Disclaimer: I own nothing, (not even the château Damon thinks about *cries*).
There was a singular white tie suit laid out neatly on the bed when Damon walked inside his cabin after his meeting with Elena. Black court shoes were set next to the bed. He supposed that must have been Alaric's work, however, the freshly shined shoes screamed Henry's work.
He undressed quickly, showering and shaving so that he looked every bit the blue blood Italian that he was. Alaric would sometimes tease him for being vain on his appearances whenever he was with members of his class, but his friend understood why he was that way.
He had finished dressing, with the exception of his jacket, when Slater came in the room.
"Prince Alaric requested that I ask if you need any assistance, and to remind you to hurry so you are not late for dinner, sir." Damon nodded.
"Thank you. Can you do me a favor? Go spread amongst the first class passengers at dinner that Conte di Tuscana will be at dinner tonight." Slater gave a formal, stiff little bow and left. Damon slipped his jacket on, glancing in the mirror. He looked every bit like His Royal Highness Conte Damon Francesco, Principe di Borbone della Due Sicilie, Conte di Tuscana, the son of His Royal Highness Marchese Giuseppe Stefano, Principe di Borbone delle Due Sicilie, Marchese di Tuscana and Her Royal Highness Marchesa Rosabella Maria, Principessa di Borbone della Due Sicilie, Marchesa di Tuscana. After all, that's exactly who he was, he thought smirking as he walked out.
As Damon walked along the deck before dinner, a habit he had gotten into at home, though normally on the balcony or terrace, he turned to the west, watching the brilliant streaks of colors. Bright pink with muttered orange lay over a purple sky that was quickly fading into a blue night. The Count looked incredible handsome and a glance in on of the ship's outside windows sent him into memories of his mother.
The beautiful Princess of Bourbon-Two Sicilies always insisted that her young son be dressed in only the best and finest clothing, and white-tie dress was no exception. As a child, the young Count of Tuscany attended many dinners with many of the important and high-esteemed. He had dinner with both King Edward VII of the United Kingdom and King George the V of the United Kingdom, when King George the V was only Prince George. Frederick VIII of Denmark was a close family friend. He had spent Christmas and New Years with Victor Emmanuel III and Queen Elena, as well as Yolanda, Mafalda, and a young Umberto, who was no more that two at the time.
He sighed, turning, and walking back inside to the First Class Entrance, where a steward bowed and smartly opened the door. "Good evening, sir." Damon hardly acknowledged him.
In his mind, he was far away, in the countryside at the edge of France. His mother, his grandmother and grandfather on both sides, his father, his aunts and uncle, they all surrounded him. His cousins sat on the floor with him, opening their new toys and books and gifts. Damon opened his.
"Papà, what is this?" the young Count asked his father, looking confused at the ticket.
"It's for a cruise. We'll be taking one in the spring."
"A cruise? Like the Tsar and his family take each year? And Paolo and his parents?" Giuseppe nodded to his son, fondly ruffling his hair.
The memory faded and he stood before the Grand Staircase. He glanced at it in bored interest, and then shrugged. He had seen better.
Woman in floor-length dresses and abundant jewelry swept over the floor on the arms of gentlemen in evening dress. Subconscious, one hand slid up behind his body to the small of his back, his posture straightened. This wasn't some steerage rat that that Klaus character had thought. This was Damon Francesco DeSangue, and he was very much a First-class, blue blood gentleman.
Men nodded a perfunctory greeting to Damon as he crossed the room with purpose, meeting his man and friend who stood, talking lively to a beautiful American woman. As Alaric introduced the woman to him, his companion looked every bit of the Hessian royalty that he was. He was a cousin to Princess Alix of Hesse and by Rhine, now known as Tsarina Alexandra, a prince in his own right. Alaric was Prince Wilhelm Alaric, Landgrave of Hesse from the Hesse-Kassle line, his mother being Princess Anna of Prussia and his father Prince Fredrick William of Hesse-Kassel. Alaric did carried blood as blue as Damon in his veins.
