As dusk fell over Mystic Falls, the real magic began. There were carriages upon carriages lined up on the pavement in front of the Gilbert mansion, all filled with giddy young women and excited young men. Elena drew back the curtain and watched the commotion out of the window of her and Hero's room. She squinted; appalled at some of the outfits the girls wore. She could hardly believe they were appropriate, much less in style. Maybe they really did do things different in the South. "Caroline, is that really the latest fashion?"

Caroline giggled. "Yes! Isn't it lovely?"

"I could think of other words to describe it."

She pouted, turning to Elena with a dress on each arm. "You would know this if you ever visited town. Which do you think would be best?"

Elena laughed, watching Caroline turn this way and that in front of the mirror. "I suppose if I had to choose, I'd choose the blue. It becomes you well."

She blushed. "Thank you!" Caroline paused, eyeing Elena's dress that she had been wearing all day. "Are you not going to change?"

"Must I?"

"Elena!"

"Fine, fine," she grumbled, heading towards her closet. She began sifting through her dresses. When she had originally come to Mystic Falls, she hadn't planned on attending any dances, but her Aunt Jenna insisted she would have use of a few nice dresses, and it seemed she was right. Quickly grabbing a red dress that seemed to be fancy enough for the masquerade, she held it up for Caroline's approval. "Will you do me up?"

Caroline squealed. "That's beautiful! I do believe you'll catch every man's eye tonight."

"But not Stefan," Elena said with a glint in her eye. "The whole company knows he only has eyes for you."

She cast her eyes to the ground. "I wouldn't mind if it were so," she said softly.

Elena turned, grasping her cousin by the shoulders. "He's a good man, Caroline. You are beautiful, kind, talented, and wonderful. He would be crazy not to love you. He would be a wise choice. One of the few you've made," she said in jest, grin adorning her face.

"I believe that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!" Caroline laughed, embracing her cousin. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, darling Caroline," she said in an imitation of a man's voice, supposedly Stefan.

Caroline hit her shoulder. "Do you have our masks?"

"Of course!" Elena dug through her closet once more. "The only interesting part of this dance."

The girls donned their masks. Caroline looked Elena over once more before nodding her head with finality. "We're ready. Let's go."

Guests lined the back patio. Lights were ablaze, and the backyard garden was transformed into a celestial ballroom. Excitement buzzed in the air as everyone waited for the first dance to begin. Elena and Caroline wove their way throughout the throngs of people, giggling and running away once they would light on someone they knew.

"What are we waiting on?" whispered Caroline.

"The guests of honor, perhaps?" Elena mused.

As if summoned by the mere mention of their company, the soldiers made their grand entrance. They were all wearing their uniforms, but one thing differentiated them—their masks. There were intricate ones, there were gaudy ones, but one thing was the same—none were identical. Elena felt both amusement and a prick of annoyance at this, as this left her no way to identify Damon. To avoid him, of course.

Caroline appeared to be searching through the sea of masks to find someone as well. Although, in her instance, she actually wanted to dance with the man she was searching for. Tugging Elena's hand, she begged, "Let's go!"

Elena reluctantly followed. As they made their way to the group of soldiers that was already being assaulted by a horde of young ladies, a man approached them. Turning to Caroline, he bowed gracefully and took her hand to his lips. "My lady, will you dance with me?"

Blushing, Caroline was almost speechless. But as it was Caroline, she recovered quickly. "As long as you don't step on my toes, are handsome, and let me talk, I'm yours for the dance…and maybe a bit longer if I had a fine time."

"With me?"

Caroline smiled coquettishly. "If it pleases me to let you."

"When will I know the answer to that, lovely lady?" said the mysterious man. While Caroline flirted with her unknown suitor, Elena analyzed the situation. She wasn't familiar with many of the men's voices, but she knew for a fact it was not Damon. She would hardly let him snatch her cousin away with his womanizing reputation. The stranger was tall, and stood rather gracefully, if there was such a thing. He seemed to be comfortable in his own skin. If she had to guess, Elena would not think it Stefan, but there was no need to tell Caroline that yet.

"I'll let you know," Caroline giggled, grasping his offered hand, "When I see your face. God forbid you look like your mask."

"It would be a pity, lady, if I was indeed a bird. I promise you I am magnificent as Adonis."

