Chapter Twenty

Love,

Give me the leftovers,

Something, anything that can thaw

This ice that is freezing me from inside…

'Elena!'

The sudden pronouncement of her name in a tone that suggested shock made her turn and look at the man who was standing near the window.

He was a handsome man.

And he looked awfully familiar.

'Do I know you?' she couldn't stop herself from asking.

He smirked. A cruel, satisfied look took over from its predecessor shock and she didn't know why but the whole thing made her hackles rise.

'Oh, Elena! You most certainly do know me,' he drawled. She felt Elijah stiffen behind her. There was something about his man that made her Elijah wary, and she didn't like it.

'What the fuck are you doing here, Damon?' Elijah growled.

'That's your majesty to you, Elijah, and I'm here to see my Elena, of course.'

'Your Elena?' she repeated in bewilderment. What was this man talking about?

'Elijah hasn't informed you about our history?' The man pretended to think as he started walking towards her. She involuntary took a step back—close to Elijah.

Elijah's hands snaked across her stomach and he pulled her against him. His breath ghosted at the arch of her throat as he placed a fleeting kiss on the spot before he raised his head and met Damon's eyes with a glare of his own.

'Get your hands off her, Elijah,' Damon hissed.

'I believe I'll let my Elena decide,' Elijah replied amusingly.

Her hands covered his splayed fingers on her abdomen.

'I see.' Damon paused as he observed their closeness. 'Has Elijah told you that you and I were in love once, Elena?'

Love? Elijah's hold tightened as if he were scared she would slip through his fingers if he didn't hold her tightly enough. Was this man's claim true? Had she loved anyone before Elijah?

'Has Elijah told you that he played a significant part in breaking us up? Has Prince Mikaelson ever mentioned the sick games he delighted in playing?'

Elijah's hold loosened. She didn't understand. Why was Elijah not holding her as close as he'd been? Surely what this man was saying couldn't be true?

How could she love anyone else but Elijah?

Elijah who'd sat at her bedside almost every night when she'd been in the hospital.

Elijah who'd not touched her, not even accidently when she'd come to live with him.

Elijah who'd always treated her with respect.

'Has Elijah told you Elena that he fucks women and leaves them as his mood strikes?'

Elijah took a step back, a step away from her. She missed his warmth, his strength.

Damon advanced.

'Did you know Elena that every major city in the world houses Prince Mikaelson's mistress?' She could feel Elijah retreating from her. It seemed as if he'd given her up before fighting.

Damon had reached close enough to touch her and touch he did. His fingers tucked the locks that had escaped her band in her haste to contain them. His touch felt invading.

'Did you know that Prince Mikaelson seduced his kid brother's wife? Or that she was pregnant and he refused to take responsibility? He even suggested that if she wanted to keep the baby, she should pass it off as her husband's. Has he told you that, Elena? Has he told you that she tried to commit suicide and she lost the baby?'

She turned away from Damon to look at Elijah. His head was bowed, his proud face naked in its vulnerability.

Prince Elijah Mikaelson had been reduced to nothing by this man whose sins were far greater, whose vices were innumerable.

'Did Elijah tell you, Elena, that you'd been pregnant once with my child?' Damon whispered in her ear. Elijah raised his stricken eyes to meet her eyes and in them, she could read his guilt.

'Did he tell you that he made sure I would never accept our child?' Damon remarked bitterly.

'Damian wasn't yours, Damon. He was mine,' she snarled.

Damon's eyes widened comically and Elijah looked ready to keel over.

'Yo-you remember?' Damon stuttered.

'Remember what? How you called me whore of Babylon? How you refused to accept that the child could be yours?'

'Elena-'

'No,' she thundered. 'Now, you listen to me, your majesty. You weren't a child Elijah could force to stop loving me, had you loved me. Elijah hadn't been the one fucking Amara that day, Damon. Elijah had not been the one who mocked my inexperience.'

'But I dragged you in between the depraved royals of Europe, Elena,' Elijah said softly, sadly. 'I was the one who kissed you and made a callous remark that became synonymous with your name.'

'But you were the one who fed me in the hospital. You were the one who made sure that I took my meds on time,' she replied gently. She turned towards Damon, her eyes spitting fire.

'You leave Damian out of everything, Damon. You gave him up, and I had to give him up because I wasn't capable enough to raise him. So, don't play the victim here.'

'Elena I-'

'Is Amara not enough anymore? Or is the fact that you had both of us a turn on for you?'

'Elena-'

'Get out, Damon. Get out before I've you thrown out of my home.'

Damon Salvatore, The Grand Duke of Luxembourg stood staring at the woman who'd loved him as a girl. She was no longer the same girl and he was no longer the same man.

