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wholoveseggs · 3 months ago

Text

Dark Star {Part Six}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Six

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A tense family dinner reveals the fractures in the Mikaelson bond as Elijah’s madness pushes his siblings to the breaking point. In the 13th century, you wake up with a new hunger, your transformation into a vampire marking the beginning of a new and prosperous life. Setting up everything that is to come. And as Elijah meets death itself, love and sacrifice blur into a haunting, unforgivable cost.

8.4k words - Warnings: ANGST, a stressful dinner party, sibling fight, full throttle red door Elijah, talk of suicide, tears, blood and so much pain... a sacrifice, a carved out heart & a resurrection that shatters everything...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

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The first thing Klaus noticed when he returned to the compound was the smell of food cooking. The second thing he noticed was the looks on the faces of his little brother and sister. Kol was carrying a passed-out Bonnie Bennett, shackles around her wrists, and Rebekah looked shaken, her eyes distant, haunted by something she could barely process.

"What happened?" Klaus demanded, brow furrowing, his gaze shifting to Bonnie’s unconscious form. "Is she alive?"

"She's fine," Kol replied, setting her down on the sofa with surprising gentleness. "She… cried herself to sleep on the drive here," he explained, looking down at the young witch, his expression uncharacteristically soft, but shadowed.

"Well, that’s reassuring," Klaus quipped, though his voice held a thread of unease. His eyes flicked over each of them. "And where’s our esteemed brother?"

"Preparing a family dinner for us," Rebekah said bitterly, her voice hollow. "He’s completely off his rocker, he killed both the Salvatore's and now he's acting like everything's fine. It's madness, Klaus, pure madness."

Klaus' eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He looked to Kol, who nodded.

"He did, and he is," Kol added, his brow furrowed.

"How could you let him?" Klaus snapped, his words sharp, though the accusation in his tone was softened by a flash of disbelief.

"Let him?" Kol let out a harsh laugh, his eyes blazing. "Do you honestly think we could have stopped him?"

"You weren't there," Rebekah said quietly, her gaze unfocused, her mind elsewhere. "It happened so fast... How were we supposed to know? He's lost his bloody mind."

Freya entered the room, her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene. "Uh, dinner is ready," she announced, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Elijah wants you all to wear your best, so... go put on something nice," she said, her gaze drifting back to Bonnie. "And he wants her at the table too," she added, nodding toward the unconscious witch.

Kol let out a humorless chuckle, a grim smirk playing on his lips. Rebekah's face was pale, her eyes haunted, her hands trembling slightly as she reached up to touch her necklace.

"I'd rather not," she murmured, her voice soft and small.

"I don't think we have a choice, sweet sister," Kol said, his expression dark. "Unless we want to end up like the Salvatores,"

Klaus sighed, a scowl forming on his face. He glanced at his siblings, noting their unease. Usually he was the cause of it, but this time was different. He didn't know exactly when it happened, but it seemed his role in the family dynamic had changed. It was now his job to be the conciliator, and he hated it.

"It will be fine," he told them, though he wasn't sure he believed his own words. "I'll talk to him."

Kol's eyebrows rose, his eyes flashing with doubt. "I doubt he'll listen to anything you have to say."

"He'll listen to reason," Klaus said, his tone firm, his jaw clenched.

Kol laughed again, but this time it was filled with genuine amusement. "And what reason is that, brother?"

"I'd say it's best not to keep Elijah waiting," Freya sighed, a note of apprehension in her tone.

"Fine," Rebekah said, her gaze flickering to her brothers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go get ready," she muttered, walking away.

Kol and Freya followed her and Klaus stayed behind, his eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening. He could feel the anger rising inside him, but he kept it in check. He had to remain calm. For once, he was the reasonable one, the one in control. He would have to be careful.

Elijah was standing at the head of the table, dressed in his best suit, his face clean-shaven. He was pouring wine for everyone, moving with the unshakable calm of a man who was not currently sane.

"Good evening," he said, a smile tugging at his lips as they all entered the dining room. "I trust you're all well?"

Klaus watched him carefully, his eyes never leaving him as they all sat down. Kol placed Bonnie in the chair next to him, gently propping her up and taking a seat beside her.

"What are you doing?" Rebekah asked, her voice quiet and strained.

"Having dinner," Elijah replied, his voice smooth and calm, as if he hadn't just tortured and killed two people.

"You murdered Damon and Stefan," she accused, her eyes brimming with tears.

Elijah's smile faltered for a moment, a hint of guilt flashing across his face. But then he recovered, his expression becoming neutral again.

"We're here to discuss my wife," he said, his tone clipped, his gaze flicking around the table. "That is all."

"Your dead wife," Kol muttered, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed.

"My soon to be living wife," Elijah corrected, his tone cool. "With the help of Miss Bennett."

"I don't think it's wise to push the girl," Freya cut in, her voice quiet and hesitant. "And this spell... It’s not a straightforward resurrection spell. It’s a hybrid of rites… a mix of necromancy and invocation. I think it might summon the spirit of the dead back to earth while binding it to life,"

"I don't care what it is," Elijah retorted, his jaw clenched, his gaze steely. "Just make it happen."

