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Morrigan Brooks


Flashback to 1759

ONE of the guest rooms was the closest to the bridal suite, so I opted to sleep there, leaving Elijah our room.

I was never overly superstitious, but when Rebekah and I got to talking, I liked the tradition of it all, even if it meant that I had to spend the eve of our wedding away from Elijah.

"I'll wake you up at seven, and then we have a whole day to get ready, do final preparations and fix anything that might go wrong," Rebekah says from the doorway and I nod with a smile.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow," I chirp and she blows out the candle by the door and closes it.

"See you tomorrow," she laughs.











THE door creaking open was what woke me from a restful slumber, dreaming about this and that.

"Rebekah?" I groan, feeling like it was way too early to be seven.

"Try again, pearl," a chillingly familiar voice said and my spine straightened as I whipped my head around trying to land on the origin of the words. "Did you really think you would be able to run forever?"

"No," I whimper, not as an answer but more as an exclamation when I see the shadow cast.

I tried to scramble out of the room, but I felt glued to my seat.

"Don't you think it's high time we have a chat, Pearl?" The voice says. I wave my hand across the room, illuminating the candles.

He presented as a shadow, five times the size he should be, but when my eyes focused, it was a lot more terrifying.

"Do you know why I call you pearl, and not by your name, Morrigan?" He asks, not moving from his spot in the corner. I can only stay where I am, petrified, but he takes my silence as an answer, or at least an incentive to keep talking. "Because Morrigan means phantom queen. It is the name of the Celtic goddess of war, and my darling girl, I didn't want that for you. I didn't want your namesake to be a war goddess, so I called you my pearl. Precious, because that's what you were to me. Of course, your mother insisted we call you Morrigan because she wanted you to be strong, but I knew any daughter of mine would be."

"You killed her," I say and he shakes his head adamantly. 

"I never lied to you about your mother," he says mock-caringly. "The coven did accuse her of dark magic and I didn't get there in time to destroy them all on the spot. I loved your mother, just as I loved you."

You killed my child," I get out, my voice hoarse and full of hatred. "You practically made me into a war machine, ironically enough, and you think calling me a semi-precious stone will make it all go away?"

He ignores me and keeps going. "Did you know, I have eyes everywhere? Honestly, if you wanted to know the weather in Copenhagen, I could tell you. But my eyes told me that you're getting married tomorrow, or, today, I guess. I cannot believe you didn't invite your own father."

My eyes dart around the room, trying to look for a way out, but in the back of my mind, I knew that he wouldn't make a mistake that stupid.

"So, for penance of everything you have put me through, I've decided to take the dearest thing from you." He says in an overly happy voice. "And, while I might not be able to kill them, or- at least it would be an effort, I can still take them away from you."

"How? Are you going to threaten to kill me if they don't stay away from me? Your fatherly instincts are finally kicking in." I quip and he gives me a tight smile.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 | Elijah Mikaelson [1]Where stories live. Discover now