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❧ the original witch's curse ❧
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There are some tales too entwined with sorrow to be forgotten, stories that cling to the bones of time itself, refusing to fade into oblivion. The Everhart lineage is one such tale, bound not by fate, but by a curse—an ancient torment woven in the shadow of grief and forbidden love.
Centuries ago, when the world was younger, and its secrets darker, there lived a woman named Elisabeth Everhart. She was beautiful, fierce, and haunted by the kind of passion that defied the boundaries of her time. She loved deeply, recklessly even, in a way that was both forbidden and intoxicating. Her heart belonged to Rebekah Mikaelson. Rebekah was unlike anyone Elisabeth had ever known. Their love was a secret, a rebellion, and above all, it was dangerous.
At first, their love was a sanctuary, hidden from the world that would condemn it. But love is never safe when it dares to defy both the laws of man and the unseen laws of nature. Rebekah's family, the Mikaelsons, were far from ordinary. They were steeped in power, in magic and blood. And soon, that power would tear Rebekah from Elisabeth in the cruelest of ways.
When Rebekah was turned into a vampire, the very nature of their love changed, poisoned by immortality and loss. Rebekah became something eternal—forever caught between life and death, her heart no longer beating with the same mortal fragility that Elisabeth's did. But it wasn't just the transformation itself that shattered them. It was Rebekah's mother, Esther—the Original Witch—who dealt the final blow.
Esther was a force of nature, bending magic to her will as easily as one might command the wind. She saw the love between her daughter and Elisabeth not only as a sin against nature but as a deep, personal betrayal. To her, the bond between them was a twisted aberration, a dangerous distraction that pulled Rebekah further away from her family—and further into the curse of vampirism that Esther so despised. In her eyes, Elisabeth was the spark that ignited Rebekah's descent into the unnatural. Their love was a stain upon the Mikaelson legacy, one that needed to be washed away.
So, Esther lied.
She told Elisabeth that Rebekah had died. Not just died but was ripped from the world by forces too dark to control. Rebekah, Esther claimed, was gone forever, beyond the reach of any magic, beyond life and love. For Elisabeth, the news was more than grief—it was a descent into madness. Her mind could not bear the weight of losing Rebekah, not when she had loved her so fiercely. She was consumed by an agony so profound that it shattered her spirit. Madness crept into her like a thief in the night, filling her veins with sorrow and rage.
And in her despair, Elisabeth turned to the only thing left: magic. Desperate and broken, she sought the forbidden—resurrection. With trembling hands and a heart too shattered to reason, she prepared a ritual to bring Rebekah back. It didn't matter that the spell was dangerous, that the whispers of the arcane warned her it could not work. Elisabeth was blinded by grief, her mind twisting in on itself with every heartbeat that Rebekah's absence had stolen from her.
But the ritual failed. Horribly. Tragically. It could never have succeeded, for how could one summon a soul that had never truly departed? Rebekah's heart still beat with vampiric immortality, her soul tethered to the world through a dark force that Elisabeth could never comprehend. And in the wake of that failed resurrection, in the wake of that broken magic, the price was steep.
Esther's fury blazed like wildfire. It was not enough for her to break Elisabeth's heart; it was not enough to destroy their love. She wanted Elisabeth's very bloodline to suffer for eternity. The curse she cast upon the Everharts was not born of anger alone—it was born of bitter, calculated vengeance. A punishment as enduring as the immortality she had cursed Rebekah with.
"For your defiance," Esther had spat, her voice a thunderous knell that rang through the centuries, "your bloodline shall forever be tethered to death. The firstborn daughter of each generation will be haunted by the dead—ghosts of the forgotten, spirits of the lost. They shall find no peace, no solace. Only torment."
And so, the curse took root in the Everhart line. It was not a curse of mortality or suffering in the flesh, but something far darker. From Elisabeth's time until now, every firstborn daughter of the Everhart family was bound to the dead. They could see the restless spirits of the departed, and the dead could see them. Ghosts were drawn to the Everharts like moths to a flame, pulled by a dark magnetism that neither time nor distance could weaken.
For generations. For generations, the curse passed from mother to daughter, an inescapable legacy. It was more than an ability to see the dead—it was a tether, a binding. The first daughters of the Everhart line were like beacons in the darkness, forever haunted by ghosts of the past, the forgotten, the tormented. They could not escape it. They could not run from it.
Amalie Everhart was no different. She was born into this cursed line, gifted—and burdened—with the ability to see the dead from the moment she could understand what it meant. Ghosts hovered at the edges of her childhood, their presence a constant whisper in the dark. Unlike some of her ancestors, though, Amalie had learned to manage her affliction. She had learned how to push the spirits away, to control the haunting that plagued her. For a time, she even managed to carve out a semblance of normalcy.
But her control was fragile, and her life took an irreversible turn the day she became a vampire. The dark immortality that had once bound Rebekah Mikaelson not wrapped its cold tendrils around Amalie's own soul. In that moment, she had hoped—prayed—that the curse might end with her death, the undeath might sever the connection between her and the spirits.
But Esther's curse was more powerful than even vampirism. Amalie's hope of escape was cruelly dashed. Instead of freedom, the curse deepened. The dead, who had once hovered on the periphery of her life, now came to her in droves. More vivid, more insistent, their voices no longer whispers but screams. Ghosts that had once been nothing more than shadows now manifested in painful clarity, their faces etched with sorrow, their voices filled with unrelenting demands.
Vampirism had not freed her—it had condemned her to an eternity of haunting. The dead were louder now, their presence more suffocating than ever before. They followed her wherever she went, refusing to let her forget the sins of her ancestors, the curse that bound her to them.
And so, Amalie now walks through eternity, a creature of darkness and immortality, forever tethered to the dead. The ghosts cling to her like a second skin, their tormented whispers an ever-present reminder of the curse that has shaped her entire life. Esther's vengeance has long since outlived its original intent, but its echoed remain, binding Amalie to a fate she can never escape.
What had once been a live between Elisabeth and Rebekah had become a legacy of suffering, an unbreakable bond between life, death, and everything in between. Amalie, like all the Everharts before her, carries the weight of that curse. But unlike her ancestors, she must bear it for eternity.
authors note.
this was supposed to be a prologue but no one ever reads the prologue so i made this as chapter one. sidenote, why do people not read prologues?
anyway, hope you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts and theories and all that.
byee 💗✌️
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ℍ𝔸𝕌ℕ𝕋𝔼𝔻 - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟꜱᴏɴꜱ
Fanfiction" 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 " - 𝘌𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦 [ the vampire diaries s2 - ??? ] [ f!oc x the mikaelsons ]