𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 ⚜️ ELIJAH MIKAELSON

The humid New Orleans air hung heavy, thick with the scent of jasmine and old magic. Inside the sprawling Mikaelson compound, a fragile peace reigned, constantly threatened by the echoes of past betrayals and the ever-present tension between its inhabitants.

Georgia Claire, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, hummed a soft lullaby as she curled her hair in Elijah's spacious bedroom. Beside her, little Hope Mikaelson, a toddler of boundless energy, toddled around, exploring every nook and cranny. The rhythmic click of the curling iron was a small comfort in a world perpetually teetering on the brink of chaos. Six months had passed since Klaus had cursed Hayley's pack, six months of Hope being virtually motherless, and six months of Georgia stepping into a role she never expected.

She looked at Hope, her heart aching. The innocent joy in the child's eyes was a stark contrast to the bitterness that had taken root in the compound. Her relationship with Davina, her own sister, was fractured, a painful reminder of the sacrifices she'd made, and the ones she still had to make. Elijah's return to his gym routine, a desperate attempt to channel his own simmering rage, was a testament to the suffocating atmosphere.

Just as she finished with her hair, Elijah entered the room, dressed in uncharacteristically casual gym gear. His presence, always a calming anchor, brought a small smile to her lips. He kissed her forehead, a gentle gesture that spoke volumes. Hope, ever drawn to him, tugged at his pants, babbling excitedly. Georgia watched, a flicker of warmth in her chest, before turning to the closet to pick an outfit. The young child threw her head back in giggles.

And then, a word. A simple sound that shattered the fragile calm.

"Ma...- Mama."