hello! this is an independent Elijah Mikaelson rp blog, penned by Rhi. face claim is of course the lovely Daniel Gillies. mun is 25+ plus so there will be nsfw content, but it will be tagged nsfw.
selective. sometimes mutually exclusive. my queue is set to run 4-5 posts a day so that i can try to keep up, as i often have upwards of 30 drafts. if i’ve kept you waiting for a long time, please feel free to shoot me a message. but please also keep in mind that i can sometimes prioritise threads that i have the most motivation for so that i can keep my muse flowing.
she’s in the room. she’s in the room most days. whatever room she has him dumped in. on his side, a dagger in his back. he must look absolutely ridiculous, which only adds to his already considerably fury at the situation. it’s difficult to have any idea how much time has passed when he’s daggered, but he can tell it’s been a while. he’s trying not to spend his time trapped within himself dwelling on how betrayed he feels, how foolish he was for falling for her tricks. but it’s rather difficult, when it’s led him to be where he is. frustrating. and incredibly rage inducing the more he thinks on it.
she’s saying something, but he’s tuned her out. the sound of her voice only makes him angry, and there’s nothing that he can do about it right now. so tuning her out, pretending she isn’t there,is considerably easier than letting her get to him when he can’t escape. in truth, he just wishes she would stop coming to visit. he would rather be left alone to rot than to continuously hear her voice and feel that conflicting twist inside of him. torn between the love he feels for her, and the sheer rage that he feels at how she’s broken his trust. even in this state, he just feels exhausted.
elijah lifts a brow as he exits the bathroom, towel looped around his waist after his shower. but he does begin to head to the walk-in.
❝ and why are we going on a stakeout, darling? ❞
She’s supposed to be ambivalent about this, she knows. To accept what he says, make no move to sooth the wound or ebb the pain but the Mikaelson’s trademark vaguely bitter stoicism isn’t a weapon Faith has in her arsenal. He would’ve had her heart even if he were the monster he paints himself to be. There’s no version of events, no universe where his affections would’ve been denied for long. Would have found herself in his arms eventually, no matter the danger. Not that she was ever in any actual danger in his presence, but they really bullshit each other at the beginning, there. When she thinks back to where it all started, the facing off and grand standing. The threats that held no weight, the sarcasm and how long it took them to give in and admit they were inventing reasons to cross paths. Even with an eternity together to look forward to, she sometimes wishes she’d fessed up those feelings a little sooner. Greedy for the lost months where they allowed themselves to be pit against each other by the ridiculous natural order of things — mortal enemies, or whatever. What a waste.
Whatever. They have each other now and she supposes that’s what matters. Besides, that whole ‘vampire vs. slayer’ jazz kept them apart so long that when they finally found themselves on the same side, it all ended in a pretty explosive romp, if she remembers correctly. Vivid in her mind, the morning she slipped out of his shower and walked into his kitchen in bare feet and a borrowed button-up. Couldn’t take their eyes off each other until it was too much and something had to give. Intense, rough. Probably chipped the kitchen counter tile. Can’t hate that. Faith’s never stuck around long enough for build up before — ‘get some, get gone’ only works if you get some right off the bat. When that’s off the table, she usually just skips on to the next looker hoping their morals will be a little bit looser. Or, she did. Past tense.
As if to punctuate that thought, he’s suddenly holding her, kissing her and she smiles a little against the corner of his mouth when he’s close, “Yeah, yeah.” she teases, turning a nuzzle into another slow and tender kiss. Takes a gentle handful of the back of his neck, short nails gingerly teasing circles into his hairline, “Don’t get all mushy on me, Mikaelson.” her other arm slides over his shoulder, hand smoothing gently down between his shoulder blades as far as she can reach. She kisses along the line of his cheekbone then gives the apple of his cheek a gentle nick with a sharp fang, draws just a little blood when she does it. Faith mumbles something against his skin that almost sounds like his name and takes her time licking the blood off his skin, “I don’t care what you did. I mean, I care when it hurts you but it’s not gonna change anything with us.” her brow rests against his again and she shoots him a little smirk, dropping her voice to a whisper, “C'mon. Could use some sleep, figure you could, too.”
