One day, retrieving water with Rebekah, a group of older village boys, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, blocked their path.
"Look," one sneered, pointing at Luãn. "It's the outsider's boy. Come to steal our water now?"
Rebekah, young but already fierce, stepped forward. "Leave him be, Thomas! He is with me. He is Luãn Mikaelson!"
Thomas scoffed. "Mikaelson? He doesn't look like a Mikaelson. Found in the dirt like refuse." The other boys snickered.
Luãn felt a cold wave wash over him – the familiar sting of racism from his old life, amplified by the raw vulnerability of his current human body. For a split second, Leon wanted to retreat, to avoid conflict. But Luãn's goal, his fierce resolve, kicked in. He remembered Rebekah's wide, protective eyes, her small hand gripping his earlier that day.
He remembered the future, the horrors she would face, the thousand years of seeking belonging only to have it ripped away. He couldn't stand by while someone dared to diminish his sister, or himself, especially when they were still just vulnerable humans.
He stepped forward, putting himself slightly in front of Rebekah. He didn't raise his voice, channeling the calm he admired in Elijah, but his eyes, he knew, held a dangerous intensity honed by future knowledge and raw determination.
"We are taking water for our family," Luãn stated, his voice low and steady. "As is our right.
As for what I look like," he met Thomas's gaze, holding it unflinchingly, "I am Luãn Mikaelson. Adopted, yes. But Mikael is my father, and Esther is my mother. And these," he subtly gestured towards the direction of their huts, where his siblings were, "are my brothers and sister."
He paused, letting the weight of the Mikaelson name hang in the air. "If you have something to say about my family, say it to my face. Or perhaps, you would prefer to say it to my Father?"
He didn't make a threat of physical violence – not yet, not as a human boy.
His strength lay in his composure, his connection to the fearsome Mikael, and the subtle, unwavering promise in his eyes that their petty insults would not be forgotten.
Thomas and the other boys exchanged nervous glances. Mikael's reputation preceded him, and offending his family, even the adopted one, was a line they weren't brave enough to cross.
"Get out of our way," Luãn added, taking a step forward, not breaking eye contact.
Hesitantly, grumbling under his breath, Thomas and his companions shuffled aside, allowing Luãn and Rebekah to pass.
As they walked away, Rebekah squeezed his arm. "You were brave, Luãn."
Luãn managed a small, genuine smile for her. "They are fools. Let them think what they wish."
But inside, he felt the heat of righteous anger and a cold satisfaction. They underestimated him. Good. Let them. It made his eventual rise all the more potent. This incident solidified something within him: his goal wasn't just about his power.
It was about protecting his family, flawed and future-damned as they were, from a world that would constantly seek to hurt them, diminish them, or use them. The prejudice he faced mirrored the prejudice Klaus would face, the judgment Rebekah would face, the endless struggle they would all endure.
'They think they can push us around now?' he thought, gripping the water bucket handle. 'Just wait. Just you wait.'
The months continued like this – relentless training, careful observation, navigating village life and its prejudices, and slowly, subtly, weaving himself deeper into the fabric of the Mikaelson family, not just as Luãn, but as the man Leon intended to become. He was building his foundation, layer by painful layer, preparing for the transformation that would elevate him from the boy the villagers scorned to something they would fear. The ceremony was coming. And he would be ready.
One evening, several months later, a chilling howl echoed from the woods, closer than usual. The villagers immediately grew tense, drawing their children indoors. The Mikaelson siblings, gathered around the fire, looked towards the forest edge with a mix of fear and practiced readiness. Mikael and Esther exchanged a grim look.
"Wolves are bold tonight," Mikael growled, already moving towards his weapons rack. Elijah was right behind him, reaching for his spear. Finn stood ready, though his face was pale.
Luãn's blood ran cold. He knew the history. He knew what happened in this timeline. The wolves. Henrik.
'No. Not yet. It's too soon for that night. Isn't it? Or did my arrival… shift the timing?' He racked his brain for the exact details from the show, the sequence of events leading to Henrik's death and the subsequent ritual. He remembered it being closer to their adulthood, after they had more interactions with the wolves, after Klaus's father was revealed...
