*A/N* Your saviour is here! Ik, ik, it took forever, but I made it extra long, so I hope it's worth it! So, there were a number of people who were really in favour of an ElijahxBeast pairing, so I wanted to try and pull it off. Things always have to get worse before they get better, so this chapter goes into more detail about Elijah's experience held captive by Mikael. It does have lots of trigger warnings: ED, mentioned/implied torture, a little more gore than is canon-typical, implied SA, brief description after SA, and PTSD. Let me know if you think there should be any more, and please leave me a comment if you spot any grammar or spelling errors or if you want me to clarify anything! I will be putting warnings before and after the SA scene (the other triggers are very minor but more or less present throughout) so that you can skip it if you would like. Also, I'm using he/it pronouns for the Beast (depending on which one suits the writing better I will switch between them) just because I feel like it adds to the inhuman aspect a bit and this show needs at least one gender non-conforming character.
Elijah POV
My heart beat loud in my ears and my lungs couldn't draw in enough air as I made my way up a flight of stairs, turning down the hallway that led to my bedroom. I clutched the blood bag tightly, my knuckles standing out white as my hands began to progressively tremble more and more. I swung the door open and let it close behind me, wincing at the quiet 'click' that it made.
It was irrational, I knew, but I couldn't help panicking at the thought of them seeing me like this. The bloodlust and hunger had grown in the days since I had first fed. It was my body's attempt to replenish what it had lost, perfectly natural, but I couldn't stand it. It drove me insane, grating away at my nerves and wearing me down hour after hour until I couldn't keep my control anymore. I always ended up caving and giving in, feeding alone in a dark room, trying to be silent so no one would find out. Of course they knew that I fed, but knowing and seeing were different things, seeing painted a different picture of what actually went on behind closed doors. I was terrified that they would see.
I could still hear them all downstairs in the sitting room, laughing and bantering as they sat side by side, old and new grudges being laid to rest, if only for a moment. It was all I had ever wanted, the only constant throughout my long life was this dream that I had kept alive for centuries on end. But, instead of enjoying it with them, I was hiding myself away, unable to bear the bloodlust a moment longer, tearing myself away from them yet again in an effort to keep the hunger at bay.
~~~~~
The second I opened the bag and the strong scent of iron hit my senses, I could immediately feel his presence, cold and cruel as it crowded into my mind and threatened to overtake me. It felt like I was drowning, desperately trying to keep my head above the waves as I was plunged down into the frigid darkness again and again. I battled my way back to the surface each time, but the water gradually congealed into tar, trapping me and pulling me down into its inky depths. Despite my struggling, it eventually swallowed me whole, and I felt my consciousness retreat away into the darkness.
In Elijah's Mind
The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the white, polished halls that made up my mind's labyrinth. The bloodied hallway was stretched out in front of me, crimson liquid trickling out from under the red door in slow rivers as everything locked away began to leak through my crumbling barriers. Being in here again always felt odd, like walking through a dream, so close to reality but with a thin veil in between, like I was only breathing out of habit, and like I couldn't quite feel anything that I touched. There was also this crushing sensation, a strong sense of impending doom, like the air was compressed as it entered my body and my chest was seconds away from imploding.
I was hesitant as I knocked upon the rickety, wooden door frame, the sound seeming to echo loudly against the polished walls. I held my breath as the door was swung open and the air buzzed with tension as we both stared each other down for a moment. Even after all these years, I still found it terrifying to meet him face to face, but once I got pulled in here, he was my only way out.
It was like a reflection in a river, almost discernible, but not quite, warped and twisted too far beyond recognition to be taken as reality. And for a moment, it would seem like it couldn't possibly be real, as if you could reach your hand right through and the illusion would shatter into shimmering fragments of light on the rippling surface. Occasionally, the two worlds would mix and the reflection would pull me under into the cold, dark depths that awaited below. The river would drag me away, further and further from the banks as I fought helplessly against the relentless current.
Sometimes, I wondered if he ever thought about me the way that I did about him, or if he felt anything at all besides bloodlust, or if he ever wanted anything from life other than to feed on innocents without a care in the world. Perhaps it was lonely, trapped in the same, endless corridors all alone, century after century, or maybe he knew them all like the back of his hand after so long. I wondered if he could see through my eyes when I was in control the way that I could see through his, or what my presence felt like in his mind when I would take back the reins. There were a lot of things I had never told him, questions I had never asked, in a thousand years, I had never really talked to him. It was scary, to realize how little you knew your own head, and sometimes I wondered if he ever felt the same, if the river could run in reverse.