he’ll never quite be able to get over the fact that they had butted heads when they first met. it seems almost impossible to believe, now, that they could have ever not been this close. there’s just something in the way they are together that works, that makes sense. they compliment each other, they get each other, and it’s enough to make elijah wish that they’d known each other longer. that she could’ve entered his life centuries ago. but here they are, now, and he’s got her at his side. all he could ever ask for and more. with her this close, warm and relaxed in his lap, it’s difficult to dwell on any troubles that he might be plagued with. she has this way of consuming him, sweeping him away and taking all of his focus.
when he feels her nails against his skin, he tilts his head instinctively, gives her more access for her soft kisses as his lips curve into an easy, relaxed smile. he’ll always enjoy this. the soft touches, the lingering kisses and little ministrations against his skin. she’s an anchor that he never quite realized he needed, but now couldn’t imagine being without.
❝ i would never, darling. ❞ he teases softly, before she bites just a little against his cheek, breaking the skin. his eyes close for a moment as she licks the blood away, grip tightening just a moment so that he can maintain control. it doesn’t take much for a touch from her to get him going, to make him want to flip them over and get his mouth, teeth and tongue over every last inch of her skin.
❝ i appreciate that, faith. and i want you to know that i feel the same way, of course. there’s nothing about you or your past that would ever change how i feel about you. and certainly nothing in our future. i love every part of you. ❞
when she speaks again, whispering between them, elijah gives a minute nod of his head and flicks his eyes up to meet her own.
❝ of course, darling. ❞ he nods, and tightens his hold on her so that he can rise easily from the bed. he turns so that he can lower her back down onto it, bending over her to press his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. deft fingers work open the button of her jeans, and he begins to shimmy them down over her hips, helping her to get ready for bed and, of course, enjoying himself in the process. he enjoys getting to touch her so freely. unlike when she undresses herself and tends to fling the clothes into a pile, elijah folds them neatly as he removes them, setting them aside on the chair.
❝ get comfortable, darling. ❞ he tells her, raking his eyes over her for a moment before his smile returns and he slips out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. his finger hooks into his tie then to start loosening it, eyes flicking back toward her.
❝ would you like anything to drink? or eat, before we sleep? ❞
She hums very appreciatively at the attention, trying to not be too persuaded by the argument he’s making oh-so effectively. Very easy to melt, to give in at once. Too easy. The dark material of the dress bunches and falls to form with the drag of his hand. Does he think she wore this for him? Hm…
Katherine turns her head up at the question, nosing up his face slowly. “Yes,” she murmurs, deciding to torture him just a little more. She’s near enough to kiss him if she wanted, and keeps her weight cozy on him. “I have a date.” She doesn’t move with this announcement, nor does her tone change, but she leans in with a playful air-bite. It’s Valentine’s Day, it’s only fitting.
.
elijah rather enjoys the way that the fabric shifts under his touch, his thumb smoothing against it absently as he tilts his head to get a better look at her. she really is quite something. when she leans in close, tells him that she has a date, however… elijah’s hold tightens and he turns them smoothly, has her pressed up against the nearest wall in a mere blink.
❝ mm. and you think that i would let you leave for this
❛ date ❜? ❞ he questions with a lift of his brow, slowly easing his thigh in between her own, his head tilting so that he can keep his gaze locked on her own.
❝ perhaps i have something arranged that i’d much prefer you be here to attend, hm? ❞ he muses, dragging his hand down her side, curling it around her hip.
The sourness in her expression, half-put on for the scene they’re playing out, softens as Elijah draws her close. Only a little, but there’s a flick of her eyes that seems to find this arrangement at last more suitable. Her lips jut slightly into a pout, though, at the suggestion of directness. Where’s the fun in that? “Hmm,” she pretends to consider it seriously for a moment, glancing over him at close range. Ridiculously fine, every inch of him. “And… if I want it all the time?” she counters, not sounding exactly sweet about it at all even as her arms slide up and around his shoulders. A rather demanding hypothetical, one she doesn’t intend to deliver on. But it’s good to flirt with him. “You’re much too good for running witch errands, Elijah.” Valuable time, her tone seems to imply, he could be spending on her.
elijah hums softly as she loops her arms around his shoulders, fingers splayed out across the small of her back to keep her pressed nice and close to him.