The America woman left the two gents, leaving them to walk and talk. They were both so attractive, but it was clear neither truly wished for her to be there. She had heard from two servants talking that the Tuscan Count would be joining them at dinner tonight, and had a nagging suspicion that the dark hair man who had joined the man she had been talking to was the Count.
"Oh Honoria, you'll never believe who I just met," the woman, Trudie Peterson gushed to her friend.
"Who?" Honoria Fells, a rich woman from a small town asked Trudie.
"The Count of Tuscany. Oh, he is such a complete gentleman. So polite, so handsome." And that is how by the time Klaus and Isobel arrived moments later, the whole First-Class buzzed with the news of the handsome Count's presence in that very room.
Klaus did not recognize Damon or Alaric, and with news of the Count buzzing in his ears, the dark hair men dressed in fine clothes with expensive cuff links and Italian leather shoes that he nodded to were the last people he was expecting. Damon's smug expression, a mix of a cocky but bored look, reminded Alaric of the days when he first had met Damon, had really met him. The man could hold a perfect mask in any society with anyone, rich or poor. He saw the first glimpse of true emotion since his friend stepped through the doors. A look of awe flashed across his face as the beautiful Elena descended the Grand Staircase, a vision in blue and black. The dress was elaborate, but modest, and in Damon's humble opinion, made her outshine the moon and the stars. In fact, she looked like she belonged within the great royal families of Europe.
Damon stepped forward to help her down the last step of the staircase. A magnesium flash came from the corner of the room as Damon reached out his hand to hers, but the couple ignored it. He bowed to her and kissed the top of her gloved knuckles. A gorgeous blush rushed across the girl's face, making it impossible to take his eyes off her. Elena was staring as well, never before seeing the Count in a suit. Somehow, the black of the jacket emphasized the paleness of his skin, enhancing the blue of his eyes.
Forget caviar, she thought, just put him on a platter as is and I'll be happy.
"Klaus," she said softly to the man talking to another man whom Damon recognized as a worker for the British Crown, not from some society dinner that the man attended, rather a society dinner where the man worked and served Damon goose stuffed with all sorts of spices and onions and other delectables. "Surely you remember Mr. Salvatore and Mr. Saltzman."
Klaus' surprise, Alaric noted, was clear across his face. The two men that he thought were just another face of the rich and famous obviously took him off guard.
"My! Salvatore! Saltzman! I didn't recognize you." He studied the two men, clearly wondering where they had found such expensive suits and shoes. "Amazing! You both could almost pass for gentlemen."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, glancing at his friend for a brief second and remembered that they weren't that ordinary. Never in Damon's life, he knew, had the young Count, the young Prince, ever been mistaken for just a gentleman and like the Count, he tended to socialize with a more, how shall he put this, royal crowd, as known as his family. So when the elder of the pair looked straight at the fiancé of the woman he had helped save just last night, it was not a lie when he said, "Almost."
"My, my!" A voice exclaimed after the gathering of people had entered the First-class reception room, "You shine up like a new penny, Damon," Margaret Brown said to the raven-haired man. "And who's your friend?"
"Signora Brown, this is Alaric Saltzman. Ric, this is Signora Margaret Brown." Elena approached Damon.
"Good evening, Mrs. Brown," Elena greeted. "Good evening, Mr. Saltzman. Would either of you mind terribly if I borrowed Mr. Salvatore?"
Elena leaned in closer to Damon, pointing out the notables as the couple trailed through the small clusters of people.
"There's the Countess of Rothes. And that's John Jacob Astor...the richest man on the ship. His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal." She nodded toward a couple. "And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals." She winked at Damon who grinned at her.
Klaus became engaged in a conversation with Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon and Colonel Gracie, while Isobel, the Countess, and Lucille discussed the latest fashion. Elena pivoted Damon smoothly, to show him another impeccably dressed couple.
"And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course."
Klaus accepted praises from the two males he was speaking to about Elena as if she were a show horse rather than his fiancé.
"That man there," Damon whispered conspiratorially, giving a small point at a man who was showing off his riches along with his wife, "he waited on my father and I while we were in Denmark last spring visiting Alaric's Uncle Frederick and Aunt Louise."
"Uncle Frederick, like the king of Denmark?" Damon looked at her innocently, almost seeming confused.
"Is there another?" Elena rolled her eyes and the people strolled towards the dining saloon, when Elena and Damon ran into the Asters who were entering the ornate double doors.
"J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Damon Salvatore." J.J. reached out and shook Damon's hand.
"Good to meet you, Damon. Are you of the Hartford Salvatores?"
"No," Damon said lightly, his Italian accent strong as he spoke as if this were his greatest joke all evening, "the Florence Salvatores, actually."
J.J. nodded as if he'd heard of them, then looked puzzled at Damon. "Florence, Italy?" Damon gave a smile and nodded. Madeleine Astor appraised Damon and whispered like the young girl she still was to Elena, "Isn't is a pity we're both spoken for?"
Inside the dining saloon, Damon felt like crying. This was almost a vision of the French château that he had often visited. The room was lit by a constellation of chandeliers, none as elaborate as the ones in the château, which was rumored to have been home to one of the French king's mother. The elegantly dressed people glided to their tables to a classical tune flowing through the room courtesy of Wallace Hartley's small orchestra. Elena moved with him as they were one and they moved lightly across the room to their table, where Klaus and Isobel wear already sitting. Damon pulled out her chair for her just as Alaric walked up with Mrs. Brown on his arm. Leave it to Ric to find the divorced ones.
Of course, Damon didn't believe in divorce, not after being raised by his strict Catholic father who retained many of the old Catholic traditions. They never ate meat on Wednesdays and Fridays or holidays. They attended mass every afternoon, spending most of Saturday at church helping the poor and the sick and the hungry, and Sunday in the morning Latin mass following with Sunday dinner with as much of his familia as was there.
His father had never remarried after his mother had passed and her mark on their lives was also prominent. The fine clothes, the living like one of the people you ruled, making alliances with other countries, provinces, and states, these were all things that she taught them. She taught them that they only had power as long as they were in favor with not only the king, but the people as well, and perhaps, they were the most important.
"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Salvatore," Isobel said in a condescending tone, "I hear they're quite good on this ship. How do they compare to others?"
Damon was seated opposite Elena, who was flanked by Klaus and Thomas Andrews, Isobel sitting next to Klaus. Alaric sat to Damon's right. Also at the table were Margaret Brown, Bruce Ismay, Colonel Gracie, the Countess, Benjamin Guggenheim, Madame Aubert, and the Astors.
"I wouldn't know, signora. I have never ridden steerage on any other ship," he said, mask back in place. He lifted the napkin from the plate and set it carefully on his lap.
"And what about you, Mr. Saltzman," Isobel continued to Damon's companion, "Surely you have traveled, an American like yourself." Alaric raised an eyebrow at her words.
"Well, to begin," he said, letting his accent leak through strongly, "I am Hessian. My cousins' grandmother lived in England, which is where I learned my English. This is my first time traveling steerage as before I had traveled with my cousins." His answer, like Damon's, left everyone confused, with the exception of Elena.
"Mr. Salvatore and Mr. Saltzman are joining us from third class. They were of some assistance to my fiancée last night." Klaus turned to Damon and spoke as if to a child. "This is foie gras. It's goose liver."
"I know," Damon said, a smirk sneaking through his mask, "I am not uneducated, nor am I ignorant, especially not in cultural areas such a cuisine." This stirred up a buzz at the table. "After all, Italia has some of the most bello ed alimento delizioso in all of the world, along with Paris," he said, pronouncing the name of the French cities much as the French themselves did. "Although, I must say, my favorite place in all of French is this beautiful countryside in the north-eastern part of France in Champagne-Ardenne. There is this gorgeous vineyard, near the border of Alsace-Lorraine. It grows the best champagne." Eyes were wide as Damon told of this beautiful area of France.
