The first time Elijah had heard of the Order, it had been several centuries ago, whispered in between witches about a second coming, about finally getting rid of the filth that walked alongside the living. Curious, and albeit concerned, Elijah had looked into it, following the trail of whispers until he came across a cathedral, the grand structure hiding horrors that he had never thought he'd see.

He had still been young then, his idea of how far some were willing to go to rid the world of supernaturals. He knew of witches, of how bloodied their path could get, his own upbringing having taught him of that and yet, what he had found in that Cathedral had made his stomach twist, something he had thought he'd grown out of after centuries of carnage.

There he had found a crippled man, deluded and muttering words of his god━ of ridding the world of sins, of holy soldiers and a placeholder. He had taken mercy on the poor thing and taken it out of its misery. He had looked around the place after, finding words of a creating a soldier that would cleanse the world.

And throughout his years, he'd come across many of these soldiers━ weapons made to eradicate the world of his kind and others, of creatures they didn't deem pure however, more often than not, these weapons, pitiful souls really would be more... thing than human, madness taking root into the threads of their very being and leaving a trail of bodies behind━ human or supernaturals.

And more often than not, they'd have to be put out of their misery.

These whispers had died down until almost five decades ago when whispers of her began to start, the last of the Arkanjs', the perfect soldier of their god, the perfect weapon who skirted the line between creature and human in a way no other had before her, the way she still continued to do what she had been raised to, had heard tales of her work from witches and vampires alike.

But Elijah knows that not all that is said is true and the more he had heard about Sartha Arkanj, the more intrigued he was of her. What he hadn't expected was to come across her let alone in New Orleans of all places.

He doesn't realise that he's following her at first, the beat of her heart entrancing him and making him follow. Elijah had left the Lafayette Cemetery with a short-lived sense of relief, his mind whirling with ways to help the werewolf girl and the steady beat━ unlike that of humans or supernatural almost reeling him in. He moves to leave when her voice rings out through the empty street followed by a shot that lodges a bullet in his chest, a few centimetres below his heart. Instinct takes over and he rushes, shoving her to the wall and making her collapse onto the ground. He picks up the gun, ignoring the burn of it and dismantles it.

The conversation that followed was a mix of lies and half-truths, convincing the hunter to a deal had been something that had came to him at the moment but not a bad one. He knows of her, knows the trail of bodies she's left behind━ that be of witches, vampires or werewolves.

The words fall from his lips before he can think them over, think of their consequences but in that moment he cares not, not when this woman might be the only one fully capable of protecting Hayley━ protecting their family's salvation, his brother one chance at happiness.

She agrees readily when he promises a cure━ a sort of childish hope in her eyes that he'd think someone as hardened as her wouldn't have. There is a sense of satisfaction in him but also an unfamiliar feeling of guilt.

Elijah's lips tug into a frown as he realises that the smell of blood in the air is getting heavier by the second. He hadn't thrown her hard enough to bruise but the guilt tugged at him when he realised that his action might have caused already existing wounds to reopen. He rolled up his sleeve, biting into his forearm and offering her his blood.

Sartha stares at his bleeding forearm in confusion, before looking back at him. He quirks a brow as he elaborates. "Your wounds have reopened"

"Can't," She tells him and for a moment Elijah thinks it's for her pride, that taking the help of a vampire━ an Original, the very thing she was supposed to kill would be going against the very beliefs that make her. "Vampire blood is not something my body can take."

Elijah blinks, none of the texts he had read mentioned that.

"You're still injured."

"It'll heal."

Elijah clicks his tongue, "Let me help." His voice takes on a kinder note, "I know that it is against your nature to trust me, Miss Arkanj, but there has to be a small amount of trust between us."

There is hesitance on her part before she starts walking, a small 'follow me' leaving her lips and he does. Ten or so minutes later, he stands in the living room of an old run-down━ or so he thought━ mansion as Sartha looks around the cabinet. A soft noise escapes her as she turns around with a bottle of antiseptic alongside cotton pads and bandages.

He takes them from her, his hold on her gentle as he guides her to one of the settees pushed against the wall.

"Allow me," Elijah says, his voice soft in response to her bewildered look. He waits for her refusal but when that doesn't come, tugs at her jacket, letting it fall to the side. His eyes scan the skin of her arms, littered with old wounds and scars━ smooth brown skin giving way to blemishes and raised flesh. His eyes catch on a particular one in her shoulder which he doesn't have to ask to know that it's old and gives way to a bigger one.

It took him a beat to notice that she'd stiffened under his eyes, making Elijah look away. Instead, he opens the antiseptic.

He starts to work, cleaning the nicks and wounds with the antiseptic, his hands light━ almost feather-like on her. She barely makes a noise at it, her eyes fixed on his face with something akin to disbelief━ and something else Elijah can't name.

