Mystic falls 991 (Age six)
Danhy sat beside his father by the roaring fire, as his fingers traced the smooth surface of his mother's wedding band. "Papa?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving the bright flames.
"Hmm," Elijah mumbled.
"Will we be alright now that mama is…" he trailed off, he couldn't bring himself to say it, to say that she was gone and she will never come back to them. Elijah did not hesitate to wrap his arms around Danhy shoulders and draw his son in close to his chest. "Of course we'll be alright," even to his own ears he sounded unsure of himself, but how can you be sure of anything when the love of your life and the mother of your child dies in your arms? He does not know who hurt her, who took her life from this earth and it pains Elijah to think that he will never be able to deliver justice upon those who killed the most beautiful and kindhearted woman this earth has ever seen. Danhy did not know the circumstances of her death, all he knew was what Elijah had told him and that was that Astrid was sick and she had collapsed and fallen into an everlasting sleep, he said she did not suffer, that it was peaceful, he wanted to be sick telling such blatant lies.
Esther had whisked Danhy away in the morning to further practice his magic, and because of that he had not been present when Elijah had left to go hunting with one of the other village boys only for him to stumble upon Astrid bleeding to death on the forest floor with a dagger lodged in her stomach, she was not meant to be anywhere near the forest, she had left that morning to go fetch some clean drinking water. Her last words to him had been 'I love you,' but she did not live long enough to hear Elijah say it back.
He placed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead, swallowing harshly against the lump in his throat, he tried desperately to blink away the tears pooling in his eyes but to no avail. "Promise?" Danhy whispered brokenly, he didn't have the strength to hold back his own tears, instead allowing them to roll down his pale face. "I promise," Elijah whispered into Danhy's messy dark, brown hair. They sat in silence, crying in for what could have been hours but they were unsure of the passing of time, but as Danhy wiped away the last remaining tears from his eyes he noticed the remaining embers of the fire go out, plunging their hut into utter darkness. "We need to get you to bed," Elijah whispered into the darkness,
"Can I sleep with you, papa?" Danhy pleaded gently,
"of course." He picked his son up, placing him on his hip as he cradled Danhy close to his chest. If Mikael could see them now, he would scream and yell and have an absolute fit at the childish way he was treating his son, he believed in distancing himself from his children and allowing the woman to take lead but Elijah could not do that, he wanted to be there and to cherish every moment with his son. He placed another gentle kiss to his son's forehead, a gesture he finds himself doing all too much today.
He laid them down upon their bed of hay and pulled the sheepskin blanket over his son who was still desperately clinging to his chest. Elijah rolled onto his side and shuffled around until he found a comfortable position for the both of them the lay in. Danhy was asleep within seconds, breathing heavily against Elijah's neck.
The morning brought with it the blistering winds of the impending winter, and the awkward, sympathetic stares of their neighbors. In an attempt to escape their looks Danhy offered to fetch water from the lake but as he struggled to carry the wooden bucket of water back down the path towards their hut, he wished he had sucked up his bride and stayed to sweep their hut instead. Water sloshed over the sides of the bucket, soaking the frayed edges of Danhy's pants and seeping into the holes of his thin, leather boots. He groaned feeling the cold water slosh between his toes. "Give me that!" a gruff voice gritted out, the bucket was snatched from his grip by large, rough hands. His eyes looked up into the cold, harsh depths of Mikael's own eyes, "keep up, boy," Mikael spat. He charged forward with long purposeful strides, leaving Danhy with no choice but to run to catch up with his grandfather. He tried to match his strides but his legs were not long enough to stay perfectly in-tuned with him. Danhy reached a shaky hand towards Mikael, linking his fingers through the loop on the side of his pants reserved for his hunting knife. It was a gesture which would have gotten the rest of his family a beating but only rewarded him with a blistering glare. They walked in silence the entire way to the hut, the only sound being that of their neighbors and the obnoxious squeak of their boots against the muddied ground.
Elijah was startled when he saw his father come storming towards his hut with his son in tow. He stopped sweeping the path and leant the broom against the side of the hut. "Mikael," he greeted as the older man came closer.
"Boy," he spat. He shoved the bucket into Elijah's arms, sending water over the side onto Elijah's tunic. Mikael glanced down at Danhy who still stood by his side with his fingers still tangled in his knife holster, "Let go," he said. To anyone else it would have seemed rude and his words full of hatred but to those who knew him they knew Mikael said it softer and filled with more love than he has used with anyone else, even though on the outside he was seething with rage. Danhy lets go of his grandfather and smiled up at him,"Thank you, grandpa." The elder Mikaelson ruffled his hair, a gesture that wasn't lost on either boy. Before any further words could be spoken between them he turned and stormed back down the path.
Elijah set the bucket down when his father was out of eyeshot and crouched down in front of his son, placing his hands firmly on Danhy's shoulders, "Are you alright?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes," Danhy replied, "grandpa just helped me carry the bucket, I'm fine," his eyes wandered over to the broom that was still leaving on the side of the hut, "may I finish sweeping the house?" he asked. Elijah had already finished he had made quick work of it while Danhy was gone, but he couldn't bring himself to say no to his son, not today, so he nodded and handed Danhy the broom. He watched with sad eyes as he struggled to hold the wooden handle and sweep. Elijah could not stop his eyes from tearing up at the sight Danhy looked so much like his mother in that moment.