The Boy King's Journey in TVD/TO As A Mikaelson

Cold.

That was my first sensation as consciousness returned - a bone-deep chill that seemed to permeate my very essence. Opening my eyes, I found myself standing in a vast gray expanse, the world around me like a negative image of reality.

"Aurora?" Tristan's voice drew my attention. My brother stood beside me, looking as lost as I felt. "Where are we?"

"The Other Side," I whispered, remembering stories our scholars had told. "The realm of the dead."

We began walking, though direction seemed meaningless here. Shapes moved in the distance - other spirits, I realized. They kept their distance, watching us with hollow eyes that seemed to glow in the perpetual twilight.

The landscape shifted as we walked, revealing secrets no living eye was meant to see. Ancient spirits drifted past us like smoke - some human, others decidedly not.

I saw a woman made of starlight weeping black tears that turned to butterflies. A warrior whose wounds leaked golden light fought eternally against shadows that wore his own face.

"Look," Tristan whispered, pointing to our right.

A vast city rose from the mist, its architecture impossible - buildings that spiraled upward without end, streets that folded in on themselves like paper origami. Spirits moved through its twisted corridors, some looking as lost as we felt, others moving with terrible purpose.

"The dead have their own civilization," I murmured, watching as a procession of robed figures passed through a wall that rippled like water.

We saw more as we continued. A garden where the flowers screamed silently, their petals bleeding memories into the gray air. A battlefield where ancient warriors fought their last battles over and over, their weapons passing harmlessly through each other as they repeated their final moments.

In one clearing, we found a circle of children playing a game with dice made from starlight. They looked up as we passed, their eyes too old for their young faces. One smiled at me, revealing teeth like shattered mirrors.

"Don't look too long," Tristan warned, pulling me away. "Nothing here is quite what it seems."

He was right. The longer we walked, the more I realized this place operated on its own rules. Time seemed to move strangely - sometimes we seemed to walk for hours in moments, other times a single step took years.

We passed a pool of silver liquid where spirits gathered to watch reflections of the living world. I caught a glimpse of Nik, kneeling beside my body, his grief palpable even through the veil between worlds. My heart ached at the sight.

"The Travelers' blood," Tristan mused as we continued. "It must be why we can see so much. Why we're not just... fading away."

Before I could respond, we crested a hill and found ourselves overlooking a vast amphitheater carved from black stone. Spirits gathered there in countless numbers, watching as two massive beings fought with weapons that tears holes in reality itself.

"The wars of gods and monsters," a passing spirit informed us, his form flickering like candlelight. "They've been fighting since before recording had true meaning."

We saw more wonders and horrors as we walked. A forest of crystalline trees that sang mournful songs in languages long dead. A desert made of memories where each grain of sand contained a life's worth of experiences. A sea of shadows where leviathans of pure darkness swam beneath the surface.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Tristan, pausing as a strange melody drifted through the gray air. It sounded like singing, but the notes twisted in ways that made my essence shiver.

We followed the sound to its source - a gathering of spirits around what appeared to be a crack in reality itself. Through it, golden light spilled out, and voices spoke in tongues that made my thoughts blur.

"Principal Guardians," Tristan breathed, recognition flickering in his eyes. "The scholars spoke of them - Heaven's warriors."

Through the crack, I caught glimpses of beings of pure light, their wings made of burning gold and eyes like constellations. They were discussing something in those impossible languages, their voices making the very fabric of the Other Side tremble.

We moved on, passing through a valley where memories floated like autumn leaves. I caught fragments as they drifted by - a first kiss, a last breath, a moment of triumph, a crushing defeat. Each memory carried the weight of the life that had lived it.

"Aurora," Tristan called softly, pointing to our left.

A group of spirits had gathered around what looked like a window into the living world. Through it, I could see Castle de Martel, but not as we knew it. This version was older, ancient, from a time when our ancestors first settled there.

"Look," I whispered, watching as figures moved through the ancient halls. "Those robes - they're like the ones our scholars wore."

We saw them performing rituals, speaking of powers and beings beyond mortal comprehension. They spoke of Silas, of seals and sacrifices, of plans spanning centuries.

"Our family," Tristan said, his voice tight. "They were part of this all along."

Before we could learn more, the scene shifted. The window showed other times, other places - glimpses of history both known and forgotten. I saw empires rise and fall in moments, watched as magic itself evolved and changed.

We continued our journey, passing through spaces that I knew not the words in any language I knew to truly describe. In one area, the very ground was made of what I could only think of as compressed time, each step sending ripples through past and future.

In another, we found a library where books wrote themselves, recording the stories of every soul that passed through the Other Side.

"The veil is thinner here," a passing spirit informed us - an old woman whose form flickered between youth and age with each word. "The living and dead brush shoulders without knowing it."

She was right. As we walked, I occasionally caught glimpses of the living world superimposed over this gray realm. I saw Nik again, his grief like a physical force that rippled through both realities. I saw Elijah, ever practical, making arrangements. And sometimes, just at the edge of perception, I caught glimpses of Vali - though looking at him directly made my vision blur, as if his true nature couldn't quite be contained by either realm.

