The noble stag's facade is shattered. And the demon behind the Red Door is free.
Taking his brother's life should've been Elijah's worst sin. It's clear that redemption is an illusion. All that remains is surviving the supernatural hordes that wish...
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Rebekah Mikaelson stirred from her sleep, the softness of her bed called for her to continue lazing about. But her senses immediately tingling as the scent of cooking wafted through the air.
Confusion washed over her as she noticed that her dirty clothes had been replaced, leaving her dressed in fresh garments. Puzzled by these unexpected changes, she quickly realized that something unusual had occurred during her slumber.
With a mix of curiosity and caution, Rebekah rose from her bed and made her way towards the source of the enticing aroma.
As she approached the kitchen, she discovered Elijah, her steadfast brother, diligently preparing a meal. His face, as always, bore an air of composure. She could detect no hint of concern in his eyes. But surely this was the occasion for it. Wearing his iron mask on this day is downright cruel.
"Elijah," Rebekah called out, her voice laced with curiosity. "What happened while I was asleep? My clothes have been changed, and I can't help but notice that the bodies in the courtyard have vanished."
Elijah turned to face his sister, his gaze meeting hers. He sighed softly before responding, his voice not tinged with any worry. "Forgive me, but I took it up myself to carry you to your room and dispose of those unflattering rags. The deceased vampires have also been cremated, for the sake of urgency and discretion. Except for Marcel. He's in a coffin downstairs should you like to say your goodbyes."
The only indication of her brother being remotely upset was the shift of tone when mentioning Marcel's name. Out of grief for the child he helped raise. Or anger at the man he became colluding with her to summon the Destroyer. To force his hands into killing their brother.
She's afraid of even contemplating theses thoughts, let alone sharing them.
"I've prepared breakfast for us. Your favorite. Eggs Benedict. I know how you look down on fresh juice. So I've also brought champagne. Come."
Elijah carried the plates and moved to the table without preamble.
Rebekah's brows furrowed in concern, her mind racing with possibilities. She had grown accustomed to a life fraught with danger and unpredictability, so taking comfort in life's little pleasures - who is she fooling. It's more akin to the most lavish luxuries and incessant indulgences that the world has to offer, giver her family's ridiculous wealth and influence but last night's particular events weren't common occurrences.
And her brother skipping past them and sweeping the entire thing under a metaphorical rug is bloody maddening. She knows it will do more harm than good in the long run.
The trick is how to even address that can of worms without painting herself as the main root of the problem.
She allows herself a moment of weakness. Surely she's earned it.
"Have you spoken to Hayley yet?" Rebekah inquired, her voice laced with a mix of apprehension and a small glimpse of jealousy. She liked the crescent werewolf. More than liked actually. But a part of her always looked with envy the closer her due date approached.
