You Don't Know What I'd Do For You (Love you like oxygen)

thirty-three

*A/N* Hey, everyone! I know this chapter took forever, I was super busy with exams these past few weeks so I decided to take a bit of a break and right after that I got the flu so I have just NOT been a happy camper. Plus, I wanted to get it right rather than put out some hastily written, half-baked crap. If I'm going to take six weeks writing something, it's gotta be at least half decent. Also, sorry about posting the last chapter a second time, I had to fix some real bad plot holes because GOSH was I tired when I was writing that. I am very happy to say that I finished the short story that I was working on so I am back to writing this book full-time, this will speed up the writing process substantially so I hope that I can get back to weekly uploads again (although there are literally only THREE chapters left so maybe that isn't really a big priority right now). For this chapter, I have decided to finally do a Freya and Elijah pairing! They are literally my two favourite characters in the TVDU and, let's be honest, Elijah's a sucker for having someone else in charge and Freya deserves her big sister moment. The only trigger warning I can think of is that there is a brief scene with self-inflicted cutting and blood, it's for a spell, don't worry, but if you get grossed out or triggered by things like that I will put a warning before and after so that you skip it if you want to.

Freya POV

It was starting into the early hours of the morning, past the time that the house went silent, when I finally gave up the battle of tossing and turning in bed. The pull of my magic guided me out of my room and down the hall. It was a deep, aching tug that drove me to search for answers to the question I was too scared to ask. It was a bond that had never been broken, and yet it still bled, a grief that I had never experienced, and yet I still mourned. My magic knew Elijah, knew him more intimately than I ever could on my own, it knew him inside out, spirit and soul. It knew his kind heart, his beautiful brain, it recognized his own magic that had his same warm, gentle touch. It had known when he had been born, followed him as he grew up, was there for every time he laughed, and every time he cried. I suppose it only made sense that it had known when he had been gone, that I had felt the loss even if I didn't know the reason for it.

The pull was an invisible force, but it was strong and insistent all the same, a restless tether that hurried me along down the staircase and towards a back door of the compound. The air was crisp as I stepped outside, the dim light of the nearing sunrise illuminated the dew-covered grass, turning it into sage and silver. I made my way across the yard, following the dainty stone path that weaved through the extensive gardens until I came to a private, enclosed little corner. Rebekah had shown me this place when I had first asked questions about Elijah. She had said that, aside from being with us, it was his favourite spot in the world.

Tall rose shrubs surrounded the little space to hide it from view, there was a large, old tree that stood in the centre, branches filled with birds that sang in delight at the pending dawn, and off to the side was a simple, white bench. At the base of the tree though, was what turned that cozy, peaceful reading corner into something somber and lonely. It was a flat gravestone, the glazed, white marble bordered the reflective, hickory brown plaque that showed the silhouette pattern of the branches above and the pinky-purple clouds. The Mikaelson crest was stamped at the top, below was the epitaph written in delicate, golden cursive.

In Loving Memory of
Elijah Mikaelson

White moons may come
White moons may go
He sleeps where early blossoms blow
Knows nothing of the leafy June
That leans above him night and noon
Crowned now with sunbeam
Now with star
Watching his roses grow

Always and forever

Tears stung at my eyes as my heart gave a great heave and my magic ached all over again for someone that I had never lost. I wrapped my arms tightly around my ribs as the wind blew cold and bitter, rustling the leaves and flinging fallen rose petals up into the air and across the grass. They scattered around the gravestone, all beautiful different colours, spinning and floating through the air, their dew drops glittering gold as the sun's first rays glanced through the leaves. You could tell that the thick hedge of the shrubs had been cared for meticulously, shaped and pruned until they all fit just perfectly, something that would thrive long after their caretaker was gone.