❝ if you wanted it all of the time? hm… ❞ he pretends to consider this, expression thoughtful for a moment as his gaze drifts across her features. she’s truly beautiful. he does enjoy having her this close.
❝ i’ll take it into consideration. ❞ he drawls, a touch of playfulness to his tone before he releases a soft laugh.
❝ i’m glad you think so, darling. but it’s all fine, and all finished. if you truly do desire my full attention, you may have it. ❞
"Damn… sounds like your mom and my mom should get together and have brunch.“ there’s brunch in hell, right? Elijah explains in that soft, elegant way he has and Faith’s expression sours. Makes a face is more what she does. Gives his hands a gentle squeeze and takes a moment for herself, a breath she hopes will calm that lil spark of rage that catches in her chest whenever she’s allowed a glimpse behind the curtain at what a shitbag his mom could be. Oh, she has no doubt that Esther loved her children to an extent and some of that must stem from the fact that someone being unable to love Elijah seems pretty fucking ludicrous, but Faith’s come to realize that the woman just didn’t have the motherly instincts to help guide her children through the hard and brutal life of Norse explorers in a new world, and their father had no bones about making that job a thousand percent more difficult. Her tongue touches behind her bottom lip for a moment as she contemplates exactly how to say this without letting a bitchy note creep into her voice, ”Baby… full offense, but after all her lies and stuff… why is this ‘red door’ deally the thing you’re gonna believe? I mean, hey. Far be it from me, maybe it’s on the level but, like. She’s the one who showed you, right? How do you know she wasn’t just playin’ you? I went ahead and learnt not to trust a damn thing my mom ever said and she was bad, but she wasn’t ’red door’ bad.“ Although, that might only be because her mother lacked the power. That woman would’ve sold Faith for a buzz ball.
She doesn’t say it, but she gets the cleaning thing on a weirdly personal level. In her heyday, when she was a fighting machine and before she made a mess of what little life she had, the blood and gore of her job didn’t bother her. She’d wail on vampires, beat demons to bloody messes. Unload her horrible, scary and lonely life on some poor beast in the most violent way her body could — always on autopilot, always too brutal for words. When Alan happened and the ensuing mayhem that found her working for Wilkins, the violence was almost her gift to him. A sacrifice for his favor. Coming home bloody after a job well done, getting a pat on the back and a chocolate chip cookie as though she were a normal teenager who just brough back an A on her report card. The dopamine hits were huge, but the guilt was in there, beneath it all. Blood on her hands, a trigger before she knew what triggers were. Getting prompted to clean up, having her nails checked for dirt and blood (and mayo, let’s be real) because her boss was a neat freak germophobe maybe didn’t help, there. That blood still messes with her, still sees it in her dreams painting her palms a red so dark it’s almost black.
“All that pain,” she starts, so soft it’s almost a whisper as she slowly climbs into his lap so she can get him in her arms and hold him tight. More for her than for him, she thinks, because she knew the story he’d tell would be bad. Maybe not this bad. It’s less a story of personal darkness on Elijah’s part and more that of a man who doesn’t deserve the tragedy that follows him, even if he’d disagree with her on that point. Her fingertips skim the back of his neck, up until she can card them through his hair as she coaxes him close, “I’m not hearing you say you turned your emotions off. Go through all that… feel it all. Forever. You act like you’re this big monster but you chose to keep everything you were feeling, even when it was raw and sharp. An Original out there with his emotions turned off? You probably saved lives keeping the pain and here you are thinkin’ you done wrong. You’re strong, E. Even if it’s all true,” which, she frankly still doesn’t buy but it’s not her story to complain about, “You did good. You know? You’re doing so fucking good.”
