You woke up to a flood of texts, calls, and voicemails. Most were from your cousin, but a few came from Marcel. Tossing your phone on the other side of the couch, you rubbed your temple. You hadn't even made it to your bed last night. Your puff was matted and misshapen.
You rubbed your eyes and stood up. A pounding headache and nausea made you keel over and do a mad dash to your trash can. You yakked up your dinner. After you brushed your teeth, you seized up.
The presence of an Original. Bounding from your bathroom to your front door, you flung it open. You don't know why you expected Klaus. You had burned that bridge, indefinitely.
Elijah stood at your door offering a handkerchief. You cocked your head to the side and clicked your tongue.
"Whatever you want, I'm not interested." You spat out.
Thinking back to the night before, you crossed your arms. The reality that Klaus had kissed you, and that he did it to handicap you was too much. Now his brother was at your door too.
"Y/N, would you please invite me in?" Elijah asked. His critical gaze had something else behind it, true concern.
You knew it wasn't for you. Originals were only truly worried about other Originals. Klaus.
"I imagine Niklaus has upset you. I do apologize on his behalf, he has a, uh, talent for such things." He said.
Elijah still had his hand out, still offering the handkerchief. You stepped closer, and took it. You wiped your mouth with it and set it on the counter.
"Come in."
You surprised yourself. The thought of an Original having permanent access to your home made your stomach turn, but this time it was unavoidable. Elijah stepped through the threshold and unfastened his suit jacket as he sat down at the table.
You watched him, cautiously. Elijah wasn't Klaus. You knew better than to make assumptions about him, certain concessions simply would not be granted.
"I beg you to consider forgiveness. I fear Niklaus requires it." He replied. Elijah ran a hand across his bottom lip.
"He did what he wanted and now he's dealing with the consequences." You were firm.
Elijah scoffed and leaned back in the chair. You didn't back down. You couldn't. You sucked in a breath.
"Esther has him," He ran a finger along the table, his daylight ring more prominent than before, "Aided by our brothers Kol and Finn, my mother has stood against Niklaus."
Elijah began tapping his fingers. He pulled the corners of his mouth back with thinly veiled contempt. Esther was the original witch. You had learned your history and now it was sitting in your living room.
Esther was the woman who hid Klaus's true identity, and when it was revealed, bound it from him for a thousand years. The man he had become––the creature that could kiss you one second and shackle you the next was partly her doing.
"She will ruin him. Again. She'll ruin him again." Elijah hissed.
On the surface, he appeared perfectly composed. Elijah was the pristine elder brother—the eldest due to Finn's absence—constantly working for his siblings' happiness. Klaus too, had his own persona to hold onto as well.
But the truth underneath remained: Where Elijah was cool determination, Klaus was wilder, freer.
"Pass me that grimoire. I'll see what I can do."
After a millennia of separation, you knew Elijah was right. Klaus was not going to recover the little bits of him he had left. He had a daughter out in the world who needed him.
