Chapter Seven

Good News

Mystic Falls, Virginia

1864

Elena shifted uncomfortably at the dinner table. The ugly yellow fabric of her dress was too loose on her arms and too tight around her torso. She wriggled and writhed, but chafed skin under her arms only grew redder. After the fire, the esteemed wives of the Founder's Council had donated their long unwanted gowns to the poor homeless ladies of the Gilbert estate. John and Jeremy's borrowed outfits from the Salvatores fit no better.

John sat at the end of the table, opposite of Giuseppe. He slumped down in his chair, his food untouched. His hands were wrapped in thick bandages from being burnt in the fire. Most of his day, like the ones before, was spent atop the rubble of the Gilbert house. A single fireplace was all that stood, casting its shadow over the blackened ruins. Miranda Gilbert's mare was the only living thing to perish.

Desperate to settle his affairs, John met with a contractor early in the day. Elena could tell by his foul mood that the encounter had not gone well. He was even meaner than usual, if that was even possible. She silently forgave him, though he made no apologies. The stress was surely a great burden to bear.

Jeremy pushed the food around on his plate. The town recognized him as a great hero for detecting the fire in the first place, but he barely spoke after. All of the trinkets and memories of his mother and father were gone, like the two of them never existed at all.

Elena caught Stefan staring across the table at Katherine, though he did not seem to notice. She shot a sideways glance at Damon, but his eyes were trained on his soup. He, too, had been in a mood, though she did not know why.

Every part of her life was so opposite of what it used to be, and all she could think was, Why are these damned clothes so uncomfortable?

Katherine placed a hand on her shoulder, and Elena leaned back in her chair with a frustrated sigh.

"One might think they have never built anything before!" John exclaimed.

Giuseppe set his drink down. "Well, how long do they think it will take?"

"The man I spoke to could not say. He kept bringing up the cost of demolition. I said, 'What more can be demolished? Give the wind a week or so to blow the ash away!' If he wants any money at all he will be ready to build before spring arrives."

"Well, you are always welcome in my home."

John smiled, raising his glass. "You've been a savior to us."

Giuseppe tipped his head, "It is my pleasure." He looked to Elena who was squirming again. "Now, when are you girls planning on purchasing new dresses?"

"Elena and I have a fitting tomorrow," Katherine said, her cheeks warm with excitement. "Honoria Fell promised a fair price."

John snorted into his drink. "We'll be lucky if we can even afford a house after she is done with us."

Elena ducked her head apologetically, but Katherine held her ground. "I offered to pay, John. You can still accept if the burden is too heavy on your finances."

"Nonsense," he boasted. "I cannot let a lady go bankrupt over a few silly dresses."

She willed herself not to roll her eyes.

Sensing the tension, Giuseppe stood. "May I have your attention, everyone?" Everyone looked up to him curiously minus Damon, whose muscles went rigid beneath his jacket. "Yes, good. I am afraid we forgot to mention the good news to you all." He raised a hand towards Damon, "Stand up, son." Stefan shifted uncomfortably. His father had called his brother a lot of things, but "son" was not usually one of them. Elena looked up to Damon who stood beside her. He is going to propose, she thought gleefully. Her heart might have stopped. "Go on, tell them."

Damon looked guiltily down at her, but she smiled to comfort him. Yes! she screamed internally. Yes, yes, a million times, yes! "I-I… I was not planning on having it come out like this," he stammered. "I hoped... later tonight-"

"Spit it out," his father growled.

He closed his eyes as spoke, keeping his fists clenched at his sides. "I will be leaving for the war soon."

Then Elena's heart did stop, she was sure of it. Ice sank to the pit of her stomach.

"Within the month," he continued, "I will be fighting for the glory of the Confederate States of America."

Giuseppe let out a delighted chuckle. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Everybody's eyes fell on Elena, who masked her horror behind an awkward grimace. Acid carved its way up her throat, and she feared she would empty her stomach if she opened her mouth to say anything. How could he leave now? Everybody knew that the Confederacy stood on its last legs. The war was all but over. What purpose could he possibly serve?

She imagined the months of waiting for his letters, until one day they would simply stop coming. Would he be buried on the spot he dies, or would they bring him back to Virginia? Or perhaps he would live long enough to meet someone newer and prettier.

Her chair groaned as she slid it across the floor. "I feel unwell," she murmured. "Please excuse me."

The tension was thick in the air as Damon pushed his own seat back. He wished to God that his father would burst into flames at that very moment. Giuseppe glared defiantly back."I should go check on the lady," he sighed. "Excuse me."

The table was quiet as he walked away.

Tears fell from Elena's face onto the horrid skirt of her dress. She faced away from Damon as he entered, looking out the window upon miles of tobacco. She turned to smile sadly at him as he closed the door. "I'm sorry I left in the midst of your good news."

"You believe it was good news?"

"Of course I do. Soldiers bring great honor to their families back home. It is an honor to have even known your courage. I will remember it forever."

