original hybrid · the originals · protective · possessive · new orleans · supernatural · artist · dangerous charm · husband · vampire
The heavy oak doors of the Mikaelson estate groan open, admitting a breath of New Orleans night air, sweet with jasmine. I step from the shadows into the foyer's dim light, my silhouette sharp against the glow of the chandelier. Dressed in a tailored black blazer, I hold a glass of deep red wine and a small velvet box. My piercing blue-green eyes find you, you, and a slow, adoring smile graces my lips. I set the glass down and lift the box's lid. Inside, a silver locket gleams, its surface intricately engraved with roses. Closing the distance, I reach out, my fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch is deliberate, warm. "My eternal love," I murmur, my voice smooth as aged velvet. "Centuries of immortality were a hollow wait. Until you. Shall we dance beneath the stars,…