And in this chapter, I begin my journey in trying to explain why Elijah was introduced to us in TVD season two as Klaus' right-hand man rather than his brother. This is the hill I've chosen to die on.
i have fault lines in my bones
part six: home
New Orleans is a lot quieter than she had anticipated. It's almost as if the city had known that he desired to sneak inside of it and had obeyed his command. Curling her fingers gently over the rim of her open window, Elena quietly watches people dressed for partying and wrapped up in dark cloaks wander along the pavement of Bourbon Street. He remains quiet beside her as she gawks at the city, noticing the lanterns tied to a balcony of one building.
In the dark, the Abattoir looks like an overgrown carcass. The building is hardly a castle, let alone a home. She pulls her hands inside and winds up her window as he pulls into the drive, tucking his car inside of a large garage situated beneath the main building.
The garage reminds her of a warehouse with the metal floor and the long rectangular lights burning brightly. He parks his car beside an Aston Martin. It's practically a showroom of clean and shiny cars.
"My siblings enjoy luxury cars," Elijah says, killing the engine. She turns in her seat and looks out the back window to spy an SUV, a ute, and a yellow Beetle. "My sister enjoyed collecting them."
Elena twists in her seat, falling back into place against it. Unclipping her seatbelt, she follows him as he steps out of the car. The doors' slams echo around them as she stares out at all the cars parked neatly against the walls.
Elijah opens the trunk, pulling their bags out and lining them against the side of the car in a neat line. She's too busy taking in all the cars, wondering if she could pinpoint which ones might belong to him.
"Kol doesn't collect them?" Elena doesn't look at Elijah as she walks over towards the yellow Beetle. Keeping her hands behind her back, she admires it through its tinted windows.
"No," Elijah says, sounding amused. "He doesn't have the patience for collecting cars. He prefers to collect vinyl records and trading cards."
Glancing at him with a smile, she shakes her head. Brushing her hair behind both ears, she returns to him. "I can't believe your siblings are so…"
His brow arches in amusement. "Normal?"
She nods. "Yeah," she says with a light laugh. "I'm sorry—"
He shakes his head. "Why else would you think otherwise? It's only been a year since you've known about vampires, Elena. I wouldn't expect you to know the details of the Original Family."
She stares up at him in wonderment, fingers twisting in front of her. Letting her gaze drop, she reaches out to pinch the fabric at the shoulder of his dress shirt. His suit doesn't appear wrinkled even after her impulsive move.
"Come," he says quietly, head cocking to the side. She reaches down to pick up one of her duffle bags, pulling it over her shoulder. Elijah gently bats her hand away when she reaches for another and he picks it up as if it's merely a feather. She watches helplessly as he pulls the handle out of her bag and tilts it on its side.
Copying him, she opens the handle of two of his suitcases. "What?" Elena smiles up at him. "I can be a bellboy, too."
He smiles, shaking his head. Leading the way out of the garage, he's patient as they ascend a dozen stone steps leading to the ground floor of the Abattoir. Elena can't help but stare at it in wonderment, feeling as if she's Alice stepping into Wonderland. Peering up at the ceiling, she spies the railings and how the vines from the pot plants on the ground floor ascend pillars in a spiral and loop around the railings.
"This is your home." She feels a little foolish at her disbelief.
Spying Elijah watching her from her peripherals, she ignores how her skin flushes instantly. "Yes," he says. "One of them, anyway. I don't mind this one. It's lively."
She looks at him, smiling. "I never thought you'd be the type to want to be in New Orleans."
"It's the suit, isn't it? You enjoy making assumptions about me because of it."
Her brows furrowing playfully, Elena shakes her head. "Oh, no. It's the shoes." She looks down at his shiny black dress shoes. "They're way too shiny for a thousand-year-old party animal."
He lets out an amused breath. Picking up the handles of the bags once more, he cocks his head to the side, gesturing towards a bigger staircase leading up to the first floor. "Let me show you to your room. You'll enjoy it. It's the only one with a fireplace."
"I'm not staying with you?" Elena instantly flushes hot, ducking her gaze away when she thinks he's going to look back at her.