As he pulled Caroline off to dance, Elena rethought the viable options for Caroline's mystery dance partner. While she did think she would recognize Damon's voice, it could have been him. The almost arrogance of tone suited him. She would just have to keep an eye on her cousin to make sure she stayed out of harm's way.

Matthew Donovan drew closer to Katherine, trying his best to corner to her. Little did he know, no one cornered Katherine Pierce. She did like to dance, but tonight, the lovely assortment of wine broken out for the event was enough to keep her off the dance floor.

He approached her with intent in his eyes. "Will you dance with me, Miss Pierce?"

She smiled sweetly, and pretended to ponder the question a moment. "No." At his look of utter rejection, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. She blamed his big blue eyes and the alcohol.

As he began the waltz, he tried to broach any topics he might seem of interest to her. Coming away with absolutely nothing, he sighed. "Well, I do wish you liked me."

"You're lucky I don't. My qualities are indeed the worst."

"Tell me one," he demanded. "It surely cannot be that bad."

"I say my prayers out loud," Katherine deadpanned. Lord, she could not get out of this dance fast enough. This song was seeming to last an eternity.

"Ah, but that only makes me love you more."

She rolled her eyes. "If only God would give me a good dance partner."

Matt smirked cheekily. "That would be me."

"You've stepped on my toes at least four times." Not even wishing to carry through the rest of the dance, she faked an apologetic smile and broke away from her relentless partner and once again made her way to the table housing the refreshments.

Bonnie sighed. "Alaric, I know it's you." He had been following her about all night. His dress was unkempt, his vest untucked partially from his trousers. The top buttons were undone. The only thing well put together about him was his mask, which suggested a well to do family by the craftsmanship. It only covered his eyes, and his lazy grin was out for the world to see. If he had not had scruff, Bonnie could have easily mistaken him as Damon Salvatore.

"No, it's not!" insisted the masked man in a slurred tone, hinting at his intoxicated state.

"No one else would drink this much this early into the night," she said, rolling her eyes. "Give in."

"No," she could see the corner of the masked man's lips draw into a frown. "I'm pretending to be him. I exceed his likeness too well, yes?" He laughed, and then proceeded to strike an Alaric like "pose."

Foregoing the rules of propriety, Bonnie latched her arm around the drunken man's waist. "Alaric or not, you can barely stand, sir." Pulling the man towards the stone benches surrounding the courtyard, Bonnie shook her head silently. She always seemed to get into the most trouble.

"You are Alaric, though," she said certainly. "No one else pulls off the look of intoxication so well. You've even his scruff and," she added while forcefully grabbing his hand, "your ring. Ha! Sir, even with a mask, you cannot fool."

The newly identified Alaric held up a finger and paused thoughtfully before answering. "I'm not."

Bonnie handed him off to the nearest group of servants, instructing them to flush the alcohol out of his system. She pursed her lips and sighed, glaring at her friend. "You're terribly hopeless."

While Caroline was off dancing with who knows what soldier attempting to steal her virtue, Elena decided to peruse the party. Let it not be said that Elena could not entertain herself. She made the expected rounds, talking to those she must in order to appease her uncle. She even danced a few waltzes with masked and unmasked men alike. As per usual, no one particularly caught her fancy. That is, until she caught one of the soldiers staring at her.

Uneasily, she prodded Katherine. "Do you see that?"

"What?" Katherine looked up from the drink she was nursing.

"I think he's looking at me."

Katherine narrowed her eyes at Elena. "He's wearing a mask," she said slowly, as if willing her to understand. "Do you jest, or are you sincerely that stupid?"

"I know, but—" Elena protested. She was no coward, but for some reason, the man opposite her made her extremely uneasy. His posture showed he was completely at ease, leaned up against a stone pillar. His uniform was well pressed and his shoulders broad.

"The decision is yours," she waved her hand, silencing her friend. "But his costume fits as if designed to yours."

His mask was truly the perfect counterpart to hers. The sun and the moon. While her mask was painted gold and radiated pure warmth, his was cold and silver. This did not lessen the intrigue of the man, however. She could tell by the craftsmanship that it was made well, and she was very curious about what soldier would put this much effort into obtaining a mask. Her mind was reeling with all the possibilities that could lay underneath.

As if noticing her hesitant gaze, he languidly offered a hand out. Elena nodded almost imperceptibly, and waited what seemed like ages for him to take the steps that brought him across the courtyard to her. Once again offering her his hand, she took it without question.

