❧ elijah mikaelson ❧

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Amalie lay on her bed, her hair framing her face as she turned the delicate necklace over in her hands. The morning light filtered softly through the window, casting a warm glow that made the gold chain gleam, while the small blue gem shimmered in her grasp, catching and reflecting tiny flecks of light across the room. Her gaze remained fixed on it, lost in thought.

She still wasn't sure where the necklace had come from—no note, no explanation, just a strange, unannounced gift that had appeared on her nightstand the night before, placed on top of the sketch Elijah had seemed so fixed on. Amalie twisted the chain between her fingers, her mind swirling with questions. She debated whether or not to put it on. Part of her was curious, wondering if wearing it might unlock some hidden truth, some answer. But another part of her, the part still clinging to caution, held back. Something about the necklace felt too personal, like it carried a meaning only she was meant to understand.

Just as she was about to drop the necklace back into its box, a voice sliced ​​through the silence, startling her.

"You gonna put that on, or just stare at it?"

Amalie jumped slightly, her grip tightening around the necklace as she sat up to see Ana, casually leaning against the doorframe.

Amalie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her eyes narrowing. "'Bout time you showed up," she said, though the edge of relief in her voice betrayed her attempt at annoyance.

Ana shrugged and stepped further into the room, her movements fluid, unconcerned. "You know I can't control when I appear," she replied, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm a ghost, not a genie." She flopped down into the old armchair by the window, draping her legs over the side like it was her throne. Her chuckle never wavered.

"Yeah, well, your timing is as impeccable as always," Amalie shot back, though the familiar banter eased some of the tension she had been feeling.

Ana tilted her head, her grin widening. "You missed me. Admit it."

Amalie tried to stifle the smirk that threatened to break through. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she said, tossing the necklace onto the bed beside her.

Ana's gaze flicked to the piece of jewelry, her eyebrow arching in curiosity. "What's that?" She asked, nodding toward the necklace. "Looks a little fancy for you."

Amalie's expression darkened, her gaze shifting toward the necklace as unease settled back over her. "I don't know," she said quietly, her fingers grazing the chain again, as if touching it would help her understand it better. "It just...showed up last night. No note. No explanation." She paused, the weight of uncertainty hanging heavy in her voice. "I think it's from Elijah."

Ana's teasing expression faltered slightly, replaced by curiosity tinged with caution. "Elijah? The guy with the whole 'I'm-too-old-for-this-shit' vibe? Why would he give you a necklace?"

Amalie shook her head. "I don't know," she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. "But it's weird, right? Leaving a necklace for someone who had been kidnapped for you the day before. It's not exactly normal."

Ana leaned forward, her smirk returning but softer now, like she was savoring the mystery. "Well, when you're a thousand years old, your flirting game's probably a little rusty," she quipped, though her eyes remained serious.

Amalie shot her a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "That's not funny, Ana."

Ana shrugged, her hands raised in mock innocence. "I'm just saying," she said, her tone playful, though her gaze sharpened. "He seemed pretty interested in you yesterday. Not just the whole 'mysterious vampire' thing either. "

Amalie ran a hand through her hair, the pressure of the night catching up to her all over again. "I don't know, Ana. I can't make sense of any of it. Why the necklace? Why does he care about me? I've spent years off of everyone's radar, and suddenly Elijah shows up, acting like I'm someone important."

Her voice was edged with bitterness, the weight of years spent in the shadows creeping into her words. She had always felt like an outsider, someone who had slipped between the cracks of history. Why did it feel like Elijah wanted to pull her back into the center of it?

Ana's giggle softened as she leaned back in the chair, her expression turning uncharacteristically thoughtful. "You've been asking that question for a long time, Amalie," she said quietly, her voice dipping into something more serious. "I don't think anyone has an answer for it. Maybe it's just about accepting that people do care."

Amalie stared at her, her heart tightening with the weight of Ana's words. "Or maybe no one actually cares," she muttered bitterly. She picked up the necklace again, watching it sway between her fingers. "Maybe it's all part of some plan ."

