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"You look beautiful," Elijah says quietly. She can hear him from across the yard, his voice travelling louder than the crinkling of her dress.
Elena’s dress feels a touch too heavy and moves too loudly for her liking, but she glides along the trimmed grass towards him. Her long white ballgown feels as though it’s made of feathers. Despite all the luxurious items he’s procured for her over the years, this is the one she thinks fits her like a glove—even if she wishes to tug at the sleeves falling down her shoulders. She may be treated like a princess from time to time, one who can climb down her ivory tower and save herself from the monsters in the shadows, but she still feels like a hopeless young woman who becomes flustered at the sight of his gifts.
She still becomes flustered at the sight of him. It doesn’t matter how many years they spend together, how many gifts he gives her, how many silly surprises like this one he arranges for her to remind her he listens and keeps his word, no matter how silly, she still finds herself surprised.
She flushes, her skin pinking. He’s dressed in an immaculate black suit with his tie perfectly straight. He fiddles with the plain ring on his left hand.
"And you look okay," she says, shrugging a bare shoulder. Elijah laughs. As she comes to stand before him, she lets go of the skirt of her dress and fiddles with his tie, tugging at it until it’s sitting lopsided against his chest. Elena smiles. "Better."
"Is it?" Elijah asks without peering away from her face. His gaze drops to her ruby red lips for the briefest of moments. "I thought it looked better as it was before."
Elena shakes her head, scrunching up her face in feigned disgust. "No, god, no." Touching the lapels of his black jacket, she ignores the urge to crinkle the fabric. Although Elijah would allow her to roughen him up until his fluffy hair looks like a bird’s nest, she doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. He takes great pride in his appearance. It’d taken her too long to realise his vanity for perfection had been a mask for others and his desire for her.
"I suppose I’ll have to trust you on that," he says, smiling at her. He twists the plain band of his ring. She touches the small diamond on hers.
Elena allows her hands to linger against his chest before she lets them drop. Catching his hands, she loops their fingers together, pressing palm to palm. "You don’t have to do anything elaborate for today, you know."
"Oh, I know," he says, his smile widening. "But you did ask for a Cinderella-like birthday for your one hundred and fiftieth, and I didn’t think it was kind of me to ignore such a request."
She rolls her eyes. "First of all," she laughs, "I was drunk. And I was a twenty-year-old human girl when I gave you that list. I didn’t know that I was confessing my deepest and darkest desires to my Prince Charming."
He flushes a nice red. Elena stands taller, enjoying her victory. If she had known so long ago that the way to unhorse Elijah Mikaelson was to flatter him with genuine compliments, she would’ve defeated him long before she ensnared him. Elena much prefers this side of history, especially when Elijah smiles, his eyes crinkling, and he lifts a shoulder as his teasing reply. His hands squeeze hers gently.
She sighs heavily, smiling. Tilting her head to the side, she regards him adoringly. "Are you really going to get me a carriage made out of pumpkin?"
With his hands still in hers, he gently tugs on her hand to encourage her to walk. She falls easily into step beside him. "We’ll have to wait and see," he says. Elena laughs brightly, purposefully bumping into his side. Even when she thinks he’ll let go of one of her hands, he doesn’t.
As they walk across the grounds of the Mikaelson-Gilbert mansion in Virginia, she can see the way he’s transformed the backyard into something magical. The neatly trimmed grass is adorned with small lights shaped like mushrooms. Christmas lights tangle high up in the trees to give it an ethereal glow. And the pale white gazebo she adores so much and tucks herself inside to read her books is lit up with bright lights, its pathway adorned with an exaggerated amount of red petals.
Elena peers around the yard in wonderment, allowing Elijah to lead them to the middle of the gazebo. He stands before her, his hands still in hers, and gazes down at her with an openness she’s come to take for granted.
He gently tugs his hand away from hers and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the back of his fingers brushing against her face. Elena squeezes his hand in hers and smiles up at him.
"Elijah Mikaelson-Gilbert," she laughs, her neck and cheeks flushing hot with red. "Will you—"
"Yes."
She chuckles, regarding him with a stern arch of her brow. "You didn’t even let me ask!"
"My apologies," he says, bowing his head in mock guilt. She takes this as her opportunity to brush her fingers through his fluffy hair, mussing it up slightly. When he rights himself, he scrunches up his nose. "Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for being so eager?"
Pursing her lips in feigned thought, Elena shrugs a shoulder before she smiles. "Only if you dance with me." Lifting her index finger into his face, she cocks her brow and demands, "And I get to dip you this time." Elena tilts her head up defiantly, smiling despite her attempt to appear haughty. "It’s your wife’s birthday demand." She stomps her converse shoe petulantly against the hard floor.
He chuckles and nods. "You have my word," he murmurs warmly.
Before Elena can tug on his hand and pull him into a dance, Elijah’s spinning her. She laughs, her dress billowing out beneath her and her loose straight hair whipping into her face. And before she can catch her breath, he’s dipping her low, his hand supportive and strong against her back.
"Elijah!"
He smiles down at her. "You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you," he says quietly. His cheeks are a little pink. "Happy birthday, Miss Gilbert."
Before she can correct him on her name, his lips press against hers.
