I do not own TVD or TO.
This chapter takes place entirely during her first life.
To those reviewers who asked about Kol and Elena I have a few things to say. I started out this story fully intending for it to be Elijah who was her past husband, it is fully mapped out to go that way.
Then I had this idea for how things would progress if it had not been Elijah. I have that version mapped out too.
I see this story going to very different ways once Elena goes to NOLA and I may very well write both side by side. Obviously not all in Tabula Rasa, but if I write it the other way I'll republish the buildup to the cure in one chapter as a different story and continue it as the other version.
I think I might do that because I've always kind of wanted to do a Kolena story to but I never had the inspiration until now. I just need a title for it.
57 BC
Sixteen years was a standard age when most women married.
Just like all of those that came before her she was directed through the pre-wedding rituals. Amara and her mother had accompanied her to the temple of Artemis where she had left toys in dedication to the goddess.
She had winced when Amara had cut her hair. The locks that had once reached the small of her back were cut around her shoulders. She had dedicated the locks of hair to Aphrodite to signify her transition from childhood into adulthood.
She could have sworn Amara looked a little jealous while assisting her with the nuptial bath on the day of her wedding.
She whispered fervently to Amara as her sister walked alongside the chariot.
"Is no one going to tell me who I am marrying?" Her eyes flashed above the veil.
"We thought about it," Amara smiled and whispered. Her voice just made it over the singing of their neighbors, "and I told mother I would tell you."
Her eyes widened as she stared at her mirror image. "Why haven't you?" She was literally on her way to her husband's house; surely Amara should have said something by now.
"I thought it would be more fun to watch you figure it out," Amara shrugged. Her lips had twisted into a playful smirk. "Come now, sister," she nodded ahead to the path, "you must know where this chariot is headed by now. There is only one villa left."
Amara saw the moment the knowledge entered her sister's eyes.
"Did you really think father would consent to a marriage with anyone else?" Amara teased. "He knew you'd merely demand a divorce after a certain amount of time."
"Why did you look so surprised?" Elias' eyes glittered with amusement when she sat beside him later that night; really it was the next morning.
Their guests had all left after hours of feasting and toasting. The newlyweds had been kept apart for the majority of the evening. Only there in the early hours of the morning were they truly alone.
"What do you mean?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened when she caught the knowing smirk on his face. "Did you know?"
"Did I know what?" He caught her hand when she pointed a finger at him.
"You knew we were to marry and you didn't say a word," she gasped in mock outrage.
Elias lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist. He saw the shiver race down her spine.
"I did know," he laid a trail of soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her arm, "but I was under the impression your sister was meant to tell you."
There was something about the way he said it. Something about the laughter in his voice that had her rolling her eyes and poking his chest.
"You told Amara not to tell me," she accused lightly.
"I resent that assumption," he caught her other hand and kissed her shoulder.
"I don't hear you denying it," she tilted her head to give him unrestricted access to her throat. Her voice was little more than a murmur.
His hand cradled her neck as he left a burning line along her throat and jaw. Hovering over her parted lips he grinned before standing up.
"What…" She exhaled and blinked at him.
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
"I want to show you something," he walked backwards and held her hands.
"You want to show me something right now?" She tilted her head and laughed because of course he had something to show her.
That was the way with Elias. He was a terrible tease really; he loved to torment her until her body hummed with anticipation. They had often met beneath the pomegranate tree, or more often in the field of grasses where they had first seen each other; the protective charms around the terrain meant that Amara couldn't find them with magic. Of course it also meant that she couldn't sense Amara and as a result her sister had caught them a few times rolling around in the grasses half clothed.
"Yes," he lifted her wrists and placed a kiss to each palm.
"Elias…?" She giggled when he circled behind her and covered her eyes with his hand.
"It's a surprise," he chuckled and brushed his lips over her ear.
She was grateful for the flat terrain. She was even more grateful when his hand guided her as they stepped outside onto the cool grass.
"Where are you taking me?" She couldn't stop the laugh when she stumbled and he righted her with a hand on her waist. She shivered when his palm flattened over her stomach.
"Nowhere," he smirked and pressed her abdomen backwards so she was flush against his front, "we're just outside the villa."
"I figured," she snickered, "I am barefoot you know."
"Yes," he drawled, "and we both know how familiar you are with the feeling of grass beneath your body."
"Not beneath my entire body," she sighed.
"Well," he ran his lips over her shoulder, "your sister is unlikely to interrupt us tonight. It might be time to acquaint yourself with the grass."
"Am I going to get to see it," she lifted her hand to his wrist, "or only feel it?"
Elias laughed and guided her forwards twenty paces before lifting his hand.
She gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth. Her eyes grew round as she examined the various flowers in the pre-dawn hours.
Chewing her lip to temper her smile she stepped out of his arms and ran her fingers over the plants in the garden: asters, daisies, lilies, chamomile, clover, myrtle, and many more including a few that she didn't immediately recognize.
"What is all of this?" She took his hand when he came up behind her.
"Your garden of course," he squeezed her hand and spun her slowly.
There was a low bench and a table in the centre of everything that she hadn't seen before.
"I love it," her mouth tipped up in a grin when she turned back to face him and cupped his cheek.
"I love you," he dipped down to kiss her softly.
