the second cut is the deepest
Synopsis: Not long after the Kol incident, Marcellus is in need of some help. Unfortunately the only person home is Elijah, who has been ignoring him for the past three months. Set in 1822.
He needed to find Klaus. His hand throbbed with every step he took, but he kept walking, looking around the rooms to see if he could find his guardian anywhere, or perhaps Rebekah. Either one would be able to help him.
"Klaus?" he called, when the sitting room turned up empty. Usually the man would be able to hear him easily.
"Marcellus," a familiar voice said behind him, and he tensed. It was Elijah.
The man entered the room, his eyes flickering to Marcellus' hand before settling on his face.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he said, hiding his wound from view with his other hand. "I was just wondering if Klaus was home."
"Niklaus and Rebekah went out into town," Elijah said, stepping closer. "They should be home in a few hours."
"I'll wait for them, then," Marcellus said quickly. "I didn't mean to bother you."
He tried to move past Elijah, to his room. If he used a towel he could probably stop the bleeding on his own anyway.
Before he could pass the man, however, a hand landed on his shoulder. He froze. In the past three months since Elijah had grown tired of him, the man hadn't touched him once. His touch now wasn't particularly rough or restricting, but it stopped him all the same, even though the hand was lifted almost immediately.
"You're bleeding," Elijah said, and Marcellus stomach sank. Of course Elijah, being a vampire, would have been able to smell the blood.
Elijah reached for his wrist, turning it over so that he could inspect the wound on the palm of Marcellus' hand.
Marcellus glanced down too, and immediately felt a new wave of dizziness pass over him. It looked even worse than before. His hand throbbed with pain, and the handkerchief he had tied around it to stop the bleeding was now completely soaked through.
"Quite a wound," Elijah commented.
Marcellus didn't look up. He didn't know what to say to the man.
Surprisingly gentle fingers pulled away the bloodied cloth, tilting his hand to the light. Blood dribbled from the deep cut, fortunately no longer gushing forth as it had done before. The sight still made Marcellus' stomach roil.
"Sit down," Elijah said suddenly, steering him towards one of the armchairs.
Marcellus would have protested, but his legs felt quite weak beneath him, and he feared that if he kept standing for much longer he might faint.
He pulled his eyes away from his wound, no longer able to stand the sight of it. Instead his eyes fell on Elijah, who was standing over him with a frown. Three months ago Marcellus might have thought the man concerned, but now he didn't know what to think. Perhaps the man was annoyed Marcellus was bleeding on the floor.
He let his head rest against the back of the chair, still feeling dizzy. He was surprised when Elijah knelt down before the chair and pulled out a clean handkerchief, which he started wrapping around Marcellus' hand. The pressure on his wound hurt, but it was better than seeing the blood, and slowed the bleeding.
"What happened?" Elijah asked as he tied off the ends into a knot with skilled fingers.
Marcellus stayed silent. It was embarrassing, and not at all something he wanted to have to explain to Elijah. Bad enough that he would have to come clean to Klaus later.
"Marcellus?" Elijah prompted when he made no attempt to answer. The man's fingers still rested at Marcellus' wrist, the touch strangely soothing in a way it shouldn't be.
"It was an accident," Marcellus finally mumbled. "I was trying to carve a figure from the wood but then my blade slipped."
"I was under the impression Niklaus had bid you not to attempt such a thing when he wasn't present as it was easy to hurt yourself," Elijah said.
And I was under the impression you didn't care, Marcellus almost said. Elijah was confusing, even more so now with the way his head was still spinning.
"I just wanted to try it once," he whispered, looking down. He searched in his pocket with his good hand, pulling out the piece of wood he'd been trying to carve. "It was going to be a gift."
"A gift for whom?"
Elijah's voice seemed strangely distorted, as if it were coming from far away.
"Klaus said it was his birthday soon," Marcellus mumbled, holding up the bloodied wooden knight. "I wanted to make something for him."
Elijah was silent for a long moment, and Marcellus closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Finally, Elijah sighed. Marcellus blinked up at the man as he rose to his feet.
"Stay here," he told Marcellus, giving him a stern look. "Don't move." Then he walked off.
For a brief moment Marcellus was tempted to disobey and go to his room to wait for Klaus. He had no desire to spent more time with Elijah than he had to. But even while sitting his legs felt weak, and the dizziness wasn't abating, so in the end he stayed where was, only putting the wooden knight back in his pocket.