We found ourselves in a vast chamber where spirits gathered to trade secrets and memories. Some offered glimpses of forgotten magic, others promised knowledge of things yet to come. A few traded in darker currencies - fragments of souls, pieces of identity, moments of time stolen from the living.

"Don't make eye contact," Tristan warned as we passed through. "The dead have their own economy, and we don't want to become part of it."

The chamber opened onto a balcony overlooking what appeared to be an endless abyss. Far below, something massive moved in the darkness - a being so vast it made the void look small in comparison.

"The First Sinner sleeps below," a spirit whispered as it drifted past us. "His dreams shape reality itself."

We had just turned away from the abyss when they appeared - the witches, their forms more solid than any spirit we'd yet encountered. Their leader smiled coldly as she stepped forward, and I knew our exploration of this realm was about to take a darker turn.

The witches moved with predatory grace, their power making the gray air crackle with malevolent intent.

"The de Martel siblings," their leader's voice carried an echo of ancient magic. "Such perfect vessels for our purpose. Your blood carries the echo of those who witnessed Silas's imprisonment. And now..." her smile turned cruel, "you carry the love of a Mikaelson in your heart."

"You know nothing of love," I spat, though my essence trembled at her words.

"Oh, but we do," another witch laughed. "We know how it can be twisted, corrupted, turned to our purpose. Your death will break Klaus's heart. His grief will make him vulnerable. And through you..." she gestured to us both, "we can strike at the demon who dares command death itself."

The air grew heavier as their power built. I saw shapes forming in the mist around us - chains made of shadow and spite, meant to bind us to their will.

But before they could complete their spell, something changed.

The gray expanse... shuddered. There's no other word for it. Reality itself seemed to hiccup, like a record skipping. The endless abyss below us went silent, as if even the void held its breath.

Then came the darkness.

Not simple absence of light - this was darkness as a living thing, a writhing mass of shadow shot through with veins of crimson. It moved like smoke but felt ancient, hungry. The witches' spells flickered and died, snuffed out like candles in a hurricane.

The darkness began to take shape, and my mind rebelled at what it was becoming. A dragon, yes, but that word feels inadequate. This was a being that wore the shape of a dragon like a man might wear a coat - something far more terrible simply choosing a form we could understand.

Thousands of eyes opened along its massive form, each one akin to a universe of darkness with crimson stars burning at their centers. They moved wrong, those eyes - each one seeing everything from every angle simultaneously. Looking into them felt like falling through endless mirrors, each reflection showing a different kind of darkness.

The Mark, I recognized, pulsed at its center, but this wasn't the simple crimson brand I'd seen on Vali's arm. This was its true form - a wound in reality itself, bleeding power into the realm of death. It beat like a heart made of dying stars, each pulse sending waves of power that made the Other Side tremble.

Its wings, when they unfurled, weren't simple physical things at all. They were tears in the fabric of this existence, showing glimpses of places that hurt to look at - realms where physics broke down, where the world ran backward, where realities themselves went to die.

"Mine," it spoke, and that single word contained multitudes. I heard Vali's voice, yes, but layered beneath it were other sounds - the death rattle of galaxies, the screams of dying gods, the laughter of things that lived in the spaces between moments.

The witches tried to flee, but how do you run from something that seemingly encompasses all? The dragon's maw opened, revealing not teeth but an infinity of endings, a throat lined with the death of possibilities.

The crimson light that poured forth wasn't fire - it was anti-existence, the concept of cessation given form. The witches didn't die. They weren't destroyed. They simply... stopped. Their very concept was erased, leaving nothing behind, not even memory.

Then those impossible eyes turned to us, countless universes of darkness focusing on our trembling spirits. I felt my essence trying to flee, to hide, to cease existing rather than face this thing that wore my love's brother's name.

"Return," it commanded, and in that word I heard the inevitability of tides, the certainty of entropy, the promise of death itself. "Your time is not yet done."

The Other Side began to fade around us, reality reasserting itself like a wound healing backward. The last thing I saw was the dragon dissolving back into living darkness, its countless eyes closing one by one, each with them almost taking a piece of my sanity with it.

As consciousness slipped away, I understood at last what true power looked like. Not the scholars' rituals, not the witches' spells, not even the might of the Principal Guardians glimpsed through that crack in reality.

True power was this - a being so vast it had to diminish itself just to interact with reality, wearing humanity like a mask to walk among lesser beings.

The Prince of Darkness indeed.

The last thought I had before darkness took me was a wonder - what must it cost him, to cage such vastness in mere flesh and bone? What must it feel like to play at being human when you're anything but?

Then there was nothing but the peaceful slumber, and the promise of return.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

So, Vali is bringing Aurora back to life. But don't worry, there are conditions to this -- not any that weaken or hurt Vali, but simply that he can't just revive people whenever he wants, the circumstances were a bit unique, which I will explain next chapter when we return to 3rd Pov.

Also, Vali is kind of Eldritch in nature, but worry not, the max power of this world is probably going to mountain level at most.

Well, do tell me how you found the description of the Other Side and Vali? Was it cool? I wanted to make it as awesome as possible, since The Vampire Diaries has so much potential with its lore, I just love writing based upon it.

So yeah, please do comment and review, I'm getting saddened that there are so little and demotivated. I'm very thankful for those who have done so, but engagement seems to be getting lesser and its demotivating for me.

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)