~~~~~
The Beast led me into the bloodied sitting room, but no chess board was waiting on the coffee table this time. There was no magic to break, no puzzles to solve, no games to play, no trail to follow. It was just us, the two sides of the same coin, the two halves that took up the same head. We were jagged around the edges, uneven and unequal in so many ways, but you couldn't deny that we fit. And perhaps that was why my role never changed in life, why I was always drawn into the same circles. Just the same pawn for a different king. Because it was the same with Mikael, and it was the same with Niklaus, the same when Rebekah had a plan for revenge, the same when Kol was angry, and the same when Marcel wanted a war. I always took up the same place, always got caught in the middle. I was the wall that kept them all from harm, being driven further and further into the line of fire until I was pushed too far, until the pawn reached the end of the board, cornered with no where else to go. That was when the barriers were broken, when the pawn switched places and knew no more boundaries, when I had to give up my control. The Beast had many faces, the queen could be strong and ruthless, the knight could be brave and agile, the bishop could be determined and precise, but no matter how far it traveled or how valiantly it fought, the pawn could never be king.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when the Beast gestured for me to take a seat across from it, grinning madly as its empty eyes cataloged my every movement. "It's nice to see you again so soon, Elijah," it rasped, leaning forward and fixing me with a crooked, Cheshire cat smile.
My throat closed up around any reply that I could think to utter, my mouth suddenly dry and my hands starting to shake again. I was only able to simply nod as he regarded me. I could never quite meet his eyes, there was something so deeply unsettling about seeing the emptiness there, no feeling, and no love, and no regrets, and no remorse. It was like looking at the absence of everything that he had taken, seeing the gaping, infinite holes that were left behind from all the people that he had stolen from the world. It was somehow so much worse than there being nothing, it was the lack of it all, it was everything that had once been something and somebody, and now it was gone. When I looked into his eyes, it was death that looked back at me, the void left behind that the world could never fill again.
"Do the rest know that you're here?" it finally asked after a long pause, relaxing back into the bloodstained couch and cocking its head to the side.
"No," I managed to answer, shaking my head as I kept my gaze on the floor, "I was only trying to feed."
"I see," it hissed, blank eyes moving to roam the smeared, red handprints on the walls. It seemed to contemplate silently for a moment before standing, "Come," it said, moving toward the door without looking behind to see if I would follow, it knew that I had no choice, "walk with me."
"Where are we going?" I called, scrambling after him to catch up as he set off down the hallway.
The only response was, "Come and see."
~~~~~
We had walked for several minutes in complete silence, me following behind cautiously as the Beast navigated through the maze of identical hallways with purpose, taking the corners and forks confidently as they came, like he had the path memorized. The door that we eventually arrived at opened for him without a struggle and he pulled me into the pitch black room with him. A memory sparked to life out of the darkness before us, though I couldn't see him, I could feel him standing next to me, watching silently as it played out.
"When is this?" I asked quietly, not even sure if he could hear me.
His rasped answer seemed to echo as I was enveloped into the scene, "1986."
Memory
The space was dark, the dirt floor and stone walls damp, and the air reeking of mildew. The metal shackled around my wrists was unforgiving, biting into my skin at the slightest pressure. I was attached to the wall by a chain linked to the collar clasped around my neck, prongs lining the inside and delicately trailing around my throat. My skin was covered in dirt and dried blood as I sat huddled in the corner, shivering and trembling uncontrollably. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones until your skin was numb. And even as my entire form shook like a leaf, my head still lolled to the side, resting against the stone wall while my eyes drooped shut from the sheer exhaustion.
After so long like this, I'm not sure I could even remember what it felt like to be warm. It seemed like I had been awake for weeks now, unable to sleep from the constant pain and only being able to rest for what felt like a matter of minutes before Mikael came to get me again. But in some ways, I had learned to appreciate the sensations. The pain, cold, hunger, and exhaustion kept me constant company, let me know what was real and what wasn't whenever the hallucinations started, let me know that I hadn't lost yet, that I was still going. They stayed with me all throughout, during the good days and the bad, and, in a lot of ways, it was comforting.
I didn't really know how long it had truly been, Mikael never told me and there were never any windows for me to be able to count the days or the seasons as they passed. My best guess was that it had been a few years, maybe even a decade or so, but the pain made it difficult to tell as it turned every moment into an eternity. A part of me had foolishly hoped that he might have gotten bored eventually, either have simply dumped me outside to fend for myself or have just killed me. But he didn't. Instead, it only ever got worse, and every time that I thought the pain had reached its peak, he would take it a step further, until I had given up entirely on the idea that it would ever end.
