Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Anastasia or Vampire Diaries; all rights go to the rightful owners. I do not own any of the lines from Anastasia that I have in this fanfiction.

Chapter Nine-

Annette's manor stood regally, bathed in the Paris sunlight. Birds flew overhead, the scene so peaceful that it seemed almost to be a painting. On the inside, however, the woman herself was becoming agitated.

"Ah, yes, I remember it so well," the young woman was saying. She wore a pink dress with a white collar, her auburn hair pushed back with a band. Beside her stood Caroline, as beautiful as she always was, appearing excited. So far, the girl had answered all of her questions about Elena correctly. The only one unimpressed with this French girl was Annette, seated in a lounge chair in the shade of her room.

The woman counted on her fingers and said, "Uncle Yoshin was from Plevna, Uncle Boris was from Sofia…" She smiled widely, animated. "…and every spring—"

"We would take picnics by the shore on Sunday," the Empress concluded, using her cane to push herself to her feet. Her hair was tied into its severe bun, her eyes dark. Beside her on the table, a photograph of her granddaughter was propped. "Haven't you anything better to do?"

"Um, you have to leave now," Caroline said to the upset girl, nudging her quickly out of the room. She turned back to her cousin with her lips pursed worriedly, then hurried to show the actress out of the manor.

"No more," Annette murmured to herself.

"Oh, I must say I'm so sorry; I thought that one was real," Caroline said as she reentered the room, bearing a tray of tea. Annette took her seat once more and Caroline continued. "She was real, of course, I mean she was human, but not our real." Annette rested her forehead against her hand, feeling a migraine form. "But we won't be fooled next time," Caroline continued. "No, I am going to think of new questions, really hard questions."

"No," Annette told her sharply. "My heart can not take it any more." She rose from her chair. "I will see no more girls claiming to be my Elena."

Just that day, the three friends were arriving in La Havre, Paris to meet the Empress, hopes high. "Where's Uncle Boris from?" Damon quizzed Lena in their taxi.

Lena ignored his badly failing efforts to calm her and said, "What if Caroline doesn't recognize me?"

"She will. You're Elena," he assured her.

"But it's just—" Lena sighed.

"What?"

"Well, three days ago I didn't have any past at all and now I'm trying to remember an entire lifetime."

"That's why you've got me." Lena looked down at her lap, playing with her hands. "Come on. You've got this," Damon said. "No doubt in my mind. But you have to believe in yourself too." After a moment, Lena nodded and attempted a smile. "Now, where was Uncle Boris from?"

"Sofia?"

Just then, the buggy drove up the path to the Dowager's home. Damon grinned at Lena, and at Alaric, and they all exited the car. Lena fiddled with her dark blue dress, dropping her hands as the door was opened by a maid. Alaric was already smiling before he had heard the gasp of surprise. Caroline. The blonde bombshell appeared in the doorway, in her excitement shoving the maid out of her way. Distracted by this display, no one noticed poor Matthias, stuck behind the gate.

"Caroline!" Alaric exclaimed.

"Alaric!" the woman said in return, equally if not more enthusiastic. Alaric, his smile wider than ever, kissed Caroline, causing Lena to bite back a smile and Damon to chuckle under his breath. He cleared his throat and Caroline gently pushed Alaric away, beat red.

"Where are my manners?" she said, patting her dress to smooth invisible creases. "Come in, come in, everyone." Alaric she pulled in by his hand, and the other two followed them inside. Damon saw Matthias, who was barking wildly, but shut the door on the puppy just as he had popped through the gate's grates. He grinned to himself as he went on his way after Lena. Matthias ran to the flower box atop the nearest window and jumped up to peer into Annette's drawing room.

"May I present, her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Elena Katerina," Alaric announced.

"Oh my Heavens… She certainly does look like Elena." Damon was already smiling, as was Alaric. It was in the bag; Damon could feel it. "But so did many of the others…" Caroline folded her hands in her lap, fixing her attention on Lena. "Where were you born?"

"At the Katherine Palace."

"Correct." Caroline knew that all of the girls knew this, and was quick to come up with a question no one would guess. "And how does Elena like her tea?" Damon internally winced. They hadn't gone over that; he didn't even know.

"I don't like tea. Just hot water and lemon," Lena replied. She didn't hesitate at all, and Caroline couldn't help but be impressed, along with the men. The four were there for more than a couple hours going through a series of questions, from Elena's favorite color to her old stuffed animal toys from when she was a child. But finally, Caroline was at a loss. "Now, you'll most likely find this an impertinent question but… indulge me." Alaric and Damon leaned forward. "How did you escape during the siege of the palace?" Behind Lena, Damon put his head in his hands. Shit with a capital shit.

But Lena wasn't worried. She sat across from Caroline and Alaric, thoughtful. Her eyebrows drew together as her mind worked, a faded scene washing into her mind. "There was a boy," she said. "A boy who worked in the palace." Picturing this in her mind, Lena brought her hand up to rest upon the air. "He opened a wall." Damon's eyes opened, his furrowed eyebrows slowly coming apart. What had she said?

"I'm sorry; I'm being crazy," Lena told Caroline, forcing a laugh. Where had that come from? Damon lifted his head to look at Lena. "That's ridiculous. Walls opening." Damon was slack jawed in his shock; how was it possible? How could she know? How could she know, unless she really was—

"So, what do you think? Is she a Petrova?" Alaric asked Caroline.

"Um, well, she answered every question." Caroline stood, holding the tea tray in her hands as she tried to smile.

"You hear that, Lena?" Alaric said, his smile huge. "You did it!" Lena stood to meet Alaric's embrace, while Damon was still reeling. Feeling sick, he had to leave the room. "So, when do we see the Empress?' Alaric inquired, not taking notice of this.

"I'm afraid you don't."

"Come again?"

Going to exit the room, Caroline told him, "The Empress simply won't allow it." Lena sat down heavily. She couldn't believe it. Was this entire endeavor a waste?

"Now, Caroline." Alaric stole the tray from her hands. "Surely you can think of some way to arrange a brief interview with the Dowager." Caroline took her silver platter back with a huff. "I refuse to budge until an answer occurs to you." Caroline looked up at Alaric, her lips pressed tightly together. "Please?"

"Oh, damn you." She turned to Lena. "Do you like the Russian Ballet? They're performing in Paris tonight. The Dowager Empress and I never miss a show." She winked at them both and swiftly exited the room. Alaric made Caroline put down her tray so he could again kiss her, hugging her to him, before running in excitement from the house to find Damon. Lena laughed and smiled at Caroline, who returned these, rolling her eyes at Alaric's behavior.

"We did it!" Alaric shouted. "We're going to see the Imperial Highness tonight!" He grabbed Damon in a hug, spinning him beneath the tree had had been brooding by. "We're going to get the ten million levs!" During his rant, Damon was protesting, "'Ric, she is the princess."

"Lena was extraordinary!" Alaric praised, not paying attention. Damon looked at his friend, reaching the verge of annoyance. "I almost believed her! And Caroline?" Before Damon could say any more, Lena came rushing out the door.

"Caroline wants to take us shopping for the Ballet!" she exclaimed. "Shopping in Paris; can you believe it?" In the past five minutes alone, Damon couldn't quite believe a lot of things.