Elijah returned quickly, holding a cup, which he pressed into Marcellus' hand.
"Drink up," he said, and feeling too tired to protest, Marcellus just tilted the cup to his mouth.
It was orange juice, sweet and cool, a luxury to which Marcellus was still not quite accustomed.
He forced himself to take only small sips, not wanting to upset his stomach and do something terribly embarrassing like throwing up on Elijah's shoes. The juice seemed to be exactly what he needed though, because as he sipped it his mind started feeling clearer, and some of the dizziness faded away.
When he'd finished the whole cup, he looked up to see Elijah observing him carefully.
"You look less pale," the man stated. He took the empty cup from Marcellus, and then to Marcellus' horror, bit into his own hand, letting a few drops fall into the cup.
"I will give you some of my blood," Elijah said, meeting his eyes. There was no way he missed Marcellus' horrified look. "The choice of whether to drink it or not is yours, but Niklaus will likely offer you the same later in any case."
"Why?" Marcellus whispers, licking his suddenly dry lips.
"Your wound is quite deep, if left untreated it will scar badly or may even become infected."
Marcellus was no stranger to scars, and while the risk of infection was worrying, that hadn't been exactly what he meant.
"But why are you—why are you being kind—I don't understand." Even to his own ears his voice sounded desperately confused.
Elijah stilled, his face going blank. After a moment he lifted his eyebrows. "Am I to leave my brother's ward fainting to the floor as he bleeds to death?" he asked, a bored tone to his voice. "I do not imagine Niklaus would take too kindly to that."
Marcellus cast his eyes down. Right. Of course the man didn't care about him. It had been foolish to think so, to imagine it might be true for even a moment. Elijah was only doing this for his brother's sake.
Recalling the other part of the man's words, Marcellus glanced at his hand with sudden worry. The bleeding was a lot less than it was before. He was in no risk of bleeding to death... right?
Still not meeting Elijah's eyes, he held out his good hand for the cup.
The last time he drank a vampire's blood, Kol had forced his bleeding wrist against his mouth and compelled him to swallow. Marcellus had dreamt of that evening a few times, of Kol's smile and his cold eyes as he looked at Marcellus like he was nothing but an insect to take apart.
Elijah just handed Marcellus the cup back, but made no move to urge him to drink. Oddly, the man's distant manner actually served to reassure him.
The blood tasted metallic in his mouth. It wasn't much, barely a mouthful, and some of the liquid had already started to congeal in the cup. He swallowed quickly, trying not to think too much on the matter. Instantly, the throbbing pain in his hand receded. His lethargy faded and instead he was buzzing with energy, feeling like he could practise his fencing all day and not be tired.
Seeing he was finished, Elijah took back the cup without a word.
"You shouldn't leave the house until the blood has passed from your system," Elijah told him. "Certainly a whole day, perhaps two to be safe."
Marcellus nodded, although the idea of being stuck inside wasn't very appealing.
"Now I know for a fact that my brother set you to revising your lessons for the afternoon before he left," Elijah said, and Marcellus winced. "Perhaps you ought to get back to what you were supposed to be doing."
Feeling like he'd once again been judged and found wanting, Marcellus got to his feet, ducking his head as he walked past Elijah. In the doorway, he paused, and looked back.
Elijah still stood where Marcellus had left him. He was holding the cup, and seemed to be staring at it pensively.
"Was there something else, Marcellus?" he asked suddenly, and Marcellus started as the man lifted his head and Elijah's sharp eyes immediately found him.
"No, I just—" he started, then tried again. "Will you tell Klaus about what happened?"
The other man's face was hard to read. "About giving you my blood? Yes, I will. Niklaus will need to be aware of the situation so the necessary precautions can be taken."
"And about the rest?" Marcellus asked.
Elijah's lips twitched, like he wanted to smile. "I will leave it up to you to explain why you neglected your studies."
That was... good? He let out a relieved breath.
If he was the one telling Klaus, perhaps he could find some way to make it sound better. He already read the first few acts of Othello so it wasn't like he completely forgot. He could probably even finish his reading before Klaus came home again, which should please the man.
"Alright," he said. Then, after a split second of hesitation, "Thank you."
Elijah looked at him for a long moment. "You're quite welcome, Marcellus," he said. "Now please do stop dallying."
Marcellus could recognise a dismissal when he heard one. He left without another word.
A/N: Any reviews would be very much appreciated!