Shut Your Eyes and Endure
Elena of York, daughter of Jonathan IV is betrothed to be married to the new Lancastrian king of England. Under her breath she whispers the word usurper, and knows that behind his charm is the monster who killed the people that she cared deeply about. (AU, AH)
Disclaimer: I don't own these fabulous characters unfortunately, but the story itself is mine as are any original characters that I will inevitably create.
Chapter III: Hope for a Monster
December, 1485
Elena was once again Princess of York, although royal titles were not permitted for either herself or her mother. But they had been legalized. This had all happened after Damon's coronation, which had been a month before her arrival. He had not sent for her until he was ordained as King of England, then he wished to wait another two months until they marry so it would appear if she had any claim to the throne. She did not care, she wanted to be his queen only for reasons of peace, as a husband he could offer her nothing and she would want nothing.
Court is full of merriment, many hosting the festive time with great happiness. Elena sits lonely beside the fire, waiting with baited breath for her betrothed to arrive. He had sent word earlier that he would visit and now she had been forced to wait. The passing of a month had not caused any happiness between them, in fact she did not speak to him often. She had met his brother, who despite having a nicer attitude, she could not bring herself to like either. He was the brother of the usurper, guilty by association.
On the rare occasions that they do meet, Damon has taken to kissing her cheek when he arrives and departs. If it were the touch of her sweetheart then she might smile softly at the sentiment, but he is her nightmare. Still, she sits patiently beside the fire reading a selection of books which had been delivered to her by the king's mother. Each informative, interesting and high in Lancastrian favour.
"My lady," The voice is soft, she does not even raise her head to acknowledge him (something that would naturally cause his anger). But he says nothing of it, instead taking a seat in the head chair, which had reserved for him – she was not so bold to sit in it. Her eyes looked over at the cards which were laid out on the table, she had played a game of one in her wait. Their own conversations had now become filled with the game of cards, they played for no money, just to fill the awkward silence between two people who despised one another. Although Elena had recently come to realise that he did not dislike her as much as she hated him.
"Lift up your skirts." Damon orders, causing Elena to drop the book she had been holding. It falls into the pile of cards, pushing matching numbers away from one another. A crease of confusion forms in her brow. "You are mad!" She proclaims, she pushes herself away from the chair and takes a step backwards.
"Come now, Elena, surely you know why I must do this." His eyebrow raises, his words are smooth like liquid gold, but horrid to behold. An arm pulls her body flush against his, hand pulling at her skirts. "I will not take you now. But there are things I must know." She drops her head in shame, his actions only cause her disgust. There is a part of her, small as it may be that understands why. All those rumours of Alaric. He wanted to know whether the ship had been boarded by another."
Her hands shake and she finds herself clutching the fabric of his doublet as he raises her skirt higher. "Damon, I told you of this before; no man has ever touched me." She whispers, feeble are the words when he seems so intent. He's expecting his goods, like she were some prized cow.
"I received another letter today, trying to discredit you. How can I deny that which I do not know myself? I wish our wedding to be done in the most traditional sense." The entire ordeal of having witnesses outside the curtains for the bedding sent her heart racing. "Should you not bleed because you were deceitful then I would have to cut your foot."
Elena does not reply, her thoughts are occupied by the location of his hand on her thigh. It trembles with fear. She does not know what he shall do, she does not know much. Her mother had told her that on her wedding night she would lie back whilst the man put himself inside her.
Her legs are clenched together as a hand comes to part them, easier than she would have liked. Damon touched her sex, a movement that caused her to latch tighter onto his doublet. "I have only ever kissed a man, please stop." She announces, cringing as he pushes a finger into her. He raises an eyebrow instantly and looks at her. "It was either I do it, or the court physician. And if you had been found spoiled, it was better that it remain between us." His finger remains for a few moments, an uncomfortable invasion for her. Eventually, he pulls down the skirts of her gown, but keeps her body flush against his own. "Now I shall enjoy our consummation more."
Some men have a charm that make people like them, it was a charm that her own father had, and her uncle also. It was a charm that Damon possessed, but she could not find anything to like him. He destroyed her life.
He presses his lips to her own, she is surprised by this action, but knows it is not love. He wants to stake a claim on everything, she is to be his mind body and soul. He wants her to forget every kiss she ever had before, every flirtatious stare and she knows it. He releases her lips, and his eyes lock onto her own. "I promise you, Elena, I will never hurt you." She wanted to argue that he already had, but the secrets of her heart will be kept under the cover of darkness. "What will your motto be, as my wife?"
She takes a step back, easily pulling out of his grasp which become loose. "Shut your eyes and endure." She mutters through clenched teeth as she walks over to collect her fur lined cloak. "That hurts, Elena." He gasps, mocking her. She places the cloak on her shoulders, feeling exceedingly warm within the comfort of her chambers. But she had a need for the cool air, word had even reached her ears of the first frost of winter falling. "Elena, where are you going?" He questions, a few steps behind her as she walks down the hallways of the castle. She turns around, brushing away a tear. "I have hope that there will be peace in England, that you will not be the monster that I believe you to be. But it is too early to achieve either."