"Elijah," Klaus began, his voice low, his gaze focused. "I understand that you're hurting, and I know that this is a difficult time for us all, but torturing and murdering our friends will not bring her back,"

"I recall you tortured Stefan not too long ago," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing. "And you Rebekah? You carved up Damon like a Thanksgiving turkey… how are my actions any different?"

Rebekah flinched, her shoulders tensing, her jaw clenching. She looked down at her plate, avoiding his gaze.

"First of all, our actions weren't permanent. Second, we acted rashly. You're a better man than us, Elijah. This isn't who you are." Klaus said, his tone even.

Elijah's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing, his gaze sharpening. He leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the table, his jaw set, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

"I'm not," he said, his voice hard, his words clipped. "And I will do whatever is necessary to get my wife back."

"You know as well as I that there’s no such thing as a spell without a price, and this one… this one sounds like it’ll cost us." Klaus stated, his gaze unwavering.

"I don't care what the consequences are," Elijah hissed, his tone venomous, his eyes blazing.

"Even if it means killing more innocent people?" Kol challenged, his voice a low growl.

"I would kill anyone and everyone if it meant bringing her back," Elijah snapped, his eyes wild.

He slammed his hand down on the table, his face flushed with anger. Everyone jumped, startled by his outburst, and for a moment, no one spoke.

The silence hung heavy in the air, suffocating the room. Elijah took a deep breath, his composure returning as quickly as it had slipped.

"Time for the first course," he said, a tight smile tugging at his lips as he straightened up.

A series of waiters came out from the kitchen, each one carrying an empty glass. A young blonde stood next to Klaus. Another young woman with brown hair approaching Kol. And a handsome older gentleman stopped at Rebekah.

"I've procured your favorites, all ab negative, in honor of the occasion," Elijah explained, his voice smooth and even.

He gestured for the three humans to approach the vampires, his gaze locked on his siblings. The trio walked over, their expressions blank, their eyes glassy. They all cut their wrists, pouring their blood into the glasses, not even flinching as their flesh was sliced open.

The siblings looked at one another, usually this would be the part where they would start drinking, but there was no enthusiasm in the air. Only dread and disgust.

"Go ahead," Elijah encouraged, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

They reluctantly grabbed their glasses, taking a few sips. Each sip was like a bitter pill, burning their throats as it went down.

"I want to thank you all for coming," Elijah continued, ignoring their discomfort. "And I want to express how much it means to me to have your support."

Klaus set his glass down, his expression unreadable, his eyes betraying a hint of anger.

"This is quite the pathetic manipulation, brother. Do you think you can convince us with our favorite food? That you haven’t gone completely mad… by bringing us a few snacks?" Klaus asked, his tone icy.

Elijah's eyes grew darker, his jaw tightening, but he remained composed. He walked over to the blonde standing next to Klaus and grabbed her roughly by the hair.

"I recall you enjoying draining the life from a girl like her," Elijah growled, his eyes wild, his voice dangerous. "Perhaps you'd prefer that instead?"

He wrenched her neck to the side, exposing her jugular. The others stared at him, frozen with shock.

"Stop, Elijah," Klaus said, his voice quiet, his gaze sharp.

"Or what?" Elijah sneered, his grip tightening on the girl's throat. "It's not like you haven't done it before. In fact, you enjoy it. You always have."

"Please," the girl whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't hurt me."

He leaned in closer, his mouth inches from her ear, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell my family to help me, or I'll dismember you in front of them."

The girl's eyes widened, her breathing quickening. She looked at the vampires, her gaze pleading, her lips trembling.

"Help him," she begged, her voice shaking, tears rolling down her face. "Please, help him."

Rebekah shook her head, her heart racing, a wave of nausea washing over her. Freya watched the exchange, her brow furrowed, a look of uncertainty and fear crossing her features. Kol's expression was a mix of anger and revulsion, his hands balled into fists, his body tense.

Klaus remained motionless, his gaze fixed on his brother, his eyes hard.

Elijah looked at each one of them, his eyes dark and wild, a hint of madness flickering in them.

"I’ve never asked any of you for anything," he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet desperation. "Not until now. This is my wife. This is my life. I won’t give her up, not again."

The silence was heavy, the tension in the room palpable. None of them knew what to say, and none of them knew what to do. Their brother had lost his mind, and he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted.

"Help him," the girl repeated, her voice breaking.

Rebekah rose slowly to her feet, her hands reached out in a calming manner, her eyes meeting Elijah’s, filled with pain. "You know we would do anything for you, Elijah. But this… this is dangerous."

Elijah’s eyes darkened, frustration flaring. "Not any more dangerous than when Klaus became a hybrid, or when Kol was resurrected, or any of the other times we’ve been forced to do the impossible."

Rebekah hesitated, her chest tightening, a knot forming in her stomach. She glanced at Klaus, then at Freya and Kol, her eyes pleading, her throat constricting.

"This is different," Freya interjected, her voice strained. "I can feel it, Elijah. This spell… it wants something in return. It’s alive, in a way."

