This fic has featured some pretty sketchy whippings for the sake of fantasy (do not do what Miranda does to Elena it should go without saying), but this is the first unambiguous bit of straight up child abuse. Discretion is advised.

For those who are invested in what counts for a plot here but don't want to read about a child being abused, the basic gist of this chapter is some pretty clear cut parentification and physical abuse of an eight-year-old Elijah, which certainly impacts his relationship with his siblings going forward.

The blood Esther had drained from the littler of rabbit kittens Finn had trapped was both a key ingredient in the spell she was developing and would make for a fine meal. She liked to think it efficient. With three boys and another on the way, efficiency was a must. It was a warm and sunny day and the songbirds were chirping a modified tune of her youth. It was turning out to be a good day.

Until Finn walked into the hut with little Niklaus on his hip. It should have been a wonderful sight. Finn had not warmed up much to his new siblings, his grief for Freya so deep.

"He almost drowned," Finn said as he handed the sobbing, terrified, soaking wet toddler to her.

Esther loved all of her children, but she could not deny that Niklaus was the one she loved the most. Dahlia's betrayal and all the darkness that came with it had darkened her life for nearly four years. The most difficult of it all was the change within Mikael. The proud warrior with a gentle streak had changed into a petty bully she should probably put down.

Ansel had saved her from the grief that was killing her. The child she created with him brought life back into her family. She'd even begun to see the man she loved in Mikael once more. She could sense her husband was slipping back into anger, but this time, she did not need to be unfaithful. Niklaus was enough.

She dried little Nik off with a flick of her hand and checked for head injuries. There were none. He cuddled against her breast and she held him until he calmed down. Finn stood and watched in that careful way of his. She knew not what to make of that habit of his.

"What happened?" Esther finally asked.

"I don't know," Finn said, "I was gathering the herbs you asked for," they were rare, blooming only once a decade, and would help her kill her sister, "when I heard him screaming for help."

Esther remembered Freya's screams as Dahlia stole her. She feared another another child stolen, more permanently. "Where is Elijah?"

"Waiting in the clearing where you thrash us," Finn said.

She was surprised. "Did you send him there?"

Finn shook his head. "Elijah was faster than me. He saved Niklaus and asked me to bring him to you. He was taking out his knife. Probably to cut a switch or two."

"I'm sorry," Nik said, drawing the attention of both Esther and Finn, "I forgotted that I wasn't supposed go close to the water."

She hefted him up just enough to gently swat his behind. He teared up instantly. She made her voice stern. "You will do well to remember that rule or else you shall be the one I take out to thrash." She couldn't bare to see how his lips trembled. She pulled him into a hug and when he finally fell asleep, she pressed a kiss on his blond hair. "I will never let you die."

"Watch over him," Esther told Finn, "I need to take care of your brother."

A switch or two was a massive understatement. Elijah had cut and stripped at least a dozen switches from one of the many trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing. They were laid out, one by one, on the ground. The sticks had been meticulously chosen and groomed, without a twig or leaf in sight. They were all about the same length and width.

Esther found herself wishing this was an elaborate joke. "Elijah," she said, carefully, "what are you doing?"

Elijah looked up from where he was kneeling. "You told me that if I ever took my eyes off of Niklaus again, you'd tie together a dozen switches and beat me with it." Esther remembered that night. Niklaus had been drawn to the cooking fire and nearly crawled straight into his death. In hindsight, Esther realized that Niklaus would have backed away from the flames as soon as one of his little fingers touched the fire, but in the moment she saw his precious life flashing before her eyes. Elijah was usually very attentive to his little brother, but had been absorbed in a new toy Mikael had made for him. She'd lashed out in fear and never got around to apologizing for such a cruel threat.

"I added six more," Elijah continued, "Niklaus almost died, after all."

He was the picture of calm reasonableness as he gathered the switches, one by one, in order to create an instrument more suitable to torture a man as opposed to disciplining a child.

Esther needed to pull herself together. So she did. "Drop those," she ordered. She pointed in front of her. "Come here, now." Elijah dropped the switches, dusted the dirt off his trousers, and walked over to his mother. "Tell me what happened."

"Niklaus was drawn to a flower," Elijah said, "I think it was a shade of purple he'd never seen before." He pulled out the dead flower from his pocket. It was, indeed, an unusual shade of purple to see in the wild. Elijah had both rescued his brother and captured a prize for him. The petals were in good shape considering they must have been in his pocket for at least an hour while Elijah searched the forest for suitable branches. "I neglected my duties in order to play with the sparrows."

He was almost certainly teaching them songs. He had a keen ear for music and Esther had run out of new songs to teach him a few years ago, so he'd begun to invent new tunes. It seemed that every week or two, Elijah's songbirds had a new song to sing. It was one of the highlights of her life. It was also one of the few pleasures Elijah allowed himself.

Her son was only eight and not yet tall enough to reach her elbows, and he only played with toys at Niklaus' urging. She'd watched that happen over the past two years and let it happen. No. She had enabled it and twisted her sweet Elijah's good nature in order to focus on saving Freya. He was a tool as often as he was her son. He watched over Niklaus and would undoubtedly watch his new brother. He made sure to remind Esther to eat, remembered to put the calming potion in Mikael's water, and stayed up with Finn when his nightmares kept him from sleeping. Esther was determined to kill Dahlia and save Freya, in that order, and spent every waking moment she could spare growing her magic and learning the darkest parts of her craft.

