Maeve Mikaelson

Chapter One

*Maeve Miller*

Maeve woke up in a cold-sweat again. Her heart pounding against her chest causing her breathing to become labored. She reached for her night-stand to grab her bottle of emergency pills she kept in case her heart was having a bad day. 

When she had settled down, she finally allowed herself to look at the clock on her nightstand. Two am. Lovely. 

She sighed and flipped over, replaying the night her life ended on a repeat. The accident was the worst day of her life by a long shot. Both of her parents died on impact, and she was extremely close to joining them. Three weeks in the hospital and a heart condition later, she was cleared to join the masses in the foster care system. 

At sixteen she applied for emancipation and access to her parent's trust and never looked back. Her town was quiet. It was safe. That's what her mother would have wanted. A safe town for her little sunflower. What a joke. 

She stopped trying to fall asleep and made her way to the spell room. She had converted the extra room into a witch's haven. She was powerful, and she needed a safe place to practice. Magic was tricky, and she had evolved from growing flowers in her backyard.  

Her fingers skimmed the lines of grimoires until she settled on her mother's. Her parents were not powerful, but they were creative. Their spells were the things children thought of when they heard magic. Illusions with light, growing plants with their minds. Spells to grant invisibility and so much more. 

After their death Maeve felt lost. Her magic lost it's happiness and each flower she grew felt like a betrayal. When she was twelve, she started dabbling in the darker stuff. It filled that hole for a while but eventually all she had left was a broken feeling. 

Maeve was strong and the darkness only made her stronger. It was then she discovered her unique connection with life and death. The witches on the other side could be summoned with little difficulty and for the most part they were very informative. 

The only thing they neglected to mention was the why. She knew the day her parents died something important was discovered but it's like everything before the accident was gone, a darkness in her mind that she couldn't reach past. 

Maeve learned to accept it and by fifteen she had stopped all pursuits of dark magic and stuck with the things that made her happy. She made supernatural friends and connections. At sixteen she couldn't make enough money to be comfortable legally, but the spells she sold were more than enough to cover what she couldn't. 

Old vampires meant old money and they were always relieved when she only wanted cash and not some distant magical artifact no one had heard of. Occasionally she did call in favors, her numerous grimoires didn't come from nothing, but for the most part she made due. 

She decided that she should use the time she had and pulled out a couple of simple silver bracelets. She was in the process of making protection charms that could deflect magical harm for the wearer. If a witch attempted a hex, they would find it placed on herself instead, unless of course Maeve cast it. 

She had made four by the time the sun began to rise, and she heard a knock on her door. She dropped the bracelets in her pocket before walking into her living room. She looked at her daily pills before shrugging. She could take it after. 

Her cat, Chewy rubbed against her legs and meowed loudly at her causing a detour to the kitchen to make sure the little gremlin was fed. When she finally opened the door, she found a human male. At the lack of threat, she dropped her guard and pulled her sweater closer to her body. 

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Are you Maeve?" 

"Who's asking for Maeve?" She looked around. She swayed as she realized she had nothing to eat and cursed herself for being so stupid. She knew she had to take care of herself.