The soldier wrapped his arm around her shoulder blade, and slowly guided her right hand into his own, as if relishing the touch. Elena was stunned at his lack of speech, but altogether overwhelmed by the moment. She let herself, even if just for one night, be swept along with the tide without pausing for an instant to drop her anchor. His steps were without falter, effortlessly leading her through the crowd. One dance turned into three, but Elena couldn't bring herself to mind.

After the third dance, the stranger once again offered her his hand, and she accepted without hesitation. "You seem to be in a wonderful mood tonight," he quipped, breaking the silence.

She smiled genuinely. "Why would I not?"

"See," the soldier began in a low voice, "I've heard some things about you."

"Oh?" This gave Elena pause. For once, her reputation might have not done her well. "Pray, what would that be?"

The man laughed, deep and rich and everything Elena did not want to focus on at the moment but found herself dwelling on anyway. "I cannot myself believe it, as you have been perfectly lovely this evening. Rather—a friend of mine—previously mentioned that you were very scornful, and that your wit was simply manufactured of someone else's writing."

Elena's face grew hot. "Who dare make that accusation? My wit is my own, thank you," she said disdainfully. "Will you tell me who informed you so?"

"No, my lady, I cannot," the stranger said apologetically.

She pouted. It was uncharacteristic and a bit of an underhanded tactic, but altogether necessary. "And you won't tell me your name?"

He seemed startled, but composed himself quickly as he eased them into another dance. "Not now."

"Well," Elena mused, "It must be Mr. Salvatore. No one else would accuse my wit of being so. No one else would be bitter enough to aim for so low a blow."

"Who is he?"

"You really do not know him?" She looked doubtful. "The Salvatores own quite a bit of land in Mystic Falls. Stefan Salvatore is Elijah's right hand man. Surely you must know him?"

"I do know him. Is this the Salvatore you speak so ill of?"

Elena scoffed. "No, Stefan is wonderful. Rather, it's his eldest brother, Damon Salvatore. He's a nuisance. Are you sure you aren't aware of such a fool in your company."

"Believe me, if there was such a fool, I would be the first to know."

"I'm hard pressed to find he never once made you laugh," Elena giggled. "He makes our household laugh so."

"Who is this man?" asked the stranger, a bit more eagerly than Elena would have liked.

Damon wasn't so often a pleasant subject, but when the moments arose to jest at his expense, she could not often pass them up. "You truly want to know?" she whispered, as if she would let him in on a secret. He nodded his head quickly. "He's Elijah's personal entertainment—his only talent relies upon his ability to make up lies about others. Only the immature enjoy his company, and they don't even like him for his wit, but rather, his outrageousness. He's skilled in both amusing men and angering them in the same breath," she laughed guilelessly. "In fact, since you haven't met him, I'm sure he's out dancing…I could've sworn he stepped on my feet."

The silence following Elena's shining recommendation of Damon was deafening. She may not have known the soldier she was dancing with or what he looked like, but she was starting to like him nonetheless. There were very few times Elena wished she could take back words, but now was one of them. "Sir?" she queried, uncomfortable with the silence.

"When I meet this gentleman," he said slowly. "I'll tell him what you've said."

Elena couldn't quite decide whether his tone was amused or standoffish, but she didn't have much to go on considering her mystery soldier was wearing a mask. Choosing to ignore the palpable warning signs, she ventured ahead. "Please, do. Of course, he'll retaliate with his supposed wit…but if no one laughs, he'll sulk." The waltz faded out and the partners were called to bow to each other.

Elena clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, I do love the Virginia Reel!" She tugged the stranger along. "Come, we must follow the leaders."

"Ah, yes," he said sarcastically. "Following the leaders always does us good."

"If they do us wrong, I will leave the dance floor at the end of the song. It's as simple as that."

"Simple as that," he echoed, shaking his head in wonder. "Let us pray they do us no wrong, then."

Long update! I decided to split the scene up more than originally planned because I wanted to spend more time on it. Sorry it took me all week to post, I had some homework to catch up on. Shout out to Maddie for input on this story, especially concerning the masquerade aspect (and Matt!). Thanks for the reviews last time, I love hearing from you guys! Can we get 5 reviews before I post the next chapter? (: