1704
New Orleans
Jasper
Five years was not long.
Not for a city still deciding what it was. Not for magic still learning how to behave in a land that refused to remember properly. But it was long enough for patterns to form—and for Jasper to be one of them.
In five years, New Orleans had learned his name.
Not loudly. Not reverently yet. But with consistency.
"Jasper can fix it."
"Ask Jasper first."
"He doesn't take payment."
He lived near the river, close enough to feel the delta breathe but far enough not to disturb what slept beneath it. His presence smoothed fractures rather than erased them.
Wards lasted longer. Hexes lost their appetite. Violence still occurred—but it stopped echoing quite so far. And through it all he siphoned slowly. More slowly than he'd ever done thanks to the dark presence under the city nobody but him seemed to feel.
The witches did not circle him.They orbited. Jasper did not build a coven. He did not claim lineage or authority. He became something rarer: a known variable. Magic adjusted around him the way water adjusts around stone.
The land approved.
The thing beneath the river watched.
It had tested him only twice—in a dream where the water rose without flooding, where voices screamed without mouths. Jasper woke with magic pressed tight against his ribs and did nothing with it.
That, more than resistance, satisfied it.
But the next test was much more violent and began his legend within the city as someone to leave alone at all costs.
It happened on a normal summer evening, the humidity in the air made it almost tangible, especially mixed with the magic that always permeated the air in New Orleans.
Jasper was sitting by the river on the back porch of his house strumming a guitar he'd picked up during his travels around the planet.
He felt it as soon as they came. The intent. Violent.
Out front the treeline came 30 hooded figures all tight with anticipation and magic flowing through their bodies ready to strike.
Jasper spoke before they could, trying not to resort to violence if he could avoid it. "I ask you not to do this."
"Shut up you abomination!" The leader said. "You should not exist, and tonight we will correct the mistake as all servants of nature should."
Before Jasper could speak again a hex flew out towards him with blistering speed. Even his 2 centuries of life could barely keep up. That along with the number of witches made the spell more powerful and thus harder to siphon.
It hit him with a force that he didn't think possible and threw him onto his back. As he tried to get up and right himself he understood the hex. A paralysis spell, all cast at the same time by 30 witches.
He began siphoning the magic quickly, deciding he didn't care about backlash as long as he could get away and try to understand why this coven wanted him dead.
Unfortunately he didn't get the chance. He saw the leader coming toward him with a wooden stake in her hand.
Death. That's all that ran through jaspers mind. He knew what wood through the heart did to a vampire, witch hybrid or not.
He was close to breaking the spell when the stake slammed down into his chest, making his world go cold.
———
The witch who'd staked Jasper sat on her knees and cried. For 200 years her coven had been trying to correct the mistake made by the Fontaine family patriarch all those years ago.
Her many great grandmother had been his daughter, sister to the monster she'd just killed. Her brother stepped beside her and spoke, "we did it Rae."
She nodded, still not believing it was that easy. All that shame washed away in an instant. The coven had found itself in New Orleans a century ago after someone received a vision of the abomination returning.
She exhaled all the pressure she'd felt build up while being in the presence of the heretic and began to stand up to speak, "we must concentrate his bones for the coven." She said.
Nobody batted an eye. This was always the plan. Once they'd learned they could keep their ancestors alive by consecrating their bones into the earth from the other covens who'd called New Orleans home for a long time, they knew the abomination and his magic had to be returned to them.
They picked up the corpse and began the process of walking back through the bayou toward their hallowed ground.
What they didn't see was the subtle twitch in the fingers of Jasper Fontaine about 15 minutes post his staking.
They arrived at the site where the hooded figures of the council awaited. They all drew in gasps when they saw the group had their quarry.
"You have returned. Excellent. Let us continue quickly. This might actually give us the boost we need to become the dominant force in the city."
However, as soon as they began to set the body down, Jasper Fontaine exploded into motion. Quicker than any could follow Jasper moved like a shadow, taking hearts and heads with ease.
Finally the coven leaders began chanting, the same spell they'd used to put him down the first time. But Jasper was ready. He put every ounce of his siphoning ability to draw from his vampiric curse and said his favorite spell even after all these years. "Incendia"
All but one in the coven exploded in white hot fire that burned through spirit and body alike. Jasper walked up to the last kneeling hooded figure and ripped the stake out of his heart, watching in fascination as his gray skin became more lifelike, though only blood would truly get his appearance back to normal.
