Disclaimer: I do not own TVD or any of its wonderful characters.

July 1470

His" throne" was in the center of the room, given a respectful berth of space despite the clutter. The company that surrounded him in a seeming circle—Hell's circle? — was not homogeneous by any means. There were the vagabonds and the fugitives—recognizable by that undefinable air of innate hardness and danger. There were the wealthy and the powerful as well-recognizable by their attempt and failure at trying to dress like vagabonds and fugitives. They had braved the scruff and the roughness for the sake of anonymity and the gamble of keeping their good name in their alternate lives by day.

I pushed through the crowd regardless, crossing into the purposefully empty space. It was an arrogant infraction, but one that would be obviously noted by him. My sudden prominence was echoed by the snide questions behind me in the safety of a crowd. I whispered a wordless prayer and dropped my hood to a dead silence, revealing my gender. The men behind me, finally out of their stupor, laughed and jeered.

At the center of it all, he looked like how I imagined the King of Hell. All that was missing were the flames. His eyebrows rose with the slightest hint of amusement.

"And what do you have to offer, sweetheart?" he cocked his head in my direction, smirking, reclining languidly on the hastily provided chair.

"Me." I heard my voice ring out defiantly above, to the point at which I almost didn't recognize its sound. "I offer myself and my indentured service to you, my lord."

The pub fell silent. His gaze was unreadable, calculative. He leaned forward, resting his chin atop his fingertips. His eyes, a deep brown, grasped mine even in the dim light. Was he regarding me patronizingly? Or appraisingly? I couldn't tell. He was impossible to read, yet he struck me as one of those who could critically analyze in a glance the strengths and weaknesses of a soul; their greatest desires and their greatest fears.

"I accept." He spoke out at last. Murmurs of surprise broke out, mixed with outrage. A "cobbler" -who looked suspiciously like the Earl of Cheltham- clamored to his feet indignantly, his lip curling with scorn. "I offered you a thousand pounds! That sum is worth more than what most merchants make in their lifetime! And you turn it down for this… this chit of a bar wench?"

My lord's gaze snapped to him instantly. "This—chit of a bar wench—and I have more pressing matters to discuss that do not concern you." His voice was cold, any hint of amusement—or bored resignation—replaced with a glacial ice.

He rose dangerously from his designated throne for the evening and offered me his hand.

"Let us withdraw to a more private place and discuss our arrangement, shall we, little one?"

I refused his hand, perhaps brashly. "With all due respect, my lord, I am not little."

Avoiding his gaze, I watched as he recoiled the fingers of his outstretched hand one by one elegantly, slowly, as though he had all the time in the world.

"No." I chanced a glance at his face, only to find it as inscrutable as ever. "No, you are not, my dear. Come."

I heard some of the men whisper "whore" and "slag" but rumors of my virtue and sin could hardly give me cause to care- not anymore.

I had just given myself over to the devil willingly.

I followed the man they call Elijah into the back room, unknowingly leaving my humanity with the iron clamor of the lock of the door behind me.

XXX

"Humans." Elijah scoffed, sweeping into the back room with an air of aristocracy.

"What was that?" I called after him. He turned back and looked at me sharply, and I realized I had overstepped. I curtsied hastily, mumbling some semblance of an apology while inwardly cursing my arrogance.

"And manners. But, no matter, they can be taught…" He trailed off, disregarding me in favor of the window with but an impatient beckon of his hand for me to come. The gesture one might make for a dog.

By contrast to his confidence, I followed him across the threshold meekly, shuffling my feet, and averting my gaze from anything above the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that his back was still towards me, so I chanced a peek around my surroundings as he surveyed the exterior from the window with an expression of utmost indifference. However, something told me that my furtive glances did not go unnoticed by him.

The backroom was no finer nor cruder than the main bar room, but it was somehow even less benign and more menacing. Or perhaps that was because I was alone with the mysterious lord.

I turned my attention to the man in question, and my heart jolted at the realization that my sweep of the surroundings had in fact not gone unnoticed as my instincts had told me. Elijah had inescapably turned his attention back towards me with a predatory smirk.

He raised his glass of wine to me mockingly.

"Please, my dear, I wish to hear your proposal. I don't think you meant your declaration to initially come across with the crudeness as that of a similar offer, perhaps made by a common prostitute?"

I quickly looked to the floor, trying to hide my reddening face as I blushed profusely at the insinuation. "No, begging my lord's pardon, of course not. I simply offered that I would work off the debt of our arrangement as an unpaid servant in your manor indefinitely, for the rest of my life if I must…"

A spark of movement caught my eye, and I couldn't but help to look up…

Only to jump back at the lord's piercing eyes inches from my own.

He seemed to be regarding me with almost an open curiosity, searching my face. I thought of the blank pages of books that my father had once hand bound- one of his many pastimes- hoping the sentiment would create the same sense of emptiness across my expressions and calm my beating heart.

Elijah's lips quirked. "You're not nervous, sweetheart?"

"N-no, my lord." I fought to keep the tremble out of my voice, wishing for the note of defiance I had so foolishly earlier, my heart now pounding.

"Shh…" He gripped my jaw with his cold hands, forcing my eyes to meet his. There was a tug, an inexplicable pull…

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"What is your name?"

"Rose, daughter of Eric. He is a merchant in Southampton."

The answers tumbled out of my mouth without restraint.

"Who sent you?"

"No one."

"Why are you here then?"

"To make a deal."

He let go of my chin then, and the spell was broken, but I couldn't remember for that minute what had transpired…

Elijah stepped back immediately, swiftly sitting into the chair, his silhouette obscured in the dim candlelight.

"My apologies, I digress. Your proposal?" He sipped the wine elegantly, attentive once again.

I steadfastly ignored the unsettling moment of fuzzy memory and fell to my knees, my head bowed. I had come here for a purpose.

"My brother William is dying of plague. The apothecary, the healer- they can do nothing. We have no where else to turn. He is-"

"Spare me the tragic story, I've heard it all before." Elijah interrupted dismissively. "Just… one question… did you really mean to offer yourself over to me? Or was that some cheap ploy to garner my attention above those others?"

I took a deep breath. "I offer myself and my services over to you for the rest of my life if need be in exchange for your lordship's healing of my brother…"

"It is done."

The abruptness of his tone and the immediate agreement stunned me into looking up at him. "My lord? Just like that?"

"Just like that." He repeated, emotionless. "We have an agreement. Take this vial to your brother. It contains the cure to any petty ailment of his."

He withdrew a small dark bottle from beneath his cloak and tossed it carelessly at me. I caught it instinctively.

"You have a fortnight to ensure he mends properly. Then you shall return here and make good on your end of the bargain as my servant."

I hurriedly stumbled to my feet. "Yes my lord-"

Elijah stood up, albeit gracefully, as well, brushing any latent dirt briskly off the well tailored velvet.

"If you do not return-" he examined his fingertips offhandedly "your family will not live to see the following sunrise, and you, sweetheart, shall die rather a painful death."

I flinched, but really could I have expected any less? I bowed my head once more, refusing to let the man intimidate me any further.

"Thank you my lord. You have my word."

"Your promise… will not mean anything until then, Rose."

I exited the room quickly after his chilling words, clutching the prize that was coming with a steep promise. I knew that my wager was forged with that of shackles and chains, but I couldn't afford to keep that despair in my thoughts.

It would all be worth it once I reached Will.