Author’s Note: This fanfiction for the show The Originals was written as an RPG (role playing game) between me and my guest author Katt. I’m playing Marcel, and Katt is playing Davina. It takes place during season 1 episode 11. This is our take on what should have happened between Marcel and Davina during the beginning of the episode.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Non-consensual spanking of a minor by a guardian. I do not advocate the spanking of minors in real life, only in fiction – I also don’t advocate the spanking of witches by vampires in real life, only in fiction.


Marcel cut the sandwich in half, hoping some food would help Davina calm down so that they could have a conversation instead of a shouting match. He’d tried to talk to her first thing in the morning, but she’d magically blocked the door, and shouted at everyone to go away. He didn’t exactly blame her for being angry and upset. Klaus had tried to kill her, and would have succeeded if Marcel hadn’t had a spell put on her. But Klaus did succeed in killing the boy Davina was infatuated with, and according to Rebekah, Davina had been there to watch him die.

With a sigh, Marcel shook his head and put the sandwich on a tray. Hiding in the bedroom all day wasn’t really an option, no matter how upset Davina was. The witches were still out to get her, and Klaus might very well try to kill her again if she didn’t start pretending to be on his side. He picked up the tray, and headed towards the stairs.

He passed Klaus on the way, and the man gave him a smirk. “Going to confront the little witch again?” Klaus asked.

“Do you remember the part where she took all of us out last night? She’s the most powerful witch in New Orleans.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “She’s an over-emotional sixteen-year-old girl.”

“She’s over emotional because you tried to kill her.” He could tell his voice was going up, and forced himself to pause. Once his voice was level again he said, “Just let me handle it.”

The older vampire gestured to the stairs with a sardonic smile, and then headed in the other direction.

Marcel rolled his eyes and went to Davina’s door. He lifted a hand to knock, but then remembered what happened last time. Instead of knocking, he simply opened the door and said, “I brought you some lunch.”

Davina turned her head away, refusing to look at him. When he tried again, she said quietly, but with an edge to her voice, “Go away. I don't want to eat, and I don't want to see you.”

“Come on D, you’ve got to eat sometime.” He coaxed, taking a couple of steps towards the bedand holding the tray out to her.

“I said GO AWAY!” Davina's voice raised and her body tensed visibly. She turned back abruptly to look at him and shouted angrily, “Get OUT!”

“That’s not gonna happen.” He set the tray on the foot of the bed, and held both his hands up in a placating gesture. “We need to talk.”

“Talk? TALK? Talk about what? About Tim being dead? About the number of people that want ME dead too?” Anger warred with sadness in her voice, tinged with an inability to understand how the world around her had fallen apart and left her so vulnerable, so ALONE.

“I’m sorry about Tim, truly I am, but right now we need to concentrate on how we’re going to keep you safe.”
Davina had had enough. Full-blown fear and anger took over, and a vase beside the bed rose into the air and flew rapidly at Marcel. “Keep me safe? That is NOT what we need to concentrate on!” A porcelain foo dog took off from the bookcase and landed scant inches from his head. “You can't keep me safe! No one can! Not until the witches are dead, and Klaus is dead, and you'll NEVER allow THAT!” A cuckoo clock left the wall and rocketed past Marcel as he ducked. As it crashed into the wall, a small piece of shrapnel broke loose and hit his arm.

Marcel brushed off his arm and tried to stay calm. “Klaus will eventually pay for what he’s done to you, but not today. Like it or not, we need him and his family to be on our side if we’re going to stop the witches from getting a hold of you. So you need to stop throwing things, calm down, and help us come up with a plan.”

“Plan? Try this plan!” A painting launched itself off the wall and flew at him rather like a big, square frisbee. “Klaus doesn't care what happens to me, and neither do you!” She was running out of bric-a-brac, so the next UFO was a heavy paperweight from the desk, which landed disturbingly close to Marcel's head and left a substantial dent in the wall.

“Stop it!” Marcel shouted after ducking yet again at her projectiles. He pointed a finger in her direction and said with slightly more calm, “You know damn well that I care about you; I’ve been watching out for you for months. I’m the only reason you’re still alive today, so stop throwing a tantrum, and listen to me!”

Davina's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Tantrum? You really think this is a tantrum?" She raised her hand and pointed a finger, and suddenly Marcel found himself flat on the floor, with a fountain of water pouring down on his head. "Now THAT," Davina smirked with some satisfaction as he sputtered and spit, "THAT is a tantrum."

Marcel sat up, wiped the water out of his eyes, and glared at the little witch. Clearly Davina wasn’t going to be rational until he broke through her anger to get to the underlying sorrow. Using his vampire speed, he rushed to the bed, sat down, and tossed Davina face down across his lap. He started spanking her rear end at a rapid, but human pace, and said firmly, “Stop throwing things, and start listening to me.”