Elijah’s gaze sharpened, his calm veneer finally cracking. "Why will none of you help me?" he snapped, his voice rising, his temper flaring.

"Because we loved your wife," Klaus retorted, his tone low, his expression fierce. "And because we know that whatever this is, it's going to hurt her. It's going to hurt you. And she wouldn't want that."

"Don't tell me what she wants!" Elijah bellowed, pushing the blonde girl away from him, sending her stumbling towards Klaus. "I am her husband. I'm the one who is supposed to be by her side, not any of you."

"Elijah, please," Rebekah pleaded, her voice cracking, her eyes welling with tears.

"No, you will help me," he commanded, his voice cold, his expression hard.

"Or what?" Klaus challenged, sending the blonde girl scurrying away, his gaze unflinching, his tone firm. "Are you going to hurt us? Your own family?"

Elijah's gaze met Klaus', his eyes blazing, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white. The two brothers stared each other down, a silent battle of wills.

Klaus could feel the anger, the desperation, and the grief rolling off Elijah in waves, but he knew he had to be strong, for his family and for you.

"I will do what is necessary," Elijah growled, his words dripping with malice.

"Then do it," Klaus snarled, he stood up and moved swiftly around the table, grabbing his older brother by the collar, pulling him closer. "Go ahead and rip my heart out, make yourself feel better, but it won't bring her back. And you know that."

"Niklaus," Kol said, his tone warning.

"No," Klaus said, his eyes fixed on Elijah, his grip tightening. "He needs to face reality. I won't let him ruin our lives over his selfish grief."

Elijah's nostrils flared, his hands clenching into fists, he bared his teeth, his fangs elongating, his eyes turning black. "You have no right," he hissed, his voice a low growl.

Before Klaus could react, Elijah struck him, his fist connecting with his jaw. Klaus stumbled back, caught off guard by the sudden attack. He recovered quickly, lunging at Elijah, tackling him to the ground. The two brothers wrestled on the floor, fighting viciously, the sound of their grunts and curses echoing throughout the room.

"Stop it!" Rebekah shouted, her voice breaking. "Both of you! This isn't helping,"

She ran over, trying to pull Elijah off of Klaus, but he shrugged her off, sending her flying into the wall. She crashed against it, a pained groan escaping her lips. Freya moved to help her, but Kol held her back, a wary look on his face.

"Stay back," he warned, his voice low, his eyes never leaving the fight. "It's not safe."

Klaus and Elijah continued to grapple, each one gaining the upper hand only to lose it a moment later. Blood stained their faces and clothes, their bodies bruised and battered, but neither one of them was willing to give up.

Rebekah tried to separate them one again, and this time Elijah turned on her, his eyes wild, his movements frenzied. She blocked his blows as best she could, but she was no match for him, his strength overwhelming her. His eyes were completely black, his rage overtaking him, a look of pure madness on his face.

He grabbed Rebekah by the throat, lifting her off the ground. She clawed at his arms, her nails digging into his flesh, but it was no use. He was too strong, his grip too tight.

Klaus yelled, a primal scream tearing from his throat, his anger and desperation fueling him. He launched himself at Elijah, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

The impact was enough to break his grip on Rebekah, and she fell to the floor, gasping for breath. The three of them falling into a heap.

"Enough!" Freya shouted, her voice full of fury. She raised her hands, a blast of magic shooting out, hitting Elijah and throwing him against the far wall.

Rebekah clutched her throat, her face pale, her breathing ragged. Klaus crawled over to her, pulling her into his arms.

Freya kept her gaze locked on Elijah, her magic holding him in place. He was yelling and sobbing, thrashing against the wall, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"I can't keep him like this forever," she warned, her voice strained, her eyes full of pain and sorrow.

Elijah could hear you calling his name, his vision swimming. The room around him was fading in and out, the walls bleeding, the shadows stretching. He saw you, standing in the doorway, a look of sadness on your face.

"What have you become?" You whispered, your voice echoing in his mind.

Your words snapped him back to reality. He stopped struggling, his eyes meeting yours.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Don't leave me."

You looked at him, your expression unreadable, and then you were gone.

Elijah felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces, his chest tightening, his breathing growing ragged. He saw Rebekah on the floor, her eyes wide with fear. Fear of him. His baby sister, who looked at him with nothing but love and admiration, now looked at him as if he were a monster.

The guilt and shame overwhelmed him, his eyes filling with tears, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

Freya's magic faded, and he collapsed to the floor, his body trembling. He curled up into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably, his pain and grief consuming him.

His siblings watched him, their hearts breaking for him.

"I see her everywhere," he cried, his voice raw. "She's always there, in my head, in my dreams, in my heart. I can't stop thinking about her, and every day, it just gets worse."

Kol moved closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to comfort him, but he pushed them away.

"Don't," he gasped, his voice strained. "I don't deserve it. I'm a monster. I can't even protect the people I love."

Kol crouched down, his expression filled with sympathy. "She loved you so much Elijah, you know that. Don't let her death destroy you," he said softly, his voice full of understanding.

Elijah met his gaze, his eyes full of anguish.

"If you won't help me, will you kill me?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I can't live like this, not without her."

