Chapitre 9: ### **Chapter 8: The Tides of Control**
The moon hung low over the city, casting a cold, silver glow across the streets of New Orleans. The city felt both alive and dead, pulsating with an energy that seemed to flow from the very ground beneath my feet. It was as if every stone, every building, every shadow held a secret, a power waiting to be claimed or destroyed. The ghosts of the past lingered in every corner, as if the city itself remembered the rule of Klaus Mikaelson and refused to let go.
The weight of the world pressed down on me, and yet, all I could do was stand there, staring out over the balcony of the mansion that had once been Klaus's. It was ironic, really. This mansion had been built on power—on the blood and sweat of countless lives lost in the pursuit of dominance. And now, it was mine. I had inherited not just the wealth, but the legacy—the empire Klaus had built, for better or for worse.
But I had made a vow to myself, a promise that I wouldn't rule with fear. I wouldn't become the monster Klaus had been, the tyrant who tore down anyone who dared to stand in his way. That kind of rule was fleeting. It burned bright and hot, but it never lasted. It consumed everything around it, until there was nothing left but ashes.
I turned away from the balcony, my mind spinning with the weight of what I had yet to decide. I was no longer a child, no longer a pawn in the game of power. But there was still the question of how to play it. If I didn't use Klaus's methods, what then? How could I stand against the forces that would inevitably come for me?
Before I could dwell too long on the thought, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. I turned to find a familiar face standing in the doorway: Marcel.
"Thought I'd find you here," Marcel said with his usual smirk, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. There was no judgment in his tone, but something about the way he watched me told me that he was still waiting for me to prove myself. "You seem lost."
"Maybe I am," I replied, my voice colder than I intended. "I'm trying to figure out what kind of king I want to be."
Marcel's eyes flickered with curiosity. "A king, huh? I've seen plenty of would-be rulers come and go. But the problem with kings is they're never really in control. Not until they show their teeth."
I turned and walked toward the grand staircase, my fingers trailing along the polished banister. "I don't want to rule with fear, Marcel."
"And that's your mistake," Marcel said, following me down the stairs. "People follow power, Klaus. They always have. You can talk all you want about being different, but in the end, the world doesn't care what you *want*. It only cares about who's in charge. And who's going to keep them alive."
I stopped halfway down the stairs, my eyes narrowing as I turned to face him. "Is that what you think I need to do? Kill anyone who gets in my way?"
"I'm not saying you should kill everyone," Marcel said with a shrug. "But I am saying that if you want loyalty, if you want control, you have to prove that you're the one who holds the power. If people think you're weak, they'll turn on you the moment you show any hesitation. And trust me, hesitation is the quickest way to get yourself killed."
I gritted my teeth, the frustration boiling inside me. There it was again—the hunger, the urge to dominate, to show Marcel and everyone else who was in charge. It was so easy to slip into that mindset, to take control by force. I could feel it, the power coursing through me, the whispers in my mind urging me to give in.
But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
"You don't know anything about me," I said, my voice barely above a growl. "You don't know what I'm capable of."
Marcel's smirk faded slightly, and he took a step closer. "You're right, I don't. But I've seen Klaus at his worst. And I've seen what happens when someone tries to rule without knowing the game. Don't think you can outsmart the world. People like you, people with power, don't get to be 'good'. You don't get to pick and choose when to be merciful. You either rule, or you get consumed by the very thing that gave you power in the first place."
I turned away, my mind racing. Was he right? Could I really avoid Klaus's mistakes? Could I really rule without becoming just another monster? The doubts crept back in, clouding my thoughts.
I needed to talk to someone. Someone who might understand.
I turned to Marcel. "You're right about one thing," I said, my voice softer now. "I can't keep pretending I have all the answers. I need to understand how Klaus did it. I need to know what made him so powerful, so unbreakable."
Marcel's expression softened for the first time. He was silent for a moment, considering my words. Finally, he spoke.
"He ruled through fear, Klaus," Marcel said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. "But he also ruled through respect. People followed him because they feared the consequences of not doing so. But they also followed him because they respected his strength. He wasn't just a monster. He was a king."
"But is that all it takes?" I asked, my voice betraying the doubt that lingered in my mind.
"No," Marcel said, shaking his head slowly. "It's not just about power or fear. Klaus... he knew how to control people. He understood their weaknesses, their desires. He didn't just take what he wanted; he made people want to follow him. He made them believe that they needed him. And when they did, he was unstoppable."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Klaus had been ruthless, but he had also been a master of manipulation. He didn't just conquer by force—he conquered by twisting the hearts and minds of everyone around him, making them believe that their survival depended on him.
"Do you think I can do that?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
Marcel hesitated. "I think you're different, Klaus. I think you have the potential to be a better ruler. But you'll have to learn from his mistakes. You'll have to learn how to balance the power with something more—something that isn't just fear."
"I don't want to become him," I said quietly, almost to myself. "But I don't know if I can avoid it."
"You have more control than you realize," Marcel said. "But you'll have to make a choice. You can either let the power control you, or you can control it. The city will show you who you are."
I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. I knew what I had to do. I couldn't let the hunger consume me, but I also couldn't let hesitation be my downfall. I had to find a way to balance the power with something else—something that would keep me grounded.
And in that moment, I knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But it was a road I would walk. One step at a time. I would carve out my own path. I would be the ruler this city needed—not the monster I feared I might become.
---
The next day, I summoned the leaders of the various factions in New Orleans to the mansion. The witches, the vampires, and even the humans—those who still believed in the idea of peace and coexistence. I had to show them that I was different, that I wasn't Klaus, but that didn't mean I was weak.
The meeting was tense, filled with lingering glares and hushed whispers. They were waiting for me to make a move—waiting to see if I would repeat Klaus's mistakes or forge my own way.
I stepped into the room, my gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd. It was time to show them who I really was.
"Welcome," I said, my voice steady, but carrying a quiet authority. "I'm sure you all have questions. But the only one that matters right now is this: What do you want from me? What is it that New Orleans needs?"
The silence that followed was deafening. But I knew the answer. The city needed a leader. Someone strong enough to protect them, but wise enough to avoid the same pitfalls that had led Klaus to ruin.
And that, for better or worse, was the road I was prepared to walk.
---
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone