"Stefan?" she calls his name while watching him get dressed late in the morning. They skipped breakfast time, but Stefan made her promise she will eat something anyway for both hers and the baby's sake.
When he felt the room is getting chilly, he jumped out of the bed to get her nightgown and covered her with ninety percent of the covers on the bed. She told him that he's being silly, but she secretly loved the attention he's giving her so she asked herself for how long will it last.
"Hmm?" he answers while buckling the belt around his waist.
"When we marry and this becomes our room," a goofy smile appears on her face just by thinking about it. She can see herself getting measured for the perfect dress, picking which flowers will decorate the ball room. Their wedding night might not be as special since they took care of the hardest part, but she's sure they will make it memorable. Everything they do together is memorable, perfectly cut in her memory. "Will I be able to do some decorating?" she asks innocently.
The room is big, nice, comfortable, but it's just that. A room. Not his room or their room, it's just a room someone is sleeping in. It's not private or personal and she wants to make it out to be.
He lifts his look from the belt to her face and gives her a warm smile. "Of course, do whatever you want," he spreads his arms like he's giving her a complete freedom to do whatever's on her mind.
She smiles happily, gently clapping her palms. She's still lying in his bed, which will soon enough be their bed, safe under the silky covers, lying on her back, watching him get dressed and wondering how did she get so lucky.
How come life decided she deserves more than what it's been giving her? Maybe life itself took pity of her so it gave her strength and courage to come back and build herself a home. Here, with him.
She watches him from the distance, his hair glowing like halo around his head, the lines of his face smiling alongside his eyes and lips and in that moment she has a feeling like his whole being is smiling.
He moves towards her, lightly and slowly, like he's floating on air and brings his lips down to hers once he's by her side.
She wonders does he wish a boy so much and will he be disappointed if it's a girl. She wishes the baby to have his angelic eyes instead of her dull, brown ones, and the wheat color of his hair and his floating smile. She wonders does he wishes the same, for the baby to look like her, because she came to realize that when you fall in love with someone, they're the most beautiful person in the world to you, and you see their face on every body you pass by, and you wish your child to turn out like them. In reality you're not wishing for the features of their face but their soul.
Her whole body shivers when his lips fall on hers and they engage in a slow, eternal kiss. His hand drops on her stomach and she can feel his fingers caressing her over the material of clothes and covers. Even though there's so much between their skin, she can feel his fingers on the bare skin of her stomach. She remembers how it feels, so she wills herself to feel it.
"I'm so happy," he presses his forehead against hers, "Sometimes I worry I don't tell you enough how happy you make me. When I was imagining a perfect life, it never felt as good as it feels now, while it's actually happening. I love you so much," he moves his lips to her forehead and plants a small kiss on it, but a kiss of such high intensity that it manages to make her smile.
He moves his face away from hers so he's able to look her in the eyes. His eyes are open fully, inviting, waiting for hers to fall on his, and once they do he takes her hand with his free one and squeezes it, "I also worry I didn't show you how happy I am when you told me last night," he sighs in disappointment, "I was in shock, honestly, because that's the last thing I expected to hear. I never even considered it as a possibility which is, quite frankly, very idiotic from me," he laughs and she chuckles nervously, her hand sweating in his, "But while I was lying there last night, after you fell asleep in my arms, I remembered this is exactly what I want. A family with you," he brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses each of her fingers.
"I know I told you this already, but I was so scared," her voice is hoarse and he can tell she's on the verge of tears, "You told me so many times, that you want us to be a family and I think that's what I was scared of. When I think of family I think of loss and when a thought of being pregnant crossed my mind, it became so real, and I felt like I was one stop closer to losing you. Now I know I'm only getting one more piece of you. Because when you think about it, it's so miraculous," she takes both of his hands and guides them to her stomach where they rest with open palms, "We did this," she laughs quietly as his hands rest on her stomach which is still flat, but as hard as a rock.
"Yes, we did," he whispers, kissing her cheek. "Elena?"
"Yeah?" worry crushes her because of the way he says her name.
"Remember how last night you told me to try to avoid this war? Well, there is a way.." he says nervously, not sure of this option.
But she beams up. "Yeah?" the corners of her lips fly up, forming a smile.
"Princess of France wrote to me," and just like that, her smile drops, "She wants to come here - "
"She's the enemy," Elena protests, feeling a little insecure.
How stupid of me, she tells herself, I'm carrying his child but I worry of him choosing someone else over me. It's not just me now.
"She wants to come to speak for herself, not her father," he explains.
She lets go of his hands.
"Elena, this is our only chance to avoid another battle," he says as she turns her back to him, "Why are you acting like this?"
"And how am I acting, my Lord?" her voice goes higher than she intended to.
He swallows. "Like I'm - "
"Like you're what?" she whips her head around as she snaps at him, "Choose her over me?"
"You're jealous," he doesn't ask, he states.
She doesn't respond to that. There's nothing to say.
She turns her back to him again.
"Fine Elena," he says the next words sadly, but determined, "Be jealous."
She sneaks out of his room and with a running step goes to her own.
She chooses a reddish dress, the one which color reminds her of sunset, made out of thick and warm material. She has to admit that she was cold yesterday in a simple, thin olive dress meant for Spring.
When she takes her nightgown off, she looks at her naked figure in the mirror. There are no more scars on her body. Her thighs, her hips, the lower part of her stomach are perfectly clean. Her skin is smooth and clear. She admires herself for few seconds because she hasn't felt like this in years. Actually, she never felt like this. Like she is truly beautiful. There are no traces of scars and they're probably gone for some time now, she just failed to notice.
She puts her undergarments on, and she pulls a dress over them. She lets her hair fall over her back.
Why is she feeling like this? Why is she acting like this?
She knows Stefan. She loves Stefan. She trusts Stefan. She knows he would never do anything to betray her. He already did so much for them and their relationship, much more than either of them thought is possible. More than she expected, and more than he let himself hope for. She knows he would never throw that away because of one woman, no matter who that woman is.
She's the one for him. He keeps proving that to her time after time after time. So why is she betraying him like this?
Why is she being so ungrateful?
Her questions bring tears to her eyes and few drops fall over her rosy cheeks.
The problem is not in him, the problem is in her insecurities.
She tries to see herself through his eyes. She tries to see herself as someone who is as beautiful and smart and brave as he says she is, but the only thing she can see is herself. Her plain, old self. Not someone magnificent, not the person he sees.
She wishes she could see herself like he sees her. Maybe then she would understand.
Her hair is long and brown and wavy and ordinary, like most women have, but he finds it irresistible. She's fairly pretty, with her big, brown eyes and gentle facial lines. Her nose is small and perky, her cheeks chubby, always full of color, as well as her thin, small lips. She is not tall, but she is not short either and she's slim. She has curves on her body, but sometimes she finds herself too skinny.
He sees her as perfect. She sees him as perfect. That's how it goes when you fall in love. Maybe he hates his light sandy hair, the one she loves so much. Maybe he thinks his eyes are too green when, for her, they're just green enough.
She's so different from the girl who came here two years ago. She was 16 years old, ready to sacrifice her whole life for justice. She never thought something brilliant is waiting for her. The idea of living her life never even crossed her mind. Her mind was set on one thing and one thing only. She was ready to die for it.
Until she wasn't. Until she realized she wants to live.
And in these two incredibly long years, she lived. Oh how she lived. She fell in love with a boy and she kissed a boy and she made love to a boy and he showed her there's more to her than a paper girl she's been all these years.
She's going to marry that boy, because he loves her so much he found a loop in a law. Because he went in front of thousand of people to ask for her hand in marriage. She's pregnant with the boy's baby and it's only going to be first out of many and they're going to be a family.
She wipes her tears and leaves her room to find Caroline.
After half an hour of searching, she finally finds her in the common room, drinking her tea.
"Elena!" she beams up when she notices a friendly face entering the room, "What a pleasant surprise," she jumps to her feet excitedly.
Elena forces a smile to her face, for Caroline's sake. "Likewise," she replies, holding a fake smile hung on her lips.
"Is there anything I can do for you," she asks while sitting back down on the sofa.
Elena sits next to her. Her whole face drops. "I'm afraid me and Stefan had a fight," she says regretfully.
The color drains from Caroline's face. "But - but, things are so good for you two now. You can get married. What could you possibly fight about?"
Elena wiggles her lips. "Caroline," she says her name cautiously, putting her hands on top of Caroline's, "There's something I have to tell you. A secret."
Caroline's eyes go wide. She loves secrets. "Yes?" she leans closer to Elena, almost ending up in her lap.
Elena looks around herself to make sure they're alone before saying, "I'm with a child."
Caroline stills her wide eyes on Elena's, for a minute, two, three, before a wide smile crosses her lips, "Oh, Elena," she throws her arms around Elena's shoulders and pulls her into a hug, "I'm so happy for you. Both of you," Elena's hands land on Caroline's back. "It took you long enough," Caroline giggles.
Elena's throat tightens. She's afraid this is a dream from which she will wake up soon. She's afraid her fear will come alive, fear of not being able to stay with a child. It's not only the fear of Stefan leaving her because of it. She wants children. She always wanted them.
"Why did you two have a fight, though?" Caroline lets her go out of the hug, "Did - did Stefan say something that might have upset you when it comes to your situation?" Caroline can't imagine that being the case. Stefan always wanted a big family, so it's about time to get started.
"No," Elena shakes her head, "He says he's happy. It - it's me," she admits shamefully.