Maybe this was the repeating cycle of my immortality, the wheel that would spin until the world was turned to dust and there was nothing left. It was hopeless and agonizing, lonely and broken, but it was for the family that I had left behind, the only thing in this world that would ever really matter, and so, in the end, it was worth it. It had to be. This was my always, so that they could have their forever.
~~~~~
The next time I awoke, the cycle repeated again, the wheel turning to follow the same path each time. Eventually, the days all blended together into a fuzzy haze of pain, I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It was so familiar by now that it played out in my dreams, tormenting me awake and asleep until I couldn't tell what was real. Sometimes, the blades and whips would cut and burn when I expected them to dissipate into thin air. Other times, they would move in slow motion and feel dully heavy and far away, only for me to snap back to the dark basement, chained to the wall and breathing frantically.
Somewhere along the line, Mikael had run out of insults and taunts, stopped meandering around in wait like a vulture trailing after limping prey. He simply attacked whenever the desire struck him, dragging me out by the hair, taking his fill of the violence, and then leaving me to mend what was broken. In some ways it was comforting, I knew when the blows would fall and when it was finally over rather than being rigid and tense for hours at a time while I waited for the impending pain. It gave life a stark contrast and it was the only semblance of day and night that I had, alternating fluidly between sharp, blazing torture and haunted, uneasy oblivion.
TW
But today was different.
He didn't take me to the adjoined room with shelves of whips, and pliers, and vervain, with the dirty, old mattress and the blood stained floors. Instead, he pulled me upstairs. Past the securely locked, soundproof, titanium reinforced door, through the fancy, decadent house that made the dirt on my skin and the mats in my hair itch, past the midday rays of sun beaming through the windows, and up a flight of polished wood steps framed by a decoratively carved banister. He took me to a bedroom, with a fuzzy, beige carpet, and a big, wooden wardrobe, and a plush, warm bed that looked too soft for me to touch.
I didn't know that it could get worse, but somehow, it always did. I thought that I knew what it was to be tortured, thought that I knew pain and torment better than anyone, but, when he pushed me down onto the lavish, silken sheets, it pained me more than I knew was even possible. When he hurt me that day, over and over again, until my vision went blurry and I heard my heart beat fade in my ears as crimson bloomed on the perfect white beneath me, it no longer felt like abuse. It just felt natural, like it had always been this way, like there was nothing better that awaited me, like it was just the way that the pieces had landed, an unlucky toss of a coin. It hurt because it didn't, because I didn't scream, because I didn't even cry, because he didn't have to tie me down, because I just let him.
It just felt like I didn't belong in the world anymore, as though I was meant to be hidden away, bound and gagged in dark closets and cold basements so that all that was left of the name 'Elijah Mikaelson' was a starved, empty silence. I was unfit for outside eyes to see, too filthy to even breathe the same air, unworthy and undeserving. But I didn't mourn and reminisce for what once was, the time before my capture felt like a different life playing through someone else's eyes. I had clung to it for a long time, held onto it tightly and convinced myself that my siblings would come for me. But they didn't. And all that remained of it now was only a fond dream that I entertained every now and again until I inevitably awoke from the pleasant illusion.
I still remembered their names, and could sometimes recall blurred, distorted faces or short snippets of a vaguely familiar voice. But mostly all the rest was gone, all the centuries that I had spent with them slowly fading away into the madness that had gradually permeated my mind over the years spent with Mikael. I had found it devastating in the beginning, it was just little things, like the first time I realized I had forgotten Niklaus' favourite colour or the smell of Rebekah's perfume, what instrument Kol played or how Finn liked his tea. I forgot when their birthdays were and where they sat at the dining table, the inside jokes and the colour of their eyes.
I had thought it would maybe be comforting, to not constantly miss them so horribly and fiercely that it tore me apart, that maybe taking away the memory of what once was would make it easier to bear my existence now. And in some ways it did, but in other ways it was so much worse. There was no longer a Before and After to my capture, there was only During, only one torturous day after another, blending together until each second spanned an eternity. There wasn't longing, nor grief, nor hope, because there was nothing to long, nor grieve, nor hope for. It was just emptiness with an echoing, hollow pain, it rose and fell with each heartbeat, filling in all the gaps and space in between, because there was no love, and there was no peace, and there was no end to the ache.
