FOR ONCE, Niklaus set aside his usual mocking demeanour and dropped all pretences. His thoughts, usually chaotic and filled with dark schemes, were now solely focused on his older brother.

His voice, softer than Elijah had ever heard it, broke the heavy silence. "Brother, she has cancer," he whispered, as though saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real, more unbearable. The words themselves were foreign to his ears—his mind couldn't fully grasp the concept of someone as vibrant and alive as Harper succumbing to something as relentless as cancer. But he knew it was true. He could see the pain etched on Elijah's face every time he mentioned her name. The sadness in his brother's eyes told him everything.

Elijah, standing before him, didn't try to hide the truth. "I know, brother," he admitted quietly, his voice laced with the weight of grief. "Freya left months ago to search for a cure, and though I told myself not to hold on to any false hope, I am, and I will always be eternally grateful for her efforts." His words felt like a confession as if admitting to the fact that he was still clinging to a thread of hope was a weakness. But that thread was all he had left. He couldn't let go, not when the woman he loved was slipping through his fingers.

Niklaus, ever the complicated brother, didn't know how to react to Elijah's words. He had been so used to their rivalry, to the constant tension between them, but in that moment, something shifted. Without another word, he reached over and pulled Elijah into a hug—one that they hadn't shared in what felt like centuries. The hug was not born out of brotherly affection, but out of the shared weight of what they were facing together. Niklaus had never been one for vulnerability, but now, with the reality of Harper's illness crashing down on them, he felt an overwhelming need to offer his support, even if it was just in this one, simple act. "Brother," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Why did you have to fall in love, knowing this would happen?"

Elijah's heart ached at the question. He had asked himself the same thing a thousand times, but the answer never came. He couldn't explain it.

He couldn't justify the way his heart had grown so deeply attached to Harper, even knowing that time was against them. "I can't stop the feeling, Niklaus," Elijah confessed, his voice raw, as he pulled back from the embrace just enough to meet his brother's gaze. "And you know that as well as anyone. In just these few short months, I've fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Harper. I don't regret it, but I wish—" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Regret seemed like a betrayal of what he had with Harper, but there were moments, like this one, where it felt like the universe was punishing him for daring to love.

Niklaus, always the pragmatist, looked at Elijah with a steady, unwavering gaze. "How much longer does she have?" The question hung in the air like a heavy cloud, and Elijah could hear the unspoken words behind it—Niklaus wasn't asking because he wanted to hurt his brother. He was asking because he knew the answer would change everything. It would determine how they would move forward, and how they would handle the inevitable.

Elijah closed his eyes, his throat tightening as he fought to keep his composure. "At most, four months," he whispered, the words tasting like acid in his mouth. "She can still eat, but her intake has decreased. She's getting weaker every day. I—" His voice faltered, and he didn't need to finish. Niklaus could hear the tremble in his brother's voice, and without a second thought, he pulled him into another embrace, holding him tightly as though he could shield him from the reality of it all.

"Brother," Niklaus murmured, his voice unusually gentle. "Why don't you put her in slumber, and allow all of us to find a way? We have time, Elijah. We might find a cure, something to save her."

Elijah stiffened, pulling away just enough to meet his brother's eyes. "How can I do that, Niklaus?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "You don't understand how long it could take. Putting her in slumber means she'll be unconscious for who knows how long. She deserves more than that. I can't do that to her. She has a right to know the truth, to face what's coming." His eyes were filled with unshed tears, and his heart was heavy with the burden of knowing what was to come. But there was no escaping it, no running from it. The clock was ticking, and he couldn't stop it.

Niklaus was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering as he looked at his brother. Then, with a quiet but firm voice, he asked the one question that cut through the confusion. "Do you love her?" The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything that had led them to this point. If Elijah loved Harper—truly, deeply loved her—then he had to consider every option. There was no time for hesitation.

"Of course, I do," Elijah answered immediately, as if the answer was as natural as breathing. His voice cracked slightly, but there was no doubt in it. His love for Harper was undeniable, and even in the face of death, it was something he would not relinquish.

Niklaus looked at him, his eyes softening. "Then why not do it? We have all the time in the world, and I am sure that we will find some way to heal her, especially since Vampire blood can't do it." There was a confidence in his voice, a belief that they could find a solution, even if it seemed impossible.

Before Elijah could respond, the soft sound of footsteps reached their ears. Rebekah, always the perceptive one, appeared beside them, her expression thoughtful. "I think that's a brilliant idea," she said, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "Brother, I know how much you love her. And I know for certain that you've vowed never to love again once she's gone. But this... this is different. You have a chance to save her, even if it means putting her in slumber for a time."

Kol, who had been lingering in the background, stepped forward with a grin that barely masked the concern in his eyes. "Also," he added, "she is the first woman who's had my dear older brother weak to his knees." His words were laced with affection, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of the moment. "We are Mikaelsons," Kol continued. "And we always find a way. So why are you wavering, brother?"

Elijah's eyes flickered with emotion as he looked at his siblings. He had always prided himself on being the protector, the steady force that held everything together. But now, for the first time in his life, he felt like he was losing control. How could he tell Harper that he was going to put her in slumber, not knowing how long it would be before they could find a cure? How could he promise her that they would find a way to save her when she already knew the truth? How could he face her knowing that he might not be able to keep his word?

The words choked him, and before he could say anything, his legs buckled beneath him. For the first time in centuries, Elijah Mikaelson, the noble and selfless brother, fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He had always been the strong one, the one who held his siblings when they cried. But now, the weight of Harper's impending death was too much. It broke him in ways he hadn't thought possible.

Rebekah was the first to react. She knelt down beside him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as he broke down in her embrace. Elijah, the pillar of strength, had finally fallen, and it was Harper's love that had brought him to this point. Rebekah looked at her brothers, her heart breaking for her sibling as she held him close. Both Niklaus and Kol felt the pain in their own hearts, the burden of witnessing their brother's breakdown.

They stood silently, offering what comfort they could, but it was clear that there was no easy way forward. They had to find a solution, but for now, all they could do was mourn the inevitable, together.