❝ mm, the devil himself would surely cower. ❞ elijah drawls playfully, a smile playing across his lips for a moment. it doesn’t fully meet his eyes, but he does always feel a little happier in any situation if he has faith by his side. she’s quiet for a moment after that, and elijah threads their fingers together to lift their hands, lips meeting her knuckles. when she speaks again, elijah huffs a faintly amused laugh and looks toward her again.
❝ a fair point, of course. and at first i didn’t believe it. but she didn’t show me so much as… not quite tortured, but… encouraged the memory out of me. it’s not false. it… rather brought forth everything. ❞ his brows crease a little, and he takes a moment before he continues.
❝ it made me a little… risky to be around, for a little while. i would blackout, and when i came to i’d hurt someone. triggered, particularly, if i somehow got dirty. something spilled on my suit, for example. i can’t imagine i was pleasant to be around. ❞ he finishes with a laugh that holds no amusement, glancing back toward faith with a soft, sad smile.
❝ but, that’s all behind me now. i can control it again, these days. ❞
when faith climbs into his lap, elijah winds his arms around her middle and draws her flush against him, eager to feel her warm body against his own. she’s comforting, she always is. just her mere touch is enough to make elijah’s entire body feel relaxed and content. the fingers through his hair make his eyes close for just a moment, and he flattens his palm against the small of her back, fingertips gently pressing into the curve of her spine.
❝ well, no… i’ve never turned it off. ❞ he concedes, brows creasing just a little bit as she speaks. she’s always so determined to make him see himself another way. he’ll never understand it, himself. he’s done terrible things, frankly awful things. things he’ll never forgive himself for, and certainly wouldn’t expect anyone else to forgive him for. but here she is, trying to encourage him to believe that he’s better. that he’s good, in spite of everything. his gaze drifts across her features for a moment, considering her, contemplating her words.
❝ i appreciate your faith in me, darling. ❞ he says after a few moments, bringing his hand up to rest against her jawline and tilt her down closer so that he can capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. he loves this woman more than he’s ever loved anyone, and there’s a warm, fuzzy feeling inside the pit of his stomach whenever she looks at him like that. when she tells him that he’s good, that she sees him differently. he adores her. he’d like to believe her. and maybe, in time, he will. they have all of eternity, after all. it’s not like either of them is going anywhere.
❝ you know, my darling… you are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me. i appreciate everything you do for me, the way that you see me. try to make me see myself. thank you. ❞ he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers as he strokes his thumb along her jawline.
❝ thank you. ❞
There is no fight when he takes her things, she has grown to be comfortable with allowing him to take charge in her life. “Will you share with the class where you’re taking me?”
elijah leads her down to the car, humming softly at her question.
❝ mm, no. ❞ he answers smoothly, setting down the bags so that he can open up the passenger door for her.
❝ but don’t worry, my love, you’ll enjoy it. ❞ he flashes her an easy grin, curling his fingers around her chin to guide her forward and into a soft, lingering kiss. and then he helps her into the car, closes the door, and sets the bags in the trunk before joining her in the driver’s seat.
When Elijah moves to join her, she’s honestly a little surprised — grateful, but surprised. Not that she thought he’d zip away at high speed, or anything, but. He’s all but ignored this subject until this moment, focuses so much on his family and their future together that you’d be forgiven for assuming he never thinks about what’s behind him. As a general rule, Faith doesn’t bring it up. She’s got her own charred and blistered past, she knows the pain of that guilt and, equally, of how she’d rather do anything but reminisce about the human lives she snuffed out. She gets it, she does. Tries to give him space, there, but she’s found herself an immortal in the company of immortals. Long, violent life stretching out in front of her that she means to spend, eternally, with this man… it’s time ask her questions, the ones she should have asked when she was still alive.
