Title: Conquest in a Waltz
Author: Ani
Beta: none
Pairings/Characters: Damon/Elena, past Damon/Katherine
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: episode tag for 1x19 "Miss Mystic Falls"
Word Count: 577
Author's Notes: Written for tvd_las for challenge 1: The weapons we wield.
Elena's eyes are on him, and Damon knows he's doomed.
They're dancing. Pressed so tightly together, he can feel the heat of her, smell her—-practically taste her blood. A hundred other people are watching, but he can only feel her stare: sharp and confused, but not timid, and certainly not scared. She's sizing him up, dressing him down, and figuring him out all at once. Damon calmly watches as his world shrinks down to a single focus.
They keep in time perfectly. Damon learned to dance back in the days when such a skill was required of young, upper class men, and he's confident in his steps. But Elena's not half bad either, never surprised by a sudden change in direction and keeping watch for the careless missteps of other dancers without turning her head even once. She's... graceful. More graceful than a young, unschooled, mortal girl should be. It's in not the accuracy of her steps, but in the way she holds herself, a self-assured, but humble princess. It's entrancing.
Elena is dangerous.
Damon remembers Katherine. Remembers watching her hunt, her careless abandon, stemming not from overconfidence, but from the absolute certainty she could never be caught, could never lose; the games she played because of it. Her strength was intoxicating, the power in her every move unmistakable. He used to wonder how anyone could mistake her for some delicate flower, but she was a master of deception as well. Want to play hide and seek, Damon? We'll hide in plain sight.
Damon remembers fearing her. The awe mixed with terror. Katherine was a beautiful, deadly thing, a bloody goddess he worshiped, so in love with her, with her violence, wielded so precisely behind a dainty mask of powder and silk.
Katherine was lethal, born to relish in physicality and blood. Damon understands the tools she brandished to gain control; recognizes them, because he uses them too, conquering through pain and ferocity and death. Two wolves in a world full of sheep.
Elena is different.
Even now, dressed so much like Katherine that the lines between the two blur, there's nothing vicious about Elena; could never be. Elena's frail, small—-her body's only human, after all, and Damon could break her so, so easily. He could kill her right now, if he wanted to. It wouldn't take much: twisting her head with a flick of his wrists would kill her pretty much instantly. But he can't even fantasize about it, much less do it.
Her gaze has yet to leave him. Trapped, all he can do is smirk and carry on with the waltz.
If Elena tried to lead, Damon thinks he'd let her.
Elena is not vicious-—but she's not weak. And she's not helpless. Elena conquers with different instruments than Katherine, unaware of her own cunning. She sliced her way into Damon's life with wit and gentility and beauty; drew him in with unintended and horribly appealing acts of kindness. Even now, charming him in the way she relaxes fractionally in his arms with uncertainty in her eyes, the finely sharpened blade that is Elena Gilbert sinks into chest, twisting.
Elena draws away from him—-the dance is over. She dips into a curtsy without lowering her eyes and Damon inclines his head.
Katherine could have torn him apart with teeth and hands, true. But Damon has the feeling Elena could utterly destroy him with a glance... and he would watch her do it with a smile.
