Forget me not || Elijah Mikaelson

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

The world was a cruel dark place hidden under the allusion of beauty, snuffing out any light it could find. Ophelia stood her ground in front of her light, the young witch she held dear. Her stance was rigged even though part of her knew he wouldn't make a move against them. A part of her that had died long ago. However, in his current starving state she wasn't too sure, and she wouldn't take that chance.

As she stared her potential death in the face, she realised just how much she cared for Davina, her little witch. She would die for her without hesitation.

Opposite her, the currently oldest original did his best to concentrate. His throat felt like sandpaper, feeling pain with each breath he took. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Davina's neck. He could hear and see the thudding of her carotid artery and desired nothing more than to drain all the blood from her body.

"You're the one they call noble," Davina's soft yet strong voice broke the deafening silence between the three, peering around the woman in front of her.

"Yes, that's what they call me. And yet, I followed my brother here to New Orleans to engage in a war." Elijah smiled at the sight of the duo, sitting down in the chair before him. "So, I ask you- does that sound honourable to you?"

"I believe it to be the cause that makes a man honourable, not the actions." Ophelia stated refusing to break the newfound eye contact between the two, relishing in it.

Looking the original up and down the young witch noticed he looked ill, or more accurately rotten. "You don't look well."

With a straight face and an almost undetectable hint of sarcasm, he was the first to break eye contact between the two as he answered the girl. "Well, only this morning, I had a mystical dagger embedded in my chest, so I'd say I'm holding myself together quite well." Pausing for a moment he watched as the young witch gained enough confidence to step out from behind her protector and stand beside her. "Davina, I believe that you and I have the power to end a war between witches and vampires before it truly begins. I, by keeping my brother in line; you, by behaving like your true self, not some tool for Marcel or the witches."

"And why should we trust you?"

While on the outside her face was stoic on the inside Ophelia was cheering for the young witch. Proud of her for asking the important questions, knowing from personal experience the downsides if one didn't. While she may have helped his siblings the night before that didn't change the protectiveness she felt for Davina in the slightest. Yet she knew Elijah, she knew just how manipulative he could be when he wanted to be. Able to twist his words and others to his liking. It was a quality of his she admired yet feared.

"Well, for one thing, in spite of a ravenous hunger, I have not tried to take your blood."

Turning to the girl beside her she sent her a subtle nod, both knowing what needed to be done. Leaving the two alone briefly, Ophelia walked into the small bathroom, that held only the necessities – a shower, toilet, sink, mirror, and medicine cabinet. Opening the first aid box she grabbed a small nude coloured band-aid. Sauntering back into the room the original now had his typical tan complexion instead of the alarming grey one he had moments prior.

Handing the band-aid to Davina she looked over to the original crossing her arms over her chest. "You said we needed to talk, so let's talk."

☆☆☆

Riffling through the books she had acquired for Davina she watched as said girl stood behind her easel and the always suit-clad original walked around the small attic, taking in his surroundings. Turning her attention back to the books in front of her, her once fond expression turned sour when her gaze settled on one book in particular.