Author's Note: The great reveal is here! A few have asked how Mama Salvatore could know about Stefan when she died giving birth to him... That was a great catch, and you're about to find out! Also-this chapter and from here-on is OUT OF CANON. Trust me, I hate it as much as you do. But in order to write a post season-two story that could (reasonably?) be a season three, I had to create some new mythology. They wrapped it up too nicely in season two! So... I apologize. I really didn't want to do it, there was just no other way. I tried to make it as believable as possible...
And, as always, thank you guys so much for all of your kind comments, encouraging words, and for coming back to read! I'm so happy you enjoy the story!
Updated author's note: Okay, so I can't do math... Someone caught I had 1815 for the flashback, and Damon would be in his 50s. My bad. And I don't know how far apart the brothers are... So let's go with four-ish years.
(End longest Author's Note ever!)
"December fourteenth, eighteen-fifteen," Damon began, his voice low. "It cannot be true. It cannot be true, and yet somehow it is. I know it in my heart. When I look at my little boy, and his beautiful blue eyes gaze back at me, so clear and vivid, my heart cries and screams for the truths to be false. But it is not. The woman has told me the truth. My son, my precious little boy, and the unborn child who still grows inside of me, are cursed."
Elena's eyes flooded with tears, her heart aching. She slowly rested her head on Damon's shoulder, trying to feed him strength through the touch. Trying to support him in any way she could.
"I want to protect my children. I want there to be something I can do to save them—to shield them from the monstrous fate they are destined for. But there is nothing I can do. There is nothing any of us can do but wait. Watch destiny unfold in front of our very eyes. Watch my precious, sweet, caring little boy turn into a vicious, ruthless," Damon's voice caught in his throat, "monster."
Elena squeezed his arm, curling herself around him, trying to reassure him it wasn't true. If only his mother had known he would be reading this, over a hundred years later, would she have written the same thing? They were only words, but they were such hateful words—such wounding, damaging words. If she only knew… Could she have managed to bring pen to paper?
"He is playing in the yard as I write, trying to catch butterflies with Iselle. He has no idea what is to come for him. Who will come for him. What curse was laid upon him before he was even born, simply because he is my child. Oh God, how I hate you for allowing me to give birth if this was to be my child's fate. My dearest son, I would do anything to take this away from you. If you only knew how much I love you. How much I wish I could ease the pain you will have to go through."
Elena squeezed his arm, hugging it between hers. It was all she could do for him. It was all she could offer. She just prayed it was enough.
"At first I could not understand… And then it all made sense. A doppelganger." Damon's voice stilled. Elena's breath caught in her throat. She straightened, lifting her head from his shoulder. He went on, his voice sounding halted. "She is the source of all evil. There to torment the original of her kind. There to bring mischief and malice into the world. No good can ever come of a doppelganger.
"But why my children? Why must my children be cursed? How could I not know? How could I not know of my bloodline? Why should my children pay for the blood that courses through my veins? I want to run outside and tell my son to stay away from the doppelganger—to stay away from all of them—but I know he will not. I know he cannot. I know he is destined to love her. To love all of them. They both are. They are cursed. Oh God, how they are cursed!"
Damon stopped reading.
In the sudden silence, Elena finally remembered to breathe. She slowly pulled away from Damon, who was just staring at the journal in his hands. Her heart slammed against her ribs so fiercely she was sure they would break. Her mind whirled with so many emotions she couldn't even place names to them, unable to think clearly.
"What does that mean?" she finally managed to choke out. "You and Stefan are cursed to love the doppelganger? Why? What was in your mother's bloodline?"
Damon didn't answer. His eyes seemed to refocus on the journal, as if snapping back to reality. "My dearest children… Cursed simply because her blood flows through my veins."
1843
Mrs. Gianna Salvatore kept her head low, ducking her face beneath her bonnet as she cautiously swept through the gardens. Under the cover of darkness, there was little chance anyone would notice her, especially her husband, whom she had left snoring loudly and undisturbed in their large, grand bedroom on the second story of their expansive, stately home.
The grass was damp with dew from the cold, wetting her stockings as she scurried along the open field. The gravel path would have been too loud and taking it risked bringing too much attention to herself—attention she was desperately trying to deflect with her disguise of dark clothing.
She finally reached the woods, counting the trees from the path leading to her house to get her to the meeting location. When she arrived, panting for breath, her heart fluttering in her chest with anxiety, she waited, her mind swirling.
There was a soft rush of wind around her, and then the unmistakable air of a presence behind her. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with Mrs. Winstrome. The woman's long black hair had been plaited into an elegant braid down her back, a few pieces escaping around her face from under her bonnet, framing her unearthly pale skin and making her dark eyes appear even darker. Her elegant features were striking in the shadows, almost frightening. Her tall stature, regal and majestic, was swathed in a dark dress similar to her own, a long black cloak tied around her shoulders.
"Tell me about my children," Gianna requested breathlessly. "About this curse."
The woman stared at her, an almost pitying look on her face. "They will seek out the doppelganger to the ends of the earth," she said, her voice low and drawn, with an accent that spoke of royalty and wealth. "It is the curse that runs through your veins. You are her descendent."
"A descendent of the doppelganger?" Gianna asked, trembling.
The woman shook her head, just once, never letting her eyes leave Gianna's. "Of the original woman's. The one who came before the doppelganger." Her eyes fell, then, to the tree over Gianna's shoulder. "My son's wife."
"I don't… understand…" Gianna pleaded, shaking her head. "How are my sons involved in this?" She wrapped her arms around her belly, where she could feel her son resting, growing strong inside of her. She thought of her eldest child, at home in his bed, safe and secure from the monstrous reality she was facing. "What original?"
A small, sad smile graced the woman's face. "I had a family once, like you," she said softly. "A son. Another on the way." She placed her hands on her belly, as if feeling the child still in her womb. "Two boys. And then more children after that. We were a happy family. My two eldest boys… They were impossibly close. They were more than brothers—they were each other's closest ally. The bond between them was so strong…" She let out a soft sigh. "I didn't think it could ever be broken." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "When my eldest son married, he looked so happy. He had a beautiful, loving wife, and children… They were his pride and joy."
She stepped away, turning away from Gianna. When she spoke again, her voice was clipped. Angry, after all this time. "What we failed to realize was his wife had taken to listening to nature. Obeying it. And then commanding it."
"Witchcraft," Gianna breathed, stricken.
The woman turned back, her eyes flashing with hatred. "Not just witchcraft, Mrs. Salvatore. The dark arts. It consumed her. And when you play with that kind of magic, it plays back." She turned away again. "We should have realized sooner than we did that it was no longer her who sat at our table. That it was no longer her who tended to the children. By the time we did, it was too late."
Gianna's mind spun. "I don't understand," she broke in. "Who was it?"
The woman stared at her. "The doppelganger." Bitterly, she glared at the ground. "My eldest knew something was wrong—knew his wife would never betray him—and discovered what she was when he found his wife's body hidden away, frozen in time. We tried to stop her, but she was too much for us. She slaughtered her children and in an instant our lives ended. To punish us, she turned us into creatures of the damned. Of the night."
Gianna gaped at her. "What?" she whispered.
The woman didn't spare her a glance. "But one of her children escaped. He fled into the night, trying to save his life. He was only a child. Just five years old." Gianna could see tears glistening in the woman's eyes. "But for his cowardice, for running, she cursed him. His lineage would always be drawn to her—to the doppelgangers who would come from her. And then she fled, leaving us to be damned for all eternity, to curse and torment us for the rest of our lives."
"Y-you're saying…" Gianna could scarcely breathe. "You're saying my children are decedents of the boy?"
"I am saying you are," she told her quietly. "And your children will be as well." She looked around the woods. "The doppelganger is a vampire, now. A damned, just like my family now. And she will come here. She will not be able to resist their pull anymore than they will be able to resist hers. And they will continue the curse, just as it has continued for centuries."
"Why are you telling me this?" Gianna cried, turning away from her. "Why are you telling me this horrible fate that is to become my children?"
She uttered a cry of surprise as the woman seized her shoulders, her dark eyes burning into Gianna's. "For thousands of years I have tried to stop this curse," she declared raggedly. "My family deserves to be at peace. For our peace, the doppelganger must be stopped. Her curse must end!"
"How do they stop it?" she asked, searching the woman's eyes, feeling the first spark of hope. "How can they stop the curse?"
"The original," the woman told her. "The original must be brought back. She can end this. She can end all of it. For all of us."
Gianna trembled. "How do they find her?" she asked.
"My sons will find your boys," the woman told her softly. "They will seek them out. And when they do, they will be able to take them to her. To the original. They will know what to do."
Gianna nodded, shaking. The woman released her, turning away. "Your sons," Gianna asked hesitantly. The woman turned back. "Will they look out for my boys?"
A small smile graced the woman's features. "My eldest will," she said softly. "They are, after all, his descendents." She nodded at Gianna. "The doppelganger will find them. There is nothing you can do to stop that. I only pray you will help me stop her."
"I will try," Gianna whispered.
The woman nodded. "It is all I ask," she agreed. With a swish of her long cloak she was gone, taken in by the shadows.