Nothing could change.

It was unlikely she could prevent things from becoming worse. But she could stall some of the growing infection tying her family together as it tore them apart. She smoothed down his dark hair and kissed his forehead. The shock in his eyes reminded her of how little she'd held him. This was not the mother she'd dreamed of becoming, but this was the person she needed to be.

"Don't stop teaching the song birds," she was taking away so much, but she vowed to let him keep his music. She set her hands on his shoulders. "I should never have threatened you with that type of birch," tension melted from his shoulders. His calm had been a façade. Of course it had. He was but a child. She longed to pardon him for everything. Doing that would doom his elder sister forever. "However, I shall be giving you a sharp reminder that protecting our family comes before everything by wearing out several of those switches on your bare skin. Hand me the switches and prepare yourself."

"Yes, Mother."

He made sure to dust off all eighteen switches as he gathered them in his hands. There were too many for them to hold in just one. As he bared himself for a beating, she walked over to the tree stump in the middle of the clearing and set the switches on it. She didn't plan to use all of them on him, but she also didn't plan to tell him how many she'd use. Fear was just as potent as pain in teaching a child.

She set one foot on the tree stump and helped Elijah bend over her knee. He was still small enough to fit comfortably over it. His legs and arms dangled in the air. She picked up one of the supple and narrow switches. She set a hand on his back to keep him firmly in place before rising the switch high.

The switch made a swooshing noise as it cut through the air. The thud it produced when it tore through baby soft skin was deceptively soft. The song of the switch was missing one last melody of its harmony. She drew the switch back higher, hit faster, and added more power to her twisting wrists until she heard the missing verse: Elijah's cries. She kept the tempo even as she smacked her son with bite of a switch.

The switch broke in two as she was making her way down his thighs for the third time. She tossed the stick aside and picked up another switch. Now that Elijah's resolve had broken and he was crying openly, she reduced the force of her swing. He had lines of red and pink running down to his knees. She was more focused on adding to the sting she was building by punishing him swiftly. She didn't give time for the pain to settle. She wanted it to feel and unending and ever building heat.

Elijah began to kick his legs wildly.

"Settle down," she demanded. She twisted her wrist and spanked him quite a bit harder to make sure he knew she was serious. "We still have a ways to go, my son."

"Nooo," he croaked as he rocked against her knee. His thighs were opening and closing as he swung his legs back and forth in response to the pain of his switching.

Esther paused. She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She tossed the switch she was using and carefully looked at the remaining switches. She picked one that was slightly shorter and thicker than average. Then she looked at the damage. His bottom and legs were covered in pink and red stripes, although there was too much unblemished white skin for her to even consider concluding the punishment.

She would take care of that in a moment. But if he was going to squirm and kick so much he bared his inner thighs, she was going to punish them too. She tucked his sex to his stomach with her knuckles and tapped the switch against his left inner thigh.

This part of the switching was much slower. She needed to be careful not to hit anything too delicate as she carefully netted line after line of fresh red cuts down his left inner thigh. She hated how pained his screams were, but she was going to teach her son to obey.

"Mommy," he only called her that during a particularly sound spanking. His tiny pained voice tugged at her heartstrings. But it was only the chorus of their song. "Mommy, Mommy, please." She took the switch to his right inner thigh and lined them with the same red stripes as his left. Whoosh, thud, long scream. Move a little lower, lift the switch, punish. Unpleasant for her, but necessary for him.

By the time she was done, his screams softened to whimpers. But he'd settled down and was lying limply over his mother's knee. It was because he was worn out. But obedience was obedience.

She picked up her final switch to get to the bridge of their song. She wanted every bit of his thighs and cheeks to be covered in a red hue. She made sure the switch cut deep into white and pink skin in order to achieve the red she was looking for. She was not especially fast about this part of the whipping, more concerned with making sure every inch of skin was amply disciplined. The whoosh and thuds she made with her switch lacked the pained responses of her son, but this time she did not mean to change that. This melody wasn't as commanding as before, but every song needed its ups and downs.

After she achieved the red hue she was aiming for, Esther dropped the switch to the dirt and prepared for the conclusion. She ran her hand down his hot and welted skin. It was exactly what she'd been aiming for, but it was not an enjoyable sensation in the least. "What have you learned, Elijah?"

"Family first," he said. He did not add always and forever. She closed her eyes as relief spread throughout her. She did not want that sacred vow tarnished any further. Her noble Elijah could redeem the the oath that she and her sister broke so many years ago.

Elijah's spanking still required a sound conclusion. She set her hand on his crease and peppered him with hot smacks, on both sides. She favored the left side by smacking it more often with extra force, but she did not completely neglect disciplining the right cheek. The loud cracks of paternal hand correcting childish flesh echoed throughout the forest. No doubt Finn knew his little brother was getting his bare bottom soundly toasted. It was unfair, she knew, that Elijah bore this burden alone. But Finn could not be what Elijah was. She punished her dependable son with smack after smack on his burning skin until she could see bruises forming under the welts.

She set him on his feet and dried his face with a soft piece of white cloth she always kept around. "It's over, Elijah."

"Forgive me, Mother," Elijah begged as she helped him get dressed. He winced as the fabric bruised against his abused skin. Her dutiful son knew he was not allowed to rub and didn't even try.

It was Esther who needed his forgiveness. It was what it was. She cupped his face with both her hands and kissed him gently. "Always, my son."