He discarded those thoughts and looked back toward the kneeling figure. With a quick motion he threw the hood back and almost stumbled away.
Beneath the hood was a woman who looked so much like a younger version of his mother it brought back too many memories.
"Go ahead monster. End it!" She spat on the ground in hatred.
"I'm not the one who started this, young one." He spoke evenly though inside he was raging.
"You started it 200 years ago abomination." The women, my family, said.
"By existing?" I asked trying to see where such hatred came from.
"Yes. You were born an abomination. Your father did nothing but make it worse. Now I know why the history's called him a weak willed fool who….." she didn't speak again.
Jaspers hand on her throat prevented it. "I have allowed much disrespect. But speaking ill of my father is the one thing I cannot forgive." He didn't kill her like she thought he would, by drinking her blood.
Oh no. After 200 years, all the repressed emotions from his childhood bubbled to the surface and he lost control for the first time since he was turned into a vampire.
Instead of drawing her blood out of her, he began siphoning her magic. Stealing it and adding it to himself in a way he'd never done so from another alive being.
Her screams pierced the night air and the magic in the city coiled around him like a loving mother. He dropped the husk of a women on the ground and continued toward the tombs where his ancestors lay buried.
If they couldn't give up on their grudge after 200 years, he'd tie up the loose end that he should've done the second he got done burying his father.
Like he'd done 1,000 times in Europe, he began siphoning the magic from the hallowed ground, sending spirits screaming as they were dragged from the other side into him, being devoured by his vampiric nature and recycled into his own strength.
Although he didn't know it for certain yet, magic did. That night he became something more. A witch whose raw power hadn't been seen in this land since the early days of civilization.
That same presence that sat waiting under the city like a coiled snake seemed amused and then disappeared back into slumber, satisfied that it'd finally made him take action.
"You've made an enemy today," He spoke in an ancient tongue. His voice, carried with intent and magic echoed over the river water. That day was the end of the everlastings coven, burned by the child who did not feel warmth from the people. So he found it in the fire of their destruction.
——
After that day, everything changed. Previously Hostile witch covens began sending gifts for sins merely concocted and not tried. Fearful that the immortal witch knew they were plotting and began seeking resolve.
Five years in, New Orleans was beginning to believe in itself. In Jasper. That was the danger. Belief, when left unexamined, always sharpened into teeth.
Jasper felt the shift three nights before it happened. The magic didn't surge. It aligned.
Lines that had always drifted independently—blood, land, belief—snapped into orientation, like iron filings answering a magnet too distant to name.
Jasper stood on a rare hill in this marshy wetland and watched the river darken under moonlight. He felt the coiled presence beneath the water tighten, not in fear, but in anticipation.
Something old was coming. Not summoned. Not invited, but coming all the same.
On the third night, fog rolled in thick and unnatural, muffling sound and swallowing distance. Jasper felt it before he saw it—the displacement of power, the way the land itself leaned toward the horizon.
A ship emerged from the mist.
Ancient wood. Heavy lines. A silhouette that did not belong to this century, this continent, or this future. The water around it shuddered, rippling outward as though making room.
Jasper did not run. He did not hide. He simply stood still and watched as the ship cut through the bay and toward the city that had not yet learned how to scream.
Every instinct in him went quiet. That was worse than alarm.
The presence beneath the river coiled tighter, alert now, attention sharpened like a blade drawn partway from its sheath.
The ship drew closer.
And for the first time in five years, New Orleans did not feel like it was waiting. It felt like it had been found.
———
3rd POV
Two men stood by the riverbed observing a ship coming in without any insignia. "A miracle ship," the one holding the lantern said and began preparing to head toward the vessel on a rowboat stationed beside them.
What they didn't know is the horror awaiting them on the ship.
"Over the course of my long life I have come to believe we are bound forever to whom we share blood. And while we may not choose our family, that bond can be our greatest strength or our deepest regret. This unfortunate truth has haunted me for as long as I can recall."
——-
Aboard the ship the men slowing made their way down from top Deck to the cargo hold. The lead man spoke, "take what suits you."
The one beside him looked to two ornate boxes that looked to be coffins, "what do you make of that?" As with most humans, curiosity caused them to open one of them revealing a gray man with a dagger imbedded in his chest.
