To Mare, you're the best big sister a little brother could have!
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)
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Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century
The days leading to Sunday were long, so long that the pressure to wait on both brothers was almost impossible. The only reassurance, for Damon, came on Thursday strokes before the sun rose to greet a new day.
There was a soft click of his door shutting, and then the light scatter of bare feet and gown on the tiles. Then his sheets parted welcoming in cool air against his bare flesh, and soon after Katherine's slightly cool form molded to his side. She huddled against him, her head bowed against his chest, lightly resting on his shoulder. She was in his bed, with only a light sleeping gown separating her flesh from his.
Damon fought to control the smile on his face and rise of victory that swelled in his chest. He brought his fingers up to her chin, and tilted her head back slightly, exposing her pale pink lips to him. He kissed her, parting her lips with the slight urging of his tongue. She responded, taking his tongue and caressing it in return with hers. Her delicate hands rose to his hair, fingers locking in the silky dark tresses. Only when a soft whimper escaped her lips did she climb on top of him, rising above him, and looking down at him with dark blue eyes and innocence across her face.
Katherine trailed a finger down the center of Damon's face. Down his nose, across his lips and down the side of his throat. She leaned down over him, licking the side of his throat, kissing and then biting, then drinking.
The pain was a sharp one then quickly passing, overtaken by the light and emotion in Katherine's mind. After what seemed like hours, she released him and, pulling down her gown, exposing one snow white breast and rose nipple. Her nail trailed across the crest, leaving a dark red, quickly seeping line in it's wake. She guided his mouth to the cut, and he drank. Drank deeply, until he thought he would burst, and then she was pulling him away, easing his lethargic body back against his pillows, and climbing out of his bed. She exited his chambers as quietly as she had come, and Damon fell into a sleep, that lasted until the next night.
When the sun kissed the horizon at dusk Sunday night Damon, rose from his sitting place on the balcony of his chamber. He slipped on the ring he had found on his dresser when he awoke after his night with Katherine. It was a beautiful ring of thick silver and a dark blue stone - lapis lazuli - that matched Katherine's eyes. He slide his hand into the pocket of his tailored gown. He went directly to Katherine's chambers and was confronted by a stoned face nurse maid, Gudren and his own weak faced, unknowing little brother.
He looked at the maid defiantly and laid a hand on the door knob to Katherine's room, only to be struck smartly across the back of his hand with Gudren's fan. "My lady is not in there." Her expression was intense, anxious, and angry. She was not happy with the state the two boys had put her lady in.
Damon's lips curled, almost in disgust at Gudren, but his voice was mockingly sweet, "Then were is your lady?"
"She is out in the gardens. You two boys," she started, waving her fan first in Damon's face and then Stefan's, "you two boys have upset my mistress. You should be ashamed of your behavior. Especially you!" She turned on Stefan giving him a hefty jab in the chest with the end of her fan. "She loved you. That one... " she turned beady, glaring muddy brown eyes on Damon, "... that one was nothing but trouble to my mistress. If I had my way..." She broke off as both brothers pushed past her, making way to the garden.
The sun was high when Damon entered the garden from the west entrance. "Katherine!" he called as he hurried through the tangle of trees and flowering bushes.
"Katherine!" Stefan called out beside him, and Damon turned to him sneering. "Go inside, brother, you should know by now who she has chosen."
"Yes I do." Stefan thrust his right hand up showing the thick silver and blue jeweled ring, much like Damon's. "She has chosen me, brother, so I suggest you go inside."
Damon thrust up his own hand, taking in the minimal pleasure of Stefan's shock. Then he turned and called her name again, "Katherine!"
Stefan broke off the main path and a moment later the shriek of agony reached Damon's ears. He quickly made his way toward it and was hit by the awful smell of burned fat. He threw up a hand to cover his nose and mouth, and saw the reason of Stefan's yell. Below the lemon tree, where Damon had taken Katherine for their first kiss, was Katherine's favorite white and gold dress.... vacant of the owner.
There was also a small gold ring and a letter beside the dress. Damon thrust his hand down and seized the note, and Stefan reached for the ring and held it tightly in his fist. Damon read softly:
"My dearest loves who have damned us all:
My love was not enough to remedy this bitterness between you.
May my death solve it.
My love, and heart: Katherine"
Stefan looked up as Damon dropped the letter to the ground. "You! You arrogant, selfish bastard. Look what you did! Look what you did...." He rose and pushed Damon forcefully in the chest, his face a mask of hatred, rage and killer intent. "I loved her! You... you... you tainted her life and you taint her death."
Damon's face transformed, he said nothing but his face spoke with the words he did not utter. His eyes were the blackest black and his lips were curled in disgust. How he hated his brother and his words then. So much that he whirled on boot heels and made his way quickly to the house. When he reached the greeting room he snatched his sword from the holder against the wall. He intended to murder his brother, not duel, but Stefan had come to face him, his own sword in his hands.
A shout from above went unnoticed. Servants and maids fled the room and their father came to the doorway, shouting for his sons to cease. But Damon would have none of that. He wanted blood, his brother's blood. His brother's face could of been a mirror, reflecting hate and rage that Damon's soul was shouting.
They fought. Steel clashed with steel, curses were shouted. People were shouting all around them, the room was a loud and hot hell. Stefan's thrust caught Damon across the arm, and he almost fell, but his opening came when Stefan thought he had been victorious. Stefan's thrust had pushed him past Damon's left side, and Stefan's back was open. Before Stefan could recover from his mighty thrust, Damon's sword turned and came down on Stefan.
The thrust was mortal and Damon knew it when the tip of his sword hit tile. He had gone completely through Stefan's side, and warm blood gushed over his hand. Stefan staggered and fell as Damon pulled his blood soaked sword from his own brother's body.
Stefan fell face first, and was quickly turned over with a kick to the side by Damon's boot. The shouts had become mere background music as Damon delivered his last dialogue to his little brother. With Stefan's eyes on him, he drew his finger across the blade of his sword and rose a finger, dripping in Stefan's blood, to his lips. His smile was the cruelest it had ever been. "And now, little brother," he said softly, standing over Stefan's fallen body, "now the taint of her life is gone, and her legacy will continue." He drew his tongue across his finger and cleaned his finger of blood. He laughed, threw his head back and laughed louder and harder.... and gasped, his eyes flying open and his body bending over the blade implanted in his mid-section.
Stefan, his last bit of energy before the veil of death fell over his eyes, had thrust his sword through his own brother's body. Damon fell beside him, on his front, forcing the forgotten blade of Stefan Salvatore further into his body. And as the blood of the brother's pooled and mixed across the tiles of the Salvatore estate in Renaissance Italy, the story had only begun.