Chapter Text
The café smelled like roasted beans and warm cinnamon, the kind of scent that made Liana wonder why she didn’t indulge in mundane luxuries more often. She sat near the back, her corner table half-shielded by a stack of abandoned board games. Her iPad hummed quietly in front of her, the stylus moving in fluid loops as she adjusted a sequence of runes. A privacy spell enveloped her—a little thing she’d cobbled together to keep the curious at bay. Witches and humans wouldn’t see the real screen, just a harmless email inbox or a recipe app.
The spell wasn’t perfect, though. Nothing ever was.
“Interesting formula,” came a voice from behind her. Polished, low, and disturbingly close.
Her fingers paused mid-stroke, tension spreading through her shoulders like the first creak of ice on a lake. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face the interruption.
And froze.
Dark suit, flawless posture, the faint air of command that settled like a second skin—there was no mistaking him. She had never seen him in person, but she had read enough, researched enough, to recognize Elijah Mikaelson without an introduction.
Still, she forced herself to move, standing with practiced calm and smoothing her sweater as she did. “Elijah Mikaelson,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I wasn’t expecting to run into a legend over coffee.”
His head tilted just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise flashing across his face before it smoothed back into polite neutrality. “It seems I’m at a disadvantage,” he said, his tone cool but curious. “You know me, yet I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
“No,” she said, folding her arms lightly, “but your family has a way of leaving... impressions. And I like to know who might walk into my life unannounced.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him, warm but restrained. “Fair enough. Though I must admit, you surprised me. It’s rare to see spellwork so openly displayed.”
Liana blinked. “Openly displayed?” she gestured at the shimmering veil of her privacy spell. “I take precautions.”
“From witches and humans, perhaps,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “But you seem to have overlooked a key demographic.”
Her lips pressed together as irritation sparked, but she shoved it down, forcing herself to think instead of react. With a small nod, she returned to her seat, fingers curling around the stylus again. “Point taken,” she said briskly. “One moment.”
She made a small adjustment, weaving another layer into the spell. The screen flickered briefly, the protective magic settling into place with a soft pulse. When she looked up, his gaze was fixed on the iPad, thoughtful.
“There,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Covered from vampires too. Satisfied?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Impressive,” he said. “And efficient.”
“Not my goal, but I’ll take it.” She took a sip of her coffee, keeping her eyes on him over the rim of the cup. “So... what brings you to my corner of the world? I doubt it’s the ambiance.”
He smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s call it curiosity.”
“Curiosity?” she echoed, setting her cup down. “Or reconnaissance?”
His brow lifted slightly. “You’re very quick to suspect motives.”
She shrugged. “You’re very quick to approach strangers.”
For the first time, he seemed to hesitate, as if deciding how much of himself to show. “I’ll admit,” he said finally, “I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you here. Your work caught my eye.”
“Which brings us back to ‘reconnaissance,’” Liana said lightly. “But since you were kind enough to warn me, I’ll overlook the invasion of privacy. This time.”
“Generous,” he murmured, his lips curving into something that almost resembled amusement. “Though I suspect generosity isn’t a habit of yours.”
“Not often,” she admitted, “but credit should be given where it’s due. Even if I don’t fully trust the source.”
“Wise,” he said, and for a moment, there was something almost warm in his gaze. “But trust is earned, not given.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “That’s convenient for you.”
He laughed—a quiet, measured sound that seemed to resonate deeper than it should. “Perhaps.”
And just like that, the conversation shifted, the tension easing into something lighter, something almost comfortable. Liana picked up her stylus again, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t move to leave.
The café had emptied, save for the occasional hiss of the espresso machine and the murmur of a distant conversation. Liana sat frozen, her mind replaying the brief but charged encounter. Elijah Mikaelson. Diplomatic, measured, yet dangerously perceptive.
Her coffee had gone cold by the time she stood, shaking off the lingering tension. The mundane clatter of her iPad sliding into her bag grounded her. She reinforced her spellwork with a sharp gesture before leaving. It wasn’t paranoia—it was preparation. For what? She wasn't sure, but if Elijah Mikaelson suddenly has an interest in her, it wasn't anything pleasant.