"Lastly, do I vow; that mine eyes desire you above all things." - A letter from Katherine of Aragorn to King Henry VIII from Love Letters of Great Women by Ursula Doyle (pg 16)

Masquerade balls were a tedious affair, all the mystery and pomp of years gone by were marred by cliches. But yet every year without fail, Mademoiselle Gabrielle held her elegant affair.

Gabrielle had been a 'Mademoiselle' for 500 years and throughout that time had promoted herself to the societal head of the vampire international community. Her events only hosted the creme de la creme of the undead and receiving a monogramed invitation was rare and one of the highest accolades bestowed upon the vampires.

In her heyday, Rebekah Mikaelson never missed an event, many times Elijah accompanied her. Kol attended one, the ladies never recovered from it. Niklaus was always too elusive and preoccupied to bother with silly parties. Gabrielle boasted to everyone that would listen about The Originals who had once upon a time attended her events, they were on her verbal wall of fame, alongside Nosferatu (he tended to slink in the corners mostly) and Vlad the Impaler.

Caroline was 112 when she received her first invitation to Mademoiselle Gabrielle's masque ball. She had traveling around the world for many years by this point, making influential friends, learning so much more about the vampire species and it's limitations. The problem was that Caroline Forbes was a queen born in the time and place where commoners reigned, and it was only nobility of yesteryear like Gabrielle who could see her true potential.

She smoothed her hands down her long crimson dress as she took a seat at the bar and ordered her third drink of the night. For some reason the couples circling the dance floor annoyed her. Caroline was never short of suitors and that night was no exception, even with her face covered, men were drawn to her. She nodded, she accepted their hands, she danced with them, she listened to their stories (ancient vampires have a lot of old stories) and then she made her way back to the bar. But yet she still felt envy when she saw those couples who were clearly together for long periods, those who had found their eternal partner, those that were embodiment of the vampire lore and gothic literature she had read as a human teenager many moons ago. For over a century she had walked the earth, but yet she had not felt a connection with another whereby she felt she could be with them for all eternity.

It was when she looked up from taking a sip of her drink that her eyes met his.

It had been 93 years but she would recognize those eyes anywhere. Even through the dark confines of the deep blue mask that adorned his face she knew without a doubt it was him.

He had that way of looking at her, as if she was not real, as if he was a starving man staring at a feast, as if she was a deity coming to earth to give him refuge.

She saw those eyes across a ballroom of a mansion in Mystic Falls.

She saw those eyes watching her as she entered the Mystic Grill with plans to distract him.

She saw those eyes across a map of the town.

She saw those eyes boring into her own as he made love to her countless times against that poor broken tree.

And when she saw those eyes crinkle around the edges and the imminent smile cross his too perfect lips, she felt those damnable butterflies in her stomach again. Those butterflies that only seemed to surface when he was the subject, those butterflies that reminded her every night before she fell asleep of those stolen kisses in the woods and the man who intended to be her last love.

Those were the butterflies that prompted her to get off her seat and walk to him.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness, I promise I shall return to writing soon.