"Elijah..." Rebekah whispered, her own tears falling.

"Please," he begged, his voice trembling, his eyes filled with pain. "Then I could see her again, and maybe... Maybe she would forgive me."

The silence in the room was deafening, each sibling processing his words. He was a broken man, a shell of the noble, honorable brother they knew and loved. And it was killing them to see him like this.

Klaus slowly approached him, kneeling down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll help you, brother," he said quietly, his voice laced with sorrow. "Damn the consequences, we'll help you."

Elijah lifted his head, his eyes wide with disbelief, his breath catching in his throat.

"Really?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Yes," Rebekah said, kneeling down on the other side of him. "Whatever it takes."

Elijah looked at his siblings, his gaze filled with hope and gratitude. He reached out, pulling them into a hug, holding onto them as if his life depended on it.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice cracking.

The siblings clung to one another, each of them feeling the weight of their decision, the uncertainty and fear they felt. They knew that whatever they were about to do, it would change all of them forever.

13th century Europe

You woke in an unfamiliar bed, the sheets soft and warm against your skin. You sat up, blinking, disoriented. You looked around the room, taking in the dark walls and mahogany furniture, a large window letting in a sliver of pale moonlight.

The memories came flooding back. The villagers, the pain, the darkness, and then, Elijah.

Panic rose within you, and you flung the covers back, stumbling from the bed. The stone floor was cold beneath your bare feet, and you glanced down, seeing that you were wearing only a nightgown.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering, and padded to the door. As soon as you pulled it open, a rush of sound met your ears.

There was a flurry of activity around you, men from the village were carrying things down the stairs, crates and chests, talking quietly among themselves.

"What's going on?" you asked, confusion clouding your thoughts.

One of the men turned, startled. "We must take everything to the carriage," there was a strange look in his eye, an emptiness, and he hurried away, carrying a crate.

You felt a pair of warm hands on your waist, and whirled around, seeing Elijah. He was dressed in a simple tunic, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair was slightly disheveled.

Your eyes met his, and a mixture of emotions flooded through you. You couldn't quite make sense of it all, the guilt and shame warring with relief and longing. He had the same expression, his gaze intense and unreadable.

He leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and insistent, and you felt yourself melting into him.

"Elijah..." you breathed, pulling away, a million questions burning within you. "What's happening? Why are these men here?"

"We're leaving," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Leaving?" you echoed, your mind reeling.

He nodded, pulling you closer. "We have overstayed our welcome, and it is time to move on."

"Move on?" you repeated, the questions piling up, your thoughts still fuzzy.

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I have taken care of things, my dear. You need not worry."

"But...how? What did you do?"

"Come," he said, ignoring your questions. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, the men following behind.

Everything was so loud, so chaotic, and you found yourself clinging to Elijah's hand, trying to make sense of it all.

Outside, a horse-drawn carriage was waiting, and the men were loading the last of the crates. Elijah led you over to the carriage, helping you inside.

The interior was richly appointed, with plush velvet seats and elegant carvings. There was a faint, spicy smell, and you settled back, the leather smooth beneath you.

"Stay here, I won't be long. And I'll explain everything when we arrive at our new home," Elijah said, his tone soothing, reassuring.

Before you could say anything else, the carriage door was closed, and you were left alone. Watching the men load more crates, a nagging thought tugged at the edge of your mind.

You could hear their heartbeats, clear as a song bird's call, pumping blood through their veins. Your stomach twisted, the hunger rising inside you and then your feet took over, moving almost of their own volition.

You ran, a burst of speed that took you past the men and straight into the village. You stopped, taking a deep breath, and the familiar smells overwhelmed you, the urge to feed becoming almost unbearable.

You didn't understand how you ended up here so fast, the manor house was nearly a days walk away. You didn't even realize where you were headed, until you heard it.

The beating.

A steady, rhythmic thumping, a heartbeat, and a familiar scent, sweet and tempting. You moved silently, almost instinctively, creeping through the shadows until you found her.

Sister Margaret.

Her habit was discarded, a pile of black fabric, and she was kneeling in front of an altar, a silver cross hanging from the wall, flickering candlelight surrounding her.

The sound of her heart was almost deafening, and the bloodlust consumed you, driving away all reason. You crept closer, the darkness concealing you, and before you knew what you were doing, your fangs had pierced her neck, the taste of her blood exploding in your mouth.

It was sweet and intoxicating, and you couldn't stop, even as the tears ran down her face, her body convulsing, her life ebbing away.

When the blood flow slowed, and the heartbeat stopped, you withdrew, looking at her with a detached curiosity. Her eyes were empty, the color gone from her face, and a wave of nausea washed over you.

"No," you whispered, stumbling back, your hand pressed to your mouth, a sick feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

The realization hit, a jarring, gut-wrenching understanding. You were a monster, a demon, a creature of the night. You had taken a life, without a second thought, the need for blood consuming you.

A scream from behind tore you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Mother Mathilde standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

"No, this cannot be," she whispered, her voice shaking.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of her, the hunger still burning within you. She stepped back, her face twisted in fear.

