The Vampire Diaries: Bastard Line of Delgallo

The night was thick with the scent of damp stone and old blood. The Garden, a grotesque prison of Marcel Gerard's design, loomed over the boy like a tomb for the damned. He stepped forward, boots soundless against the cracked pavement, his heartbeat steady despite the death he was about to unleash.

Leon Delgallo was no ordinary mortal. He carried the soul of another, an existence long past but ever watchful. He had spent eighteen years in silence, learning, absorbing, and waiting for the moment to carve his name into the annals of power. And tonight, under the silver gaze of the moon, that moment had come.

He unsheathed his grandfather's ancient blade—a relic of bone humming with a hunger older than the city itself. The weapon pulsed in his grip, eager and impatient. He had studied the sacrificial arts, memorized the chants, and bled himself for the sake of knowledge. Now, he would see if the ritual would grant him what he sought.

With a deep breath, he began.

The first words of the incantation slipped from his lips, low and steady, a whisper in the still prison yard. The torches flickered, shadows twisting as if recoiling from the power he invoked. The vampires, those unfortunate souls locked within stone and iron, stirred. They sensed something unnatural, something far worse than eternal confinement.

A dagger dragged across his palm, blood dripping onto the ancient sigil he had carved into the ground days prior. The blade in his other hand vibrated violently. It was hungry. The air thickened, charged with unseen energy, and then the first scream rang out.

It was a chain reaction—one by one, the vampires writhed in their makeshift tombs, their veins darkening, their bodies convulsing as the ritual gripped them. Leon watched, eyes void of emotion, as their life forces were ripped from their flesh and absorbed into the blade. Power, raw and intoxicating, surged into his veins, setting his nerves aflame. He felt their agony, their desperation, their centuries of suffering—then he consumed them, leaving nothing behind but husks and dust.

When the last whisper of existence faded, Leon dropped to one knee, panting. The Garden was silent, void of the monstrous echoes that had long tormented this place. He rose slowly, body trembling, but his gaze burned with new strength.

It was time to leave New Orleans.

Two days later, Leon stood inside the dimly lit halls of Duke University's Native American exhibit. His eyes were locked onto a single artifact encased in glass—a bone-short sword, the markings along its hilt eerily similar to those on his grandfather's blade.

The Choctaw legend spoke of a cursed weapon, one forged from the thigh bone of something ancient, something divine. Something that called to him.

He moved quickly. A flick of the wrist disabled the cameras, a silent spell ensured no alarms would sound, and within moments, the glass was shattered. He seized the blade, feeling the instant connection as a pulse of energy thrummed through his palm. This was no mere relic. This was fate.

With his prize secured, he vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but an empty pedestal and the lingering scent of old magic.

____________________________________________

On March 26, 2010, the town of Mystic Falls welcomed a new presence—one that neither the Salvatores nor the Mikaelsons could anticipate.

Leon Delgallo had arrived, and with him, the echoes of something ancient and insatiable.

The town smelled of secrets. Leon had studied its history long before arriving, drawn by the convergence of supernatural forces that gathered here. The Salvatore brothers, the Petrova doppelgänger, the witches—and Luka Martin.

He leaned against his car outside Mystic Falls High, watching the movements of those who would soon be entangled in events beyond their comprehension.

Near the entrance, Bonnie Bennett dropped her books.

Jeremy Gilbert bent down to help her. "You okay?"

Bonnie nodded, smiling as she took the books from his hands.

"Hey, do you wanna play pool at the Grill later?" Jeremy asked, his tone hopeful.

Bonnie hesitated but then nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Just as they were about to head inside, another student approached them.

"Hey," the boy said. "Do you know where the office is?"

Jeremy turned to him. "Yeah, it's down the hall. I can show you."

"This is Bonnie, and I'm Jeremy."

"Luka," the boy introduced himself.

Leon narrowed his eyes from a distance. So, he's here.

Jeremy led Luka toward the office, unaware of the importance the boy would play in the coming events. Leon, however, was not. He had studied Luka's fate, his connections to the Martin family, and most importantly—the role he would play in the war against Klaus.

For now, Leon would observe. But soon, he would act.

__________________________________________________

Meanwhile, in the woods, Elena Gilbert and Caroline Forbes made their way toward the ruins of Fell's Church.

Caroline huffed, brushing dirt from her jeans. "Are you sure about this?"

Elena nodded, her expression serious. "Just don't tell Stefan, okay?"

Caroline sighed. "Fine, but I don't like it."

They reached the stone ruins, where the entrance to the tomb lay hidden beneath layers of earth and time. Caroline pushed open the heavy stone door with some effort, revealing the darkness within.

A weak and pale Katherine Pierce emerged from the shadows, her once-glorious beauty dulled by starvation.

Elena met her gaze without fear. "We need to talk."

Caroline hesitated. "I'll, uh… go stall Stefan."

As Caroline left, Elena set down a bottle of blood and the Petrova book before Katherine.

Katherine's eyes darkened with hunger. She took a step forward but winced as the spell keeping her inside flared to life.

Elena smirked. "Not so fast."

