To Wendy, my love Bunny. You scare me when you say this story sucks.
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)
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Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century
Katherine von Swartzchild sat at her private vanity table in the Salvatore estate brushing her length of pale, golden blond hair. Dark blue, wide eyes, surrounded by thick black lash gazed back at her in the mirror. Setting the heavy silver brush down on the vanity table she leaned forward to inspect her flawless, pale skin, that showed only the hint of color in her cheeks.
"Fever," was her father's explanation for the wash of rose over her skin.
Blood, literal warm blood was the true reason. She was a vampire. Katherine's lips tightened just the slightest as the word echoed through her mind. Vampire, vampire, vampire.... She hated the word, she hated the responsibilities it took to maintain her "health." She had been dying before her nurse maid Gudren had come to her in the middle of the night with.... Katherine shook her head, clearing the image of the man in the tattered and frayed trench coat. The man, whose icy blue eyes, had stared down at her with hunger.
The invasion of mind had not pleasant, the invasion of body had been worse. And all her loyal maid could do was stand over and watch as the man with the shaggy blond hair had violated her patient.
Yet, Katherine was not ungrateful. She was alive, and would be for many, many years to come. And soon... she smiled impishly into the mirror... soon she would have a friend for all eternity and live blissfully for all her years. Soon, she would have Stefan by her side. And then she would have the courage to leave her beloved father. At the thought of her father, her heart softened and she sighed sadly.
Thinking of leaving her father always made her sad. Her eyes, reflected in the mirror, were sad as well, so she closed them softly and reached for her hair brush. Brushing her hair always soothed her. When she was ill in bed, her nurse maid would sit and brush her hair for hours until it was silky, smooth.
As her fingers curled over the silver handle of the brush, warm fingers curled around hers. Her eyes flew open, meeting Stefan's in the mirror... or...
"Damon," Damon said, smiling slowly. "You must be Katherine. My father mentioned you in a letter I received at university. You look rather well for a girl in such a serious condition." He tilted his head to the side, eyes skimming over her face. "I trust my dear baby brother mentioned me to you?" His eyes were hot with contempt, and his reference to Stefan was equally scornful.
With a jerk, Katherine removed her hand from the hair brush and his touch. "Yes, Stefan did mention he had a brother in university," she said carefully. "He did say you would be return home soon. That you... were... in trouble... with some of the authorities in your university." She lowered her eyes from the mirror and focused them on her clasped hands in her lap. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, having nothing to do with her condition and all to do with embarrassment and a hint of shame. Damon resembled his brother in an uncanny fashion. Slightly shorter maybe, and his hair was straight, not curled like Stefan's. His eyes were black and not the emerald green of his younger brother's. But the main difference was the face. Stefan's had always been full of emotion. When he was with her, his face was always open, pleasant, kind. Damon's was anything but that. His lips were cruel when he mentioned Stefan, and they seemed bent on a smirk. He looked smug.
"I see," Damon said slowly, stepping back from the vanity. "I do have my father to speak to about these 'troubles with authorities' so if you will excuse me." He reached down and took her hand, gently prying it away from the other and raised it to his lips, holding it there until her eyes slowly rose to his. He smiled, keeping her hand locked in his, " I do look forward to seeing you again, buono arrivederci."
When he was completely vacant from the room, Katherine lowered her hand and sighed, when she looked in the mirror her eyes were dark and her cheeks were pale. Damon. She smiled girlishly. Damon. Lifting the brush she pulled it quickly through her hair and paused again. Stefan. She was in love with Stefan.
Then why had Damon excited her? The mere thoughts of Stefan and Damon gave her similar flashes of hot and cold, and a quick fluttering in her lower stomach. She needed to see Stefan. If she saw him, she would be reassured. If she saw him, the presence of Damon would be erased from her mind. Green eyes flashed black and then again in her mind's eye.
She set the brush down, and smoothed out her new gold and white dress. Her favorite dress. She would go see Stefan, and reassure herself that Damon was an object of unimportance.