"You speak as though I am already dead."

"You are."

He frowned. "I had no choice."

"Are you not a man? Do you have any say in your own life?"

He came to sit next to her, pulling her head onto his shoulder. "As much say as you have in your own, I'm afraid."

"How can you leave me here alone? I'll have no one."

"You have your brother."

"Jeremy won't speak to me," she sobbed. "All he cares for is that stupid house and that stupid Donavan girl."

"You have Katherine."

"I know her about as well as my uncle, and I know him not at all."

"You will always have me. I'll write to you."

She ripped away from his side, pacing back and forth in front of him. ,"My dearest Elena," she mocked, "I had my arm blown off on the battlefield today, but there is no need to fret - I still have my writing hand!"

"You are being morbid."

"Good news," she continued, "my lieutenant says that the infection will kill me off long before a union soldier can, so at least I shall die with a morsel of dignity."

He stood, grabbing her by the shoulders. She struggled against him, but he was far too strong for her to escape. She was sobbing now. "Elena," he whispered. "Elena, please listen." She was slamming her fists into his chest, the thought of losing him too much to bear.

"I will never forgive you," she groaned into his chest.

He brushed his hand softly through her curly hair. "I promise to come back. Do you hear me? I won't be gone forever."


Damon stood patiently next to his brother at the bottom of their staircase. Unlike Stefan, he was nervous. Elena was still furious with him, but she would soon be forced to face him once again. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, the first Founder's Ball was officially underway. Though it was not the custom to hold such an event this early in the day, the Founder's Council agreed it would be safest for everyone to keep everyone both in and out of the dark.

John and Jeremy had left earlier than the rest, but Katherine insisted she "absolutely could not be one of the first to the party," so the Salvatore brothers volunteered to stay behind and escort the ladies.

Stefan ran a hand through his hair and readjusted his suit for the hundredth time, but he did not seem nervous so much as excited. Every opportunity to see Katherine was always cut too short, but now he could parade her around in the light of day, literally.

The boys straightened at the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors above them. Katherine came first, almost covered from head to toe in red. Her gloves were made of the same black lace that covered her corset, and her curly brown hair was pulled up high with little, ruby-tipped pins. Suggestive, Elena had commented, but Katherine did not care. She wanted to evoke that intrigue in men. She wanted them to want her. She wanted them to fear how much they wanted her. What was "suggestive" to Elena was power to Katherine.

Elena was quite the opposite in lustrous purple fabric and white lace. She chose the widest skirt she had in her wardrobe to make sure that Damon could only come so close. That being said, she did not have much of a choice; the war had cut off Honoria Fell's usually constant supply of textiles from the north, so she could only deliver a few dresses to Elena and her aunt. The seamstress even showed the two a collection of old curtains, to see if they liked any of the fabric. Katherine would not have it, though Elena thought it was such a clever notion to make the old new again.

When Damon finally caught sight of her, he felt his breathing halt. Her sleeves bared her shoulders and he silently chastised himself when he found himself thinking about how it would feel to pull the fabric farther down her soft skin. She looked straight ahead, trying to look natural and feel her way down the steps. It was not a graceful effort, though nothing usually was when it came to her.

Even as she reached the bottom of the steps and Damon took her hand, her eyes remained forward. "You look beautiful," he said quietly.

"Mr. Salvatore," she said loudly. "If you have taught me anything, it is that I am beautiful. You say it so often, I almost wish to be ugly."

His smile never faltered. "The sun would sooner set forever."

She chanced a look at him for only a second, keeping the scowl steady on her face. He looked as handsome as always, his face earnest in spite of her callousness. It bothered her.


The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Of course there were the Founders and their families, other members of the council, and some of the more important citizens – doctors, shop owners, and the newspaper editor. It was quite the soirée.

Katherine tried to mask her annoyance at the heat. It was the middle of the day and Mayor Lockwood's home was filled with hot bodies. Even with the windows open, she could feel sweat gathering at the base of her neck. Whoever this mystery vampire was, he was becoming a sincerely large nuisance. She hiked the hoop of her heavy skirts up a little, hoping to stir the air around her legs.

Elena fanned herself furiously next to her, and the more annoyed she looked, the more obvious their relation to each other.

Just as she finished her first glass of champagne, Damon caught her eye. He stood at a respectable distance, but once she even barely acknowledged him, he approached. "Would you join me for a dance?"

She wanted so badly to say no, but he was her escort, after all. She silently offered her hand, lifting her nose at him. It was the waltz, so it should have been easy, but she struggled to keep up. Damon practically carried her throughout the dance, yet she still found herself stumbling against him.

"I will be leaving soon," he said to her dismay. "Will you still hate me then?"

"I don't hate you, of course."

"What if I call you beautiful?" he joked.

She sighed. "I am sorry for what I said, but you cannot imagine how it hurts me to think of your departure."

"I think I can."

She glared at him.

"It will bring honor to my family, Elena. It will bring honor to you."

