The first time you notice it, everything feels… wrong.

You and Klaus Mikaelson had been tracking a rogue witch deep in the forest—an ancient one, whispered about in hushed legends. She was clever, malicious, and powerful beyond reason. But nothing could prepare you for what she had waiting.

The moment you crossed the clearing, the world shivered. Time itself bent around you. The moon hung impossibly low, silver light freezing the forest in a permanent midnight. Every leaf, every shadow, seemed suspended, and a chill ran down your spine.

“Stay close,” Klaus murmurs, hand brushing yours instinctively. There’s tension in his voice—a mix of caution and frustration—and you notice that for the first time, even he looks uncertain.

The witch appears then, impossibly tall, eyes glowing like embers. “You cannot leave,” she says, voice layered and echoing, as if hundreds of voices speak at once. “Until you learn… until you break your chains.”

And just like that, the world snaps.

The next moment, you’re back at the edge of the forest. The same clearing. The same moon. Klaus turns to you, expression sharp. “Did… did you see that?”

“I think so,” you whisper. But deep down, you know—it’s never going to be just a one-time scare.

Hours—or maybe minutes—pass. You try to leave. You run. You fight. You confront the witch. But every attempt ends the same way: the moon hangs in eternal silver, the wind whispers your name, and you’re back.

“Great,” Klaus mutters, gripping your arm. “She’s trapping us.”

At first, the repetition is maddening. You bicker, argue, and even try to separate, but no matter what you do, time snaps back. And gradually, the frustration gives way to a strange rhythm. You notice details: the way Klaus studies every shadow, the way he always shields you instinctively, the subtle smirk he can’t hide even in desperation.

“You know,” he says one evening—though ‘evening’ is just a label in this endless loop—“I don’t usually like being trapped, but I could get used to being trapped with you.”

You laugh, because the absurdity is almost comforting. And in that shared laughter, something shifts. Even in a prison of time, the two of you find moments of tenderness: leaning on each other against the cold, brushing your hands across the same frozen bark, sharing whispered secrets no one else will ever hear.

But the witch isn’t done. Each loop tests you, pushing you closer, forcing you to face fears and regrets. And every time, Klaus is there. Protecting, daring, relentless.