𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 | Elijah Mikaelson [1]

XLV

"I will miss you my love, but when you get back, it will be less than three months before you and I are married."

"Three months is so long," I whine, making him laugh.

"Now, before you go," he starts, leading me to the door. "Are you certain that there is no one you want to walk you down the aisle?"

My eyebrows crease at this question.

"I thought we talked about this?" I say, extremely confused. He knows exactly what I think of my father and there's no one else who I can think of who would be able to fill the role.

"Well, I'm just saying that your father had a major role in your life."

"Yeah, things like teaching me to walk, talk, do magic, and oh what was the last one? Oh yeah, kill me," I say, pulling away from Elijah, wondering what was going through his head.

"It was just a thought," he says, following me as I turned my head and went to storm in the direction of home.

In the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't go to France angry, but in the forefront of my mind, I wanted to see the beautiful landscape of Paris.

"I'm going Elijah. Talk to me when you want to take our wedding seriously," I say, a million thoughts running through my head.

"I just thought you might like the suggestion," he says, except it wasn't him.

His voice was different. More gravelly. Guttural.

I  didn't want to turn around because, in my mind, I knew that voice. I knew it from years and years before. So long that I had almost forgotten about that part of my life.

Reluctantly, I did turn. I turned to see the one person I was sure was dead.

"Father-" I say in a choked voice.

I SHOT up into a sitting position, my breathing heavy and unsettled. My dream startled me awake, and as a result of that, Elijah stirred awake too.

"Are you alright, love?" He mumbles taking my hand in his and stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"Yeah, um, just a bad dream, go back to sleep, darling," I say but his eyes open fully.

"Come here," he says, attempting to get me to lie next to him but I brush him off.

"I have to get rid of him," I mutter.

"What are you talking about?" He asks, not leaving our bed.

"He's going to keep tormenting me and tormenting me until he gets bored and then kill me in some poetic way,"

"Who?" He asks, obviously still waking up.

"My father. He's tormenting me."

"Right, of course," he says rubbing his eye. "My love, is the danger imminent, because if it's not, I think we can wait before at least four am."

"You go back to sleep, get some rest, you need it," I say sincerely, patting his shoulder reassuringly but as I get out of bed, I hear shuffling and see that he is getting up with me.