The witch ran her hand through her curly hair and pinched the bridge of her nose. She went through her grimoire, a book she had made herself. It was a compilation of spells she had learned over the centuries, with some that she had even invented in her spare time. The pink-haired woman ran her index finger over the pages of the book and licked her bottom lip. She remembered how desperate to find a way to lift her curse she was the first couple of centuries. She searched the whole world for a way to break it, but it never led to anything that worked. She was an immortal, and there was no way around it. She would remain an immortal until someone succeeded in taking her life.
She missed having a coven. She missed having the joy of sharing her knowledge. She missed this warm feeling she had knowing she belonged somewhere. She belonged to no one. She belonged to no....No! She belonged with Klaus! How could she think otherwise? At first, the witch thought that their encounter was a cruel joke of Fate. Klaus took a lot from her that fateful night, and for so long she was driven by her desire for revenge. Yet, upon meeting him a second time, things were vastly different. For the first time, she could connect to someone. For the first time, she didn't feel alone. For the first time in a very long time, she felt that she meant something to someone, and that feeling managed to fill the void she felt. There would never be a coven of witches for her, but she was fine with a coven of two. After all, it was Klaus and herm together against the world, wasn't it?
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