Vampire Diaries Imagines

Fallen Petals - Elijah Mikaelson

The quiet of the bayou was deceiving, as it always was. Beneath the stillness of the water and the rustle of the cypress trees was an edge, a tension Y/N had come to recognize. It was the kind of quiet that pressed down on your chest, heavy and unrelenting. She sat on the weathered porch of Elijah Mikaelson's modest cabin, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea he had brewed before he left. The faint scent of chamomile lingered in the air, but it wasn't enough to soothe her.

The tension in her shoulders refused to ease, no matter how many deep breaths she took.

He returned just as the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the bayou. His silhouette cut through the fading light with a sharpness that could only belong to him. Elijah stepped onto the porch with his usual grace, his suit immaculate despite his hours away.

"You've barely touched your tea," he noted, his voice calm but pointed. His dark eyes studied her carefully as he set down a small basket of wild herbs he'd collected.

Y/N forced a smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Not much of an appetite for it at the moment."

Elijah frowned, stepping closer. "Y/N, you cannot let this get to you."

She let out a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around the mug. "Let it get to me? Elijah, they tried to kill me." Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for it. "Right here. In this quiet little sanctuary you promised was safe."

Elijah's jaw clenched, his expression pained. "I know."

"Do you?" she shot back, her words sharper than she intended. "Because you weren't here. I fought them off alone. And now-" Her voice wavered, the weight of her fear and anger pressing down on her. "Now, I can't even sit here without wondering if someone's watching. Waiting."

Elijah knelt in front of her, his dark eyes meeting hers. "You are alive, Y/N. Because of your strength, your courage. I failed you, yes. But you did not fail yourself."

Her throat tightened at the tenderness in his tone. She hated how easily he could cut through her defenses, how his words could undo her resolve.

"I don't want to be strong all the time," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired, Elijah."

He reached out, his hands gentle as they settled over hers. "I know," he said softly. "And it is in those moments of weariness that you must lean on those who care for you. You are not alone, no matter how much it may feel that way."

Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away quickly. "I'm scared, Elijah."

He nodded, his expression solemn. "As am I. But fear is not weakness, Y/N. It is proof that you still fight, that you still care. And it is a fight we will win together."

She looked at him, the man who always seemed so untouchable, so unshakable. Yet there was a crack in his armor now, a vulnerability she rarely saw. It comforted her in a way she couldn't explain, knowing he wasn't as infallible as he appeared.

"Promise me something," she said, her voice steadying. "Promise me you won't leave me alone like that again."

He exhaled slowly, as if the weight of her request settled over him. "You have my word."

For the first time that day, the tightness in her chest began to ease. Elijah's presence was steady and unyielding, a constant in a world that seemed determined to tear her apart. And for now, that was enough.

Elijah stood and glanced at the untouched tea still sitting on the porch railing. He picked up the mug, inspecting it with exaggerated scrutiny. "A travesty," he declared, shaking his head as though deeply offended. "I spent a full five minutes perfecting this brew, only for it to be neglected."

Y/N let out a small, reluctant laugh, wiping the corner of her eye. "I didn't realize you were such a tea connoisseur."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a subtle smile. "One could argue that I am the connoisseur of many things, but tea, Y/N? That is an art. One I take very seriously."

"Is that so?" she teased, the tension in her voice easing. "Do you plan on redeeming yourself, or should I expect more subpar attempts?"

Elijah pressed a hand to his chest, mock wounded. "Subpar? You wound me. Very well, I shall rise to the occasion." He turned, stepping back into the cabin.

Y/N followed, watching as he moved around the small kitchen with surprising familiarity and ease. He selected herbs from the basket he'd brought, carefully measuring and mixing them into a pot of water he set to boil. She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

"I've never seen you so domestic," she commented. "It's kind of unsettling."

"Careful," he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "You may begin to expect this level of care, and I would hate to disappoint."

As the tea steeped, he turned to her, his expression softening. "While we wait, allow me to suggest a remedy for your dour mood."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

Elijah gestured to the bookshelf by the fireplace, a modest collection of leather-bound tomes and well-worn paperbacks. "A Mikaelson tradition: distraction through literature. Choose one."

She hesitated, glancing at the bookshelf. "You think a book's going to fix this?"

"I think," he said, his voice steady, "that immersing yourself in another world, even briefly, can help you reclaim a sense of peace."

Y/N walked over, running her fingers along the spines of the books. "Any recommendations?"

"Perhaps something lighthearted," he suggested. "Though I warn you, my collection leans toward the dramatic."

"No surprise there," she muttered, pulling a book from the shelf. "Shakespeare? Really?"

Elijah smiled faintly. "A classic."

"Tragic," she countered.

"Ah, but even tragedy has moments of beauty," he replied, stepping closer. "It reminds us of what is worth fighting for."

Y/N looked up at him, the weight in her chest lifting just a little more. "You really don't give up, do you?"

"Never," he said simply. "Not on those I care for."

For the first time in what felt like forever, a genuine smile broke across her face. She held the book up, tapping it against her palm. "Fine. Read to me, then. Let's see if you can make Shakespeare entertaining."

Elijah's expression softened, his fondness for her clear as he reached out to take the book. "Challenge accepted."

They settled onto the worn sofa by the fireplace, the flickering light casting warm shadows across the room. As Elijah's voice filled the air, smooth and melodic, Y/N found herself relaxing, the tension in her body giving way to the comfort of his presence. For the first time in days, the darkness seemed a little less suffocating. Elijah had a way of doing that-of reminding her that even in the midst of chaos, there were moments of quiet worth holding on to.