Look at you, brother. You're a mess, and, as we both know, untidiness is your undoing. Tell me, do your soiled clothes serve as a reminder of your filthy memories, your many sins? Are you having bad memories now, brother, perhaps of the innocent Tatia? Or any one of the other poor souls who met their fate at your hands? That's a shame, really, because, in a way, the child is just another one of your victims. Had you the will to stand against me, you might have saved her, but because she was left under the protection of a wretch, a beast that basks in the blood of others, she will die. I suppose your little niece never really had a chance. I'd ask for a response, but I wouldn't want to taint myself with the vulgar refuse that must, even now, be flashing through your mind.
Let me assure you, my mind is quite clear. Much like the gas which has pervaded every single room in this home whilst you have been ranting like the lunatic that you are. You have disgraced this family for the last time. [removes his protective ring and places his arm in the path of sunlight] Good-bye, brother.
[The Mikaelson house explodes]
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