Mystic Falls, Virginia 1864
The next morning 11:12 AM
"Miss Gilbert I believe you understand that your father will not appreciate if you run off again." Bonnie Bennett, the Gilbert's maid but also a close friend to Elena, speaks nervously.
"Bonnie," Elena smiles widely as she prances across the room, taking both of her hands and grabbing the brunettes shoulders. "I do not run, I just escape for a moment of time. You shall come with me sometime."
"Miss Gilbert your mother does not appreciate our freindship, she would not like me leaving the home."
"Mother does not appreciate anything holding such beauty as our friendship." Elena smiles, looking back at the brunette as she takes a seat at her vanity, brushing through her hair as if it is soft silk. Bonnie than smiles as she watches her friend, thinking of how separated the world truly is. Whites superior to blacks, but Lena, Lena is different. She sees no one based on the color of their skin, or the gender they acquire. Elena is a free spirit, just seeking a bit of adventure to fulfill her insipid lifestyle.
"Mr. Gilbert is chatting about the Salvatore ball in the study, he seems quite angry." Bonnie announces as she takes a seat on the bed.
"The Salvatores should have no place in this world, or so my father tells me. But I don't know if that statement is to be true." Elena tells the dark complexed woman as Bonnie sits on the bed, fidgeting with her hands. Elena thinks of telling Bonnie about her strange encounter with a certain Salvatore, but then she seals her lips shut. What if father overheard? She thought. For time being, Damon will be her secret, a secret she wants to explore. Their two meetings yesterday had an effect on Elena, leaving her with a sleepless night as she ruffled in bed thinking of the man she had met that day. How wrong her father is, to judge someone based on their last name. The Salvatores hold a stigma for being cruel, greedy people, but Damon, Damon is not greedy. Damon is compassionate, smart, and gloriously sexy. As Elena thinks about his tall stance, dark hair, and blue eyes she suddenly feels awakened, how amazingly alive she felt when speaking to him the other day. "Bonnie, would you be a saint and tell mother that I am going to draw a bath and should not be bothered."
"But you just bathed, Miss Gilbert." Bonnie informs Elena confusingly, looking at the bathroom across the hall.
"I know," Elena smirks, taking her light blue dress in her hands as she grabs her journal from the bedside table.
"Miss-"
"I'll be back, no need to worry." Elena informs her friend before sprinting down the stairs. She slips out the back door discretely and then makes a run for it. The cool air brushes across her tanned skin as she rushes through the field and up the tall hill. Elena then looks back, the river across the view is gradually moving as the bright sunlight reflects off of the dark blue waters. The warm sun crosses her body, a deep serenity rushing through her as she stands at the peak of the hill. Here, no one can bother her. Here, she can do whatever she pleases. Elena then sits down, her feet sprawled out in front of her and her journal resting on her lap. She hums softly to herself as she writes in her journal. The words come out of her like waves as they flood continuously onto the blank paper. As she writes though, she finds herself thinking about Damon. Looking back, she catches a view of the large, white mansion in which the Salvatore's own. The grass is trimmed perfectly, every square inch of the home perfectly intact. It looks far away and yet so close as she sits here, gazing at the home, wondering where Damon is.
After a few moments, she suddenly hears horses galloping across the yard. In the Salvatore's driveway stands several man and a few woman, they are all dressed gloriously on this Sunday morning. All of the woman wear hats with there hair pinned up beneath the tiny material. Their dresses are long, not revealing an inch of leg. The men look dapper and professional wearing their victorian vests and coats. All of them are chatting and an uncontrollable smile makes its way onto Elena's face when she catches sight of Damon Salvatore. He looks handsome from all the way up here as she squints her eyes in order to identify the woman who's arm is entangled with his. Is it his wife? Could he be married? She thought to herself as she watches from upon the hill. Of course he is married, how could a gracious, handsome man like himself not be married? She thought. The woman is beautiful, her emerald green dress reaching the floor, her tight corset showing off her defined, slim figure. Elena can't help but to keep watching, lurking behind the great willow tree in which she sits under. And she also can't help but feel envy, jealousy even. The way he spoke, the way his eyes glimmered, the way he carried himself, never had she seen such a gloriously beautiful human being, a married human being of course. While still looking, Damon's head suddenly rises and Elena realizes that if she can see them they must be able to see her as well. Quickly, she grabs hold of her journal and begins to find her way back home. Home, how odd a word. Isn't home supposed to be the place where you feel most comfortable, the place that holds your heart? But calling the brown mansion home sounds foolish. Home, this is not home, it is only a house, a house in which she always wants to escape desperately.
