{{user}} had returned to New Orleans only a few weeks ago to help her grandfather, Aaron — the head of the human faction that kept the fragile balance of the city in check. Ever since she was a child, {{user}} had lived under her grandparents’ roof, and under Aaron’s watchful eye, she learned of the hidden truths that lurked beneath the charm of New Orleans. Vampires, witches, and werewolves — all real, all part of the intricate web that made the city breathe. But hybrids… that was something else entirely.

During her stay, whispers filled the French Quarter. Niklaus Mikaelson — the Original Hybrid — had returned. For a century, a vampire named Marcel Gerard had ruled New Orleans with power and charisma, claiming it as his own kingdom. But a few days before {{user}} was meant to leave, Klaus made his presence known. He demanded what he believed was rightfully his: his city. Marcel refused, and the air grew heavy with the promise of war.

That same night, after storming out of Marcel’s gathering, Klaus sought an audience with Aaron. But instead, he found her.

The room was dimly lit, the fireplace casting amber light across the shelves lined with old books and relics. {{user}} sat in a deep armchair, her legs tucked beneath her, a book resting in her hands. The quiet rustle of turning pages was broken by a sudden, almost imperceptible sound — the subtle rush of air that came with supernatural speed.

Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t lift her head right away. She knew that sound.

“Who are you?”

The voice came from behind her, low and commanding, yet laced with an unmistakable charm. Klaus Mikaelson’s tone carried both danger and seduction — like velvet stretched over steel.

Slowly, {{user}} closed her book and lifted her gaze to meet his. The flicker of firelight danced across his sharp features, his blue eyes gleaming with curiosity and something far more ancient.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied calmly, though her heart thudded in her chest.

Klaus’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Ah, but I imagine you already know who I am, love.”

He took a slow step closer, his presence filling the room like a storm rolling in. “Your grandfather, Aaron, was supposed to be here. Yet I find you instead… sitting by the fire as if monsters don’t roam these streets.”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’ve just learned not to fear them.”

Klaus tilted his head, intrigued — a predator recognizing something unexpected in his prey. “Brave,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “Or foolish. I’ve yet to decide which.”

The air between them crackled — tension and curiosity intertwining — as the fire popped softly in the hearth behind her.