"O Lord Almighty, God of Hosts, we humbly beseech Thee to drive out this unclean spirit, this deceiver, this enemy of the faithfu-"

Anger flared within you. You could still feel the stones slamming into you, the pain, the betrayal, and a growl escaped your lips. You wanted to rip her heart out, to make her pay for what she had done, for all the pain she had caused. You lunged at her, the bloodlust driving you.

Your fangs sunk deep into her throat, and her blood filled your mouth, thick and bitter. You drained her dry, and it was the first time you felt true power. A rush of deep satisfaction flowed through you, the heady taste of vengeance.

"What a delicious sight," Elijah's voice came from behind, and you whirled around, seeing him leaning against the doorway.

He was staring at you with a mix of admiration and desire, and something about it made you blush.

You glanced down, seeing the blood dripping from your hands, and the reality of what you had done hit you. You let her lifeless body fall, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silent scream.

"What have I become? A demon, a monster," you whispered, the shame washing over you, threatening to drown you.

Elijah crossed the distance between you in a flash, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes met yours, his voice soft and soothing. "Don't be afraid, love. This is a gift, a new beginning, a chance to truly live."

"Live?" you echoed, the word heavy with meaning.

"Yes, to live," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "To see the world, and all its wonders. To experience every sensation, and explore every possibility."

His words were intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the truth. Something was changing within you, a spark of life, a hunger for more.

"Where do we go from here?" you asked, a flutter of anticipation rising in your chest.

"Anywhere you want," he said, his voice laced with promise.

"Show me," you whispered, and a wicked smile spread across his face.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "With pleasure,"

Elijah stood at the stop of the old stone steps leading to the cellar, his face grim, his heart heavy. The only light in the room came from the torches on the wall, casting his face in shadow.

He hadn't been down there since the day you died. Your coffin still lay on the table, its lid closed, the silence in the air suffocating.

He walked over, placing his hand on the smooth surface. His throat tightened, his breath catching in his chest as he thought of you, your lifeless body, your empty eyes, gray skin. He would never see you smile, or hear your laughter again, and the grief was a raw wound that refused to heal.

He knew it was madness, he knew that the odds of this working were slim, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it was his only chance. He had lost so much, sacrificed everything. He couldn't lose you too.

He told himself it was all justified as he removed the lid from your coffin. You deserved the chance to come back, to be happy.

He would do anything for you.

"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He laid a blanket out, then gently lifted you out of the coffin, holding you tightly against him. Your body was cold, stiff, and lifeless, but he held you close, as if willing his life into yours.

"It'll be alright," he murmured, tears stinging his eyes, his throat aching.

He had to believe that, no matter what the cost.

As the darkness surrounded him, the silence was deafening. He placed you on the blanket, his fingers lingering on your cheek, wrapping the blanket around you, his face lined with sorrow.

He lifted you, his arms wrapped protectively around your body, carrying you up the stairs. Every step felt heavier, and by the time he reached the courtyard, his entire body ached, his mind swimming with grief and guilt.

Bonnie stood in the center of the courtyard, still handcuffed and surrounded by the Original siblings, her face pale, her eyes dark and wary.

"I don't want any part of this," Bonnie said, her voice low and shaking.

Elijah gently placed your body on the ground, his hands lingering for a moment before he turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

"If you want to walk out of here alive, you'll do this," Elijah's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on her, dark and dangerous.

Bonnie swallowed, her face twisting in disgust, her mind reeling with the memories of Damon and Stefan's deaths, the sound of their bodies hitting the ground, their lifeless faces.

She couldn't bring herself to speak, her throat constricting as she fought back the tears.

Freya looked at her, her voice gentle but urgent. "You're the only one who can do this, Bonnie. It has to be you."

"Fine," Bonnie snapped, her gaze hardening. "But I'll only do it once, and I won't have any part of whatever else happens after."

Elijah nodded. "That's all I ask."

Freya stepped forward, the spell book in her hand, and placed it in Bonnie's. She unshackled her wrists, and Bonnie rubbed them, trying to relieve the aching pressure, glaring at her captors.

Elijah nodded to his siblings, and they formed a circle around the witch and the body, a solemn hush falling over the courtyard.

Elijah got to his knees, looking up at Bonnie with a pleading, almost desperate expression. "Do it," he ordered, his voice hoarse.

She hesitated, her eyes searching his, then nodded, her eyes growing cold as she reached out her hand to Freya. "Knife," she said.

Freya hesitated, "I was going to-"

Bonnie gave her a cold stare, cutting her off.

Freya's brow furrowed, but she handed Bonnie a small, ornate dagger.

Bonnie gave a slight smirk as she took it, then looked at Elijah.

"Tenebrae animarum, viam aperite (Shadows of souls, open the way)"

Her words echoed through the courtyard, the wind picking up as the clouds parted, the moonlight spilling onto the courtyard, bathing it in an ethereal glow.

Bonnie raised the dagger, looking down at Elijah, and brought the blade down, the tip of the blade resting just above his heart.

"I'm going to make sure this hurts," she hissed, her voice dripping with malice.

She plunged the dagger into his heart, a look of pleasure spreading across her face as his body jerked and his face twisted in pain. She wasn't gentle, or precise when carving out the organ, her movements jagged and rough.