"Elena?" Elena's mother Miranda suddenly speaks up as Elena sneaks in through the back door quietly. She sneaks around the dining room, tiptoeing all the way up the stairs until she reaches her bedroom. Quickly, she changes into a corseted gown with the help of Bonnie. Elena's mother only accepts her if she acts like the young woman that she is meant to be, that everyone wants her to be, except Elena herself of course. Elena's body stiffens as Bonnie pulls the corset strings tighter, tighter, tighter, and tighter until Elena feels as if she can no longer breathe a single breath.
"Quick, fix up my hair please." Elena tells Bonnie as both of them rush over to the vanity, pinning Elena's hair up until she looks presentable.
"Elena, we shall be leaving soon," Miranda taps on the door lightly, opening it up halfway as she sneaks a peak at her daughter who is sitting on the stool placed in front of the white vanity. "Well, don't you look lovely." Elena's mother smiles.
"Thank you mother, you look quite fine yourself." Elena stands, patting down the dark blue dress as both of the woman exit out of the room.
"You shall iron Lena's dress for we have a town event that we will be attending this evening." Miranda speaks to Bonnie as she eyes her up and down. "We will be back by three." She tells the nodding woman before entwining her arm through Elena's and walking gracefully out of the room. Miranda is beautiful, her hair and eyes a deep brown color. Elena certainly got her beauty from her mother as they make their way down the stairs. "Since you are eighteen my dear your father and I suggest that we find you a suitable husband."
"A suitable husband? But I am so young." Elena immediately rejects the idea, stopping her movements all together. Miranda looks back at her daughter, a sweet smile across her face as she runs a gloved hand down Elena's soft cheek.
"My sweet daughter you are not young, besides with the war continuing men are dying left and right throughout the states. It is our job, as women, to help our community. Young men are dying helplessly in battle and before that happens we must keep this town stable. Young girls like you are crucial. Someday you will understand my dear, when you have your own husband and children to care for. With the right man, that day shall come soon." Miranda tells her daughter and Elena tries her very best to stay calm, to accept her mother's opinion. But married at eighteen or nineteen or even twenty sounds inane, how foolish for an eighteen year old girl to have a husband and children to care for. Elena does not speak and only nods as she accepts what her mother is telling her. Married? Married? Married? Elena thinks about the word continuously throughout her whole French lesson, not focusing on the words being spoken by the French teacher that flew in from Paris to teach the young, privileged Elena Gilbert.
"Excusez-Moi?" (Excuse me?) The french woman speaks up, snapping Elena out of her thoughts as she looks up at the middle aged woman once again.
"Oui, Je suis désolée. Pardonne-moi." (Yes, I'm sorry. Please forgive me.) Elena apologizes in French, looking up at the woman once more as she tries to focus solely on what the woman is saying. But how can she focus on speaking the language when all she can think of is men dying in war, woman's husbands being taken from them, herself as a wife, as a mother. Elena doesn't want that, not now. And how would her parents bring her love? Surely they wouldn't find a man that she loved so powerfully. Marriage to a cruel, rich, white man sounds like the epitome of an awful situation in which she wants no part in.
Later that evening 5:23 PM
Elena glances at herself in the mirror, her hair in perfect barreled curls while the navy blue hat that is pinned to her head matches the dress she wears. How uncomfortable and yet beautiful she feels as she looks at herself. The town gathered like this every decade, the founders day event that marked the very day the town's people signed the inauguration of the small town. Only the founding families are allowed to attend the gathering that takes place at the Lockwood estate. The founding families include the Gilberts, the Fells, the Lockwoods, the Forbes, and last but not least the Salvatores. The five families got along just fine until an odd dispute occurred between the Gilberts and the Salvatores over land, and ever since the descendants of the two families were born to hate one another. But at events like these the two families are forced to interact, or at least enter the same room as one another.
"Elena dear, we must get going." Miranda enters her daughter's bedroom as the family makes their way into the carriage awaiting for them outside the mansion. Grayson, Miranda, Elena, and Jeremy, Elena's younger brother, all enter the carriage as they ride further up town. Through the tree covered pathway, Elena catches a view of the estate. The Lockwood mansion is similar to the Salvatores, the white exterior and circular driveway that is filled with several other carriages. Chatting and laughing people step out of the carriages and into the home that is brightly lit, a celebration awakening from inside those walls.
