#freylijah

I may be willing to accept your identity, Freya. It doesn't mean I trust you. Then I will look forward to earning that trust.

When Elijah is telling Freya about compelling the trinity, he gives off this child caught with hand in the cookie jar energy.

It wasn’t the kindest thing he’d ever done.

Sending two innocents and a Tristan to run and hide from an child abuser with intent to slaughter. Maybe a tiny understatement.

The compound is dark and quiet, reflecting the mood of its inhabitants. The Hollow's body lies dead, killed by a knife strengthened by Hayley's blood, but the atmosphere is far from victorious. The last few weeks have taken their toll on all of them, even though their final gambit has seemingly paid off.

Elijah finds his older sister on the couch in sitting room, their mother's Grimoire lying open in front of her. Freya does not seem to be paying it much attention as she stares into the darkness outside.

Elijah warns her by knocking his knuckles on the wood of the door. Wordlessly, he sinks down next to her and laces his fingers through hers. With a sigh, she leans her head against his shoulder as he presses a soft kiss on her hair.

They sit there for a moment, silently drawing strength from each other's presence. Elijah has yet to thank Freya for saving his life. While Hayley had drawn him out of his broken state of mind, it had been Freya who had managed to put him inside the pendant in the first place.

He is immensely grateful for her presence and the love she has shown them. For the first time since he can remember, he can rely on an older sibling, instead of carrying the burden alone.

Which is also why he has sought her out now.

"Freya," he starts, "may I ask you a personal question?"

She pulls away from him with a slight frown.

"Of course," she says kindly.

"You once told me that you would rather kill yourself, than have your baby be bound to Dahlia. And that after you did, you realised that you could not die."

Freya tenses, obviously not having expected this train of thought. She nods, and squeezes his hand, giving silent permission for him to continue. Her thumb is rubbing soft circles in his palm. Elijah hesitates, afraid to continue but unable to stop.

"How did it feel," he finally asks quietly, "when you still thought the poison would take your life?"

For a moment, Freya does not respond. Then she smiles a bitter smile, remembering the day Dahlia took everything from her.

"I was relieved."

She swallows, but continues. "The poison was painless, so it was like falling into a deep sleep. And I knew, that when I did, I would be free."

She looks up at him, her old determination reflected in her eyes.

"I was ready to die. I was ready for it all to- " she takes a shuddering breath "- to be over."

She chuckles bitterly. "Of course, then I woke up."

Elijah presses his forehead against hers, unable to find any words. Tears well up in his eyes and his throat tightens. He feels drained, an exhaustion which digs deeper than any physical layer, laced through every part of his soul.

"You're not weak for wanting peace, Elijah," Freya whispers, and he takes a deep, shaking breath, bordering on a sob.

For a moment, just before he died but not died, when the pain of the wolf venom had faded away, when the sounds had become muffled, just before he was dragged under into his worst memories, he had felt a burden lift. His mind, battered by the torture, had accepted the inevitable and had stopped fighting.

He had caught a glimpse of what it was like to let go. What it was like to be free of Always and Forever, and the heartache and pain that came with it.

"We're here for you, Brother," Freya says, her voice sounding far away. "We'll get through this."