"Isn't that where the Prince Carlo and Princess Marguerite of Bourbon-Two Sicilies lived?" J.J. Astor asked Damon.
"It is."
"And yet you still went there?"
"They are very kind people. Very loving and welcoming." His worlds were not lies. His grandparents were indeed very loving and welcoming to him.
Guggenheim spoke in a low, quiet voice to Madame Aubert, "What is von Swartzchild hoping to prove, bringing these...bohemians...up here?"
A waiter spoke to Damon. No one had noticed him approach. "How do you take your caviar, sir?"
Klaus answered for him. "Just a soupcon of lemon..." He spoke to Damon, smiling. "...It improves the flavor with champagne." Damon smiled back and spoke to the waiter.
"I would like it with chopped onions and capers on a lightly toasted piece of buttered rye." The waiter looked to Alaric.
"I'll have it the same, without the capers." Once the waiter finished the orders and left, Isobel turned to Damon.
"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Salvatore?" she asked, a haughty edge to her voice.
"Well, my papà has a lovely home in Italy, right near the sea. My mother's family lived in north France. A few of my cousins lived in Sicilia and I have cousins who lived over most of Europe, except for my two cousins who live l'America, but spent most of their time with my mother's parents. I moved between them to wherever I was needed at that given time. Although, one of my closest friends lived in Sardinia, and I used to stay with him often." The salad was served and Damon picked up his salad fork, neatly eating a bit.
"You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Isobel persisted.
"Well, you see Signora, it's a big world, and I intend to see as much as possible before I die. My mother saw so much of it and every night before I fell to sleep, she would tell me the stories from her childhood and of the world that she had seen. My father always talked about going to America. His mother's younger brother immigrated to America, to Virginia. He always wanted to meet the man he had been named for, but he hasn't made it there yet. About a month ago, I told him I would go and tell him about it, and if was as great as his uncle said, than he would come there as well. My mother saw America once as a girl and always wanted to go back, but she never get the chance to go again before she died. You just can't wait around to see what hand the world will deal you. Death teaches you to live your like as it comes, to make each day count."
Mrs. Brown raised her glass, "Well said, Damon."
Colonel Gracie raised his glass. "Here, here."
Elena lifted her glass, looking at Damon. "To making it count." The table copied her words and movement.
Annoyed that Damon had begun to gain favor among the first-class, Isobel pressed further. "How is it you have the means to travel, Mr. Salvatore?"
"When my mother died, she left me everything she owned, her entire legacy. My father made me win my ticket onto the Titanic through a game of scopa. I won through a lucky hand." He glanced at Elena. "A very lucky hand."
"All life is a game of luck," Colonel Gracie nodded in agreement.
"A real man makes his own luck, Archie," Klaus said stiffly.
After dessert had been served and a waiter arrived with cigars in a humidor, Ric spoke to Damon in a low voice, "Best be time to go. I see that lady from earlier, Trudie, making her way over here with a female friend."
Gracie rose, "Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?"
"Joining us, Salvatore, Saltzman? You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?" Damon stood.
"No, thanks. It's probably a good time to be heading back," Damon said.
"And you, Saltzman?" Klaus asked the other man.
"I was threatened, on pain of death in five countries, to watch Damon and keep him from trouble," Alaric said stoically, in such a way Klaus, Isobel, and the others were not sure if her were joking or not, "Thank you though."
"Probably best. It'll be all business and politics and that sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you. Good of you both to come." Klaus turned and he and the other gentlemen left the room.
"Damon, must you go?" Elena asked, a note of sadness in her voice.
"I'm sorry, mia cara, but it's time for me to go back to the real world." He took her hand and bent at the waist, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, slipping a note into her palm. "Until next time, fair Elena."