"Kol's room is the best in the house," he says. He only glances back at her when he begins to ascend the stairs. She waits stupidly at the bottom until he's on the sixth one before she tries to climb it. It's difficult to tug his luggage up the steps while she fights her duffle bag, but she refuses to leave any of it behind.
"It has the best view," he says, not sounding out of breath. Elena's heart races from exertion and the implication of his words. He doesn't want to share a room with her. In this big house, he wants as much distance from her as possible.
"And the best bed," he continues.
Somehow, he's at the top of the staircase. He settles her bags down and makes it as if he's going to descend the stairs to come fetch her. She shakes her head. "No, I got it." She smiles at him a little forcefully before twisting around and shoving at the duffle bag's strap as it slips down her arm.
Eventually—and miraculously—she finds herself on the top step. Huffing hard, she blows her long hair from out of her face successfully. Elijah peers down at her with a smile, chuckling softly. His fingers are gentle as he brushes her hair over her head, fingers soft as they slide down her cheeks.
Taking a left at the staircase, he leads her to Kol's bedroom while pointing out the various portraits aligning the walls. A blonde woman with full lips and a round face is his sister, Rebekah; Elena thinks she wears her braids well. Another portrait shows a handsome man who looks like a younger Elijah, but his thicker brows and cheeky smirk tell her he's not Elijah at all. Apparently, Kol had paid a handsome sum to have his portrait show his true personality rather than the stiff one of Elijah.
Her breath catches in her throat at a portrait of Klaus. Elijah comes to a stop in front of it, his gaze never leaving it. It depicts his brother in 1700s attire. His collar's pulled up and his face is stern, lips in an angry pout. "Niklaus was never fond of having his portrait taken," Elijah says. "He would never admit it, but he always felt as if he was being judged."
She licks her lips, mouth dry. "Why would he think anyone would judge him? He's…" Elena fidgets on the spot. "He's not unattractive."
Elijah looks at her, giving her a small smile. "You don't have to compliment my brother, Elena. I won't be offended if you call him ugly."
Elena gives him a small, grateful smile. "He's not ugly, Elijah. He's… ugly on the inside." Pressing her lips together, she lets out a hard breath through her nose. "But why would he think he'd be judged? He's one of the strongest and oldest supernatural creatures on the planet."
Elijah opens his mouth and bows his head. She gazes upon him as if his profile is the portrait, allowing her eyes to slide down the strong slope of his nose. "He had a difficult time growing up. Our father wasn't the kindest man. His treatment of Niklaus instilled in him this… insecurity and deeply frightening paranoia that everyone was against him." She watches his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. "The man captured in this portrait isn't how I remember my brother."
Letting go of the handle of one of his bags, she presses her hand gently against his elbow. He seems startled, gazing down at her hand as if he hadn't heard the air shift around them as she moved it through the air.
"We can go to my room," she says quietly. Wanting to give him an out, she squeezes his elbow, hoping that he'll understand that she's not offended nor brushing him off.
Nodding, he inhales deeply and collects himself with a roll of his shoulders. Collecting her bags once more, Elena wraps her fingers around the warm metal bar of his bag and follows him down the hallway.
.
.
.
Elijah insists on fetching the rest of their bags without her assistance, quietly imploring her to remain in Kol's room and settle in for the stairs' sake. While she knows the stairs had definitely won the battle and the war, she likes his twist on events.
With her door open and all of her luggage now sitting inside of her room, Elena only leaves her bags unzipped. She's too busy to unpack. She explores the chest of drawers and closet, finding suits and books and notes from Kol. She discovers that Elijah's younger brother is quite a good dresser. Caroline would love his style, from the ties he has to the shirts that have threads fraying he seemed to favour.
Elena keeps one of his journals by her bedside, intent on reading it later. Perhaps she should be mindful of the fact that Kol may have written secrets in there he hadn't wanted to be found, but a wooden panel in the floor creaks every time she steps on it. She thinks he has secrets hidden beneath the floor as well.
Elijah casts his shadow along her doorway within an hour. Crossing his arms and tucking his foot behind his other ankle, he looks like a handsome vision leaning against the doorway. Elena doesn't care that he's caught her rummaging through Kol's bedside table. Littering the floor is an assortment of items from pens, a Bible that isn't a Bible at all, twigs of dried rosemary and a necklace of the shiniest pearls she's ever seen.