Somewhere along the way, their roads had taken different turns even though they'd started the journey together and from the same point.

She was wrong.

He did love her.

Now, he was just realizing the depth of that love.

His love had been selfish in the start. It had been a boyish kind of love–immature and self-centered. He'd not realized her importance while she'd been in his life. He'd taken her for granted. But once he'd lost her, it had taken many drunken nights and cold beds to realize that Elena had been one of the most amazing things that had ever happened to him.

Could he let her go, now?

He'd come here with every intention to entice her away from Elijah when he'd heard about her so-called amnesia. He'd made up his mind to fight till the very end for her.

But he didn't think that was possible anymore.

Maybe he had never been cured of his boyish selfishness. Maybe it had been carried over in his love that he held for Elena as a man.

Letting go hurt because he was losing her twice over.

He was losing everything.

'We could be good together again, Elena,' he pleaded. He would go on his knees and kiss the hem of her skirt if she agreed to come back with him.

She turned away from him and walked towards Elijah. Elijah could barely look her in the eye but it didn't matter to her. Her arms fastened behind his neck as she stepped into his personal space. They were standing so close that every line of her body touched his and the breath from his mouth fell on her lips.

'You were cruel to me once, but then you were also kind. You were heartless once, but then you whispered your love for me while you slept,' she said softly. 'There are a thousand reasons why loving you should be the last thing on my mind, but love is never logical, is it?'

Elijah stared at her as if she were some ghostly apparition.

'In the beginning, I had no memory of who I was, and it was easy to adore you then. But one day as you stood staring out of the window of my hospital room, you profile triggered something in my head, and viola, my memories returned.'

He made a strangling sound, but Elena had to get everything out in the open.

'I wanted to hate you. I wanted to make you fall in love with me and then break your heart as you'd so callously treated me all those years ago. I wanted to hurt you so badly,' she confessed, tears falling on her cheeks. 'But then you weren't the same man from all those years ago. You weren't Prince Mikaelson. You were just Elijah. And however hard I tried to make myself punish you, I failed.'

His hands rose tentatively to wipe the moisture off her cheeks.

'There was so much ugliness inside me. Everything that had happened had somehow changed me into something that even I couldn't recognize. I thought long and hard. I thought and thought, and you know the only thing that made sense to me was that my memories had to go. You could never know that I remembered everything. We could start anew without the threat of past lurking over us.'

She was openly crying now, great noisy sobs that drowned her words.

'Mornings, afternoons and evenings flew in your company. Smiles and happiness were all I knew. I thought we could make a future for us, but then I was living inside a bubble—cut off from reality.'

He gingerly pulled her close as if he were not sure whether she would receive his embrace.

'It was easy to put on a mask and pretend to be someone else. It was easy to dance with you and laugh. It was easy to forget the real world and exist as Amara for you.'

'I like you better this way,' he said.

'You're not angry?' she asked.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose was runny and bright red, the tear trail on her cheeks had dried, and she'd never looked more beautiful to him than she did right now.

He shook his head and marveled at the circle's life made you turn in. He'd never thought Elena would accept him—faults and all—into her heart. It felt as if he were on the top of the world.

There were a lot of loose threads in their story, a lot of questions that needed answers, but then they'd their whole life to figure out those answers. They loved each other and that was the most important thing. They could sort out the rest.

'Say something,' she said.

'Marry me,' he whispered.

'Wh-What?' she stuttered.

'Marry me, Elena Gilbert.'

'Elijah—'

'Before you, I didn't know who I was, without you I didn't like who I became; with you, the world feels right. So, marry me, and I promise that I would love you through thick and thin, through snow and rain, through your PMS and my bad days at the office. I promise to love you till we're old and gray, till the dust settles over our headstones and we're destined for a rebirth. I promise to love you in this life and next, and in all our lives to come…'

'As I'll love you…' she repeated.

'So, marry me.'

'Yes…'

And, that's a wrap!

I started writing this one on a whim and I was not sure where to take this story. There were days when real life got too much and I tried to escape into the lavish world of Prince Mikaelson. I grew with this story. From atrocious writing faux-pas, I managed to elevate myself to random, occasional grammar idiocies.

It took me more than two years to finish this story, and in those two years, my life has seen many changes. I may revisit this story sometime in future to rewrite it and work out all the kinks, but that is still a long time away.

To the wonderful, amazing people who've read "The Ugly Truth,"—you're the best. I know my grammar must have irritated you most of the times; you must have wanted my head on a plate for misplaced commas, but thank you so much for being patient.

God, I'm a mess right now!

I'm sick, and on top of that, I'm saying goodbye.

Goodbye, dear friends, and thank you for being an awesome, fantastic bunch…