Chapter 2

"Tatia Petrova," said Shiloh quietly when Elijah went silent, lost in his own thoughts. "You say her name with a sort of reverence, but you look unhappy, jaded."

Elijah hung his head and gave something reminiscent of a chuckle. "Tatia Petrova took everything from me. She took my family, my love, my devotion, and she cast it aside like it was a worthless piece of trash." He lifted his head, his impassive exterior returned.

Shiloh, slightly disconcerted by Elijah's willingness to be completely honest and bare his soul to a completely stranger, cleared her throat. "Why don't you tell me about her?"


Elijah stuck the end of his shovel into the dirt and rested his foot on the blade. He let out a long, appreciative whistle.

"Who is that?" he asked his friend, Trevor, who'd been working alongside him all day.

"Ah," chuckled Trevor, following Elijah's gaze. "That is Tatia Petrova. She moved here with her father from two villages over. Her mother and two younger brothers died and apparently Mr. Petrova couldn't stand being in the same house, let alone the same town where his family passed. I've heard many things about Tatia, Elijah, and none of them are good. Please stay away from her."

"Please," laughed Elijah, "I've got my priorities, Trevor. Family above all." Elijah trailed off as he watched the lithe, brown-haired maiden glide across the field toward her new home, her father hurrying behind her with their wagon. "What exactly have you heard?"

"My cousin lived in her village and there were rumors that she had a child out of wedlock. None of it's been proven, but everyone seems to know about it there. That's the story that gets brought up when the town in slow on gossip, and no one seems to ever tire of it. Part of me wonders if that isn't partly why they left." Trevor shook his head and resumed his work fertilizing the dirt around them.

Elijah joined him, but his thoughts were far from his work. They were still with the young woman entering the small cottage across the field. His mind replayed the scene just played out before him, watching the small billowing of her green dress as she walked, the hem hanging just inches from the ground. She carried herself with dignity and showed just the perfect amount of skin – not enough to be considered a strumpet, but just enough that certain parts of her body weren't left to the imagination.


"Later that evening," said Elijah after Shiloh finished changing out the tape in the recorder, "I cleaned myself up, putting extra effort into my grooming so I looked presentable for a young woman such as Tatia. My mother gave me a loaf of bread and told me to go to the Petrovas' home and introduce myself. At the time, I thought she just wanted to make a good impression, not wanting to appear to be the lowly, poor widow she was, but now I feel certain she wanted to marry me off. It was no secret that the Petrovas had money and were far more wealthy than anyone in my town, and I believe the temptation must have been too great for my mother to ignore. She checked and double-checked my clothes and my hair, fussing over me like she had when I was a child.

"With her wishes of good luck and pride in me, I walked the short distance to Tatia's home and knocked on her door. She answered and gave me a small smile, looking me up and down from head to toe. For a short instant, I felt as if I were being critiqued, being stored in some sort of internal file inside her mind for later use, but her quizzical look disappeared before I could truly process it. She gestured for me to come inside. Their home was modest for the amount of money they had, but it was better than anything I could have hoped for my family."


"My name is Elijah Mikaelson. I live just down the road," he said, handing Tatia the loaf of bread his mother had so carefully wrapped.

Tatia took the bread and left the room, setting the loaf of bread on the kitchen table as she went. Elijah heard her soft voice from the other room.

"Father, we have a visitor," she said, returning to the room where she'd left Elijah. "Father, this is Elijah Mikaelson, Elijah, this is my father Petrus."

Elijah offered his hand and Petrus took it, his hold on it firm and not altogether comforting.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Mikaelson. You're the first to wish us welcome," Petrus said simply, giving Elijah a warm smile. Something about the smile disconcerted Elijah slightly, and he realized what it was. It didn't travel to his eyes. They were such a dark brown that they looked almost black, and they contained no light. Elijah thought this a product of having his children and wife die, so he couldn't blame the man. He seemed to mean well at the very least.

"It's not often we see new faces around here, Mr. Petrova, so it's my pleasure to welcome you to town. You and your enchanting daughter," added Elijah, shooting a glance toward Tatia. She smiled at him, and Elijah was pleased to see that her eyes were aglow with happiness and excitement. Elijah cleared his throat. "I was wondering, Mr. Petrova, if you'd be so kind as to allow me to show Tatia the town tonight."

Petrus looked from Tatia to Elijah and back, and Elijah could almost hear him weighing the options in his head. Let his daughter go off with a near stranger or keep her cooped up at home? He sighed and conceded. "Back no later than dark, Mr. Mikaelson. Keep her safe – she's all I have left."

Elijah nodded and gave Petrus a small bow. "I shall guard her with my life, sir." He held out his arm for Tatia and she entwined hers through it. She shot her father a quick glance over her shoulder as Elijah escorted her out of the house, sending him a silent 'thank-you'.

Elijah led Tatia down the street, the sun glowing like a bright, orange ball just above the horizon. He took her to his favorite spot. It was just far enough away from the road that he couldn't hear the hustle and bustle of the town, but close enough that he could watch from up on the hill and see all the townspeople going about their business. He leaned up against the large willow tree that had been there for as long as he could remember as Tatia stood in the middle of the hill's summit, watching the sun slowly descend.

"How long have you lived here, Elijah?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft and sweet.

"I've been here my whole life. I've never known anything different, but I love it here. What's your old village like?"

Tatia turned and smiled at him, the sunset's light streaming through her hair and silhouetting her against it. Elijah was rendered speechless by her beauty as her dress fluttered around her ankles in the cool spring breeze.

"It's quite like yours, actually. Just different people. Quite cruel people." She said nothing further as she turned back to watch the sunset. Elijah found himself unable to hold back the urge to touch her, so he left his post by the tree and came to stand behind her, keeping just enough distance between them that he wasn't touching her, but he knew she could feel his breath on her neck. She leaned back surreptitiously, and Elijah's arms enclosed around her.

"The sunset is beautiful from here," she murmured.

"I see no sunset," said Elijah, equally as quiet. "I have eyes only for you."