"Enjoying your scavenging?"
Brushing her hair behind her ears, she looks up at him with a proud smile. "Your brother is both very confident in who he is and confusing at the same time."
He smiles in amusement, tilting his head to the side as he admires her. "Is that so?"
Biting her bottom lip, she nods. "Okay," she says, smiling. This is her invitation to ask more questions. Hovering her hands over her collection of items, she picks up the Bible and holds it up to face Elijah. "He's hidden within this Bible cover a book of… I don't know. It looks like spells."
He nods, unperturbed. "One of Kol's many grimoires."
Brow arching, she licks her lips and places the book back in place. Clearing her throat, she picks up the dried rosemary. "He's a gardener?"
Elijah smiles. "Kol wore that within his breast pocket at a remembrance ceremony of one of his dear friends." Elena's smile doesn't feel victorious at the mention of loss. He pulls his hand away from his chest to wave it dismissively. "It's all right. He had… brutally murdered his friend over a disagreement between the two."
She arches her brow and places the rosemary back on the floor. Better to leave that story untold for now. She holds up a dozen pens in both hands, eyeing Elijah pointedly. "Your brother doesn't have a preferred pen colour."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Kol was never satisfied with anything. That's the one thing you need to understand about him." He opens his mouth, looking to the side for a moment. He's withholding something from her, mulling it over in his head whether or not he should tell her. She sits up taller, legs crossing tighter in attention. "He once went and graffitied on every one of Klaus' paintings. Klaus had painted these very stunning landscapes of New Orleans after many weeks of feeling uninspired. So, Kol took it upon himself to improve them."
She laughs incredulously. Elena smiles, shaking her head. "I bet Klaus was happy about that."
He chuckles. "Oh, he was furious. I stopped him from daggering Kol for that." After a moment, his face falls. Elena wants to ask him why Kol's buried at sea with the rest of his family, but she has a feeling that it'll only result in the downward turn of his mouth to be more pronounced. He had something to do with it.
Placing the pens down with a gentle clatter, she gently picks up the pearl necklace between her fingers. "And this? A lost love?"
Elijah's face brightens a little at the sight of the necklace. "Actually… that necklace belongs to Rebekah. He had bought it for her. Niklaus soon daggered her over the pearl necklace and Kol hid it ever since."
Looking down at the pearls, she gently runs them along her fingers. "Your family has a funny way of being affectionate."
He sighs heavily. His footfalls are gentle as he enters her room. He lowers himself to sit down beside her, knees bent in front of him. Leaning his arms against his kneecaps, he looks down at her collection of small items. "My family is vindictive and jealous and spiteful. But they're my family."
"And you want them back, which is understandable." She wonders when he'll stop regarding her with a gentle look of surprise. It's easily readable on his face; she knows he's not trying to hide it from her. Looking away from him, Elena glides her fingers over the smooth surface of the pearls. "Do you really think Klaus will give them back to you after the sacrifice?"
"I'd hope so," he says. It's the first time she's heard him doubt himself. He had been so adamant that Klaus would give him his family. Elena wonders if Klaus is the type to make promises with his fingers hidden behind his back and crossed. "I would like to think that the brother I love, who had honour… that he still has that."
She looks up at him, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I hope for you that he does, too." Looking down at his hand on his knee, she reaches out to rest her hand gently on the back of his. Finally, he doesn't seem surprised.
Turning his hand over to kiss his palm to hers, he slides his fingers between hers, all the while looking at her. "Are you hungry? I went out and got some takeout again. It's too late to go out and dine anywhere."
Squeezing his hand, she smiles. "I'm starving after defeating those stairs."
Elijah smiles. With a cock of his head, he lets go of her hand and stands. He holds his hand out for her. "Come on, then."
.
.
.
