Klaus Mikaelson walked down the bustling streets of New Orleans.
It was a place the hybid held dear to his heart. In the eighteenth century, he and his siblings made the French Quarter what it was. And it was for their efforts that the Mikaelson family was treated like royalty back then.
As the original looked upwards, he spotted the dark purple banners that hung from lamp posts, even after all these years, that displayed a cursive 'M.' That single letter, of course, stood for Mikaelson.
New Orleans was the place he and his siblings felt happiest. It was a place they called home for many years.
That was, at least, until Mikael discovered them there.
But that was then, and this was now.
And being in a place he once called home was bittersweet -not just from the painful memories of why he had to leave, and all that he lost- but also because the person that had recently become the embodiment of home was no longer here.
And that weighed on him each step he took. Each step since that day, it felt like she remained on him somehow. It was like she was a limb, or something glued into memory. It was like she was attached to his very being even when she wasn't.
And it was because she wasn't there that he couldn't feel whole.
He felt like half a man—half of himself.
As someone who once had his werewolf side suppressed, the notion of being something partial should have come easy. But it didn't.
Things still completely and utterly sucked.
But Klaus walked by the little tables selling jewelry and trinkets with purpose in his steps. He was here to find a witch—a real one in this crowd of many.
The words written in the letter he received played in his head.
It seems the curse that made your werewolf side dormant, wasn't the only curse your mother gave you. Apparently the spirits told Mother Dearest about your future, and something about a stupid bond, and Esther, being the lovely person she was, placed a second curse on you the same day she took your werewolf side away, in an effort to stop you from meeting her. Sounds like a bore to me, but what I'm most looking forward to is that you'll be too busy figuring this little problem out to even think about searching for me.
p.s. You'll find what you're looking for in New Orleans. Witches are conspiring against you. Xoxo.'
Katerina was not someone the hybrid trusted. But when Klaus Mikaelson got word of a threat, he had to investigate.
So here he was, in New Orleans, determined to figure out what this dumb letter was about, from none other than the witches who resided here.
Up ahead, a lady at one of the market tables made eye contact with the hybrid. She seemed to recognize him, because she instantly began packing up her bags to leave.
But she wasn't quite fast enough for the immortal hybrid that weaved his way through the crowd to stand before her. "Time for one more?"
The lady had a deep and rich skin tone, brown eyes, and ringlets of dark curly hair that framed her face perfectly.
"I have nothing to say to you," she spoke evenly, not even the smallest trace of fear eminent in her voice or eyes.
Klaus replied to the witch's words. "Oh now, that's not very amiable, is it? You don't even know me."
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ᴛɪʟʟ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴀʟʟs ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛTeen Fiction
SEQUEL TO STORY: SEA GREEN MEETS GOLD ❝ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ.❞ A tale in which the 'big bad hybrid' goes soft for the hero of Olympus. ☽☽☽ The original pouted. "You're like a sour patch kid." Percy laughed. He was comparing her to a sour candy. "Well...