She takes his hand as he finds a seat beside her, gently curls it between both of hers and just listens. He tries so hard to maintain his distance, the cold that keeps his family safe but Faith knows this fucker. She can hear the difference in his voice, see the subtle change in his posture. That little slip in his rigid self-control. It worries. She reaches up to tenderly cradle his cheek in her hand, brush her thumb across his cheekbone as he finishes talking, “So, what you’re sayin’ is you’re a gigabyte old vampire Viking who came out of a nightmare-violent age and you wanna kick your own ass for actin’ like it? You got any idea how rare it is to find a vampire who gives a shit? Enough of a shit to have a coping mechanism like that? Don’t play a Slaya, yo, I only ever seen three and I’ve been on the beat since I was fifteen.” granted, lumping Spike in with Angel and Elijah is probably too generous, but he did good, to an extent, and game recognizes game. Her palm moves softly across his jaw, fingertips brushing back the short hair above his ear, “Look. I know you think I’m being loyal, here, but I’m not. Said when we first got together, I wanna know you. Never said I wanted to change you. I got my own path, straight and narrow. Think I won’t get between you and an innocent if I need to — I will. Don’t mean I’m gonna love you less. Never gonna hurt you, but stop you? I mean, it just is what it is. Call me an eternal optimist, but I don’t think any of that’s gonna happen.”
The pace of their lives is a blur, like that horrible vampire speed that keeps them a hair out of sync with the rest of the world. The Mikaelsons are old, this has been their life for a millennium, but Faith’s a baby —- vampirically speaking. She can’t yet imagine what it must be like to have a thousand years behind you, littered with bodies and pain and brutality. Broken lives, scarred survivors. To be responsible for misery on such a grand scale. Makes her wonder if that’s the life she has to look forward to. Hasn’t said it, yet, but Elijah must have noticed that Faith’s hunger for blood is oddly insatiable. She doesn’t want to think about the things Stefan’s done when he’s feeding, but it’s a fair comparison. The guy’s a bastion of self-control and Faith’s really not. Has to worry what would happen if she stopped feeding from blood bags. Would she have a ‘red door’ of her own in a thousand years? Does she have one now? Faith gently snags the corner of her bottom lip with a fang and sighs, somehow managing to keep her eyes their normal hue while she’s at it, “So, this ’incident’. You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to.”
faith has a remarkably ability to calm elijah. just a simple touch, a look. anything, really. she is, without a doubt, his calm in the storm. he wonders, sometimes, if she knows just how much of a profound effect she’s had on him in such a short amount of time. he adores her with everything that he has, and the prospect of spending eternity with her by his side is just…. it’s far more than he deserves, in his own opinion. not that he would ever voice that to her, of course; it certainly wouldn’t go down well with her, he thinks. when faith starts to speak again, to voice her opinion on him and his conscience, elijah feels his gaze drawn down towards their hands where they sit against his leg. his brows pinch, just a touch, because despite his self-loathing tendencies– what she says does make sense. it is rare that vampires care about those that they’ve hurt– especially the ones that are so old. in truth, caring about it all is… far more painful than not. to dwell on it is to relive it, constantly. remarkably unpleasant.
he stays quiet after she stops talking, considering her words. considering how they make him feel, what they make him think. they have a very long life stretched out before him, and in truth… he has a feeling that getting through eternity with faith at his side is going to make life so much more enjoyable. no matter what ridiculous threats he might face in the future, he’ll have faith at his side to help him through it. when she finally asks her last question, elijah hums softly and turns his head to press a soft kiss to her palm, his eyes drifting over to her features. he doesn’t want to keep secrets from her.
❝ in truth, compared to other things that i’ve done, it’s… perhaps not that bad. ❞ he admits, voice a little thoughtful for a moment as his eyes drift across the room.
❝ but i was still new. so used to being human. clearly, it was a little too much for me to handle. ❞ he pauses a beat, thinking how best to start, and then sighs softly.
❝ there was a girl. tatiana. i was in love with her before i turned, and my mother used her blood to turn us all. but… she discovered what we were after finding the bodies of some villagers that niklaus had murdered, and naturally was terrified– so she ran. likely to tell the entire village, but perhaps not. i’ll never know that, now. ❞ he muses, thumb smoothing across the back of her hand.