~~~~~
The sky was a deep indigo, the sun having long since sunk below the horizon by the time Mikael was finished. He stood from the bed and left the room, likely going to retrieve some type of instrument to hurt me with further, he always did. I felt heavy on the bed, unmoving where he had lay me to rest, tired to my very bones. I could feel the blood that seeped from between my legs, knowing it would dry into dust and stain the skin no matter how hard I would try to scrub it off with my nails. The bruises on my body ached, their colour turning a deep purple and blue along my waist and the tops of my hips, dappling my thighs and rib cage, encircling my neck and wrists. They were the ghosts of his hold on me.
End of TW
Suddenly, something caught my eye, silently, I reached my arm out with all the strength I had left to the bedside table next to me with one of the drawers slightly open. With shaky fingers, I withdrew the single blood bag from the drawer, clutching it desperately in my hands as my hunger exploded to the surface. Without even thinking of the consequences, I tore it open and fed, drinking deeply, it was more blood than I had had in months. My body drowned in it, desperate and ravaged as it was, slowly making itself back into a whole. My senses sharpened, the blurriness in my vision fading, my hands less shaky and numb as I deposited the empty blood bag back in the drawer, my ears finally no longer ringing.
I could see the stars out the window, peeking through the branches of the trees, feel my breathing coming a little easier and my muscles turning strong and steady. I could even still hear Mikael's footsteps meandering down in the basement- I froze, my body going rigid and my brain short circuiting as it tried to process the thought that had suddenly crossed my mind. Mikael wasn't here, he had left me alone, I wasn't chained to the wall, there were no boundary spells, I had just fed- it all raced through my brain over and over until I finally managed to put it all together. Maybe I could run. Maybe I could run away and never go back, maybe I could escape from this place and find something on the other side.
Maybe there could be an After.
~~~~~
My hands were steady while they glided over the banister as I made my way down the stairs, my heart beat calm, and my legs were surer than I felt. I could see the front door in the foyer, beckoning me to the other side. It was daring me to tempt the same gods that had been so cruel in the Before.
I didn't stay to hear Mikael's footsteps ascend the stairs from the basement. I didn't stay to see his reaction as he walked into the bedroom, whip and vervain in hand, only to find it empty. I didn't stay to watch him frantically check the house floor by floor or vamp around in the streets. No, I closed the door behind me and ran, barefoot with the meager clothes that I had on whipping around me in tattered ribbons as I sped faster and faster, my feet pounding against the asphalt. I didn't stop for hours, even after the strength and speed had worn off I ran through town after town, trying to get as far away as possible, rejoicing and panicking in tandem at the freedom that I finally had.
End of Memory
I sucked in a deep breath as I came back to awareness, the Beast still standing next to me, those empty reddish-black eyes were looking at me curiously but all I could do was stare straight ahead. I had never seen the memory played out before, in my own mind, it was mostly a blur with only brief, disjointed snippets of clarity. However, I did distinctly remember the next morning, where I finally collapsed against a brick wall in an empty alleyway as the sun slowly crawled up towards the clouds. I had watched it for hours, stray tears tracing their way down my face as the sky was painted a brilliant pink and orange, having forgotten how beautiful it was after so long spent in the dark. Eventually, I had found the strength to stand and had shakily made my way over to the rolled up morning paper that had been thrown onto a driveway. I hadn't been able to read the writing, the language being foreign to me, but I remember the horror that had coursed through my body as I read the year, my eyes running over the ink again and again like the numbers would magically change. Because it couldn't have been that long, it couldn't be, but it was, the numbers stayed the same as I read them over and over. 1-9-8-6, 1-9-8-6, 1-9-8-6.
I later came to learn that I had been in Bulgaria, that it had been the twenty-first of November... 1986, ...that it had been sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years since my siblings had run and I hadn't followed behind, sixty-seven years that I had spent suffering at my father's hands, sixty-seven years that I had waited... and no one had come.
It had taken me months and months to get back to them, compelling my way onto boats and trains as I traveled across borders and oceans. The whole time, I had often wondered if I should even go back at all, because, in truth, they hadn't gone back for me, so, perhaps they didn't miss me, wouldn't care how hard I had fought to be with them again. But, in the end, Rebekah had flung herself into my arms, and Kol had repeated my name over and over through his tears, and Niklaus and held me with shaking hands so tightly that I thought he would never let go. They had showed me my picture set up on the mantle next to the vase of dried flower petals. They had shown me my old rooms, still exactly as I had left them because they couldn't bear to touch anything. And they had shown me the grave with the beautiful poem, surrounded by the roses that had still been carefully pruned and watered in my absence.
