Elijah pushed open the heavy, weathered doors of the dimly lit bar in Algiers. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by a scene of chaos and carnage. The air was thick with the acrid stench of blood and alcohol, and a palpable sense of dread hung in the air.
Bodies littered the floor, scattered like discarded toys in the aftermath of a violent storm. Broken furniture and shattered glass bore witness to the frenzied struggle that had taken place mere hours before. The once lively establishment now stood as a haunting testament to the brutality that had unfolded within its walls.
Elijah's gaze swept across the grim tableau before him, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and determination. The lifeless forms of humans and vampires alike lay strewn across the floor, their vacant eyes reflecting the horrors they had witnessed in their final moments. The sound of silence enveloped the room, broken only by the faint creaking of the swaying ceiling fan.
Among the chaos, traces of Kol's presence lingered. Empty bottles and shattered glasses bore testament to his revelry, a reminder of the reckless abandon that often characterized his existence.
Elijah's brow furrowed as he surveyed the scene, piecing together the fragments of what had transpired.
Some time after 11 o'clock on the night of the party, his brother disappeared. He's normally more perceptive of the ongoings in his vicinity, up until the most minute details.
But he was distracted.
Now it's been over a week since he's been spotted and a treacherous part of Elijah can't help but wonder if some nefarious plot is being hatched.
He loathes his immediate spiral into paranoia. Odin knows the vampire counseled Niklaus to have a bit more faith in his siblings too often.
On the other hand perhaps his half-brother was right to fear betrayal from those closest to him. Only an Original can kill an Original. Only family can lower your defenses enough to try.
And that ridiculous warning by Francesca birthed a seed of madness in his subconscious. He was wrong to consider her a fool he recognizes. Granted, he's not the perfect embodiment of mental health, so it's entirely possible he was leaping to find evidence of foul play.
As he cautiously navigated the blood-soaked floor, Elijah's keen eyes detected subtle signs of a struggle. Broken limbs, torn clothing, and splatters of blood painted a macabre picture of the violence that had unfolded. It was obvious that this was not a mere bar fight or random act of violence but a deliberate and calculated display of power.
A nauseating demonstration to satisfy one's own insecurities. Instill general fear to hide the truth; that you're impossibly terrified.
Elijah's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath his composed facade.
Why was it so difficult for his siblings to learn even the most unambiguous of concepts? Gruesome savagery begets brutal resistance. Senseless violence and decadence topples empires. After centuries on this earth, surely that has been made abundantly clear.
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Don't Fear The Reaper | Elijah Mikaelson
FanfictionThe 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...