Davina shrieked; first in surprise and then again as the sharp staccato slaps registered as real pain. “Marcel! You can’t do this! Let me up right now!” She kicked helplessly; held firmly against his muscled torso she was not going to get free until he allowed it. At first too surprised to use her power, she found the rapidly building heat in her backside, compounded by the absolute humiliation of the position she was in, made it impossible for her to concentrate enough to work even a simple spell.

He shook his head and continued to spank the wiggling bottom over his lap. Speaking loudly to be heard over the slaps, he answered her. “Yes I can spank you, and no I won’t let you up until you’ve changed your attitude.”

Davina was feeling confused and conflicted. She was a powerful witch; she could end this whenever she chose. And yet the desire to have someone take care of her, protect her, and be ‘family’ – well, that might be worth the indignity of a spanking. Before she could clarify her thoughts on the matter, though, the rapidly increasing sting in her rear diverted her attention. “OW!” she cried out despite herself, and flung a hand back to try to block the painfully strong swats.

Marcel nodded to himself when he saw her hand partially covering her bottom. The fact that she was doing that instead of mentally flinging him across the room, or snapping his neck, told him that he’d made the right impulse decision, even if it was an unconventional one in this era. He stopped spanking, grasped her wrist in his free hand, and moved it to the small of her back. Then he rested his spanking hand on her rear end, sighed, and said softly, “D, I don’t want to do this, I just wanted to talk, but then you had to go and say I don’t care. I’ve risked my life to save you more than once. At first I was only protecting you because you’re a kid, but now I’m doing it because we’re family.” He raised his spanking hand, and said, “Anything you have to say for yourself?”

Davina was talking full advantage of the pause, although she nearly panicked at the restraint of her hand and arm… but this was Marcel. He wasn’t trying to kill her, he wasn’t even really trying to hurt her. And he had called her ‘family’. Her mind flashed back to some of the things they had been through together, the times he had held her and comforted her and protected her when no one else would. Family, indeed. She gasped out a small, shaky sob. “I… I’m sorry. That I said you didn’t care. I know you care.” Then a small spark of her old fire stirred and she added, with way more attitude than someone in her position should have, “But you’re NOT my father, and you don’t have the right to do this, so let me up NOW!”

Marcel shook his head. “You threw things at me like an overwrought toddler. I have every right to respond in kind.” His hand slapped down onto her bottom again. This time he focused most of the smacks on her sit spots instead of covering the entire surface.

In spite of herself, a keening wail burst from Davina’s lips. He was holding her so firmly now that all she could do was kick helplessly, and her backside felt like it was being scorched by a hot iron. So maybe she HAD reacted a little like a bratty two-year-old. She was just so frustrated at the whole situation that she’d had to take it out on someone, and Marcel was… safe. That was it, he was safe. With Marcel, she was safe. The sudden realization struck her hard, almost as hard as his relentless hand, and she burst into tears. True tears of regret, and release; tears springing from weeks of pent-up emotions, and fear, and loneliness.

Marcel instantly heard the change in her crying, and knew he’d finally gotten through to her. He clenched his jaw and landed six more harsh smacks to make sure he wasn’t going to have to do this again anytime soon, and then gave her a few seconds to realize it was over before letting go of her captured wrist. He rubbed circles on her back and said softly, “Are you ready to listen to me now?”

She continued crying for a couple of minutes, before she realized that the punishing smacks had turned to gentle caresses. “Yes… yes of course. I’m so sorry, Marcel!” Her voice was shaky but sincere.

He carefully lifted her up and turned her over to sit upright in his lap. He pulled her into a hug and said, “I know the past few months have been awful, and last night was beyond horrible for you. I understand why you had an outburst, and I forgive you, but if there’s a next time I won’t be so lenient. You’re plenty old enough to know better than to throw things at someone, especially when those things don’t even belong to you.”

Lenient? That was lenient? Davina sniffled. “I can put them back together again you know,” she said with a faint smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. “But you’re right; it was childish of me to act like that.” She got a far-away look in her eyes. “Sometimes I just… don’t know how to deal with it all, you know? Like the world has gone crazy all around me and the only way I can cope is to go crazy myself.” Her forehead wrinkled in bewilderment, and then she shrugged and snuggled into his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, to keep me from going totally crazy.”

He held her close and rubbed her back. “I’ll always be here to look out for you, and every time you go a little crazy I’ll be here to set you straight because we’re family.” He kissed the top of her head, cementing his words of commitment to her. He loosened his hold on her and said firmly, “I want everything you broke put back together…” Marcel looked down at the bits and pieces that were on the floor, and then added with a small grin, “…except the cuckoo clock.” He lowered his voice and added, “Klaus loved that clock.”

Davina giggled a little and snuggled closer. The Mikaelsons were still out there. The witches were still out there. The world with all its pain was still out there. But for the moment she was here, safe in Marcel’s arms, and the world could wait.

Marcel closed his eyes to enjoy the current peace between them. He knew the calm would be gone once they started talking about Klaus and the witches, but for this moment in time he could simply enjoy holding her.

The End

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