Title: Last Kiss
Disclaimers: VD, Damon and Stefan belong to LJS.
Notes: Pre-novels, set at Stefan's birth when Damon was a small child.
Thanks to LindaMarie for pointing out the fact that Damon's mother died a few years after Stefan's birth, having not quite recovered. This fic is therefore an AU/what-if kind of fic. I haven't read the books in a little while, and because I've had so many fics zinging my way, I got it in my head that their mother dying a few years after was a fandom construct, and that we never really knew when she died, beyond Stefan's birth was a contributory factor. I was spectacularly wrong. ;) SO, and AU what-if fic. *whistles*
-=-
Hidden behind the soft, velvet drapes that covered one of the windows of his mother's bedroom, Damon watched in wide-eyed horror as another anguished scream ripped its way out from her delicate body. He ached to run to her, to hold her hand and comfort her, but somehow, by sheer force of will, he managed to resist. Menfolk weren't meant to be in these chambers while she gave birth to his new sibling, and so he kept hidden, needing to be near to her.
It had been several hours now, the birth hard, and he could tell Mother was exhausted, and the agnonising pain she was experiencing was written clearly on her face. Mother's maids and the midwife did their best to comfort her, but kept exchanging worried glances, careful that Mother wasn't able to sense their fears.
But Damon saw, Damon knew that something wasn't right, that this birth wasn't normal. He feared for his mother, knowing only too well that it was easy for women to die in childbirth; one of the servants had died only last year, birthing a stillborn. He bit his knuckles to prevent his small cry of alarm escaping. He had to be here, to see her if the worst happened.
Finally, after one last scream, the harsh, thin wail of a baby filled the air. Damon ignored the midwife as she tended to the newborn, too intent on his mother. She lay back in her pillows, panting, fatigued. One of her maids was mopping her brow with a damp cloth, wiping away perspiration, cooling her. The maid's own look of sadness and fear would have been enough for Damon to guess, but even to his young, untrained eyes, something was obviously wrong. Mother looked as pale as the sheets she lay on, too tired to move.
And the blood. There was so much blood. It soaked the sheets, turning them a vivid red, her life ebbing away.
The midwife was bringing the baby back, swaddled in a blanket, still wailing at the top of its lungs. The maid at his mother's side looked at the old woman hopefully. One glance at all the blood, and the midwife shook her head, eyes full of sorrow.
Damon's world shattered. His mother was dying. She was leaving him behind, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Tears burned his eyes as he continued to sit there, watching. He yearned to go to her, but knew they would only remove him from the room, take him away from her. At least here he was near, would be here to the end.
The midwife murmured softly to Mother, and she roused, opening her eyes slowly. Carefully, the screaming bundle was placed in her arms, the old woman hovering over to be sure the baby wasn't dropped.
His mother mustered a weak smile, staring adoringly down at the child in her arms. Slowly, mustering her remaining strength, she leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the newborn's forehead. "Stefan..." she whispered, eyes drifting shut as she gave in to exhaustion.
Damon watched, horrified, his mouth hanging open in shock at the kiss, at the tenderness his mother had show that... that /thing/. He couldn't understand Mother's actions. How could she possibly kiss it after the pain it had put her through? How could she be so gentle it as it lay there screaming while her life slipped away from her?
How could she love what was killing her?
Mother's breathing began to slow, the time between each breath longer than the last. With her last breaths, her grip on the baby slackened, and the midwife rescued the child, allowing Mother's arms to fall lifelessly to her sides. Sadly, she directed the maids to cover her, hiding the atrocious mess that the birth had caused. Then, leaving one maid to watch over Mother, the room was vacated as the midwife went to present the Conte di Salvatore with his new son... and to break to him the tragic news of his wife's death.
Damon stared after the old woman, eyes narrowing with sudden jealousy that the baby had been the one to claim Mother's last kiss, that it had been held in her arms as she died. He clenched his fists hard, trying to suppress the anger, nails breaking flesh, drawing blood. Then he looked over to the bed, to his mother's still form. The anger suddenly fled, to be replaced by a soul-crushing grief.
An anguished choke escaped Damon's lips, and he rushed over to the bed. The remaining maid noticed him, but made no comment as he approached, only stared at him mournfully through dulled eyes. He took Mother's still-warm hand in his own small one, staring up at her beautiful face. She looked so peaceful, almost asleep. But Damon could sense she was gone. The soul that had been his mother, that loved and cherished him... it was no longer there. It had flown - to heaven, he hoped, where the angels would take care of her.
Carefully, he clambered up onto her bed, and placed a soft, gentle kiss on Mother's cheek. A farewell, to the person he loved most in the world, who had loved him more than anyone else ever had. Then he curled up next to her, resting his head on her chest - as he had done so often when she was alive, comforting and rocking him to sleep - and he wept bitterly for his loss.
Inside, deep in his soul, the first seeds of hatred for young Stefan were sown.