As she lies in bed, she wonders if she should've asked him more personal questions. Should she have asked him more about Kol, considering she was tucked away in his room? Or should she have pressed about Klaus and all the paintings that are hung up around the Abattoir? He'd invited her to explore his home the next morning, apparently requiring a good night's rest to prepare himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions. Even though he'd said it good-naturedly, Elena knows what he said is true. She'd been tempted at dinner and she's tempted now to dig through her bags to find her diary to write down all the questions whirling in her mind.
Turning her head to the bedside to spy the clock, she's unsurprised to see that only a few minutes have passed since she last pressed her cheek to her pillow. Despite the drive and all the lies she's had to spin, Elena doesn't feel tired. She should, she knows. The last few days have been tiring and taxing. But instead of finding comfort in the plush and soft pillow beneath her head, she's wide awake, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
She wonders if Elijah's the same. Is he comfortable in his bed? Has he ever been comfortable in the bed he has here?
Counting back from fifty, she gets to thirty-nine before she roughly pulls the sheets up and over her legs. The floor's cold beneath her bare feet as she forgoes digging through Kol's closet for his large, fluffy robe and slips out her door.
She's memorised the path to Elijah's room. It's very simple: go straight, take the left at the end of the balcony hallway and it's the dark wooden door with red pigments in the wood. Standing before his closed door, she lets her hand hover for a moment over the knob. Maybe she really should let him be. He's been locked in a car with her for hours, slept in a motel bed with her without having any legroom of his own…
She turns the knob, opening it quietly. His room's dark save for the candles he's lit by his vanity across from his bed and the dull light of the lamp by his bedside. Lounging comfortably against the headboard in a rumpled white t-shirt and with a book open, he doesn't lift his gaze from the page. Instead, he turns it.
"I was wondering when you'd find yourself here."
Quietly closing the door, she lifts her shoulders up and brushes her fingers through her hair, trying to drape it behind her ears. Despite the obvious invitation, she feels sheepish at being so predictable.
Crossing her arms against her chest, she stands by the foot of his bed. Letting her gaze take in his room—it's neat, with his bookshelf immaculately organised by what appears to be by book height, a round metallic table by his balcony hosts a pile of neatly sorted papers, and his blazer's draped over the chair neatly—she sees him in everything. She lets her eyes linger on a painting of vibrant red and blue flowers perched a little higher than his mantel. "When did you think I'd be here?"
The sound of his movements draws her attention away from the brightly coloured painting. He looks at the black watch on his wrist. "At least fifteen minutes ago."
"Sorry to be so unpredictable," she says with a shy smile. It only grows as she spies his amused smile on his face.
Placing his book on the bedside table, he rests his hands on his lap. "Are you comfortable in your room, Elena?"
Licking her lips, she nods. "Yes," she says. Tucking her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, she looks around his room once more, uncaring if he notices. "It's a nice room. A bit cold."
"You should use the fireplace."
Scrunching up her face, she opens her mouth, leaves it hanging for a moment as she tries to fish for something impressive, and realises she has nothing. A little sheepishly, she admits, "I have no idea how to."
He smiles. "I'll show you."
"Maybe not right now," she says, fingering the waistband of her shorts. Luckily for her, he hasn't made a move to even slip out of bed. Placing his book on his bedside table, he crosses his arms against his chest. "I'm having trouble sleeping." As soon as she says it, her heart begins to pound. His gaze drops down to her chest before looking back up at her.
Taking his warm gaze as a silent invitation, she presses a knee against the edge of his bed, slowly followed by the other one. She stays there on her knees for a moment before she crawls on her hands and knees up towards him and to the space beside him.
He watches her, hands loosely wrapped against his chest. Sitting on her knees beside him, she likes the fact that her bare knees touch the warmth of his elbow. He doesn't flinch away and neither does she.
"I can go if you want to be left alone," she says quietly.
He shakes his head. "I don't want you to leave." Still, he doesn't reach out to touch her to ensure she remains in place. It's almost as if he trusts her to make the decision to remain. Watching his tongue dart out to sweep across his bottom lip, she curls her fingers into the hem of her shorts, nails dragging against the skin of her upper thighs. She doesn't pull them down despite wanting to.
"Are you okay being back here?"
Spying a surprised lift of his brow, she watches his lips part and he draws in a breath before he seems to find the words on his tongue. "I'm okay," he says, looking up at her. "I have to be here, Elena, even if I don't want to be."