"Mr. Gilbert, Miss. Gilbert," The African American man holds his hand out as each of the family members step out of the carriage.
"Thank you sir," Elena nods in the kind mans direction as he smiles brightly. Grayson continues walking stiffly, checking his pocket watch as if to see how much longer he has to make conversation with all of these imbeciles. Grayson believes that the Gilberts started it all, that they are indeed the superior founding family, the ones to be most respected. Of course every other family believes the exact same thing.
As the four enter the home, people greet them all, shaking hands and air kisses filling the space around Elena. Her eyes are darting between this person and that person as her mother's high end friends suck up to her, telling her how stunning she looks. Those women, those women are the pitfall of society Elena thinks to herself as she watches the stuck up women fawn over each other's dresses. How superficial they are, falsely smiling when in reality they are miserable, rich, white women who only care about themselves, falsely claiming to be mothers when in reality they hand off their children to a servant to take care of.
"Oh, Elena, you look just like your lovely mother." Carol Lockwood states, twirling Elena around her finger as if to show off the young girl's appearance to all the men surrounding. Elena gets stares, how can she not? She is beautiful, every straight man in the room notices her, but they don't truly notice her, not in the way she desires to be noticed.
"Thank you Mrs. Lockwood." Elena smiles politely when Miranda suddenly grabs hold of Elena's elbow tightly. Elena looks over to her mother, pain searing through her elbow.
"Fix your dress, there are people here." Miranda eyes down to the ruffle on Elena's gown as she quickly soothes over it with her palm. Perfection is all Miranda ever strives for, 'keeping up ones appearance is crucial if one is to be named a founding family member' she used to tell Elena.
"Elena, I don't believe you have met my nephew quite yet." Carol directs Elena over towards the men as they all stand around the parlor chatting about stiffly. All of the men have drinks in their hands, all containing the amber liquid that her father consumes daily. When Elena looks up, she notices that two other men stand amongst where Mrs. Lockwood leads her. Damon and Stefan Salvatore. Elena's heart skips a beat when she catches a glimpse of Damon. He is talking to an older man, a half full glass of scotch in his hand. His hair is slicked back slightly but still the black shade that makes her heart swoon. He looks so handsome, all cleaned up and put together. The closer Elena gets, the more her hands tremble, the more her breathing heightens, the more her heart beats.
"Mason," Carol speaks up, politely intercepting the men's conversation as all of the men turn to face the two elegant women. Damon's jaw drops when he sees Elena standing in front of him. She tries desperately to keep her eyes focused on Mason, but it is almost impossible as her brown orbs cross over to view Damon every now and then. "Mason, I would like to introduce Elena Gilbert. She is the daughter of both Grayson and Miranda Gilbert, a lovely girl."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gilbert." Mason lowers himself as Elena slowly courtesies in front of the handsome man. Mason slips his hand around hers as he raises her gloved hand and places a gentle kiss on top of it. "Perhaps you would like to dance?" Mason questions, a polite smile dancing its way onto his face. Elena simply nods, sliding her hand in his as he guides her over towards the ballroom. Looking back, Elena notices Damon's ocean blue eyes completely fixated on her, as if they are two magnets, a force so strong that no power on Earth can break it.
"So your father is a wealthy landowner I assume?" Mason questions as he takes the girl by the hand, swaying softly to the beat with one another.
"I presume so," Elena answers, but as he chats about the Lockwood property Elena's head spins, taking a glance at Damon every time they turn. His eyes are hard, a look of jealousy hidden inside of them. As Elena views him, she wonders where his wife had run off to. Why is he standing there alone? Where is the woman who had occupied him earlier in the day? One foot moves and then the other, and then again and again and again until the song comes to an end and Mason releases the young woman from his grasp. Elena is about to speak when she notices that Damon no longer stands there in the corner eyeing her and the man she danced with. He is gone. "If you would please excuse me." Elena nods her head respectively in Mason's direction before she strolls away, not even letting him respond to her sudden departure. Elena makes her way past the men and women inhabiting the house. Laughter and clanking of dishes fills her ears and when she realizes who she is seeking to find, she realizes how inane she is. How foolish of her to be searching for a man in which her own family despises. She laughs dryly at herself as she gives up her search and steps onto the patio, across from the home is a pond, a small pond where lilies float and the moon shines across the dancing water. Looking back, Elena checks to make sure her mother is no where in sight as she picks up her dress, kicks off her shoes and steps forward. The grass trickles beneath her feet as she gets closer to the water and further away from the celebration. How funny that Elena feels more loneliness while crammed into a crowded room rather than when she is a single person walking through the summer night. When she reaches the pond, she is startled when she sees a man already sitting on the edge of the dock. Her feet cracking against the ground alerts the young man as he glances back and Elena identifies the dark haired man as Damon.
"Miss Gilbert," Damon nods in his direction, enticing her to come and sit beside him. Giving into her own curiosity, Elena sways over towards him, her dress delicately brushing up against the wooden dock. He is sitting, his feet close to the brim of the water but not close enough. Although difficult, Elena sits down beside him, her dress flaring out as she does.
"I thought I might see you here." Elena speaks through the night.
"And is that a hope or a dread?" Damon questions.
"A hope I suppose." Elena tells the man sitting beside her, her bare feet swaying beside his.
"Now where on Earth did your shoes disappear to?" Damon smiles as he takes in her naked feet dangling beside his shoe covered ones. How wonderfully crazy she is, Damon thought to himself.
"Now Mr. Salvatore how do you expect me to run in such intolerable footwear?" Elena questions, her eye brow raised wittily as she smiles brightly.
"You are always running, aren't you?" Damon smirks, intrigue coating his husky voice as he glances at her face, what a beautiful face she acquires.
"I suppose so," Elena shrugs as she looks out at the shimmering, dark water once again. "Where is your wife?"
Damon's forehead crinkles in confusion as he shakes his head. "Wife? I believe you are mistaken, I am not married." He responds as Elena turns to view his knowing yet detrimental blue eyes.
"Oh I must have assumed, I will be honest I caught eye of you and that woman this morning. She looks very found of you." Elena nods, trying desperately to not show the envy lying deep inside her chest.
"Yes, that would be Katherine Pierce. She is a Bulgarian orphan, abandoned by her family. My father has taken her in so nobly."
"Nobly? Do you consider your father to be a noble man?" Elena questions quietly, sending an eruption of awareness down Damon's whole being. No, he wants to say, but he can't for it is his father and one must respect ones father.
"Yes, my father is a very noble man." Damon lies right to the stunning woman's face as she cocks her head to the side. Her eyes narrow and her lips purse out as she deeply inspects the man sitting beside her. Damon begins to feel uneasy as no words escape her lips.
"Are you in love with that woman?" Elena wonders openly, unveiling the question she has been stuck on all evening.
"Am I in love?" Damon questions and when Elena nods he finds himself rethinking that question on replay. Is he is love? "I-I-I suppose I don't know." Damon answers honestly. "Are you in love?"
"I suppose I don't know as well, I have never experienced love in my lifetime. But don't you think that if you were truly in love that you would truly know?" Elena questions intelligently, the two of them looking deep into the others eyes.
"I suppose you would." Damon nods as his gaze transfers from the woman's doe eyes to her soft lips. "You are quite beautiful, Elena." Damon blurts out openly through the quiet night.
"Thank you, Damon." His name rolls off of her tongue romantically as Elena's whole body shudders with this unknown feeling. Shivers run across her spin, a pulse awakens between her thighs, and her heart feels as if it may just jump out of her chest at any moment. How does he do this? How does he make her feel this way? Elena thought.
"Someone may come down here and see us, perhaps I should go." Damon speaks lowly, his face inches away from her own.
"Perhaps you should." Elena nods, agreeing with his earlier statement. Damon doesn't pull away though as he leans closer, drawing into her as if he can no longer control his moving body. But than suddenly the sound of giant "Hoorays!" echo through the night, breaking the lustful force between the two. Damon looks up, his eyes meeting hers. He coughs once, clearing his throat as he rises to his feet.
"Elena," Damon says her name smoothy as he slowly walks away. When she looks back, he smiles. "Meet me on the other side of the hill tomorrow at noon, I will see you then." Damon grins, a wide almost cocky grin that stops her from breathing all together. Elena nods, silently agreeing as he strolls away. She should have denied herself, she should have spit in his face like her father warned her too. She should of walked away the moment she caught view of him sitting here on this dock. But then the stronger part of her told her to stay, to listen, to speak, to gaze, to enjoy. The stronger part of her cannot free itself from that man, that Salvatore.
Hope you enjoyed and damn this story is going to be fun to write. PLEASE REVIEW, they really make my day when I get some feedback. Anyway, until next time ...