Alaric inclined his head. "Maybe next time we'll meet under better circumstances, young Elena," the German said, giving the young woman a smile. He followed his boss, walking away. Isobel scowled after them. Under the table, Elena opened the note.
Make it count. Meet me at the clock.
Elena crossed the A deck foyer as she saw Damon in the center of attention, standing, facing the clock. As Elena approached, Damon turned, grinning.
"Want to go to a real party?"
The third class general room was crowded and alive with an upbeat tune. Laughter carried through the air. A mismatch band of a fiddle, accordion, and tambourine was gathering near the upright piano. People were dancing and drinking, smoking and laughing.
Tyler handed Elena a pint of stout and she hoisted it. He grinned.
"So what makes a girl like you come down here for a man like Damon?" the Brit asked the dark hair girl.
"He saved my life, both him and Mr. Saltzman." Tyler chuckled.
"Of course he would. First class life is no fun."
"How would you know?" She asked him.
"Didn't he tell you?" Tyler laughed, "Of course he didn't. My last name's Lockwood."
"Like the Manchester Lockwoods? The ones who factory got destroyed?" Tyler grimaced.
"Exactly like those Lockwoods. My mum sent me off to find my uncle George in America. He can come back to live with us. He's become quite a bit wealthy in his own right. She's hoping he can help up. Frankly though, my dear, I don't think she knows how to live without money." Elena sighed and lifted her left hand, and Tyler's eyes bulged.
"My father died and left us with more debt than my mother knows what to do with. Her brilliant idea for us to keep our money is for me to married a Pittsburg steel heir who has to be the biggest narcissistic, egotistic, conceited, arrogant person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. He acts like I'm a show horse, someone just to show off to his friends and brag about while they all congratulate themselves on being the masters of the universe." Tyler laughed in earnest at that. Across the room, Damon was dancing with Anna and Pearl, Anna's mother, was doing an awkward dance with Alaric. Anna was standing on Damon's feet to dance. When the tune ended, Damon leaned down to the little girl.
"I'm going to dance with her now, all right?" He asked the little girl, pointing at Elena.
"She pretty," little Annabel said quietly, "You and she marry?" Damon laughed, almost wistfully.
"No, we're not married." He ruffled her hair, "You're still my best girl, Anna." Anna scampered off, running to her mother and clutching her leg through her skirt. Alaric laughed and picked her up. Damon walked over to Elena, who took his hand smiling.
Tyler understood then, Elena may be engaged to some jerk, but Damon had saved her, in every way a person can be saved it seemed. He watched them do an awkward dance before Elena plucked her shoes off and tossed them to him. He caught them and looked at the fanciness of the awful, high-heeled shoes. When he looked again, Elena and Damon were dancing as if they were the only two in the room. It changed from an awkward dance to a graceful waltz that made it look more like the Count and some first class girl than Damon and some first class girl. The crowd had stopped to watch them, and when the song ended, they continued dancing to some love song only they could hear the tune of. Suddenly, Damon stepped back and took a bow, Elena giving a graceful ballet plié. Laughter and an applause filled the air and Tyler grinned. First class girl knew how to party, he thought with a smirk.
The dancing began again. Bjorn Gundersen, a Swede, crashed into Tyler, splashing his beer on Elena's dress. She laughed, slightly tipsy, not at all caring. This was the most fun she had had in ages. Tyler, however, lunged, grabbing Bjorn and wheeling him around. As Bjorn turned, he went to punch Tyler in the face, and he would have, if Damon, ever the diplomat, hadn't jumped in between them, pushing them apart.
"Boys, boys! Did I ever tell you the one about the Swede and the Englishman and a donkey in a bar?" Tyler and Bjorn stood there with pint up angry running through their bodies, steam coming from their ears. Then, Tyler straightened and grinned, clapping Bjorn's shoulder.