Ana didn't respond right away, her usual sarcasm fading completely. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than Amalie had heard in a long time. "Well, I care."

Amalie glanced at Ana, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Maybe it's because there isn't one," she muttered. She turned back to the necklace, picking it up again and letting it dangle from her fingers. "Maybe no one actually cares ."

Amalie met Ana's gaze, a small flicker of something passing between them, though neither of them would admit it out loud. It was a quiet, unspoken bond, one forged over years of shared moments—some tragic, some bitter, but all of them real.

After a long pause, Amalie sighed, putting the necklace back into the box. "I'm not wearing it," she said firmly.

Ana grinned, her sarcasm creeping back into her tone as she sat up in the chair. "Good call," she teased. "Gold's really not your color anyway."

Amalie huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"That's why you love me," Ana quipped, before her figure slowly began to fade, her presence slipping back into the shadows.

Alone again, Amalie turned back to the necklace. She stared at it for a long time, still unsure what it meant or why it had been given to her.

###

Amalie stepped into the parlor, her hair cascading over her shoulders, still wearing an air of nonchalance. Stefan, Elena, Damon, and Rose were huddled together, deep in conversation. Their heads snapped up as she entered, the weight of whatever they had been discussing hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Without missing a beat, Amalie smirked. "Yeah, geez, thanks for the invite," she quipped, her voice cutting through the heaviness as she made her way to the couch. She plopped down next to Damon with the kind of ease that suggested she knew exactly how much she was getting under their skin.

Damon barely glanced at her, leaning back lazily against the couch. "Like you need an invitation," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Amalie shrugged. "Can't say I'm not polite."

Rose looked visibly uncomfortable, her eyes darting between Amalie and the others. She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday," she said, her British accent more pronounced in her attempt to convey sincerity. "It wasn't personal."

Amalie looked at Rose for a long moment, her face unreadable, before giving a dismissive wave. "It's fine," she said, though there was a certain edge to her tone that suggested it wasn't completely fine. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I can respect someone who would do anything for their survival." Her eyes flicked to Rose, a glimmer of understanding passing between them. "We all do what we need to do."

Rose exhaled, visibly relieved, nodding in gratitude. "Thank you."

The moment of civility was short-lived. The room seemed to shift as Rose braced herself, her expression hardening. The air thickened as she prepared to explain the true weight of the situation. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice laced with the gravity of what was coming.

"Okay, you have to understand, I only know what I've picked up over the years," Rose began, her gaze sweeping across the room, lingering on Elena, then Stefan. "I don't know what's true and what's not . That's the problem with all this vampire crap, but Klaus, I know, is real."

Elena, sitting on the edge of her seat, frowned, confusion furrowing her brow. "Who is he?" She asked, her voice small but determined.

Damon chimed in. "He's one of the Originals," he said, his voice almost playful, but there was a dark undertone to it. "He's a legend."

Stefan added, "From the first generation of vampires."

Elena's eyes widened slightly as she processed that. "Like Elijah?"

Rose shook her head quickly, as if the comparison was almost laughable. "No. Elijah was the Easter Bunny compared to Klaus. He's...a foot soldier. Klaus is the real deal."

Stefan looked grim as he added, "Klaus is known to be the oldest." His eyes flicked toward Elena, who looked as though the ground had just shifted beneath her.

Amalie leaned back on the couch, her arms crossing as she let the words hang in the air. Her voice was calm, but there was a sharp undercurrent of sarcasm as she spoke. "So, let me get this straight—the oldest vampire in the history of time is coming after me and Elena?" Her tone was light, but there was a very real question hidden beneath the humor.

Rose nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

Stefan immediately countered. "No," he said firmly, as if he could stop the possibility by sheer force of will.

Damon, leaning forward now, cut in with a more measured. "What she's saying is—if what you're saying is true," he glanced toward Rose with a raised eyebrow, "and you're not just telling us this, so I don't kill you—"

Rose gave him a look, unimpressed. "Which I'm not."

Damon shrugged. "Then we're looking at a solid maybe."