Her toes curled against the cool ground. By the time the sunrise illuminated the luscious garden they were both very familiar with the feeling of soft grass against their skin.
56 BC
Years passed as the couple fell more in love by the day. It was nearly three years to the day of their marriage when the whispers reached them.
It was Amara who brought it up to her sister.
"They are saying you're barren," she watched her sister grinding herbs in the garden.
"What?" She lifted her gaze from the mortar. "Who is saying that?"
"People," Amara shrugged.
She took that to mean Qetsiyah. Amara had been her handmaid since before her sister's marriage and the two had become friends of a sort.
"If you are," Amara continued and twirled a red leaf between her fingers, "Qetsiyah knows of a way to counteract it."
"I am not barren," she rolled her eyes, "and I know what herbs to use as well." She wiped some sweat from her brow and sat beside her sister on the bench. "Elias and I discussed it when we were first married and decided to wait a few years before having children."
"You've done it to yourself?" Amara leaned forward and gasped.
"I've done nothing," she held up a hand, "I just used acacia and honey to ensure we didn't conceive until we were ready; you know that most woman who die in childbirth are below eighteen."
Amara nodded her head slowly. She had long ago learned to bow to her twin's superior knowledge of magic and herbs. Amara had never shown any interest in the subject in spite of her sister's insistence that she would do beautifully if only she were to try.
Amara's head snapped up a second later.
"You 'used acacia and honey'?" Amara arched an eyebrow. "Does that mean you will welcome a child soon?"
"It means we are ready to welcome a child soon," she nudged her sister's shoulder, "stop staring at me like that. I am not with child yet."
Amara nodded and watched her sister return to her earlier task.
"What are you making?"
"It's for privacy," she said, "these herbs placed in strategic places will keep conversations private."
"How private?" Amara stood and fingered the red flower in her hands.
"If I were to place this in my chamber and seal the door," she set down the pestle and poured the contents into a leather bag, "you would not be able to hear a conversation inside even if your ear were pressed to the wood."
"And what does this do?" Amara lifted the leaf in her hand.
"That one," she plucked the blossom from her sister's fingers, "is the key ingredient to immortality… but only when combined with the right herbs."
"You know the secret of immortality?" Amara tilted her head and blinked slowly when her sister nodded. "There are many that would kill for that."
"I know," she smiled softly.
"Are you ever going to create it?" Amara helped tidy the table.
"No," she shook her head, "I have no desire to live forever."
"You'll willingly die knowing you could have lived on?"
"Yes," she dropped the herb onto the ground. "I fully believe that my life will be beautiful. Death brings peace with it, and pain is the cost of living." From the corner of her eye she saw her husband in the villa. "Like love, it's how we know we are alive."
Amara followed her gaze. "I should think that if I ever found a love like that I would want to treasure it forever and never let it go."
57 BC
She jumped and covered her shriek with her hand. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leveled the beautiful woman with a stare.
"Qetsiyah," she gasped and covered her fluttering heart, "you startled me."
"I do apologize," Qetsiyah smiled sweetly, "that was not my intention."
"Really," she couldn't stop the eye roll, "you didn't intend to frighten me by sneaking into my garden in the dead of night?"
Qetsiyah shook her head and ran her fingers over the long table.
She couldn't shake the feeling that she was about to be asked for something. Qetsiyah's eyes held a guarded question.
"Did you know your sister and I are friends?" Qetsiyah wandered across the grass.
"I was aware of that."
"She is more than my handmaid," Qetsiyah continued. "A few moons back she and I drank a little too much wine and she told me she knew the witch who understood the secret of immortality."
She paled when Qetsiyah's dark eyes landed on her after plucking the red herb.
"That's a secret I won't share," she swallowed. "It's a dangerous secret to know."
"Could you be persuaded to create the spell then?" Qetsiyah held up the leaf Amara had described to her. It seemed unremarkable to her, but her handmaid's sister had always had an affinity with that which grew from the earth. "I am in love and I want to live forever with him." She continued before a protest could be made. "I can understand your own refusal but I am choosing this. I would create the spell myself but you already know it; you could save me years of toil by telling me or you could make it for me."
She hesitated when the herb was placed in her hand.
"There is a price," she ran her finger over the red leaves, "there is always a price for such things. Yes, you would live forever, but would cease to age, be unable to have children, and you would no longer be a witch."
She had thought the last would be enough for Qetsiyah to change her mind and leave, but the other woman surprised her by smiling brightly.
"What is such loss in the face of true love? I would gladly pay that price for an eternity with him."
She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes from the herb in her hand. She had promised herself she would never share the secret with anyone; it would live and die with her. Slowly, almost reluctantly she nodded her assent.
Qetsiyah grinned and wrapped her arms tightly around her slim body.
"Thank you," Qetsiyah released her and stepped back, "when will it be ready?"
"I'll need some time," she closed her hand over the herb. "Come back on the full moon and it will be prepared along with a cure to turn you human again."
"I won't need that," Qetsiyah shook her head.
"I'll make it anyway," she promised, "on the chance one day you might change your mind."
2000 years is a very long time. History fades to legend, legend turns to myth. eventually true knowledge of events morphs into something else. History is written by the winners after all, and the hunters were created by a descendant of Qetsiyah.