WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [UNDER EDITING]

2:08

| THE STAND:
CHAPTER EIGHT |

"You made him, right? Tristan?" Hayley had asked Elijah that same night. The two had taken to conversing from their respective balconies, an unspoken understanding between them that allowed for these late-night exchanges.

Elijah's voice carried a subtle weariness as he responded, his tone reflective. "I think it would be more accurate to say that we made each other, but yes. I turned him. What was your impression of Tristan de Martel?" He already sensed a certain aversion in Hayley toward the first of his sire line, but the curiosity in his voice betrayed an earnest desire to know what she truly thought of him.

Hayley's shrug was nonchalant, but her words were far from indifferent. "I don't know... He seemed... incomplete." Her gaze drifted across the distance to the figure of Elijah, her words carrying an almost abstract judgment.

Elijah's sigh was a mixture of resigned understanding and something far darker, a weight he carried for centuries. "That could be due to one of two reasons. The first being, he has a sister, Aurora— to be perfectly frank, I'm surprised he's without her. His devotion to her is pathological, Hayley. It borders on dangerous."

Hayley smiled weakly, an attempt to mask the unease that slipped through. "Loyalty doesn't make people dangerous, Elijah. It's only when it crosses boundaries that it does."

Elijah nodded, conceding the point, but he didn't look convinced. "Perhaps. But Tristan's obsession with her runs deep. And not only that—his obsession with Rhea... It's lethal. He blames my family for their separation, for the rift that exists between them. His anger, that deep-rooted need for control, could drive him to manipulate Rhea into something dark. And as much as she loves Kol, there's still a spark of something for Tristan. It could pull her in all the wrong directions."

Hayley tilted her head, her gaze sharp as she stared across the balcony. "Rhea is strong, Elijah. Stronger than you give her credit for." She stood and turned to leave, her steps taking her farther into the darkness of the night, leaving Elijah alone with his thoughts.

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Rhea awoke in her apartment, the absence of Ares a hollow space in the room. His words echoed in her mind, a lingering sting. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of groveling or pleading for him to return. The sense of betrayal remained sharp, though she couldn't quite place if it was anger or hurt.

She glanced at her phone and saw a message from Davina, wishing her well, hinting at a future catch-up. Davina had some "witchy business" to attend to today, which Rhea was beginning to learn was code for something neither mundane nor trivial.

Another text caught her eye— this one from Tristan. He was inviting her to breakfast at Rousseau's, the place they'd often frequented during a simpler time. She hesitated before responding, but something in her, a gnawing curiosity, pushed her to accept.

When she arrived, Tristan was already seated, his smile warm but his gaze calculating. "Rhea," he greeted, his voice smooth, like velvet over steel.

"Tristan," she replied, a curt nod her only greeting. Her eyes flickered to the plate of pancakes in front of her. "Typical," she muttered, watching him as he took the liberty of ordering her food without so much as a second thought.

Tristan chuckled and began digging into his own meal, seemingly unfazed by her terse response. "How are you?" he asked, his tone almost too casual for a conversation she wasn't quite prepared for.

"Peachy," she muttered, not in the mood for small talk, but also not in the mood to shut him down completely. At least not yet.

Before the conversation could develop further, Elijah entered, a jar with a bloody heart in hand. Rhea's brow arched in quiet surprise, but she said nothing. Tristan's expression faltered as Elijah slid into the seat next to her, the air thick with the history between the two of them.