Lover Be | The Originals

Chapter Thirty-Six | Change of Scenery

"Where have you been?" Klaus sounds upset as Malia walks in.

"I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head," Malia answered.

"Did you?" Elijah asked.

"I remembered something," Malia says. "Actually, I remembered it a while ago. I just couldn't . . ."

Malia shakes her head.

"What is it?" 

"When Ellie had finished breaking all of my fingers, that witch Yara came in. I guess she heard me screaming."

The way Malia talked about it sounded so detached like she was distancing herself from her own memories. Klaus and Elijah couldn't meet her eyes as she talked about it. They had failed to protect her.

"Anyways, Yara tried to intervene, but Ellie convinced her that the two of you were responsible for Naomi's death. When Yara walked away, Ellie told me that it was her. She and the others in the First Coven have the power of Suggestion and it helps them manipulate vampires into doing things. She said she needed to turn the witches against the vampires."

Malia's hand went to her ribs as she remembered the stab that followed that revelation. She knew it wasn't real pain, but it ached with the memory.

The brothers didn't say anything, so she looked up at them.

"Well? Was that helpful?"

"Yes," Elijah nodded. "Very."

"Great. I'm glad we got something out of my time there."

The brothers could see that she was struggling. Elijah sent a concerned look to his brother and then approached Malia, his presence offering some reassurance.

"Malia," he said softly, "I think it's time for a change of scenery. Would you be willing to accompany me?"

She swallowed. She could feel the concern that the Mikaelsons had for her. Everyone knew she was different. She nodded, taking the arm that Elijah offered to her.

He led her out into the sunshine. They walked in silence through the streets of the Crescent City, the bright energy of the city contrasting with the dark mood that shrouded Malia.

Malia was enveloped in the large sweatshirt that used to belong to her dad. She thought wearing it would bring some comfort, and it did. The sweatshirt was long enough to cover her shorts, and it was a stark difference from the man in the perfect bespoke suit beside her.

Elijah pulled her into a music store. It was one she had gone to when she first arrived in New Orleans. It was a little comforting to walk the same rows of music that she had before being exposed to the supernatural.

She walked over to a grand piano like the ones she played in clubs. It was much nicer than what she could afford for her home. Her fingers brushed over the ivory keys.

"Excuse me, miss," a worker approached her. "Please don't touch the piano."

Malia looked up as Elijah grabbed the worker by their shoulders.

"You should be so lucky to hear her play," Elijah compelled.

"It would be an honor," the worker nodded to Malia. "Please."

She sat down at the piano, her hands hovering over the keys. Elijah wasn't sure if she would actually start playing, but then she did.

It was a slow, melancholic piece. Each note was meaningful and intentionally placed. Elijah watched and listened, his heart touched by the music that flowed from her fingertips. A soft smile reached the corner of his mouth.

She didn't hesitate or falter even once. She played the full piece perfectly and took in a deep breath before starting another. She played song after song with no mistakes for hours.

"I'm sorry," the worker from earlier said. "We close soon."

"You will stay open until we are done," Elijah used compulsion.

"Actually, 'Lijah," Malia finally stopped, looking up at him. "It's fine. I'm ready to go."

He nodded, surprised to hear a nickname.

"Never mind," he told the worker.

Malia stood and took Elijah's arm again. They walked back outside.

"Thank you," Malia finally said, "for this afternoon. I needed it."

"It was my pleasure."