Don't Fear The Reaper | Elijah Mikaelson

Blue Moon

Elijah, the impenetrable sentinel, stood in the doorway of the elegant parlor, his gaze fixed on Rebekah as she gracefully moved her fingers across the grand piano. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting a warm ambiance that complemented the haunting melody filling the air.

The rich notes of Beethoven's Sonata No. 14, resonated through the room, carrying with them a sense of melancholy and longing. It was a piece that Rebekah had always been particularly fond of, and her skilled hands brought it to life with a depth of emotion that captivated Elijah's heart.

He remembered how excited she was to teach him how to play the harpsichord, the new wonderful invention of the Italians in the 1500s.

She never got upset at how undignified and flustered he became after the unrythmic dissonance of noises he brought forth. A tragic assault on genteel society Niklaus and Kol took to calling it in the following days.

So he offered her the same graciousness when he returned to New Orleans after a lengthy business trip to Europe - a necessary fleeting reprieve from his half-brother - and introduced her to the piano.

He recalled the countless nights playing at his sister's request and listening to Rebekah's own pieces, her love for music evident in every delicate touch. She hardly needed his help, for she was a prodigy. But it felt rewarding to share in her achievements. To bask in an activity not soured with carnage.

He still scorned the reason he distanced himself from Marcellus. The fact that an individual can love more than one person at a time completely flabbergasted his brother. So Elijah and his ward needed to direct their misguided affection away from each other and towards a proper recipient, notably Niklaus himself.

Taking that into consideration, the noble brother was secretly pleased his time in the music parlor with Bekah was exclusive to the two of them. Klaus focused on the paiting brush and didn't offer a glib comment or anything of the sort when they were here.

Overwhelmed by his whirlwind of memories, he had only now realized Rebekah's eyes were closed, her expression serene yet imbued with a hint of sadness. Her fingers danced across the ivory keys, lost in the intricate rhythm of the composition. Elijah never ceased to marvel at her talent, her ability to convey such raw emotion through the power of song.

As the final notes of the Moonlight Sonata lingered in the air, Rebekah slowly opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Elijah's. A small, melancholic smile graced her lips, and Elijah felt a surge of love and protectiveness wash over him.

Other less platonic feelings crept up on him. It was a constant war with his darkest demons. A doomed crusade.

"Beautifully played, Rebekah," he finally spoke, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and tenderness.

Rebekah's smile vanished. The tranquility of the moment was lost. He felt like the wretched harbinger of death. To rob her of her light. Her joy. His presence drained the harmonious energy that just infused the sacred altar.

Strictly speaking, they've been avoiding each other for the past nine days. Orbiting the endless void but never actually colliding. Bound by gravity and mutual frustration and acrimony to suffer in solitary silence.

His unilateral decision to pull the plug on whatever burgeoning feelings that clouded their sibling bond was the root cause. A wise plan in his mind's eye that unfortunately - predictably - planted waves of resentment and contempt in both respective parties.

He truly despised the distance between them. Almost as much as he feared his powerlessness should he breach it. His near instantaneous acceptance of her immoral blasphemous proposition.