From behind the group, a shadow moved with inhuman speed snatching one of them in the blink of an eye without any knowing. The second and third being taken startled the rest of the crew.
The lead man began running up toward the stairs to escape leaving the man with the lantern staring dumbly up at him from beside the coffins when he was ripped up onto the deck.
Hearing something behind him the man turned quickly to see only to find nothing. From behind him a feminine voice sounded from behind him, "hello."
He turned back toward the voice to find a beautiful blonde woman in a dress with a demonic face. Veins moving like serpents under her eyes, sharp teeth, and beautiful but deadly fangs sat in a mouth that was being wiped clean of the blood with a handkerchief.
"Mhm," the demon woman said seductively before continuing after wiping her mouth. "Lovely to see such a handsome face after a long journey," in a louder voice she called out, "can I eat him brother?"
From behind the man a voice replied, "I'd rather you didn't." Looking to the terrified man he spoke and walked toward him slowly while looking him in the eyes. "There's no need to be afraid, he'll do exactly as I say. He'll remember nothing."
The man's pupils dilated as he replied, "I will remember nothing."
"We've had a very long journey, unfortunately over which we lost all of our crew; therefore, I would ask you to kindly transport the luggage to the shore."
The man responded, "what kind of hell demons are you?"
The women behind him replied, "we're vampires darling. The Original vampires. Rebekah, Elijah, our bothers kol and Finn may they rest in peace," before she can finish another voice calls from the top deck.
"Are we saving the best for last?"
Annoyed she keeps speaking, "and our half brother Niklaus," turning toward the man holding the lead man of the expedition onto the ship. "He's a beast."
Klaus laughs as he drops the corpse back into the hold startling the man, "we fled Europe and survived the seas. Would you rather I arrive hungry to the shores our new homeland?"
Elijah as the older sibling stepped in to calm any disputes, "niklaus your manners are, as always, without equal." Turning toward the man he spoke again. "Sir Would you be so good to tell us where is is that we have arrived?"
"This is the French colony of Louisiana, off the shores of a town they've named New Orleans."
"Thank you so much," Elijah said as He began walking toward the stairs only to stop and turn back with a smile. "Oh, I do recommend that you find yourself a little assistance for the luggage. My sincere apologies." He finished before continuing up after his siblings onto the top deck of the ship.
The man turned and saw his dead crew piled up on the back wall and knew he was lucky.
———
The Mikaelsons arrived in the city without fanfare. Running from an immortal hunter will do that to you. This place was unlike any they had encountered before. Witches and werewolves fighting over dominion of a city that seemed to dislike the idea of being controlled at all.
Witch covens from the treme to the voodoo queens all vied for influence and power. The wolves had figures like the crescent pack and the Guerrera. Their civil war was more based on blood and territory, while the witches was about strength and influence as many of them voted for the next leader of each individual coven.
The new elements to the city began learning these currents and trying to make plans for integrating themselves into this supernatural community. Klaus' plan was simple, control. He would start with the human leaders and work his way up.
Elijah was more subtle, listening in to conversations that people thought nobody could hear. Making plans of betrayal and alliance in the same breath.
Rebekah for her part was focused elsewhere. She didn't care about controlling the city. Her dreams were of a family and children. Though she knew it to be a wasted effort, something in her couldn't help but look for love outside of her family.
The three of them all had their ways a means. And all three achieved results. Klaus was able to get into the good graces of the governor, being dragged into oppulent parties and lavish feasts while behind closed doors agreements were being made.
Elijah found information. What intrigued him most wasn't the constant struggle of the factions present in the city to rule it. No.
What stayed in the eldest originals mind was the whispers he heard of a being that didn't align itself with any faction but had the power to stand alone against others. Some whispered it in awe and reverence, others in fear or disgust.
There were many names for it. But none truly understood what the creature was. They spoke not his name but titles, "the quiet one," "the immortal witch," "the heretic."
He began looking for this creature in the city, spending weeks trying and ultimately failing to track him down.
One night under the stars he sat by the bayou just listening to the sound of cicadas and birds when a sound alerted him to a presence. Centuries of being on the run made the original tense momentarily until he saw the figure stepping into the clearing he occupied.
In a strange twist of irony, a scene similar to the one that happened a century ago in a dense jungle occurred here halfway around the world. "I hear you've been looking for me?" Jasper Fontaine said while sitting across from the original.
Elijah was momentarily stunned before it all clicked into place. The titles spoke of in hushed shadows. The fear that followed those conversations.
Jasper had been powerful a century ago. Even as contained as he kept his power, it still gave off a dangerous aura. Now, however, it felt as if that aura had tripled in both mass and density.
Elijah was momentarily caught off guard trying to regain his bearing. Jasper spoke to break the silence, subduing his power as low as possible which allowed Elijah to come out of his spiral.
"Forgive me, I forget sometimes what it's like around others. I've been looking forward to seeing you again, Elijah."
Elijah breathed out and replied, "I had suspected it was you, but confirming it both comforts and worries me." He spoke honestly just as they had done 100 years prior.
"Indeed. I felt the same when I sensed your families arrival. It left ripples I'm still processing myself." Jasper replied. What the original didn't know was Jasper had been waiting for this for a long time. Since he truly sorted through all the memories he'd had on that day his father died.
There were still gaps in his knowledge. But he had for the most part understood the storyline he was involved in and where it was going. Kind of like seeing the big picture but unable to see the small details that were always so important, which is why he remained cautious with all his interactions.
Elijah sat in silence trying to understand jaspers words about ripples but decided he'd move on and think about it when he was alone and could focus entirely on that and not on the being before him that radiated danger in a way only his father had.
"I've heard your name whispered in the streets of the city, yet you do not rule it."
"No I don't." Jasper replied evenly. "I don't want to."
"Yet the witches here speak of you in both awe and fear, I'm actually surprised you don't have a gaggle of them circling you constantly." Elijah spoke with both seriousness and humor.
For the first time ever, that stone cold mask that Jasper always wore slipped into an annoyed grimace. "Oh they tried that method already and learned quickly I like my space. A consequence of my extended period alone."
"And the werewolves? They seem to fear you even more than the witches."
This time, the vampire in Jasper slipped out. Veins coming out and Scalera turning bright crimson red, making the gray of his eyes appear to be glowing. "I have a….complicated history with werewolves." He spoke.
Elijah understood the words, 'complicated' and 'werewolves' together all to well. It was what inevitably pushed he and his family to what they are now. "That is something I know very well myself."
Jasper nodded, "it was during my first few years of transition. Werewolves attacked me for almost 3 months on every full moon. I kept wondering why it was until I came to the conclusion I was the only vampire around the time they turned. Unfortunately I discovered this after 3 months of slaughtering any wolf that came my way."
Elijah was surprised. The man before him didn't seem the type to slaughter without mercy. Jasper seemed to read his thoughts as he continued. "I was newly turned and had just felt magic running through me consistently for the first time. To say I was a problem child was the understatement of the century. Thankfully I learned how to compel people and even other supernaturals to make them forget the path of destruction I left in my early days of transition."
That got Elijah's attention immediately. The only beings capable of compelling supernatural creatures was original vampires, and they themselves were limited to humans and their own sired children, regular vampires.
"Interesting. Perhaps a cause of your hybrid nature." Elijah spoke evenly on the outside even if on the inside he began understanding much more about the being before him.
"I don't know truly. I haven't looked deep enough into it." Jasper looked past Elijah at the stars before continuing, "I'm I must be going. There are things I must attend to." Without waiting for a reply he dissolved into the Forrest with vampire speed and Elijah was alone again.
He had many thoughts running through his head. But the main one was replaying something Jasper had said a century ago, that he was turned by a spell. Not by vampire blood.
That stuck with him, as did the witch vampire hybrids ability to compel other supernatural creatures. Those abilities along with the aura he'd felt from Jasper gave elijah only one devastating conclusion.
'What if he's like us…..'
"An original," he spoke aloud terrified of the implications.
——
Authors note: that's the end of the chapter guys. Hope you enjoyed it. As for jaspers abilities to compel all supernaturals aside from certain witch bloodlines, that's part of him being an original version of a heretic.
Imagine his vampire face like Damon's Augustine version with longer veins. This will be a product of his siphoning nature feeding off the vampire spell, making him stronger.
As for a face claim, I didn't even realize it but I have some ideas let me know which you think is best. Just comment on the name:
Jasper hale
Nick Robinson
Ansel Elgort
Will Ploulter
Josh Hutcherson
Let me know. I'll give an update after a day or two.