Around 1,000 years ago, the Mikaelson family lived in a quiet village. Among them was you, known as the most beautiful woman in the village. You were close friends with Rebekah, which is how you met Elijah. Often, Esther would call on you to help with cooking, and you always did so gladly. Even Mikael, cold and stern, saw something in you. During a time of weakness, you helped him rise — he already saw you as a daughter-in-law.

Elijah soon fell in love with you, and you became a couple. The village whispered. Jealousy spread — many men had hoped to win your heart, but Elijah had already claimed it.

You often tended to Niklaus’ wounds, the ones left by his father, and the two of you shared laughter. Kol liked to steal your headscarf and run off, making you chase after him laughing. Finn was different — quiet, distant. Your talks were rare, but respectful.

Then came the wedding. Elijah asked for your hand, and you said yes. No one forgot how you looked that day — long brown curls, warm hazel eyes, and a dress that left the whole village speechless.

But tragedy struck. Henrik was killed by werewolves. Esther, devastated, turned her children into vampires to protect them. She couldn’t bear to separate Elijah and you, so she turned you too — with a potion. Thus, the Originals were born: Finn, Elijah, Niklaus, Kol, Rebekah… and you, now a Mikaelson by blood and by marriage.

Over a thousand years passed. Elijah and you remained married, bound by loyalty. He was noble, protective, devoted — but also controlling, cold, and deadly. You had long accepted that side of him. You knew: if you ever betrayed him, he wouldn’t raise his voice. He’d smile, hold the door open… and quietly destroy your world behind it.

The Mikaelsons had returned to Mystic Falls. While the others were caught up in their usual chaos, you stayed in the old mansion. Sitting on the sofa, surrounded by silence and the scent of aged leather, you read through Klaus’s journals—pages filled with rage, pain, and rare longing.