin line before he added, "But he said something else that surprised me."

Damon raised a brow. "And what's that?"

Stefan's eyes darkened. "He said he can't die. So this whole battle? This war? It's pointless."

A/N

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