The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

The bus rumbled to a stop.

The doors hissed open, letting in the cool night air.

Hayley Marshall stepped off, her boots hitting the pavement with a quiet thud.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her, eyes scanning the dimly lit streets of Mystic Falls. The town was smaller than she expected. Quieter. Like the kind of place where secrets festered beneath the surface.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The scent of pine, rain-soaked concrete, and something else—something old—lingered in the air.

So, this is where he disappeared.

She adjusted the strap of her duffel bag and glanced around. The bus station was nearly empty, just a few stragglers either waiting for a ride or lost in their own worlds. A flickering streetlamp buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Hayley was tall, lean but strong, her dark brown hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her hazel eyes—sharp, calculating—swept over her surroundings with quiet intensity. She wasn't just looking. She was hunting.

Henry Marshall.

Her twin brother.

He was here. Or he was here.

She lost contact with him weeks ago, and when she traced his last known location, everything led to Mystic Falls. That alone was enough to put her on edge. This town had a reputation. People disappeared here. Some never came back.

And if Henry was mixed up in whatever supernatural shit was going on, then she was already too late to keep him out of it.

She clicked her tongue in frustration, then pulled her phone from her pocket. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the same silence that had been haunting her since he went dark.

Her jaw tightened. Alright.

If no one was going to give her answers, she'd find them herself.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking, her steps confident, purposeful. She didn't know where to start, but she wasn't leaving without her brother.

Mikaelson Compound – Midnight

The grand halls of the Mikaelson compound were eerily quiet, the dim glow of candlelight casting long, flickering shadows against the ancient walls. Klaus moved through the corridor with slow, deliberate steps, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black coat. His jaw was clenched, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.

Behind him, Elijah followed, his own expression calm but observant. The elder Mikaelson had known Klaus long enough to recognize the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Why the sulky face, brother?" Elijah finally asked, his voice smooth, almost amused.

Klaus exhaled sharply, stopping near a tall window that overlooked the darkened streets of New Orleans. "I need more hybrids," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "After the war, I lost too many. Freya stopped me from going after the doppelgänger." His fingers drummed against the glass. "I could've built an army again, but she—"

Elijah sighed, shaking his head as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. "The poor girl has suffered enough. She at least deserves some peace." His voice was steady, final. "So, I beg you, Niklaus, let her be. Live with what you have."

He didn't wait for a response. With a slight nod, Elijah turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Klaus remained still, his reflection staring back at him from the windowpane. His fingers curled into fists before he turned away, his coat flaring behind him as he stalked toward the main hall.

The night was far from over.

Border of New Orleans – Midnight

The air was thick with humidity, the scent of damp earth and cypress trees clinging to the night. A lone figure lay in the grass at the edge of the city, her dark curls spilling over her face, her dress torn and dirt-streaked.

Katherine Pierce stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open, sharp and alert despite the fog in her mind. Something was different.

She pushed herself up, her fingers digging into the damp soil as an unfamiliar warmth spread through her veins. Stronger. Faster. More alive than she had ever felt before.

She exhaled, her breath unsteady. What the hell just happened?

Then she remembered—the chase, the fight, the escape. She should've been drained, exhausted. Instead, she felt… powerful.

Her brows furrowed. If this had happened years ago, she would've been ecstatic. A power-up, a real chance against the Originals. But now? She knew better. Power meant nothing against them. Klaus would always find her. Elijah would always be two steps ahead. And Rebekah… well, Rebekah would enjoy snapping her neck just for fun.

No. This didn't change anything. She still had to run.

Katherine staggered to her feet, brushing the dirt from her clothes, ready to disappear into the night. But then—

A sound. A shift in the air.

She turned sharply, her dark eyes locking onto the figure standing just a few feet away.

A soft crunch. A footstep.

Her head snapped around, hazel eyes sharp as daggers. The shadows shifted, parting to reveal a woman standing a few feet away. She was tall, draped in dark clothing, her presence almost unnervingly calm. A slow, knowing smile played on her lips.

"No need to panic," the woman said smoothly, her voice carrying an eerie confidence. "I'm Sage. A fellow Earthly Guardian. Like you."

Katherine's brows pulled together. Guardian? What the hell was she talking about?

She didn't move, didn't speak, just kept her stance poised—ready to attack, or flee, if necessary.

Sage tilted her head, her smile widening. "Relax, Katerina," she said, like she knew her. "I'm not here to harm you."

Katherine's jaw tightened.

Yeah. That's what they all say.

Mystic Grill

The bell above the door chimed softly as Hayley pushed it open, stepping inside the dimly lit bar. The place smelled like whiskey, grilled food, and something distinctly old—like dust that had settled in the cracks of a forgotten town.

She shrugged off her jacket, shaking off the lingering cold, and made her way toward the bar. The place wasn't packed, but there were enough people to make it feel alive. A couple of guys hunched over a pool table, a group of friends laughing in a booth, and a lone figure at the corner nursing a drink like it held the answers to life's biggest questions.

Sliding onto a stool, Hayley caught the bartender's attention with a nod.

"Whiskey," she said, her voice steady, eyes still scanning the room.

The bartender—a guy in his mid-thirties with tired eyes—gave her a once-over before pouring her drink. Hayley didn't miss the way his gaze lingered, like he was trying to place her. She ignored it, taking a slow sip as she turned in her seat.

She wasn't just drinking. She was watching.

Mystic Falls was small. People knew things here, even if they didn't talk about them openly. Someone had to know something about Henry.

Across the room, near the back, Ivar leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily against the wooden table. His dark eyes flickered up to Hayley, and a tired sigh left his lips.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He had only mentioned it in passing. Just a few words, thrown into the void like an afterthought.

And yet—she was here.

A/N

Search for Creation Of All Things

Thanks for reading