❝ she fell and cut herself. i… couldn’t control myself, and i fed from her. i thought that i had only injured her, that she was still alive– so i rushed her to my mother. when she told me she was dead, i… i couldn’t believe it. i was horrified. so my mother took away the memory– locked it behind a red door. convinced me that i had compelled her to forget what she saw– that my mother was the one that killed her. she told me to clean myself up. that no one would know if i was clean. ❞ he glances at his hands again, brows pinching together.
❝ that little compulsion rather stuck with me. hence the fresh suits, the desire to keep clean as much as i can. it rather shaped who i am. every time i did something terrible– i locked it away. cleaned myself up. it only recently came flooding back to me in recent years when my charming mother saw fit to open that red door for me. ❞ he takes in a breath, and then glances toward faith with a soft, almost sad smile.
❝ my brain is not a pleasant place to be, these days. ❞
She nods a little, mostly with a flick of her eyes down over him once more, grateful even if he’d done it for himself as well. The truth of the last few hundred years still hasn’t fully processed, but Katherine appreciates the clarity, the sharp conviction in her heart about how right they are for each other. The mess lies elsewhere, with his family, with this prophecy. Nothing small to overcome, no guarantees they can. Elijah may want to believe he can offer protection and safeguard her, but unfortunately, Katherine can’t help but see that as a dream without roots in reality. If Klaus could relent for the sake of brotherly love, he would’ve done it long ago. No, she has to have something he wants. She has to do something big enough for King Klaus to pardon the insult of her age-old defiance. This, maybe. Maybe this. But probably not. It could enrage him even further, which wouldn’t change much about her situation. But if not, there are other reasons this is still the right move.
The kiss lingers, and she’s grateful for that too. Katherine kisses him back like she’s trying to satisfy the ache of separation, like she’s missing him still. She stays close as they draw apart, her dark eyes drinking in the current between them, the soft look on his face, the haven in his arms and the heaven of hearing he loves her aloud. God, she doesn’t want to shatter this. But the production of the picnic blanket and champagne being set up has finished — authentic to the details, Katherine, in case he might look over, in case a lack of sound drew an ounce of attention — and her cue has arrived. Katherine cups Elijah’s face as the human woman begins to return. “And I need you to remember something, okay?” Intensity flares above her steady voice, a tone like passion, if the tiniest bit desperate. She holds him; eyes, body, and soul, as a dagger suddenly slices his fine suit from behind and stabs upward. Sure and forceful, under a hand compelled against failure. “I love you, too, Elijah.” She holds him as his body starts to stiffen, keeps his eyes as the shock sets in, lest he fall or try to fight. Not that anyone here would remember if they saw.
the kiss lingers in that way that makes it impossible for elijah to not get swept away in it, to savour it. being close to katherine is always a heady, perfect experience. he isn’t lying when he says that no one has ever quite made him feel this way. just her. always her. and now, with her in his arms, the prospect of facing this damned prophecy doesn’t seem quite so tiresome. with her at his side, he’s quite certain that he could face anything that’s put in front of him. when the kiss eventually breaks, elijah doesn’t feel the immediate urge to break away from her. rather, he just wants to look at her for a moment after his words. but there’s a shift. it’ subtle. so subtle that anyone else might have missed it– but as her hands frame his face, elijah’s brows pinch together, the touch of pleading in her tone making him immediately concerned. his fingers flex around her waist, his body straightening a little, but she keeps him looking at her as she tells him to remember something.
he hears a step behind him and moves to turn his head– but it’s too late. a sharp, piercing pain flares through his back, his grip tightening around katherine’s waist as he blinks down at her, mouth opening and closing once. i love you too, she says, but elijah growls.
❝ no. ❞ he manages, that smitten look far from his features now, replaced with hurt. distrust. disappointment. how could he be so stupid? how could he fall for her tricks all over again? it seems that every time he manages to trust her, she pulls something over on him. and this? this is a new kind of betrayal. his breathing begins to get ragged as his body seizes up, and he keeps his glare fixed on katherine right up until his eyes flutter shut, darkness overcoming him smoothly.
.
