Born of Chaos ☽ E. Mikaelson¹

eleven ☽ brush strokes

Elijah Mikaelson believed in love. As an immortal being, he appreciated it and its particularly fleeting nature. However, in all his centuries, he'd come to learn that love, the kind that sonnets were written about, that poets tried and failed to encompass in words, was exceedingly rare for him. Elijah had cared for many individuals, but the times that he had felt real love could be counted on one hand. 

And those times that he had been in love felt less true now, because of Cora. In the three years that they had more or less been together, the initial infatuation stage had long since faded and yet, it was her that lingered in his thoughts regardless of what he was doing. When Cora first started entering his thoughts, Elijah had found it distracting, jarring even. Then he'd come to welcome it, particularly when his days were consumed with violence and messes that were not his. 

Even now, as he and Rebekah protected the werewolves in the bayou, his thoughts would drift to her and what they had shared before he had asked Cora to come to New Orleans.

When it was just them and Elijah could step outside his terribly complicated life to be with her. Now, in just a short period of time, whatever they had built together seemed all the more fragile.

He couldn't remember putting his hands on her when they were in the bayou, but Elijah had remembered coming to, with her hand in his chest, digging for the wooden bullet that she'd shot him with. Cora had been short with him, angry, but beneath that anger, Elijah could sense her fear, her terror. He'd never known her to direct those feelings towards him. 

"It's okay. I'm not afraid of you."

Those were the words she'd spoken on the first night they'd spent together. When Elijah had lost his control over his urges for a moment, she'd seen his face turn vampiric. The way she looked at him didn't change.

The way she looked at him in the bayou made him feel like there was a hand squeezing his heart. Metaphorically, of course, not connected to the physical sensation of Cora digging a wooden bullet out of his chest. 

Elijah had left Cora a brief message after Klaus had so graciously allowed them to move back into their old family home. In return, she'd sent him a text, letting him know that she was at the docks. Elijah took that message to mean she wouldn't mind if he showed up.

Cora was standing at the end of the docks, breathing in the fresh air as she stared out at the Mississippi River, seemingly deep in thought.

"As bodies of water go, the Mississippi River doesn't quite make my top five," Elijah remarked as he came to stand next to her. Cora looked at him, a gentle breeze playing with the strands of hair that framed her face. 

"I like its energy," Cora decided before her gaze shifted back to scan the water. "So, Klaus has decided to forgive you and Rebekah?"

"The joys of fatherhood must be getting to him already."

Cora laughed and Elijah couldn't help but think he'd never heard a sweeter sound. There hadn't been very much cause for her to laugh in recent history, considering well...everything that had happened since coming to New Orleans.

"How was your day?" Elijah asked, appreciating the sight of her. He'd learned that he could stare at her for hours, committing every curve and edge to memory, but his favourite part was her eyes. How they were the clearest blue until you got a better look and then they were rimmed with purple, sparkling with the magic that she held so dear.

"Found a ritual. Gonna have to rework it, but I think I'll be able to restore my magic."

"Need help?"

"You're not exactly an experienced witch, Elijah," Cora pointed out, meeting his eyes.

"Perhaps not, but I do have a thousand years of experience with witches. Not to mention I was born a witch."