Amalie sighed dramatically, resting her head against the back of the couch, her voice dry. "So, either we're screwed, or we're...screwed later. That's comforting."

Stefan shot her a glare. "Not helping, Amalie."

Amalie shrugged, her lips curving into a half-smile. "Just calling it like I see it, Stefan. Pretending you've got better odds isn't going to change the fact that you're in over your head."

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated, but he knew she wasn't wrong. Turning his attention back to Rose, he asked, "Elijah's dead, right? So no one else even knows you exist."

Amalie didn't miss a beat. "Not that we know of," she interjected, her voice dry, casting doubt on his assumption.

Damon glared at her. "Really not helping."

Stefan stepped in. "Look, I've never even met anyone who's laid eyes on him. I mean, we're talking centuries of truth mixed with fiction. We don't know if he's real. For all we know he could be some sort of stupid bed time story."

"He's real," Rose emphasized, "and he doesn't give up. If he wants something, he gets it. If you're not afraid of Klaus, then you're an idiot."

Damon leaned forward slightly, his voice sarcastic but with an edge of seriousness. "Alright, we're shaking. You've made your point."

The tension in the room snapped as Elena stood up abruptly, grabbing her bag from the side of the couch. Stefan looked up, concerned. "Where are you going?" He asked, his voice edged with worry.

"School," Elena said, her tone clipped as she slung the bag over her shoulder. "I'm late."

Stefan immediately rose, following her. "Let me grab my stuff, I'll go with you."

Elena shook her head, already halfway to the door. "It's okay, Stefan. I know where it is." She gave him a pointed look before stepping outside, the door closing firmly behind her.

Damon, watching her go, sighed dramatically, slouching further into the couch. "She's in denial," he muttered, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Stefan glared at him. "Shut up, Damon."

Amalie chuckled softly, glacing between the brothers. "You two really are the worst at handling anything emotional, you know that?"

Damon arched an eyebrow, giving her a sideways glance. "And you're an expert?"

Amalie leaned forward, her smirk widening. "I'm just saying, for someone who claims not to care, you sure do a lot of sulking when things don't go your way."

Damon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Careful, Amalie. You don't want to make me cry."

Amalie gave him a mocking look of sympathy, placing her hand over her heart. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Damon. I didn't realize you were so fragile."

Damon rolled his eyes but didn't respond.

Rose, watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow, finally spoke up. "So, are we going to talk about how to deal with Klaus, or are we just going to sit here and pretend this isn't happening?"

The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in once more. Klaus wasn't just a threat—they were dealing with the most dangerous vampire in existence. And he was coming for them

They just didn't know when.

###

Amalie stood just outside the entrance to the tomb, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glanced around the desolate ruins of the old church. The air was heavy, the atmosphere oppressive, as if the weight of what lay beneath those stone steps had seeped into the earth itself.

She didn't know why Elena had asked her to meet here of all places, but Amalie had a strong suspicion that it had everything to do with Katherine. Why else would Elena bring her to the tomb where the vampire was locked away?

A cold breeze swept through the clearing, sending a shiver up Amalie's spine. She checked her phone again, the brief text from Elena still staring back at her.

Meet me by the tomb. I'll explain when I get there.

Amalie sighed, her breath misting in the cool air. A familiar swirl of frustration bubbled inside her. She had her own questions—about Klaus, about Elijah, and what the two of them seemed to want with her. But waiting out here wasn't exactly the way she'd hoped to find answers.

Before she could let her mind wander any further, she heard footsteps crunching over dead leaves. She looked up and saw Elena emerging from the trees, Caroline trailing closely behind her. Amalie straightened, raising an eyebrow as she stepped forward to meet them.

"Elena," Amalie said, her voice edged with curiosity and suspicion. "Mind telling me why we're here? And please don't say it's to visit Katherine."