"So," Elena said, parting the crowd, "you think you're big tough men? Let's see you do this." Elena assumed a ballet stance, arms stretched out to balance carefully as she went onto her tiptoes. The men gaped, studying her muscle control. Her face screwed up in pain, and came back down, and hopped on her good foot, grasping the other. "Ow! Ow! Ow! I haven't done that since I was ten!"
Damon caught her in his arms as she loss balance, and everyone cracked up, loving the first class girl. On the stairs to the well deck, Elijah stood, ignored by the third class people as he watched Elena and Damon. He watched the pair dance, then saw the rest of the scene unravel before him. The valet saw Elena in Damon's arms, both of them laughing. He turned and walked out the door.
The stars blazed brightly overhead, painting pictures in the sky. Giddy and merry, lightly dancing back towards the first class past a row of lifeboats. They were singing, slightly off key with all the wrong words of the popular song, "Come Josephine in My Flying Machine."
"Come Josephine in my flying machine. And it's up she goes! Up she goes! In the air she goes. Where? There she goes!"
As they fumbled with the words, they broke down laughing. Trailing twenty feet behind, Alaric was shaking his head at the couple, a smile across his face. When they reached the first class entrance, they didn't go straight inside, not wanting the magic of the night to end. Alaric entered in the doors, figuring it would be best to let the couple have their privacy. Out through the doors, the sound of the ship's orchestra gently drifted out into the night's air. Holding onto the rail and leaning back, Elena marveled at the cosmos.
"It beautiful, isn't it? So grand and endless," she said, "They're such small people, Damon, my crowd. They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble...and someday the bubble's going to burst."
Damon sighed. His bowtie was untied, just hanging around his neck. He walked forward and leaned on the rail beside her, his hand brushing hers.
"There's been a mistake," Damon declared.
"A mistake?"
"Yes, a mistake. You're not one of them. You got sent to the wrong family, the wrong crowd of people."
Elena laughed, not dome dainty laugh, but a full-blown laugh of mirth and glee. "I did, didn't I?" She lifted an arm suddenly, pointing at the sky. "Look! A shooting star!"
"When I was little, my mom used to tell me that every person had an angel to look out for them. She said that each star in the sky was really an angel, watching out from above. She said that whenever you see a shooting star, it was our guardian angels going back to Heaven to watch us."
"I like that," Elena said softly, "But aren't we supposed to wish on it?"
Damon glanced at her. Anything she wished for, he would provide for her, he thought, if only she would let him. Elena was so close. If he moved a couple of inches, he could kiss her, and it would be so easy to do so.
"What would you wish for?" he asked softly, watching her intently. Elena jerked back to reality, and away from him.
"Something I can't have. Good night, Damon. And thank you," Elena said softly, turning and running back to the First Class Entrance and through the doors.
"Elena!" he cried, snapping into action. But the doors banged shut, and she was gone from him. Back to where she belonged, Damon thought sadly. He turned back to the railing, face up to the stars. "Ciao Momma, it's me again, Damon. I met a girl. We talked. It was epic. But then the sun came up and reality set in and she went back to her life, now I'm going back to mine. Papà was right. My dreams could only take me so far without action. When this ship docks in New York, Alaric and I are headed right down to Zach and Joseph's old home in Virginia. I'll ride Jake and return back to Italy. I'll marry some nice girl, maybe Yolanda. Remember her? I pulled the ribbons from her hair that Christmas then wrapped them and gave them to her as a present. I miss you, Momma. Veritas is not the same without you there. Grand-mére and Nonno are heartbroken without you. More left our family when you left us than you know. You broke Papà's heart in two. And mine. Je t'aime, ma mère aimée, et tu me manque."
With those words, he turned and went inside the First Class Entrance, back to his world, his life. Unknown to him, Elijah stood watching, completely dumbfounded now, questions filling his head. Was Damon the Count that all the buzz this evening had been about, or was he just another third class man? But why then had he walked in the first class entrance? Worst of all, should he tell Klaus this?