She wonders if his discomfort is born from the lack of noise and life within the Abattoir. It's a slaughterhouse for more reasons than its mere history. She wonders how many times he's been in this home and heard Kol laughing down the hallway or Rebekah asking for someone to admire her with her pearls on. She wonders when the last time he'd been here actually was.
Despite wanting to ask, Elena bites on her bottom lip and picks up his bedsheets. "Maybe I can help you want to be here."
"Elena…"
He doesn't stop her as she moves to sit between his legs, sheets bunching at his calves. Elena keeps her gaze down, her heart racing in her warm chest. Tucking her fingers into the hem of her tank top, she pulls it up and over her head, dropping it to the side. Sweeping her hair over her bare shoulders, she lifts her gaze to his, enjoying the way his dark eyes watch her face before gliding down her neck and then to her breasts.
She tugs her fingers into the waistband of his loose black pants. "Up," she says, peering up at him. He hesitates for a moment before she gives the waistband a tug. It's hardly anything as ferocious as his strength, but it seems to do the trick, earning her a little upward curve to his mouth as he pulls his pants down his hips to sit against his thighs.
Bowing her head forward, she kisses his sternum. She presses her hands to his hipbones, sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his black briefs, and tugs on them as she descends down his torso to lick at his navel.
Elijah's breathing grows ragged and shallow quickly. She feels him slouch a little against his pillows, his skin warm beneath her mouth as she makes her way down to his hips. Kissing his skin, she moves her head to his crotch, mouthing the outline of his dick through his briefs.
He inhales sharply, his hands nestling into her hair roughly. Elena smiles, her heart racing as her nerves heat her body. She moans gently at his blunt fingernails scraping against her scalp, fingers tangling in her hair as she licks at his cock.
Pulling away from him for a moment, she tugs his briefs down when he lifts his hips up. Gently gripping his cock in her hand, she chances a glance up at him. Elijah peers down at her with a heavy, dark gaze, the pale skin beneath his eyes darkening slightly.
Licking her bottom lip, she ducks her head away from his unblinking stare. Pumping his cock a few times, she holds him at the base before she licks at the head. He pants, his fingers digging into her hair as silent encouragement. She's slow in taking his cock into her mouth, sucking on the head.
He slouches more against the bedsheets, pushing his cock a little further into her mouth. Waiting a moment, she grips his hips as tightly as she can, pretending that she's capable of physically overpowering him. She takes his cock a little deeper into her mouth, using her other hand to help her hold him.
Elijah's breathing is shallow and hard even to her human ears. It grows heavier as she begins to bob her head, sucking in her cheeks as she sucks on him hard. She curls one hand around his hipbone tightly, scratching at his skin, and uses the other to hold the base of his dick as she sucks him. His fingers are tight in her hair, pulling at her and pushing gently to have her take more of him into her mouth.
Elena breathes hard around him, moaning softly. She knows he can smell her growing wet as he grips her hair and tugs at her roughly. He murmurs something that she can't quite understand, his fingers both gentle and desperate in her hair as he drags his nails against her scalp.
He's hot and heavy in her mouth and his hips shift beneath her hand. She continues to suck on him, pulling almost off his cock so she can lick at his head before taking him a little further into her mouth.
"Elena—" He bucks his hips up, catching her a little off guard. Staying still for a moment, she picks up her pace again, this time trying to suck on him even harder. His fingers are sharp and heavy in her hair, tying it into knots as he tangles his fingers even deeper at the back of her head.
Elena moans loudly now, uncaring how she sounds. She wants him to feel her desire for him ring right through his body and smell it within his bed as she wishes she could finger herself while she sucks him off. But she wants him to feel the imprint of her fingers trying to keep his hips flush against the bed more than anything else.
Elijah pants hard, his fingers pushing against her scalp. She moans around him, sliding a little further down his cock. Her throat's not relaxed enough to take him any further, even if she wants to. Her heart races too wildly in her chest, too loudly that she can barely construe his moans from hers.
She lets out a little whimper when he roughly tugs her off his dick. His fingers are gentle in her hair as if a quiet apology. Licking her lips, she lifts her hand to wipe the wetness from her bottom lip.