I had never told them where I had gone, what had really happened, just dodged the questions and gave non-answer after non-answer. Because I knew that they didn't want to know, not really. I didn't want them to see me any differently, so I had decided that if they held resentment and begrudged me for supposedly leading Mikael on a decades-long goose chase while I explored the world without them, so be it. But, in the end, it had all been for nothing.
~~~~~
As the Beast led me back through the red door, I couldn't help but wonder what it thought about me, what it felt at the memories. "Were you there?" I asked it, taking a seat on one of the sofas.
He seemed to think about it for a moment, eyes absently following the drops of blood that slowly cascaded down the wall. Finally, he nodded, looking back towards me, but his eyes seemed far away, "You never let me out," he said eventually, voice a low hiss, "even after I helped you escape."
My mind was once more brought back to the memory, recalling the cool clarity that had overcome me as I had fed, how my body had been braver than my own mind ever could be. I remembered how I had fled from the house faster than even Mikael could have ever hoped to match, how those hands that were no longer shaking had torn the collar from my throat, twisting the metal until it gave way and leaving the broken pieces far behind us. It had been him, invited to the surface after all those long years. But I also remembered how he had fed from passersby in the dark alleyway, took their life from them so easily to fuel our own.
"You would have hurt people," I murmured, looking down at my hands, "people who didn't deserve it."
The Beast appeared to contemplate this silently, I could feel the weighted gaze of its empty eyes settle on me. "Yes," it rasped after a while, nodding its head noncommittally, as though it didn't matter either way, "I would have. The world doesn't need everybody, Elijah."
The way it said my name sent a shiver down my spine and made my shoulders tense. When it extended its hand out towards me, I reminded myself that it was built into its nature to not care, that there was no humanity switch. Our emotions were all or nothing, and the Beast was the nothing, the void that swallowed everything whole but was always empty and hollow. And when I reached my own hand across to bridge the gap, feeling the sticky blood that coated its fingers and palms, as I felt it let down the barrier and my consciousness began to fade back into reality, I reminded myself that that void would always be empty, the bloodlust could never be satiated.
It would never be enough.
Outside Elijah's Mind
I snapped back into my own body, my heart beating erratically and my breath coming in shaky inhales as I familiarized myself with the surroundings. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, the sky outside was a dark black with hints of navy blue, but the clouds covered the stars. The clock read that it was just past midnight and I closed my eyes, listening to it's rhythmic ticking while the cold tar was receding from my body, the Beast withdrawing its presence, content with lying in wait like a snake in tall grass until I was vulnerable enough for it to strike again. My hands still clasped the blood bag, now empty and drained dry, the overwhelming hunger temporarily quenched as I rebuilt the resolve that it had torn down so easily.
As much as I hated being with the Beast, I hated returning to my own body even more, those first few moments when it was always too quiet, and I felt all alone even in a house full of people, and nothing really brought comfort the way that it used to. I was also still gripped tightly by the memory that he had shown me, my instincts overcome by an urge to run, to escape, but at the same time all of it dampened by those feelings of being lonely, and hopeless, and lost. I wondered if he knew what that had been like, if he could understand, if he even cared.
It was an odd thing, to have so much empathy for somebody without it, to think about the feelings of someone who didn't feel, care about someone who I knew wouldn't do the same. But I suppose that was why we worked, why we fit so well together. We both had everything that the other didn't, one mind brutally split down the centre until there was no in between, no middle ground. A day and a night without a dusk or a dawn.
*A/N* Okay, so, fun fact, I actually hit the limit in the Notes app while writing this chapter, apparently you can't go past 350,000 characters so now I have to have this story on two separate documents and I will be suing. I'm sorry that this took so long (I want someone to get me a count of how many times I've said that throughout this book lmao), the writer's block was REAL for this one. Unfortunately, I'm sensing a bit of a theme for these last couple of chapters so I'm just going to go ahead and apologize in advance for the next few as well. Let me know in the comments if you had any suggestions for the trigger warning placement (if you think it should start or end earlier or later), I hated skipping the sentimental parts of Elijah's capture, but I also didn't want to leave out any possibly triggering bits. I did also just want to really stress that this is not meant to be an accurate representation of DID at all, just like the vampires and werewolves, this is completely made up, so don't try to apply it outside of this fanfic. Also, 10 THOUSAND reads on Wattpad is insane, thank you all so much for your continuous support throughout this work! Happy International Women's Appreciation Month everybody, I love you all dearly and I will see you in the next chapter!
5288 words (Told y'all it would be worth it)