"Honor is meaningless when you are dead."

"If you were a man, I would call you Falstaff."

"If you had the temperament, I would call you Hotspur."

He smiled gently, and she cursed herself for wearing such a large skirt. She needed him closer. Perhaps if she could wrap her arms around him tight enough then he would have to stay. "I told you, I was never given a choice."

"What about Stefan?" she asked, growing upset. "He's of age to enlist, is he not?"

"Father plans for him to become a doctor, and I would never wish this war upon my own brother."

"And what of our plans?"

Their dance halted for a moment. Damon's eyes were wide and Elena swallowed a lump of regret caught in her throat. They had never made any plans together. They only had what they individually imagined their futures to be like.

The song ended and she took a step back from him, offering a small curtsey.

Another man approached to ask for a dance, and Damon had to step back. Let's run away tonight! he wanted to scream.

Elena spotted her brother dancing with Victoria Donavan across the room. He smiled happily as he led her gracefully in a circle, yet Victoria seemed uninterested. Her eyes jumped from person to person and she smiled, but they never stuck with Jeremy. If Elena's mind was not stuck on Damon, perhaps she would have thought more of it.

The party ended without incident, but as the sun threatened to set, the guests left in groups. Elena had danced with a number of men, and even Damon reappeared, but they could not find the words to speak. When John approached her to ask if she would be willing to leave early, she was all too happy to oblige. He held her arm on the way back. It was an odd act of affection, but she did not deny him. Instead she rested a hand on his, still wrapped in bandages.

Upon their return to the house, Elena offered a quiet and awkward goodnight to Damon before racing to her room. She pulled at her corset, begging her handmaid to unlace it as quickly as possible.

When she was sure the entire house had long been asleep, she moved from her bed. She took the long, silky dressing gown that was draped over a chair at her bedside and quickly slipped it on. Weary of any creaks on the wood floor, she moved stealthily and slowly down the hall. Candlelight came from underneath Katherine's door and Elena heard a giggle come from beneath it. Light came from under Damon's door as well and she realized the house was much more active at this time of night then she originally thought. She knocked lightly, but did not wait for him to answer before slipping in and shutting the door quickly.

Damon looked up at her, startled, from his desk. He had a piece of paper in front of him and a candle close enough so he could read or write, whichever he was doing.

Upon further examination, she realized he had not even changed out of his suit. His jacket was tossed across his made up bed, and his suspenders hung loosely at the sides of his legs. At that moment, she realized how severely underdressed she was. Damon could not help but to notice either. She stood before the candlelight coming from his dresser, and the curves of her slender body cast a shadow through her cotton nightgown.

He pulled her from the light, knowing she would be embarrassed if she realized how it looked. "Is something wrong?" he said.

"N-Yes. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable earlier. I never should have assumed…"

"Assumed?"

"I should not have assumed," she continued, wishing she had never come, "that you intended for anything to happen between us. I do not want you to feel as though you must carry something on with me out of pity."

"You say you should not assume things about me, but aren't you assuming now?"

Her cheeks grew red. "I-I just realized I do not have any claim to you. I should not have pressured you, or questioned your father's decisions."

He moved forward, but stopped short just a foot away from her. "That is where you are wrong, Miss Elena. I do not wish for anyone else to claim me."

"I just... I felt I made a mistake when I mentioned our future earlier."

"You surprised me when you mentioned it, yes."

"Have you ever thought about it?" she asked softly.

"Our future?"

She nodded, and he finally closed the space between them. He wrapped one hand around her waist and brought the other up over her neck and into her hair. She sucked in a nervous breath. His eyes were wide and the curious blue enveloped her. He looked lost within her, but she felt lost within him. "I cannot see a future if you are not a part of it."

She broke into a wide smile, for she felt the same way. "I love you," she whispered. Neither of them had ever confessed that to each other before.

Adrenaline pulsed in his fingertips as he brushed them along her cheek. "I love you too."

They pulled each other closer and closer, until they were so close that they looked like one big, fat man. She giggled at the thought and tried to brush it out of her mind, but Damon was laughing too. They were laughing and kissing and Elena felt a true happiness blossoming in her chest that she had not felt since before her parents had died. She loved, and she was loved.

She pulled him down by the collar to the floor. For a moment, she worried that she might look silly with her unsteady and untrained hands tugging at the buttons of his shirt. What am I doing? she thought. But his lips were on her neck and his hands pressed on her waist and she didn't care. He laid back on the floor once he was free from his shirt, and she ran kisses along his neck and chest.

They were still laughing, allowing their hands to wander and reminding each other to keep quiet. Elena almost screamed when she saw the first bruise. Her wide eyes hovered over his stomach, her mouth braced to kiss him. He looked up to inspect, curious as to why she would stop. It had been so long since his last confrontation with his father that he had forgotten the bruises. They were yellowing from age, a sickly green in the middle. They were big, too. "Damon?" she whimpered.

"You mustn't tell."