THE MOMENT Harper moved into the Mikaelson household, she knew that there was no way she could escape hearing the full, unvarnished story of their immortality. It wasn't long before the conversation inevitably turned to the history of the Originals—their long, storied lives spanning over a millennium. As the story unfolded before her, Harper found herself utterly fascinated, the sheer magnitude of their existence making her head spin.

"So, you've lived for over a thousand years?" Harper asked, her voice filled with incredulity. She couldn't help but marvel at the idea of living through so many centuries, each one carrying its own experiences, its own history. The thought of it seemed unfathomable to her, especially when she felt as though her own life was slipping away too quickly.

Kol, sitting across from her with a mischievous grin on his face, chuckled in amusement. "Yes, Harper," he confirmed, clearly enjoying her reaction.

"Intense," Harper murmured, a quiet laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head, still trying to process the enormity of what he was saying. Elijah, who had been sitting quietly nearby, reading a book, couldn't help but smile at her reaction. He had been listening to Kol regale her with stories from centuries past, stories of battles, alliances, betrayals, and everything in between. It was a world Harper couldn't even begin to imagine.

Elijah found himself entertained by her every reaction—the little noises she made, the way her eyes widened in disbelief, the laughter that bubbled up from deep within her. She had this innocent curiosity about her, a fascination with the world that didn't stem from fear but from a genuine desire to understand it. It made him feel something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time: a quiet joy. Her presence in his life, so unexpected and so needed, had begun to fill a space within him that had been vacant for centuries.

Still, Elijah's heart ached with the knowledge of what Harper was facing—her sickness, her limited time. It was a cruel reminder that despite all the power and immortality the Mikaelsons possessed, there were still forces in the world beyond their control. Vampirism couldn't cure everything.

As Kol continued to spin his tales of past lovers and the decadent lives he had led, Elijah felt a sharp pang of guilt. He wanted to share his own stories, but fear held him back. What would Harper think of him? The darkness in his past was something he had tried so hard to bury. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him as a monster, as someone she should be wary of.

Kol, blissfully unaware of his brother's internal struggle, carried on with his stories. His tales were mostly light-hearted, filled with colourful descriptions of the many women he had met across the centuries, and the adventures they had shared.

"You're not only an Original Vampire, but you're also an Original Womanizer," Harper teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Kol laughed uproariously, clutching his stomach as though her words were the funniest thing he had heard in ages. "Oh, god, I can't believe you actually said that!" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling.

Elijah couldn't help but laugh quietly as well. There was something about Harper's humour, her lightness, that made him feel at ease. It was a contrast to the weight of his thoughts, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the sound of her laughter, in the carefree joy that she brought into the room. He wanted nothing more than to keep her smiling, to make her forget, even just for a little while, the heavy burden she carried.

As Kol finally excused himself, leaving the room with a wink, the atmosphere shifted, becoming quieter, more intimate. Elijah closed the book he had been reading and turned his attention fully to Harper. She had become more than just a guest in the house. She had become someone important to him, someone he cared for in ways he hadn't allowed himself to care for anyone in a very long time.

"Now that Kol's gone, I suppose it's your turn," Harper said, her voice light but with a hint of curiosity. She leaned slightly forward, her eyes meeting Elijah's as she spoke. "I've heard Kol's story. Would I be able to hear yours eventually?" she asked, her tone a mix of eagerness and shyness.

Elijah was taken aback for a moment. It was one thing for Harper to want to know Kol's tales of the past—Kol's life had been filled with such adventure and escapism. But Elijah's past? He wasn't sure if he could open up about it. His life, while intertwined with greatness, had been marred by so much darkness, and so many regrets. Could he really share that with her? And if he did, would she still see him the same way?

He set the book down slowly, his fingers lingering on the cover as he considered her words. "If I must confess," he began, his voice tinged with hesitation, "my stories are not as exciting as Kol's, and..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Harper smiled softly, sensing his discomfort. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just tell me about your happiest moments. Your greatest memories. I don't need anything that might make you uncomfortable," she said quickly, her voice warm with understanding. "It's not my place to judge you, Elijah. I'm just... curious about you. About what makes you, well, you."

Elijah's relief was palpable. He hadn't realized how much pressure he had been placing on himself to give her an extraordinary tale, to make himself seem more than he was. The fact that Harper didn't expect him to be perfect, that she only wanted to hear about the good things, made his heart swell. It was such a simple request, but one that carried so much weight.

He took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his chest slowly dissipate. "I suppose I can share a few moments with you, then," he said, his voice softer now. "It's not so much about the grandeur of the events, but the people I've met along the way... the bonds I've formed."

Harper nodded, her eyes fixed on him with such intensity, as though she was hanging on to every word. Elijah smiled faintly, grateful for her patience, for the way she made him feel understood without needing to be told everything.

And so, for the next few hours, Elijah told Harper stories—not of battles or wars, but of the people who had shaped him, of the moments that had brought him joy, no matter how fleeting. He spoke of times when he had felt love and kinship when he had been content when he had truly believed in the goodness of the world. These were the moments that had defined him, not the darkness he had endured.

As Harper listened, she found herself captivated by his words, not because they were grand or heroic, but because they were real. They were raw. They were Elijah.

At that moment, Harper realized something she hadn't fully understood before. She was no longer just a stranger in this world of immortals. She had found a place where she belonged. And even though time was short, even though the shadow of her illness loomed over her, she knew that she had people who cared for her—people who were willing to share their stories with her. People who were willing to fight for her.

And that, for now, was enough.