The front door of the Gilbert house opened with its usual quiet creak, and the moment the tall, impeccably dressed figure of Elijah Mikaelson stepped inside, he immediately sensed something… different.

The house was quieter than usual.

Too quiet.

From the living room, Elena and Jeremy were sitting on the couch, both looking unusually tense. Jeremy had a bowl of cereal in his hands while Elena was clutching a heating pad like it might be a lifeline.

Elijah closed the door behind him smoothly, setting his keys on the small table near the entrance.

“Good evening,” he greeted calmly, his voice as polished and composed as ever. “I was hoping to see your sister. Is she home?”

Jeremy and Elena immediately exchanged a look.

The kind of look that said someone else should explain this.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Uh… yeah. She’s here.”

Elena winced slightly. “But before you go upstairs, there’s… something you should know.”

Elijah’s brow lifted just a fraction. In the centuries he had lived, very few things truly surprised him, yet the strange caution in their voices caught his attention.

“And that would be?”

Jeremy leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was warning someone before they entered a lion’s den.

“She got her period.”

Elijah blinked once.

Jeremy gestured upstairs dramatically. “Which means she’s been miserable all day.”

Elena nodded quickly. “And cranky.”

“Really cranky,” Jeremy added.

“She yelled at the toaster this morning,” Elena said.

Jeremy pointed his spoon toward the ceiling. “And she threw a pillow at me because I walked too loud.”

Elijah stood there, absorbing the information with the same composed expression he wore in the face of enemies, betrayals, and supernatural chaos.

Slowly, he folded his hands in front of him.

“I see.”

Elena softened slightly. “We’re just saying… maybe don’t take anything she says personally.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Seriously. She threatened to fight a lamp earlier.”

A small hint of amusement flickered in Elijah’s dark eyes, though his expression remained mostly calm.

“Thank you for the warning.”

Without another word, he turned and began walking upstairs with his usual measured, elegant steps.

The hallway was dim and quiet, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his feet.

When he reached your door, it was slightly open.

He knocked softly anyway.

“May I come in, love?”

There was a muffled groan from inside.

“Only if you’re bringing chocolate… or painkillers… or a new uterus.”

Elijah pushed the door open gently.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and you were curled tightly beneath your comforter like a grumpy cocoon. Only the top of your head and part of your face were visible, your hair messy and your expression clearly miserable.

Your heating pad was clutched against your stomach, and an empty wrapper from a chocolate bar sat on the nightstand beside you.

Elijah stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, he simply observed you, concern softening his usually stoic features.

Then he moved to sit carefully on the edge of the bed.

“My dear,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Your siblings informed me you were… suffering today.”

You squinted up at him from under the blanket.

“I hate everything.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“That does appear to be the general consensus downstairs.”

You groaned and pulled the blanket higher around yourself.

“My stomach hurts, my back hurts, and Jeremy exists too loudly.”

Elijah chuckled softly under his breath, his hand resting gently over yours through the blanket.

“Then it seems you are in dire need of proper care.”

His voice softened, warm and steady.

“Tell me what you require, and I shall see it done.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly.

“…Chocolate.”

Elijah nodded once.

“Done.”

“And cuddles.”

Another nod.

“Also done.”

You studied him suspiciously.

“…and if you say something stupid I might bite you.”