Disclaimers: VD, Damon and Stefan belong to LJS.
Notes: Pre-novels, set at Stefan's birth when Damon was a small child.
Thanks to LindaMarie for pointing out the fact that Damon's mother died a few years after Stefan's birth, having not quite recovered. This fic is therefore an AU/what-if kind of fic. I haven't read the books in a little while, and because I've had so many fics zinging my way, I got it in my head that their mother dying a few years after was a fandom construct, and that we never really knew when she died, beyond Stefan's birth was a contributory factor. I was spectacularly wrong. ;) SO, and AU what-if fic. *whistles*
-=-
Hidden behind the soft, velvet drapes that covered one of the windows of his mother's bedroom, Damon watched in wide-eyed horror as another anguished scream ripped its way out from her delicate body. He ached to run to her, to hold her hand and comfort her, but somehow, by sheer force of will, he managed to resist. Menfolk weren't meant to be in these chambers while she gave birth to his new sibling, and so he kept hidden, needing to be near to her.
It had been several hours now, the birth hard, and he could tell Mother was exhausted, and the agnonising pain she was experiencing was written clearly on her face. Mother's maids and the midwife did their best to comfort her, but kept exchanging worried glances, careful that Mother wasn't able to sense their fears.
But Damon saw, Damon knew that something wasn't right, that this birth wasn't normal. He feared for his mother, knowing only too well that it was easy for women to die in childbirth; one of the servants had died only last year, birthing a stillborn. He bit his knuckles to prevent his small cry of alarm escaping. He had to be here, to see her if the worst happened.
Finally, after one last scream, the harsh, thin wail of a baby filled the air. Damon ignored the midwife as she tended to the newborn, too intent on his mother. She lay back in her pillows, panting, fatigued. One of her maids was mopping her brow with a damp cloth, wiping away perspiration, cooling her. The maid's own look of sadness and fear would have been enough for Damon to guess, but even to his young, untrained eyes, something was obviously wrong. Mother looked as pale as the sheets she lay on, too tired to move.
And the blood. There was so much blood. It soaked the sheets, turning them a vivid red, her life ebbing away.
The midwife was bringing the baby back, swaddled in a blanket, still wailing at the top of its lungs. The maid at his mother's side looked at the old woman hopefully. One glance at all the blood, and the midwife shook her head, eyes full of sorrow.
Damon's world shattered. His mother was dying. She was leaving him behind, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Tears burned his eyes as he continued to sit there, watching. He yearned to go to her, but knew they would only remove him from the room, take him away from her. At least here he was near, would be here to the end.
The midwife murmured softly to Mother, and she roused, opening her eyes slowly. Carefully, the screaming bundle was placed in her arms, the old woman hovering over to be sure the baby wasn't dropped.
His mother mustered a weak smile, staring adoringly down at the child in her arms. Slowly, mustering her remaining strength, she leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the newborn's forehead. "Stefan..." she whispered, eyes drifting shut as she gave in to exhaustion.
Damon watched, horrified, his mouth hanging open in shock at the kiss, at the tenderness his mother had show that... that /thing/. He couldn't understand Mother's actions. How could she possibly kiss it after the pain it had put her through? How could she be so gentle it as it lay there screaming while her life slipped away from her?
How could she love what was killing her?
Mother's breathing began to slow, the time between each breath longer than the last. With her last breaths, her grip on the baby slackened, and the midwife rescued the child, allowing Mother's arms to fall lifelessly to her sides. Sadly, she directed the maids to cover her, hiding the atrocious mess that the birth had caused. Then, leaving one maid to watch over Mother, the room was vacated as the midwife went to present the Conte di Salvatore with his new son... and to break to him the tragic news of his wife's death.
Damon stared after the old woman, eyes narrowing with sudden jealousy that the baby had been the one to claim Mother's last kiss, that it had been held in her arms as she died. He clenched his fists hard, trying to suppress the anger, nails breaking flesh, drawing blood. Then he looked over to the bed, to his mother's still form. The anger suddenly fled, to be replaced by a soul-crushing grief.
An anguished choke escaped Damon's lips, and he rushed over to the bed. The remaining maid noticed him, but made no comment as he approached, only stared at him mournfully through dulled eyes. He took Mother's still-warm hand in his own small one, staring up at her beautiful face. She looked so peaceful, almost asleep. But Damon could sense she was gone. The soul that had been his mother, that loved and cherished him... it was no longer there. It had flown - to heaven, he hoped, where the angels would take care of her.
Carefully, he clambered up onto her bed, and placed a soft, gentle kiss on Mother's cheek. A farewell, to the person he loved most in the world, who had loved him more than anyone else ever had. Then he curled up next to her, resting his head on her chest - as he had done so often when she was alive, comforting and rocking him to sleep - and he wept bitterly for his loss.
Inside, deep in his soul, the first seeds of hatred for young Stefan were sown.