She had hoped to find peace in her walk, considering Damon had decided not to follow her. A fact that delighted her given the current situation. Elena could not believe what had happened in her chambers. He had kept her around waiting because he wished to check that, she had thought that perhaps they would discuss saint's day, since it was upon them. But festivities had been halted for her because he had requested her presence!
"Elena, you should be in palace. It is now your duty to make your husband favourable, talk about your admiration for him. And if that does seem like too hard a task for you, there are sweet meats and spiced cakes on offering, surely you have missed those?" She scoffs at her mother and walks forward, wishing more that she could discuss things with Elizabeth.
"I shall be in attendance of the festivities this evening, I am certain that the king would be angry if I missed it." She announces solemnly. If he was not the king, Elena may well have slapped him for his actions against her. But he could do what he liked, she was his betrothed, the promise that she would be his in a month.
"You must not draw attention away from the king. You are a York princess and you have always had that ability to charm a room, it is his first Christmas as king. You would do well not to ruin it." She did not wish to dance for him, or anyone. She danced at her father's court, as a princess, and even for her uncle whose eyes had latched onto her. Dancing was merry and bright, which she did not feel.
"Mother, you speak as though you support the king. I recall you saying many slanderous words against him, when he rode down from France against Alaric." Elena accuses, eyes blazing as her eyes set upon her mother. She was certain that her mother set everything out in life, the fortune of falling in love with a king, who loved her back just as fiercely. They had tunnels built from their chambers, so that her father could visit without the entire court gossiping – it was a tunnel that she would never inform Damon of.
"I am smart, daughter. If I were to speak out against the king, even in private, you might find a noose around my neck. He has ears everywhere." Isobel mutters before turning away from her daughter.
"Dance for us, Lady Elena." The king commands it, Isobel - who had expressly forbidden Elena to dance nods at this, how easily the will of the king can change the minds of many. Though charming, there are still those who say he is pretender, in her own thoughts Elena believes it. There are often whispers heard, with her cousin's name upon their lips. They would supplant Damon, and place him on the throne. But what good would it do now? Should she pray for his death, and hope that the world would be as it once was? No, for her love is now dead and buried in the ground.
She extended her arm to Caroline, who would join her in this dance. Her old childhood nursery companion had arrived a week prior (all others would arrive when Elena had been placed in the Queen's chambers, she suspected that Elizabeth had a hand in it), and since then they had spent many hours into the night talking. The time spent together as children had not been forgotten. It seemed appropriate to ask her, since the golden haired beauty would want to impress Stefan the second son, newly appointed Duke of Somerset. It would have not been appropriated for Elena to ask a gentleman to dance with her, and she would certainly not ask the king.
Caroline hops up from her own chair gracefully, excited to be a part of the festivities – a bubbling exuberance escaping her as she takes Elena's hand within her own. The music begins, and they are moving and twirling around one another, to switch partners with others and then join back together. She can feel the eyes of the king burning into her, but she smiles brighter than she had as of late. Happiness was perhaps not as lost on her as she had thought, since she could find comfort in her friends, her ladies.
Later that night, there is a knock on her door and Elena rises to open it herself – having bidden both Bonnie and Caroline a goodnight. She had done her evening prayer, slipped on her gown – a subdued green, with sparkling golden embroidery. A sigh escapes her as she sees that her visitor is Damon, she had expected it to be Elizabeth, for her mother would walk in unannounced, as would the king.
"You must stop visiting me in the evening?"
"Are you having impure thoughts about me?" He teases, causing her cheeks to redden. It was ludicrous and highly inappropriate. But they both understood her feelings, forgiveness was not something that she had even tried to muster yet. Of course, in these moments when he teased her, or said crude comments that made her blush – she wondered if this was the real Damon.
"I have am having a gift made for you. A bed made from the finest wood in all of England, it will be yours when you are queen. There are to be grand emblem carvings within the posts, to match the new tiles upon the floor." Elena was surprised by how passionately he talked about his gift for her, but perhaps it was also a gift for him – if he hoped to visit her bed often. "What is the emblem?" She questions with a raised brow.
Damon smirks, stroking a piece of hair from her face. "The Salvatore rose, my beauty, the red of Lancaster and the white of York. It looks quite glorious." His actions confused her, such beauty and gentleness clashed greatly against his coldness early that same day. It seemed a cruel trick that he wanted to play on her. "You will one day feel something for me and you know it. But first you must rid yourself of that hatred, which can easily be turned to love. I am selfish and I want you to love me." He whispers the words to her and she shakes her head at him, her eyes are full of sorrow.
"I cannot…I shall not love you. But when marriage vows are spoken, no matter my feelings, I shall be on your side." She promises because through illness and death, she would be a Salvatore. Her children would be born royals of the Salvatore bloodline. At long last, England would have peace. That is her great cause in this world.
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Shut Your Eyes and Endure will be updated next Sunday.
Much love, Charlotte
