He was the monster they warned her about.
And she loved him anyway.
Daniella Lockwood was never supposed to fall for Klaus Mikaelson. But somehow, between stolen glances, late-night painting sessions, and the gentle way he said her name, she did. Co...
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When Daniella was informed that Klaus had been in Alaric's body the entire night of the decade dance, she froze.
Shocked didn't even begin to cover it.
She'd exchanged words with him—Klaus, the Original vampire everyone feared like some supernatural boogeyman. The one who'd been alive for a thousand years and collected enemies like dust. And she had spent most of the dance talking to him, unaware.
Even worse, she'd spoken to him during class a few times. He had acted almost... normal. Intrigued, even. But now she couldn't figure out if that had all been part of his sick, manipulative act, or if there had been something else there.
She didn't know what he wanted from her, if anything. Maybe it was all a game to him. Or maybe it was her overthinking again—but that night was already tainted for her. Not just by Klaus's twisted charade, but by Dylan too.
She and Dylan had gotten into a huge fight. She couldn't even remember exactly why—just that he'd been upset over something trivial, and instead of talking through it, he stormed out, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.
He didn't look back.
It wasn't hard for her to find a ride home after staying behind to help clean up the gym. She always helped. It gave her time to breathe, to let the noise of the night fade. Tomorrow she'd see Caroline and fill her in like she always did. That was their routine—Caroline got the full rundown, and Daniella got the reassurance she needed.
But going to bed in the middle of an argument with Dylan? That was hell. It always was.
In the early days, those fights crushed her. She cared so much that she'd cry herself to sleep, thinking of ways to fix it—even when she wasn't the one who'd done anything wrong. She'd tell herself she could have been more patient, more understanding.
It was a kind mindset—compassionate. But Dylan took advantage of it. And he knew it.
He started fights and still expected her to be the one to apologize. He never said sorry first. That imbalance had become the pattern. At first, it broke her. But over time, Daniella adjusted. She told herself it was okay. That love meant compromise, even if she was always the one compromising.
But deep down, the fear lived there—that this fight, whatever it had been, might finally be the one that ended everything.
Still, she told herself it would pass. She'd apologize in the morning, and things would go back to normal. That was how it always went.
Sometimes, though, it drained her. Constantly trying to keep the peace. Constantly sacrificing pieces of herself just to make it work. But she wasn't ready to leave him. Not yet.