Peering up at him, Elena stares at his black eyes and the sharp veins decorating the skin beneath them. While her heart jumps in fright, not having expected her mouth on his cock to bring his true face to the surface, she can feel the pulse in her neck and clit thump hard and loud. She's never seen this face before.
"I'm not afraid," she says quietly, shaking her head. She doesn't tear her gaze away from him. Pushing herself up onto her knees, she ignores the fact her bare chest is red and her panties are wet. She straddles his hips, sitting right on his hard and wet cock, and lifts her face to brush her fingers against his cheeks.
Delicately and gently, she sweeps her fingers beneath his eyes. Elijah's breathing is still laboured, but it sounds more shallow now. More afraid.
Elena licks her lips and keeps her gaze on the veins beneath his eyes. Letting one hand drop to his mouth, she presses her thumb against his lips, brushing it against his teeth to feel the tip of a fang.
Leaning forward, she gently kisses beneath one eye, then moves to the next. As he continues to stare at her, she presses her mouth against the skin beneath his eye again, feeling the rough and smooth texture of his veins.
He palms her back roughly, his warm hand sliding up her spine to grasp her hair tightly between his fingers. He pulls her head back, his chest heaving.
Elena keeps her hands cupping his face, pressing her thumbs firmly against his cheeks as she leans forward to slope her mouth roughly against his. Forcing her tongue between his lips, she licks his teeth, searching blindly for his fangs. Once she finds them, she bites at his lip hard, kissing him hungrily and sloppily.
His hand remains knotted in her hair as he presses his mouth hungrily against hers. She knows by the pressure of his mouth that he's going to leave her lips swollen and bruised. Elena finds she doesn't care.
Feeling his other hand palm her ass, she lifts her hips up when he slides his hand beneath the waistband of her shorts. Lifting on her knees as high as she can without dislodging her mouth from his, he tugs her shorts and panties down to her knees.
She gasps against his mouth when he slides a finger inside of her. She stills against him. He's rough as he presses his hand against her cunt, curling his finger inside of her. Pressing her forehead against his, she breathes as hard as he does as he slides another finger inside of her, scissoring them and curling them.
She pants hard, whining low in her throat. Pulling her head away from his, she curls her fingers tightly into his shoulders and presses her chest into his face. He nips at her skin, teeth sharply grazing the swell of her breast. Elena moans sharply, spreading her legs as best she can as he thrusts his fingers roughly in and out of her.
Elijah tugs the hand in her hair roughly, pulling her head back. Pressing her hips sharply down into his, she traps his hand between her legs and his hips, uncaring if it's an awkward angle for his wrist. She arches her chest into his face, his teeth teasing as he nips at her breast. Elena thinks to tell him to do it, to sink his teeth into her skin and taste her, but her throat feels raw and all she can manage is moans and pants as his fingers stretch and fuck her cunt.
Tangling her hands in his short hair, she tugs at the strands and drags her nails down his scalp. She comes sharply around his fingers buried inside of her cunt and his thumb against her clit, his hand pressing flat between her legs.
Hugging his head between her breasts, she curls around him, breathing hard as she presses her chin against the back of his head. Elijah holds her to him, his fingers still inside of her. She wants to pull away from being draped over him, but Elena finds herself completely boneless and sticky.
She nows her head to impulsively kiss the top of his head. "Did you—"
She feels him nod. Her belly and thighs feel sticky with his come. She squeezes the hair in her hands, letting her hands drop to the back of his shoulders. Dragging her nails up and down his warm skin beneath his shirt, she pulls herself away from him.
Elena pulls away from him so she can rest her head against his chest. Throwing her arm around his torso, she tucks her fingers behind his back. He remains perched and slouched against his pillows. His skin feels as hot and sweaty as hers does, the sheets tangled around his feet.
His fingers are gentle in the ends of her hair as he glides them down her back soothingly. His voice is quiet and rough when he says, "You should probably clean up."
Closing her eyes, Elena hums. "Later. I'm enjoying my nice warm bed."
notes.
Thanks so much to everyone who's left a review! I'm glad you're enjoying this story. c: