The Originals/Underworld: The Elder Mikaelson

Norway, 973 AD

The autumn winds carried the scent of approaching winter as Magnus stood at the edge of the village, his violet eyes scanning the tree line. At five years old, he cut an unusual figure - a child with the bearing of a warrior, standing watch while other children played.

He had felt the change in the air for weeks now, a growing tension in the magical currents that surrounded their home. More telling were his mother's increasingly erratic behaviors - the way her hands shook when holding Freya, how she would sometimes stop mid-sentence to stare into nothing, the tears she thought no one saw.

Mikael noticed his eldest son's vigilance but misinterpreted its cause. "You sense the wolves drawing nearer with the cold," he said one evening, placing a strong hand on Magnus's shoulder. "You have good instincts."

"Not wolves, Father," Magnus replied softly. "Something worse."

Before Mikael could question this cryptic response, three-year-old Freya came running up to them, her golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight. "Brother! Father! Look what I can do!"

She held out her hands, and suddenly the falling leaves around them began to dance in impossible patterns. Magnus felt his heart sink - the very thing he had been trying to prevent. He had spent months attempting to hide Freya's emerging powers, but her natural joy in them made concealment impossible.

Mikael's face showed only pride, but Magnus saw their mother's expression from the doorway of their home. Terror, guilt, and resignation warred across her features before she schooled them into careful neutrality.

That night, Magnus implemented the plan he had spent a year developing. He placed protective runes around Freya's bed - learned from books he had "accidentally" discovered in their mother's belongings. He positioned himself nearby, appearing to sleep while maintaining perfect awareness.

The attack, when it came, was not what he expected.

Esther herself came to Freya's room late that night, her movements heavy with purpose. Magnus watched through slitted eyes as she began to whisper an incantation - not to protect, but to suppress Freya's memories of the coming horror.

"Mother," he said quietly, causing her to startle violently. "There must be another way."

Esther's eyes widened at the authority in his young voice. "You cannot understand, my son. This is beyond even your wisdom."

"I understand more than you know," Magnus replied, rising fluid as shadow. "I understand bargains and prices. I understand sacrifice and consequences." His violet eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. "And I understand choice."

For a moment, something like hope flickered across Esther's face. Then darkness fell across the room like a physical thing, and a new voice spoke from the shadows.

"How fascinating," Dahlia said, materializing from the darkness itself. "The firstborn speaks of things beyond his years." Her eyes fixed on Magnus with hungry interest. "Such power in this one, sister. Perhaps we should adjust our arrangement?"

Magnus shifted smoothly between Dahlia and his sleeping sister, his small frame somehow managing to project menace. "You cannot have either of us."

Dahlia's laugh was like breaking ice. "Brave little warrior. But this bargain was struck before you were born. Blood calls to blood, and price must be paid."

What followed was chaos. Magnus launched himself at Dahlia with skills no child should possess, combining his ninja training with the magic he had secretly practiced. For a brief moment, he actually managed to surprise her, his attack carrying a precision that made even the ancient witch pause.

But in the end, he was still physically a child, his powers not yet fully developed. Dahlia's magic caught him, holding him immobile as she took Freya. His sister's screams as she woke would haunt him for centuries to come.

Mikael arrived too late, alerted by the commotion. His fury upon discovering what Esther had done, what price she had agreed to pay, shook the very foundations of their home. But by then, Dahlia and Freya were gone.

In the aftermath, as Mikael raged and Esther wept, Magnus stood silent in his sister's empty room. The warrior in him analyzed his failure, cataloged what he had learned, planned for future confrontations. But the brother in him burned with a cold fury that would never quite fade.

When Finn began crying from his cradle, Magnus moved automatically to comfort him, his movements carrying the weight of new purpose. He had failed to protect one sibling, but he swore on everything he was - everything he had been and would become - that it would never happen again.

That night, father and son sat vigil together, sharing their grief in silence. Their customary gesture carried new meaning now - not just love and pride, but a shared promise of vengeance.

"We will find her," Mikael vowed, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yes," Magnus agreed, his young voice carrying steel. "We will."