"You're not happy?" Caroline asks in disbelief.
"No!" Elena shrieks, "I'm the one who messed up. When I told him the news, I asked him to take the easy road out of this war. If there's a way to end it, any other way than the battle, to take it. This morning he told me there is a way. Princess of France wants to come here."
Caroline's eyes go wide again, this time with shock.
"Apparently, she wants peace the easy way as well.."
Caroline finally gets a rough idea of what this might be about. "But you think she might want something else as well."
Elena nods, glad Caroline understands her point of view.
"Even if she does," Caroline adds, "Stefan doesn't. He made his choice."
A painful chuckle climbs up Elena's throat and falls down her lips. "She's a Princess of France, and I'm nothing!"
"You're not nothing!" Caroline says irritated, "You're the woman he loves! You're the woman he fought for! You're the woman carrying his child," her voice lowers as she says the last sentence. Her cheeks are red and puffy and her eyes full of anger. She can't believe Elena could ever doubt Stefan. "It really doesn't matter who you are, though. You know what does matter? Who he is."
Elena watches her with awe and certain dose of curiosity.
"He spent his whole life dreaming about you. Do you know how many boys do that? One in a million," Caroline answers her own question, "That doesn't make you nothing. That makes you one in a million as well."
Stefan storms into his study and slumps himself in a chair with such force that the chair shakes under his weight.
His fingers crumble around a paper, the top one from the stack, and he forces it on the desk in front of him, dipping the feather into the ink bottle.
"I saw you storming in here!" Damon's voice flows into the room, "Is there something wrong?" he sounds worried.
Stefan doesn't lift his look from the letter to acknowledge his brothers presence. Instead, he starts writing. "There are many things wrong," he says bitterly.
"Who are you writing to?" Damon asks, a frown possessing his face.
"Princess of France," Stefan says through his teeth, angrily, like she herself is to blame for his current anger, "I'm telling her she might as well come here. To talk," he says the last words mockingly.
How can Elena even think he would ever leave her? Especially now?
"Why?" Damon asks, surprisingly calm. He doesn't believe in victory unless it's achieved by a sword.
Stefan puts the feather on the table and leans into the chair. "Close the door," he sighs, motioning towards the door with his hand.
Damon does so before walking over to the table and sitting on a chair across his brother.
"Elena asked me to," Stefan balls his hands into fists, joining them together by intertwining fingers on the edge of the table.
"Elena asked you to?" Damon asks confused before the usual spitefulness creeps into his voice, "She's making decisions for you now?" his voice raises a little and this time, Stefan doesn't stop him. This time, he knows he deserves it. "Why don't we just take her to the battlefield, then? She can decide which strategy to use," Damon's voice is full of mockery.
"She can't go to the battlefield," Stefan says as if that wasn't obvious already, "I can't go."
"And why is that?" curiosity flashes across Damon's face.
The lines of Stefan's face relax, and so do his body muscles which were rigid until this moment, "Because she's pregnant."
Silence overflows the room. Stefan keeps his eyes locked with Damon's.
"Congratulations," Damon says finally while swallowing hard.
"Thank you," Stefan answers silently.
"This battle is unnecessary, Damon," Stefan exhales tiredly, "It's an unnecessary risk. We know they're weak, they know they're weak, but we never know what might go wrong. Our father might have been an ass," a smirk appears on Damon's lips as Stefan says so, "But he thought us one important thing. The worst thing is going to battle, sure you're going to win. Being too sure in yourself can be as deadly as being afraid. And those men out there, our men, they know the damage they did, and they know they can do it again, which can make them careless. And I can't risk it. I don't want to risk it. Not when she's here, not when I love her, not when she's going to have a baby. She doesn't even want to get married until this whole thing is over, because she doesn't want to be here if by any chance I don't come home. So I can't go anywhere. Do you understand that?" he pleads his brother.
After few minutes of silence Damon says through a whisper, "I understand. You do what you have to do. It's not like you're bringing an enemy here. She just wants to talk, right?"
Stefan chuckles. "Not if you ask Elena."
"Excuse me?" Damon cocks his eyebrow in Stefan's direction.
Stefan rubs his forehead with the tips of his thumbs. "She's.. jealous," he exhales those words as if they carry so much weight that he struggles to push them out of his mouth.
Damon laughs loudly, "Of course she is," he barks.
Stefan removes his fingers from his head and gives his brother a curious glance.
"Look, Stefan," Damon settles into his chair like he's preparing himself to give his brother a lesson, "I know it doesn't matter to you, who she is. But it matters to her, because her whole life, unlike you, she wasn't anyone important. In her head, she still isn't. She thinks she's replaceable. Not for you, but for this life."
"So what should I do?" he can't believe he's asking relationship advice from his brother.
"Let the Princess come here and prove to Elena that she has nothing to worry about."