"Thank you," Her voice came out shaky after Elijah pulled away once done. A frown tugs at his lips as he gives her a once-over, her eyes cataloguing for any more injuries.

"Are you still injured?"

Sartha shook her head slowly.

Elijah nods at her, giving her a small, polite smile, "I'll see you soon tomorrow then, Miss Arkanj."

He waits for a response from her, staring for a second but nothing comes he turns around. He leaves and heads out to find Niklaus and the conversation with him goes as well as any conversation with his brother goes but Eijah knows that he got through, knows that his brother had listened and would do what was right━ for himself and their family.

And that is proved when hours after dawn breaks, he's at the Mansion. Hayley had started to settle in while he and Niklaus were in a room, far enough from the living area where Hayley could hear them.

"Rebekah may surprise us yet," Elijah says in defence of their sister after a particular taunt Niklaus had thrown about her being petty, "After all, we all swore the same vow."

"I hope she stays far away," Niklaus states, though Elijah finds himself surprised at the lack of annoyance at the tone. He raises an eyebrow, a silent gesture for his brother to continue. "Because in my desire to reclaim this town, to steal from Marcel that which he holds most dear, I have realised one massive vulnerability. One weakness that Marcel could exploit."

"And what is that?" Elijah asked, though he had a small idea as he noticed a familiar glint in his eyes━ one that he often saw when their father was still alive.

"You."

Damn you, Niklaus.

━━━

Sartha is frozen, her mind static.

She can still feel the ghost of his touch on her, barely there and yet it felt just as overwhelming when he had actually been there. Sartha doesn't get why he had thought to follow her here, to offer his blood and then tend to her wounds when she refused even though she had already informed him that

A show of trust, he'd told her but that didn't stop the confusion from growing in her.

Sartha lets out a sigh, turning over and laying down, far too exhausted to move from where she was. If Elijah was to be believed, then they'd have to meet the next day and she knows for a fact that it'd be just as exhaustive as today. Entangling with supernaturals was already something she did not prefer to do━ most of them giving way to their primal urges, letting the monster in them out rather than letting what little human was left behind be at the forefront.

And Originals? They were the worst of the pack.

Elijah Mikaelson was not kind, it was not in his nature. Mikaelson's were the cruellest of their kind━ of the supernatural as a whole. They had built their empire from carnage, and bloodshed, tearing down anyone that they could not stand. She remembered learning of them, Klaus━ thinks himself as king, Elijah━ silvertongued and just as cruel; if not more so than his brother and Rebekah━ pretty face that hid the monster within.

What had she gotten herself into? And just at the expense of a few words? At the hope of a cure?

Sartha sighed, closing her eyes and pressing her palms against them, trying to ignore the familiar line of thought that her mind was whirring down towards. A bitter laugh falls from her lips as she realises how much of a fool she had been, to believe a Mikaelson and more so, to believe that she was something that was savable.

She finds herself slowly succumbing to the exhaustion, sleep overtaking her as seconds ticked by but it isn't fruitful━ it never is. She wakes up just as dawn breaks, her skin clammy with sweat and her breath coming out in short puffs as her heart beats a mile a minute. She doesn't remember what she saw in her dreams━ nightmares? They are one and the same at this point to her.

She scrubs at her face, making her way to the second floor to freshen up before setting out to find Kieran.

"You're early," Kierian says when he spots her, his eyes holding obvious worry at the state of her. "Confessional?"

Sartha shook her head, taking a seat on one of the benches and sitting down. The rosary beads are weaved in between her fingers, the familiar prayer her mother used to say falling from her lips as she closes her eyes, trying to clear her mind.

It helps━ sometimes. She feels less herself the longer she stays here, repeating the mantra, praying for Him and His kindness, of salvation at the hands of Him. She feels more of what her mother had wanted her━ less of a monster, more of a soldier.

She doesn't realise when the hours pass but the benches in front of her have occupants by the time she gets up, her limbs stiff from sitting in the same place for a long while. With a sigh, she makes her way out and towards the bar Elijah and her had agreed to meet at. She steps inside, orders a coffee and finds herself a place at the bar while waiting for Elijah.

"Waiting for someone?" Sartha looks up at the voice, taking in the pretty smile, blonde hair and a familiar set of eyes━ Kierian's eyes.

"Yes, a.." Sartha hesitates, not knowing how to exactly phrase Elijah and her relationship to the girl without coming off as wrong. "Friend."

Camille winces, "He ditched?"

Sartha purses her lips, "He's not the type to."

"That's what they all say," Camille says with a roll of her eyes before giving her a bright smile, "I'm Camille- call me Cami."

"Sartha."