Panic flickered, but he pushed it down. He had to be useful. He couldn't just stand there. He grabbed a spare spear from the rack.
"I'm coming with you," he stated, moving towards Mikael.
Mikael rounded on him, his eyes hard. "Absolutely not. You are not ready. Stay with your mother and siblings."
"Father, please," Luãn insisted, trying to keep his voice level, masking the frantic thoughts. "I've trained. I can track. I can fight. Let me help protect our family." He saw Rebekah clutch Kol's arm, her eyes wide with fear. Klaus looked uncertain, watching the forest with a mix of apprehension and a spark of defiance.
"Your place is here!" Mikael roared, stepping forward threateningly. "Do not defy me, boy!"
Luãn held his ground. 'He thinks I'm just being reckless. He doesn't know I know.' He couldn't explain why he felt such urgency, why the sound of this specific howl sent a jolt of dread through him. But he knew, with a certainty born of future knowledge, that staying put felt wrong. This was thethreat, the catalyst. Even if it wasn't Henrik's night, it was part of the escalating danger.
"Father," Elijah interjected calmly, stepping between Luãn and Mikael. "Luãn has trained hard. He is skilled with the bow. Perhaps he could provide support from a distance? Higher ground?"
Mikael hesitated, looking from Elijah's composed face to Luãn's determined one. The compromise appealed to his strategic mind and perhaps his reluctant acknowledgement of Luãn's progress.
"Very well," Mikael conceded grudgingly. "But you stay out of the thick of it. Find a vantage point. If wolves come near the village perimeter, you shoot. If we call for retreat, you run back here faster than you have ever run in your life. Understood?"
"Understood, Father," Luãn said, relief and apprehension warring inside him.
"Finn, you stay with Mother and Henrik. Protect the village entrance with Kol and Niklaus. Elijah, you are with me. We will patrol the forest edge." Mikael barked orders, his hunting instincts taking over.
The family scattered, each to their assigned role. Luãn grabbed his preferred bow and a quiver full of arrows.
'This feels important,' he thought, jogging towards a small rise overlooking the village and the nearest stretch of woods. 'Canon event or not, the wolves are a key factor. I need to see how they operate, how the family handles them before they're vampires.'
He reached the rise, his breathing heavy from the run, but his body felt stronger, more capable than it had months ago. He notched an arrow, scanning the tree line. The forest was a dark, imposing wall against the twilight sky. The air was still, the only sound the distant, unsettling howls.
Time stretched, taut with tension. The villagers remained hidden in their huts. The only signs of life were the Mikaelsons, spread out like a thin line of defense. Luãn watched Mikael and Elijah move along the forest edge, two shadows in the gloom, their movements precise and alert. He saw Finn, Kol, and Klaus standing near the entrance, weapons ready, young Henrik peering fearfully from behind Esther's skirt nearby.
Suddenly, a rustling in the trees drew his attention. Not where Mikael and Elijah were patrolling, but slightly further down the perimeter, closer to where Kol, Klaus, and Henrik were stationed. A large, dark shape emerged from the shadows – a wolf, its eyes gleaming in the low light. Another followed. And another. Not a full pack, but more than lone scouts. They were heading towards the village entrance.
'Damn it!' Luãn's mind screamed. 'This is it. This is how it happens. Not Henrik specifically, but the wolves getting too close, the siblings getting overwhelmed...'
He adjusted his aim, heart pounding. These weren't just animals; he knew they were people in wolf form, a cursed lineage tied intrinsically to Klaus's fate. But right now, they were a deadly threat to his human family. His adoptive, future-monster family.
He took a deep breath, slowing his racing pulse. Channeling the focus Mikael had drilled into him, the patience Elijah embodied. His goal flashed in his mind – the strongest. And protecting his family was the first step on that path.
He let the arrow fly.