Elena, clutching a worn duffel bag in her hands, exchanged a glance with Caroline before turning to meet Amalie's gaze. Her expression was serious, the weight of whatever she was about to say already etched into the lines of her face. "Katherine's the only one who knows the truth about Klaus," Elena began, her tone steady but urgent. "I need answers, and I thought..." She hesitated for a moment, searching Amalie's eyes. "Given that you were also taken with me, you might want answers too."

Amalie's expression darkened slightly. The mention of Klaus sent a familiar chill through her. She couldn't deny that she wanted answers—needed them, really—but something was unsettling about the idea of ​​getting those answers from Katherine.

"So," Amalie said slowly, her voice laced with skepticism, "you're telling me we're about to ask Katherine for help? The same Katherine who will probably give us answers but only if we find a way to release her? "

Elena met her skepticism with quiet resolve. "She's the only one who's survived Klaus. If there's even a chance she'll tell us how to stop him, I have to take it."

Amalie studied her for a long moment, weighing Elena's determination against the clear risks of what they were about to do. There was something reckless in Elena's resolve, something born of desperation. And yet, Amalie understood it. They were both caught in a web of powerful and dangerous forces that stretched back centuries. If Katherine held the key to unraveling any of it, then maybe it was worth the risk.

Caroline sighed beside them, clearly uncomfortable. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm a terrible liar."

Amalie's eyes flicked to Caroline, her eyebrow raised in amusement. "And what exactly are you lying about?"

"Elena doesn't want Stefan to know what we're up to," Caroline admitted, fidgeting slightly. "I'm supposed to tell him that she wasn't feeling well and went home from school. Keep him busy."

Amalie let out a dry laugh. "Good luck with that."

Caroline grimaced. "You know I'm horrible at duplicity, Elena," she said, glancing over at her friend with clear concern. "Stefan's going to see right through me."

Elena cut in, her voice urgent. "Caroline, please. You managed to keep me occupied when Katherine visited Stefan."

Caroline let out a groan, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, because she threatened me," she grumbled. "Not exactly a tactic you should be taking notes on."

Elena's expression softened slightly, but the determination behind her eyes remained unwavering. "Caroline, as my friend, do you promise or not?"

There was a brief pause, a moment of hesitation before Caroline let out a resigned sigh. "You had to break out the girlfriend code," she muttered under her breath, though her voice carried a note of fondness. "Okay. I promise. "

Amalie watched the exchange silently, her gaze shifting between the two of them. A mix of amusement and concern tugged at her thoughts. Elena had clearly made up her mind, and though Amalie understood the need for answers, she couldn't shake the feeling that this entire plan was walking a razor-thin line between desperate and reckless.

They made their way down the worn stone steps, the cold ancient ruins wrapping around them. The air grew heavier as they approached the tomb, every step a weighted reminder of what lay within. Amalie's pulse quickened, a prickling anxiety crawling up her spine. Even locked away, Katherine herself was dangerous and manipulative, and she couldn't help but wonder if Elena knew what she was getting into.

Caroline hesitated beside the door, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she glanced at Elena. "Are you sure about this?" She asked, her voice laced with worry.

Elena's face was hard, eyes set with determination. "Yes, I'm sure. I can't just sit back and wait for Klaus to get here. I have to know."

Amalie tilted her head, studying Elena's profile, her voice cool but skeptical. "And you think Katherine's just going to tell us? Seems like a long shot. Katherine's never been one for honesty. Trust me—I would know."

Elena sighed but stood firm. "I know. But I have to try."

Caroline nodded, though doubt still shadowed her expression. She and Amalie moved to the massive stone boulder barring the entrance, each taking a side, grunting under the weight as they moved it aside. A cold gust of air escaped from within—an eerie breath from the tomb itself. It swept over them like a deathly whisper, raising the fine hairs on Amalie's arms.

Without hesitation, Elena stepped forward, her voice steady but laced with tension. "Katherine?"

A long silence stretched. Just when the stillness became unbearable, the faintest rustling echoed from the depths. A figure materialized at the entrance, her steps slow but deliberate. Katherine's form emerged from the shadows, her once-vibrant beauty reduced to something pale and ghostly, her skin stretched taut across her bones.