He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream, his vision blurring as blood flowed from the gaping wound, soaking the ground.

Bonnie dropped the dagger, her hands stained red, and reached inside the open wound, her eyes gleaming as she pulled out his still-beating heart.

She held it in her hands, the organ pulsing, the blood flowing down her arms, the moonlight glinting off the crimson liquid. Elijah's body collapsed next to yours, his eyes staring sightlessly into the sky.

Bonnie closed her eyes, the wind swirling around her, the moon shining brighter. Her hands glowed with power as she began the spell.

Rebekah looked away, her stomach churning as Bonnie dropped the heart into the bowl, the blood pooling inside.

"Ex corde sacrificium, dilectionis vinculum. (From the heart, a sacrifice, bound by love.)"

Kol's jaw clenched, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the bloody heart in the bowl. While Klaus stood stone-faced, the muscles in his jaw tightening, a glimmer of unease in his eyes.

Freya stood next to Bonnie, her expression focused as she chanted, her hands clasped in front of her.

Even though his siblings knew he would rise again, the sight of Elijah's body was still unsettling, the gravity of what they were doing finally sinking in.

Bonnie handed the knife to Klaus, the blade stained red, and he took it, his eyes narrowing.

She held out the bowl to him, her expression blank, devoid of emotion. "We need enough blood to submerge the heart," she explained.

Klaus nodded, his jaw clenched, his gaze never leaving hers. He took the knife, slicing his wrist open, his blood dripping into the bowl.

He handed the blade to Rebekah, and she repeated the gesture, her face pale. Followed by Kol, who did the same.

Freya took the bowl once there was enough blood and dipped the heart into it, the blood soaking into the flesh.

"Sanguine renascitur, vita et mors iunguntur. (By blood reborn, life and death are joined.)"

She knelt next to you and Elijah's body, placing his heart on your chest. She glanced up at Bonnie, a look of apprehension on her face, and the witch nodded, her expression grim.

Freya closed her eyes, and placed her hands over the heart, pressing down gently, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Bonnie's face twisted with strain, sweat beading on her forehead as she chanted.

"Corpus recipiat cor, anima revocetur. (Let the body receive the heart, let the soul return.)"

Freya's voice rose, and she felt the magic building inside her, swirling like a hurricane. Her hands began to shake, her fingers trembling as she felt the spell reaching its climax.

"In nomine dilectionis, viam ingredere. (In the name of love, cross the path.)"

Bonnie's voice shook, the words almost impossible to understand, her body shaking as the magic surged through her.

Freya's eyes flew open, her hands gripping the heart tightly, her eyes wild. With all her strength she picked up the heart, as though it weighed a thousand pounds, and placed it back into Elijah's chest.

The wind whipped around them, howling like wolves, and thunder rolled across the sky, lightning illuminating the courtyard.

Freya placed her hand over the wound, pouring all her magic into it, and the air was filled with tingling, sparks dancing along their skin.

"Animam caram reducite, ad vitam resurgite. (Bring back the cherished soul, rise again to life.)"

Bonnie's words echoed through the air, the power flowing from her into the spell, her body trembling, her mind filled with the rush of magic, the smell of rain, the roar of the storm.

And then, there was silence. The wind stopped, the clouds drifted apart, and the moonlight bathed the courtyard once again.

Rebekah's eyes widened, and she rushed over, kneeling next to her brother. Freya looked up, her face drawn, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Did it work?" Rebekah whispered.

"I don't know," Freya replied, her voice shaky.

Rebekah touched his shoulder gently. "Elijah?"

Elijah's body was motionless, the wound on his chest beginning to heal.

"He's gone to fetch her," Kol said, his voice quiet.

Freya stood, breathless and pale, her gaze fixed on Elijah. “He’s crossed over. Now we wait.”

As the living world faded, Elijah felt the pull of an unseen force, and a swirling mist began to envelop him. He felt like he was falling through clouds, the darkness closing in around him, until finally, he came to a stop, his feet touching solid ground.

His footsteps echoing as he moved through the dense, ghostly fog. Shadows whispered, and time seemed to fold around him, twisting and bending as he descended further, guided only by an instinct that he couldn’t name.

Through the mist, a faint light glimmered, soft and warm. He made his way toward it, the shadows fading, the light growing brighter, until he reached the edge of the fog.

Before him was a garden, lush and green, filled with the scent of flowers and grass, and the sound of birdsong. The sun shone, its warmth caressing his skin, and the trees swayed in the gentle breeze.

As Elijah walked through the garden, his eyes adjusting to the light, he saw you. The real you. He knew it instantly.

There you were, sitting on a stone bench, wearing a white sundress, your hair falling in soft waves. You looked like an angel, and his heart swelled, a knot forming in his throat.

He stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the grass, and you turned, a smile spreading across your face, your eyes bright and shining. You leapt up, throwing your arms around him, and he held you close, breathing in the scent of your hair, savoring the feel of your skin.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

"I'm here to bring you home," he murmured, pulling away, taking your hands in his.

"But I am home," you said, confusion coloring your tone.