It soared through the air, a silent arc, and struck the lead wolf in the shoulder. The animal yelped, stumbling back. The other wolves paused, alerted.
"Wolves!" Klaus's voice, high and panicked, cut through the night. "They're coming this way!"
Chaos erupted below. Kol and Klaus raised their crude weapons, looking terrified but standing their ground near Henrik. Finn moved forward, spear ready.
Luãn drew another arrow. He couldn't hit them all, but he could distract, injure, buy time. He aimed for the largest wolf, the one that looked most like the alpha Gregor he'd heard about.
The second arrow hit home, sinking into the wolf's flank. It howled, a sound of pain and rage, and turned its attention towards the rise where Luãn was. The other wolves followed its gaze.
'Crap. They see me.'
He heard Mikael's roar from further down the perimeter, realizing what was happening.
"Luãn! Retreat!"
But Luãn couldn't. Not yet. The wolves were now focused on him, drawing their attention away from the village entrance, away from Henrik, Kol, and Klaus. It was a temporary distraction, but it was working.
He drew a third arrow, his hands steady despite the fear. He loosed it, forcing the wolves to scatter further as they dodged or were hit. They were now loping towards the rise, angry and focused.
He dropped the bow and turned, scrambling down the back of the rise, running full tilt back towards the village, towards the safety of the huts, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He could hear the snarls and the pounding paws behind him.
'Just like Father said,' he thought, gasping for air. 'Run faster than you ever have.'
He burst back into the clearing, nearly colliding with Esther. Henrik cried out, startled. Mikael, Elijah, and Finn were running back from the perimeter now, their faces grim. Kol and Klaus stood wide-eyed near their mother.
"Luãn!" Esther cried, grabbing him and pulling him behind her and Henrik.
The wolves reached the edge of the clearing, their eyes fixed on Luãn, but they hesitated, faced with the gathered Mikaelson family, Mikael now standing front and center, spear planted in the ground, radiating lethal intent.
The tense standoff lasted only moments before the wolves, perhaps sensing the united front or simply having satisfied their territorial warning, turned and melted back into the darkness of the forest, their howls fading into the distance.
Silence fell, broken only by ragged breaths. Mikael turned, his expression unreadable as he looked at Luãn.
"You disobeyed me," Mikael said, his voice low and dangerous.
Luãn didn't look away. "I drew them away from the village entrance, Father. Away from Mother and Henrik. Away from Kol and Niklaus. They were heading straight for them."
Elijah stepped forward. "He is right, Father. His arrows turned them."
Mikael stared at Luãn for a long moment. The anger was still there, the rigid expectation of obedience.
But beneath it, Luãn saw something else – a reluctant acknowledgement of his initiative, maybe even a flicker of pride in his courage, misguided though Mikael might see it.
"You took an unacceptable risk," Mikael finally said, the tone softening slightly, losing some of its immediate wrath. "But… you showed cunning. And courage. And you drew the threat away." He gave a sharp nod. "Do not do it again without my direct order. But you did well, boy.
You protected your family."
He clapped a heavy hand on Luãn's shoulder, a gesture that was more assessment of his physical state than affection, but in Mikael's world, it was close enough.
'He said I protected the family,' Luãn thought, the phrase echoing in his mind. It wasn't just about power. It was about who you used it for. This night, facing genuine danger with his human family, felt more real, more impactful, than any amount of future knowledge. He hadn't just acted on calculation; a part of him, the part that was becoming Luãn Mikaelson, had acted out of instinct, out of a burgeoning loyalty to these people.
He looked at Rebekah, relief flooding her face. At Kol and Klaus, still wide-eyed but safe. At Henrik, clinging to Esther. At Elijah, his usual composure tinged with concern.
Protecting them. That was a powerful motivator. Maybe even more powerful than just being the strongest. He needed strength to protect them.
His goal wasn't just about personal power anymore. It was also about ensuring they survived, together.
The fear of the wolves receded, replaced by a deep-seated conviction. He would get stronger. Not just for himself, but for this strange, dysfunctional, fiercely protective family he now belonged to.