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New Orleans, 1912
ONE THING THAT OPHELIA LENOX COULD BE SURE OF — MARY-ALICE CLAIRE HAD A BIG MOUTH. She liked the witch, she really did. The same couldn't have been said for the Claire witch if she knew who Ophelia really was. The Lenox had taken a different surname upon her arrival the year previous in New Orleans— Bennett. It was quite laughable really, she definitely was not a Bennett witch but it kept people from asking too many questions. If they knew who she really was and what bloodline she came from, she would probably be slaughtered— just like the rest of her bloodline had been. Mary-Alice had been Ophelia's first friend in the French Quarter, liking the fact that she wasn't apart of the French Quarter coven and was not apart of their eccentric ways.
Ophelia came from a long line of Lenox witches, dating back even further than the Mikaelson family themselves. The first, Thora Lenox, mentored the witch Ayanna who helped Esther Mikaelson turn her family into vampires.
The thing about the Lenox line is, they weren't servants of nature. They were what one would call 'true witches' their magic isn't to keep the balance, it was pure, unparalleled magic that made other witches afraid. As the centuries went on, the petty jealousies of other covens only magnified— they thought of the Lenox's as abominations, creators of the dark arts, you name it— they'd been called it. Until now, there had been a few Lenox's left. Scattered around the Earth but still alive, until they got hunted one by one.
Ophelia was merely sixteen when her parents were slaughtered in front of her. She barely made it out alive but she knew in that moment— she couldn't be Ophelia Lenox anymore. The world was a dangerous place for a Lenox, especially one who was sixteen, a recent orphan and still didn't have full control over her magic.
So she fled to New Orleans, and hid in a place where witches were everywhere in the hopes she would blend in.
Which brings us back to her first thought, Mary-Alice Claire had a big mouth.
Her friend had been flirting it up with a vampire, an original, Kol Mikaelson. Ophelia didn't know what Mary-Alice was playing at— her coven would not be happy at her spending time with the original vampire. She didn't know what the reasoning behind it was, but the Claire witch had blabbed to the Mikaelson about her 'powerful' friend, the Bennett witch.
Ophelia came to this conclusion when the original vampire cornered her in one of the many bars in the French Quarter— he knew exactly who he was looking for.
"So, a little birdy tells me you're a Bennett Witch," she'd heard a stool pull up beside her, "I say you're lying."
Ophelia smirked, "And yet you're here to ask me yourself, you must think there's some truth to it."
She turned to face the Mikaelson finally and had to stop herself from ogling, Mary-Alice said he was a looker but she didn't expect him to almost make her weak at the knees. Almost.
She could almost see the wild nature bouncing off of him, it was like an aura around him.
"Now, why don't we have a chat about how you can help me? I'll make it worth your while..." he trailed off, a menacing look on his face as he raised a brow suggestively.
Ophelia stifled a laugh, "I'm sorry, please tell me that's not the line you used with all the other witches you have working with you?" When he said nothing she actually laughed then, "Whats wrong? Cat got your tongue because I'm not falling at your feet?"
His mischievous smile returned, leaning forward so that his face was just centimetres apart from the witch, "On the contrary, darling, it's refreshing to actually have to charm someone instead of sitting back and letting the little witches of this town beg me to let them do my bidding."
She hummed, staying silent. Trying not to let her body involuntarily react to the close proximity they were in. She wasn't about to be flirted into entering the pending war that was looming over New Orleans.
"So, tell me, love. You're obviously not a Bennett witch, so who really are you, sweet Ophelia?"
"Everyone talks about the witch Ayanna who helped your mother turn you into vampires," Ophelia paused, "Who do you think Ayanna learnt that from?" She liked the fact that she knew more about this than he did, it almost felt like she was in control. She guessed that wasn't something that Kol was used too.
Kol smirked, "Well, do tell. You seem to get more interesting the longer we speak." He sat back in his seat and gestured with his hand for her to carry on.
Ophelia took a sip of her drink, "Do your research on the long line of Lenox witches, and then we'll talk." She left without another word. Leaving Kol Mikaelson wanting nothing more than to chase after her. He always loved a chase. What stopped him was the name, Lenox, he had heard of that surname when he was in Arabia. Could it really be that the witches that helped to teach him the magic of Kemiya.... Still existed?
Surely his luck wasn't that good, that there was a Lenox witch in New Orleans, at the precise time he wanted to create a dagger to tranquillise his brother like he'd been so many times before.
Whilst it seemed like luck at the time, one could only predict the outcome to be catastrophic— for all parties involved.
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A/N: It's a short first chapter, I know! But let me know what you think.