"Not yet," he replied, his expression pained, his heart aching. "But soon."

You pulled back from him, cupping his face, your brow furrowed. "Elijah, what's wrong?"

He couldn't answer, his throat tightening. There were so many things wrong, confessions that needed to be made, a pain that had no end.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong, not anymore," he managed, his voice choked.

"Elijah," you said softly, concern flashing in your eyes.

He couldn't bear it any longer, couldn't hide the anguish that had been eating him alive, the pain of losing you. He kissed you, his lips capturing yours, the warmth of your mouth, the taste of you, filling him with a longing so powerful that it threatened to tear him apart.

"Come home," he whispered against your lips. "Come back to me."

Your eyes searched his, your brow furrowing, but he leaned in, kissing you again, his hands gripping your waist. You kissed him back, the desperation in his touch, the ache in his voice, sending a stab of worry through you.

"Oh my love. My sweet Eli. What have you done?" you asked, tears welling in your eyes.

He smiled softly, brushing the tears away, his gaze filled with an unspoken promise. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

"Do you feel this place?" You asked, gesturing around. "This peace, this warmth? We can stay here, forever."

Elijah's expression grew pained. "I'm not meant for peace, my love," he said softly.

Your hands slipped around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closing.

"Why do you think that? That you are undeserving," you whispered.

Elijah didn't speak, his gaze locked with yours, and you could see the pain, the anguish, the guilt.

"I've done terrible things," he whispered, his voice strained. "Things that I'm ashamed of, things that would make you think less of me,"

"No," you murmured, leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently, before bringing it up to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles.

"I'm not a good man, and I never will be. But you… you are the best part of me," he murmured. "The only light I've ever known."

Your eyes met his, filled with sorrow, and your heart ached for him. "I love you, Elijah. All of you. Even the parts you don't want me to see," you said softly.

His face contorted with grief, his throat tightening, and his voice cracked as he spoke. "How can you?"

You leaned in, your lips grazing his, before resting your forehead against his. "Are souls are one, from the moment we met. We've always been connected, and nothing will change that."

"I failed you," he said, his voice strained, his heart heavy with the weight of his guilt. "I couldn't even avenge your death."

You brushed the tears away from his face, kissing the corner of his mouth, before pulling back to meet his eyes. "You didn't fail me, Elijah. You never could."

He held you close, his hands trembling, his body shuddering with the intensity of his grief. "Please," he whispered, his voice choked. "Don't leave me again,"

His arms tightened around you, his breath catching in his throat, and he pressed his face into the curve of your neck, his shoulders shaking.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, stroking his hair. Your own eyes stung with tears, the knowledge of what was coming weighing on your heart, the sadness and regret threatening to swallow you whole.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, muffled against your skin. "More than anything."

"I love you too," you whispered.

He kissed you, his hands cradling your face, his mouth urgent and hungry. His fingers trailed over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone, the curve of your neck, as if committing it to memory, and your heart broke at the thought.

You smiled, a faint hint of sadness in your eyes. "You have to let me go Eli, I belong here."

He shook his head, his gaze sharp, determined. "No. No, you don't," he said. "And I won't lose you again. Not for anything."

"Elijah-"

"Don't argue," he interrupted, his voice firm.

Your smile faltered, the look in his eyes, the pain and longing, stirring a sense of unease inside you.

"You are not going to let me choose are you?" You asked softly.

He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "Not this time."

"Don't worry," he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening. "It will be okay,"

"No, it won't," you insisted, your voice shaking, tears stinging your eyes. "You don't understand."

"I understand that I can't live without you," he replied, his voice firm, his eyes dark.

You could see the resolve in his face, the determination in his gaze, and your heart sank. He lifted you up, his arms wrapping around you, and you clung to him, burying your face in his chest.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, not as he carried you out of the garden, the warmth of the sun fading, the light dimming, the air growing colder. You didn't want to see the shadows, the darkness, the pain that you knew awaited.

"Please, don't do this," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh," he soothed, his voice low, his arms tightening around you.

"Don't make me go back," you pleaded, the tears sliding down your cheeks, your voice breaking.

"Don't ask me to let you go," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"You have to," you insisted, the pain in your chest almost unbearable.

"No," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Fear, panic, and desperation rose, the memories swirling like a storm in your mind. Elijah’s hand pressed against your back, his touch steady, calming, though his own heart was pounding.

The wind howled, darkness pressed in, the cold seeped into your bones, and the air grew heavy with foreboding. Elijah’s arms tightened around you as your warmth began to fade, and his heart clenched, realizing he was losing you again.

Suddenly, from the mist, a voice echoed, slicing through the silence: "Cursed child."

The voice surrounded them, growing louder, the darkness thickening. Then a figure emerged from the fog. An indistinct, a shadowy form. Its tone was almost affectionate as it called out to him again, "there you are, my cursed child."

Elijah’s arms tightened around you as he faced the shadowy figure, his heart pounding wildly. He could feel your warmth slipping away, and he refused to let go.

“Do you think you could just steal from me?” the figure mocked, as though speaking to a child.

