The large helicopter landed on the deck of the boat. Jeremy frowned unhappily beside Stefan.
"She's probably like the Russian chick, you know that one… um… Anesthesia. Elena Flemming Gilbert died on the Titanic. She would have had to be over a hundred. Look, this woman, her name is Elena Salvatore. She married an Italian Count-slash-prince, who is the son of some marquis-slash-prince, and, ironically, had a room on the Titanic, but no one ever saw him but his ticket was submitted. They had a few kids and settle down during the world wars and once it's all over, he's not a Count anymore, but he still a prince and practically a trust fund baby."
"The only people who know about that necklace, that know the story behind it, are here on this boat or dead. She knew!" Stefan shouted, "She knows!"
There were three suitcases that came down from the helicopter. An impossibly old man and woman ride down on the little ramp someone put from the helicopter to the deck on their wheelchairs, a young woman with long, dark curly hair that looked exactly like the woman in the portrait trailed behind them, her face bored. The man and woman look fragile and ancient amongst the modern, high tech gear, the giant equipment, and the buff, grungy crew.
Inside the small room, Damon and Elena faced each other, finishing their card game while Katherine unpacked a few pictures and a photo album. There was a picture of the couple at their wedding, a family photo of their Royal Highnesses Conte and Contessa di Toscana, their son who look remarkably like his father, along with his Royal Highness Marchese di Toscana and a young woman, maybe thirteen or fourteen- the future Marchesa di Toscana. Another photo showed a beautiful young woman, one who looked almost identical to Katherine did now, except Katherine had curls. She was in a nineteen-ten styled gown, a man and a woman with her.
"Is your stateroom all right, uh, your Highnesses- err, Royal Highnesses?" Stefan asked the couple.
"Mr. and Mrs. DeSangue," Damon corrected without looking up from the cards, "It's the surname my family has gone by for generations and what I've gone by since before I met mio amore. And the room is very nice." Suddenly, he smirked. "I'm sorry love," he told Elena, laying his cards down on the table, "Full house."
"I'm sorry Damon, but straight flush," she told her husband, giving him a smirk to match his as she laid her cards down on the table. The elder man muttered an Italian curse word under his breath.
Stefan and Jeremy exchanged a glance and Jeremy rolled his eyes. Elena stood, walking to the dresser and held the picture up for the two younger men to see.
"This is the only photo I have of my parents," she told them. "My father died in nineteen eleven and left us neck high in debt. My mother had been breed as a wealthy woman. She had no idea how to live with no money. So much that she would marry me to a man I had no earthy desire to marry." Elena laughed, "It turned out the one we thought had the least had the most," she glanced toward her husband, "had even the stars at his command." She sighed, setting the picture back down. She looked back up to the two men.
"Is there anything I can get you?" Elena looked at her husband, who had stood and walked towards the bed. She smiled at him and reached for his hand.
"I'd like to see my picture now."
Damon's arm wrapped around Elena's waist, holding her to him, as they gazed down at drawing submerged in water. She breathed in deeply.
Memories of a man with a conte crayon sketching over paper flashed by. As she stared at the paper, her mind saw the incredibly blue eyes looking up at her through long dark lashes, a hint of blush on his cheeks. Elena placed a hand on her husband's cheek, smiling. "Your eyes are still as blue as that day." Damon made a light snorting sound and Stefan picked up the reference picture.
"Tsar Constantine ll of Bulgaria had found a diamond the color of blood when he went to Tărnovo. The diamond disappeared after the Ottomans took over in 1422 after his death. It is rumored that the diamond in this necklace is the same as that one. It was about the size of half of my fist."
"It was a dreadfully heavy thing. I wore it three times, one for this drawing, once for Klaus, and once on solid land." Katherine looked at the picture.
"You really think this is you, Grandma?" Damon smiled at his granddaughter.
"It is her. Wasn't she beautiful? You two look so much alike," he mused, his voice wishful, "except the hair. Your hair is curly. Her hair was straight as can be. You look more like little Rose."
"Aunt Rose isn't little," Katherine argued.
"I was able to track down an old insurance claim on it that was settled in absolute secrecy. Do you know who made the claim, Elena?"
Damon and Elena shared a haunted glance before they both whispered, "Von Swartzchild."
"The first one," Elena said softly, "Klaus wouldn't have."
"Niklaus Von Swartzchild I," Stefan said nodding, "The German immigrant who bought up land cheap in America and built factories on the land, making fortunes. He claimed the diamond went down with the ship. See what the date is?"
"14/4/1912? April 14, 1912?" Katherine questioned, "Are you saying she was wearing the diamond the day before the ship sank?" He nodded.
"And that would make you my new best friend, Elena." Damon, though old, still had his ability to strike fear into people's hearts, and one glare was all it took to make Stefan take a step back, "Here are some of the items recovered from your stateroom."
Elena lifted her hand to carefully hold the tortoise shell combs in her hands. Damon took the set, carefully lifting her hair and placing the combs in before she lifted the matching mirror. Her fingers ran over the back of the mirror, flipping it to look in it. She smiled sadly. "The reflection has changed quite a bit," she said wistfully.
"So, now ladies and gentlemen, let's take a ride on the Titanic," Jeremy said with a smirk. He hit play. "She hits the iceberg on the starboard and punctures the side. The water floods the bottom of the ship, and it leans forward until it can't hand the weight then, riippp, right down the middle. The stern levels as the bow flaps forward, but the bow pulls the stern vertical and the bow detaches. The stern bobs like a cork until it floods and finally sinks at 2:20 AM." The only sign of emotion from the couple was Damon's hand clenched until his knuckles were white. "So the bow pulls out of it dive and flies about half a mile away, and kaboom!"
"Thank you for the lovely image, Mr. Gibbons," Elena said, her voice tense but face showing nothing. Jeremy smiled sheepishly, "The experience was different though, much different." Stefan pulled a tape recorder out. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, especially if this story was true.
"Will you both share it with us?" Elena looked at her husband, her mind's eye staring at the first class dining salon door as a steward opens it for her. She gasped. Damon had his eyes clenched shut.
"It's been eighty-four years-" she began.
"Please, just try to remember anything."
"Do you want to hear this or not, kid?" Damon asked, speaking for the first time since they had remembered their awful experiences with Klaus von Swartzchild. His voice was hard, sounding less like an old man and more like the twenty-year-old who had boarded the Titanic.
"It's been eighty-four years since I have first lain eyes on Damon, eighty-four years since I first stepped upon what was the largest ship in the world, and yet I can still smell the fresh paint. I remember how the china had never been used, the silver was freshly shined, and how I was excited about how I would be the first to sleep in those sheets on that bed. The Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was all of the things it's been called, but it was so much more."