Okay, wow! Now you can see why it took so long to write this chapter. Between finals and life in general, I'm surprised I got done as quickly as I did. So a few things:
1.) Yes, Damon is a bit of a name dropper in his head. Although, back in that time period, it was all about who you knew. Why he didn't drop any names (for the most part) at dinner was because this is his last real chance to be normal. Once he gets to America, he has business to attend to, then had to turn around and go back home to work again.
2.) Queen Elena was really the Queen of Italy. She was born Princess Jelena of Montenegro.
3.) Lots and lots of family history from Damon and Alaric. In this, Damon knew the Tsar of Russia and his wife through Alaric. Alex of Hesse (who in this story is Alaric's cousin) later goes down in history as Alexandra Feodorovna, the last Empress consort of Russia. Alaric makes a (semi)-thinly veiled reference to her and her sibilings during dinner. See if you can pick it up. Damon's mother, interesting woman she is, hasn't been mentioned during the series, but is mentioned in Stefan's Diaries. I use part of what they say about her from there (Stefan says she used to sing a French lullaby and spoke with a French accent) and deducted, she's French (because it's a logical explanation of why she knows a French lullaby and speaks with a French accent). So in here, she is the daughter of a Princess of Bourbon-Parma (French branch) and a Prince of Bourbon-Two Sicilies (Italian Branch), which does mean that she married her cousin. (But if you look, that is a rather common thing of the time for royalty. Even Alexandra Feodorovna and Nicholas II were second cousins.)
4.) Yes, I know most of you readers probably don't read or speak French. I don't either. The translations were done by my friend Mariette, who does. You're not supposed to understand what he's saying at the end here. The whole point is, Damon confuses Elijah (part of Klaus' evil gentlemen's association).
5.) Jake is the name of Damon's horse from Stefan's Diaries. I borrowed it.
6.) Damon makes a remark about his mother's parents during dinner. See if you pick that up.
7.) The titles of Damon, Alaric, and their family are correct to the best of my knowledge. Hours and hours of research went into looking that up.
8.) DeSangue is just a name Damon uses. It's Italian for 'of Blood'. Again, from Stefan's Diaries. He just needed a name to blurt out for himself without shouting out his whole title. DeSangue is just a way for him to differentiate the First Class part of himself and Salvatore which he uses when he is part of Third Class.
9.) Yes, the Tsar and his family took cruises every year on their yacht.
10.) Magnesium flashes were used on camera's then.
11.) 'Blue bloods' is a term that comes from when it was fashionable to be very pale because it meant you didn't need to work because you were nobility. Their skin would be so pale that you could see the blue veins through the skin. Interesting fact: all blood is blue until it gets in contact with oxygen. (That's why they show arteries in red and the veins are shown in blue. Veins go to the heart because they lack oxygen and are going to replenish.) Another reason why the royalty is called blue bloods is because of the high amount of hemophilia in European royalty after Queen Victoria (who was called the grandmother of Europe). The disease doesn't allow your body to clot blood after an injury and is hereditary. Those royals with the disease were protected so much that they hardly went outdoors and their skin appeared to be bluish. (I knew a girl with hemophilia several years ago. She was always super careful not to get scratched or anything. She even had this medical bracelet she had to wear all the time in case of an emergency. Scary stuff, it is.)
So thank you for reading Celeste's Guide to Understanding Chapter 8 of Forever This Way. Lots of research definitely went into this chapter (like I said last chapter, this is one of my favorite scenes of the movie). I hope you guys didn't feel like it was too, too much. I didn't mean to write so much (here or in the chapter), but oh well. You guys are worth it!
I'm working on the next chapter now. We are up to Sunday! Coming up is Isobel acting indignant, Klaus getting angry, Bonnie's past, more Thomas Andrew (for all of you Thomas Andrew fans), and Damon & Elena's first couples' fight!
Thanks for reading and make sure to review!