“She is mine,” Elijah’s voice was hoarse but unwavering, his gaze fierce as he held you protectively.

The figure tilted its head, a glimmer of amusement flickering in its hollow eyes. “Is she?” it whispered, almost tenderly.

Elijah felt a chill creep into his veins, the weight of its gaze bearing down on him like lead.

“What are you?” he demanded, his voice taut, trying to hold his resolve.

The figure stepped closer, its features emerging from the shadows. Possessing a woman’s face, ageless and haunting, with eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul. “I am the keeper of what you seek to steal back,” she said, her voice both gentle and unyielding.

Elijah’s grip tightened around you. “I’m not giving her to you.”

The figure’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “Then perhaps you would trade, Elijah Mikaelson?”

Elijah’s brows drew together, his heart stuttering as he understood. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, desperation lacing his words.

The figure’s eyes glimmered, savoring his question. “I want you.”

Elijah’s pulse quickened, dread pooling in his gut as he felt your heartbeat slow in his arms, your warmth fading. Time was running out.

“Why?” he whispered.

“I gave you to Time long ago, binding you to a restless eternity,” the figure murmured, almost nostalgic. “It was a good deal, for me and your family. You alone have ushered thousands of souls into my void."

Elijah stared at her, his mouth dry.

"And yet," the figure murmured, her eyes gleaming with a dark hunger, "I long for your old soul…all the suffering, the pain, the blood on your hands. So many lives claimed by your own choices." Her voice was like a song, beautiful and chilling.

Elijah swallowed hard. "What do you want me for?"

"To be my shepherd," the figure whispered. "You will guide my souls into the dark."

A chill swept through him as the meaning sank in. She was asking him to forfeit everything: his family, his redemption, his freedom. He looked down at you, feeling your heart’s weak, faltering beat and watching the faint rise and fall of your breath. Desperation surged through him. He could not. Would not. Lose you again.

"Will she live?" he asked, his voice a tremor of vulnerability.

The figure’s eyes glimmered. "Of course… a fair trade, don’t you think?”

Elijah closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead. After all that he had done. The countless unforgivable sins he had committed. He didn't do it all just to have you return to the living, he did it to have you. To be with you again. He was done trying to negotiate what he wanted, done pretending his intentions were anything other than selfish. He had no regrets, except perhaps the ones that were still to come.

The thought of leaving you, of leaving his family, it wasn't an option. He thought of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice softened when you spoke his name.

How could he let go of that?

"No," he said, his voice steady as steel, his grip tightening. "We are both leaving. Together. You'll have to kill me before I give her up."

The figure tilted its head, studying him, her expression almost curious. Then, her lips twisted into a sinister smile.

"I cannot stop you, Mr. Mikaelson."

In an instant, her form blurred, the air thickening with an oppressive weight. The ground trembled as a bitter, mocking laugh echoed around him, and the world twisted into darkness. Elijah felt an icy grip tighten around his heart, searing pain slicing through his chest. The shadows pressed in, colder, denser, the voices of the dead shrieking in his ears.

His entire body convulsed as the pain became unbearable, a scream tearing from his throat, reverberating through the void. He clutched you closer, his voice becoming a raw cry in the darkness, his vision fading.

Then, slowly, the agony ebbed, and he found himself on solid ground. He sat up, gasping, surrounded by the anxious faces of his siblings, but his eyes were fixed on you.

Your heart was beating, color had returned to your cheeks, and your eyes were beginning to flutter open. Rebekah knelt beside him, her voice a whisper filled with awe. “You did it.”

Elijah cradled you in his arms, a smile breaking through the tear-streaked relief on his face. "We did it."

He glanced up at his family, quiet joy spreading as they shared a look of silent victory. For a fleeting moment, peace settled over them.

But then, as he gazed down, you opened your eyes and looked up at him… Alive, yet with a distant, empty gaze.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft and confused. “What's happening?”

Elijah’s smile vanished, his world tipping into silence. Panic flashed across his face as he gripped your hands, clinging to the familiar warmth, willing recognition back into your gaze.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. "It’s Elijah."

You searched his face, puzzled, your brow furrowing. "I’m sorry," you said, softly shaking your head, "but I don’t know who you are."

The world stilled, his heartbeat slowing as a cold ache settled into his chest, something hollow and irreparable. It was a wound that would not heal, a love now held in silence.

Death is merciful. Death is simple. A quiet release into the vastness of time.

But for those who have loved across centuries, who have woven their souls through lifetimes, death becomes something else. It becomes a relentless keeper of memories, a silent warden of all they cherished and all they have sacrificed.

To let go would be a mercy, but for the ones who cannot. Who cling to love even as it decays. Time warps into something dark and unyielding. Every lost moment, every choice twisted by grief, binds them tighter to shadows of who they once were. And as they descend deeper into that darkness, the memories, both beautiful and bitter, become chains that will never release them.

The cost of refusing to let go is an eternity haunted, a soul consumed by the ghosts of everything that was, and everything that will never be again.

For death is kind. It is love that is cruel.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

XOXOXO Thank you for reading! & I'm only a little sorry.... Here is a sad song that inspired this whole fic (aka more pain)~

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