Katherine glared at her but didn't refuse the offer. "What do you want?"

Elena crossed her arms. "Information."

Katherine sighed, her mind drifting back to a time long before Mystic Falls.

______________________________

Flashback – 1492, England

Katerina ran through the dense forest, the moonstone clutched in her hand. Behind her, the sound of Elijah's men grew closer.

She stumbled, cutting her palm against a jagged rock. Blood dripped onto the earth.

A figure emerged from the trees—Trevor.

"This way!" he whispered urgently, pointing in the opposite direction of the pursuers.

Desperate, Katerina followed.

They arrived at a secluded cottage, where Rose stood waiting.

"Let her in," Trevor pleaded.

Rose frowned but stepped aside.

Inside, Katerina collapsed, exhaustion setting in.

"You have the moonstone," Rose realized, her expression darkening.

Before Katerina could react, Rose grabbed her, forcing vampire blood down her throat.

"No!" Katerina struggled, but the deed was done.

Moments later, when she was alone, she found a rope. A way out.

When Trevor and Rose returned, they found her hanging lifelessly from the ceiling.

Rose gasped. "No…"

Then Katerina's eyes opened, now a burning shade of crimson.

Trevor's face fell. "What have you done?"

_________________________________

Present – The Grill

Bonnie entered the Mystic Grill, scanning for Jeremy.

Instead, she spotted Luka and his father, Jonas.

Jonas gestured to an empty seat. "Care to join us?"

Bonnie hesitated but sat down.

The conversation started simple, but it didn't take long for the truth to come out.

"You're a witch," Luka said, his tone knowing.

Bonnie tensed.

Luka smiled. "So are we."

__________________________________

Elsewhere…

Damon and Rose met with Slater, an old contact who might have answers about Klaus.

Outside, Elijah stood motionless.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw a quarter at the building.

The glass shattered. Sunlight streamed in.

Rose screamed as her skin began to burn.

They barely escaped.

Elijah watched them go, unmoved.

Behind him, Jonas emerged from the shadows.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked.

Elijah smirked. "Of course."

Salvatore Boarding House

Damon sat by the fire, drink in hand.

Rose entered. Without words, she closed the distance between them, and their lips met.

Meanwhile, at the tomb, Katherine flipped through the Petrova book, her fingers resting on an old sketch of her family.

For the first time in centuries, a single tear fell.

And outside, watching from the trees, Leon Delgallo smiled.

Everything was falling into place.

_________________________

Later, Leon arrived at his new home in Mystic Falls, a modest house tucked away on the outskirts of town. The scent of old books, herbs, and faint traces of candle wax greeted him as he stepped inside.

Vanessa Monroe stood in the living room, surrounded by half-opened boxes, her frustration evident. "I swear, I packed that book on druids," she muttered, shifting through another box before sighing.

Then she looked up and saw him.

Her face lit up with a warm smile. "Leon! You're finally here." She moved toward him, arms outstretched for a brief but genuine hug. "Welcome home."

Leon smirked, glancing around at the organized chaos. "Feels homey already."

She rolled her eyes. "It will once I find that book. Mystic Falls has too much history for me to be unprepared." She eyed him curiously. "How was the trip?"

"Eventful," Leon replied cryptically. "And productive."

Vanessa raised a brow but didn't push. She knew better than to pry—Leon always had his reasons.

"Well, you're just in time," she said, facing him, "Something tells me things in Mystic Falls are about to get... interesting."

Leon chuckled, already knowing exactly how right she was.

"How'd your interview go at the high school?" He asked.

"Descent." she had more to say, dragging her words as she gathered her thoughts.

"Alric Saltzman showed up. And then Damon Salvatore eventually joined" She began

"And they compelled you to a position with a good pay worthy of your education." he finished.

Vanessa chuckled, "Yes…Something like that."

Leon shook his head with a soft smile.

"So be it," he said, walking to her with his arms open.

She embraced him and all the air left her body. As she deflated and her worries left with her breath, her body relaxed and reveled in his presence.

"Thank you for bringing me here and thank you for undoing the compulsion." she mumbled in his chest, "If you hadn't come along, I would have held onto my project and laminated over Isabel until they cut my funding and the world labeled me 'unfit'. I always knew there was something more."

"And I promised to tell you your identity if you helped me," he added.

Vanessa parted and looked up into his eyes.

"Hey, I won't say I love you. But, despite the age gap, I do care for you, a lot." she began, "Also, the sex is good."

Leon laughed, and then her well-manicured hand lightly tapped his chest as she showed him a gorgeous smile of playful affection. His laughter fell silent and a smile formed.

" Before your promises" she emphasized this line.

"You pursued me, seduced me, and gave me the things I've craved but could never have. Most importantly, I began to give you all the same in return. Not as repayment, but a yearning to make you feel as I do." she finished, voice lined with genuine affection.

"I don't know who or what you are?" Leon admitted, falsely.

He waited and saw the emotions changing her eyes, fluctuating intensely, then settling.

"I hate you." she said sharply, "Is that what you want to hear?"

"No…"

"Mmm, well I don't. We finish what we started," she said.