Chapter Text
Nahara’s father slaps her across her face, her head going to the side from the force of it. She can already feel her cheek reddening. She turns back to face her father with a strong stance. “You will not talk like that again . Not under my roof.”
Nahara glares at her father. She mentioned liking her best friend to him and her mother. A second later, Demetrius stood up and slapped her across the face. Her mother was just sitting there, glaring at her .
That was the first confirmation for her that her parents didn’t give a shit about her. Not if she was the last person in their village, on Earth, anywhere. There were more confirmations after that but there were also some before that Nahara refused to acknowledge. The fifth confirmation was when she stopped caring about what her parents or anyone in her village thought. There was only one person’s opinion she cared about, her best friend.
Rebekah Mikaelson was the prettiest girl in the village. The only one Nahara had eyes for. The only person Nahara had eyes for. They’ve been friends since they were five. Ever since her mother had knocked on Esther and Mikael Mikealson’s door and left, leaving her to stand there until a boy answered, Finn. Finn was sixteen at the time taking care of his siblings, fifteen year old Elijah, ten year old Niklaus, eight year old Kol, five year old Rebekah, and one year old Henrik.
When Nahara got older, she would always come over to their house when her parents were too much and just hang out with all of them. Even though Finn really didn’t like her all that much, he was her favorite. At ten, he would tell her stories of a mysterious older sister, Freya. She was supposedly one year older than him and got taken by a woman. Nahara never believed him.
When Nahara was thirteen, she learned about her magic by bumping into Esther and apparently she siphoned some of her magic on accident which made Esther grab onto the young girl’s shoulder to steady herself. “Nahara,” Esther had said, bending down to her height. “What was that?”
Nahara had just shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, dear. But tell me, has that happened before.”
Nahara had shrugged again. “Not that I can remember.”
Esther nodded and let her go on her way to Rebekah’s room but the next day, she had knocked on her door and talked to her about magic. Like, actual magic. She said she was a witch and Nahara was, too. Esther said she was a siphoner. Someone that can only draw magic from another magical source, like another witch or a werewolf. Nahara only started to believe her when Esther started teaching her magic along with Kol.
At sixteen years old, Nahara had admitted her feelings for the blonde. It was just them outside the house in the dark during a full moon. Werewolves howl in the distance as Nahara casts a spell she had learned from Esther, masking the smell of both of them. Nahara looks at Rebekah’s beautiful face. Her soft features only become even more soft when she smiles at the raven-haired girl beside her.
“I think I’m in love with you.” Nahara suddenly blurts out and immediately regrets it. She covers her mouth with both her hands and gasps. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She takes her hands off her mouth and looks at her best friend, regretful. She really shouldn’t have said it. She could have gone her whole life without breaking their friendship.
Nahara thinks twice about that statement when Rebekah leans in and kisses her, connecting their lips together. Nahara gasps at the shock of the kiss and Rebekah slides her tongue in slightly. They pull apart and Rebekah leans her forehead against Nahara’s. “That was amazing.” Rebekah breathes. “Why didn’t we do that sooner?”
Nahara laughs and whispers back, “Because I was too scared to admit my feelings for you.”
“You shouldn’t have been such a wimp.”
Nahara chuckles. “You’re right. But it looks like you were too.”
When Nahara turns seventeen, her father finds out about her dating a girl. He didn’t have the best reaction. “If you so much as go near her again, I’ll kill you.” Nahara had just smirked and punched his face before running out of the house and over to the Mikaelson’s.
At eighteen, Niklaus had come back with a dying Henrik in his arms. Nahara had stumbled back into Rebekah, shocked. It was their two year anniversary of dating and Henrik was dead. He was dead because of the werewolves that got the two girls together. Once the supernatural fascinated Nahara and intrigued her. Now she doesn’t even want to look at a supernatural thing. werewolves killed her little brother.
Rebekah had gone first and Nahara screamed. It was only a week after Henrik’s death and now her girlfriend was dead. “No!” Nahara screamed as Mikael drove a steak through Niklaus next. Her siblings are being slaughtered one by one. Once the last sibling had dropped, Nahara stood there horrified at the dead bodies scattered around the one place she actually called home. “You killed them.”
“They’re not dead, dear.” Esther says, grabbing her by her shoulders. “They’ll come back, I promise.” Esther looks behind, to her husband who’s approaching them. “And you’ll be with them. I can’t lose you either.” So, at eighteen, Nahara had died that day, at least her human form. But at eighteen, twenty-one, twenty-three, twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, Rebekah, Kol, Niklaus, Elijah, and Finn had died that day, too. A week after thirteen-year-old Henrik.