I'm so glad that so many of you are already liking this story!
It's going to get a little fast paced soon, but it'll all make sense eventually, I promise!
Also, keep an eye on the dates ;)
July, 1567
Eleniana Petrova was nervous.
After all, it's not every day that your father sends you to live in a new home, with people who were basically strangers.
She felt the carriage lurch to a stop as the driver halted the horses.
They must have arrived.
She glanced out the small window on the carriage door.
Sure enough, Aurelia's palace doors were before her.
She took a deep breath.
This wasn't entirely unfamiliar.
She had accompanied her father to Aurelia from their home in Mystic several times, on social occasions.
She would have tea with the king's wife, or play with their young son.
The very son she'd been sent to marry.
Her duty to her country, her father had assured her.
But she hadn't seen Stefan Salvatore in years, and had long since grown out of playing childish games.
She could only hope that he remained as kind as he had been back in the beginning of their youth.
She tried to remember what she could of him, but all that came to mind was the young boy that chased her around all those years ago.
Perhaps that was why her father suggested that she stay in Aurelia, with the Salvatore family, months before the wedding was to be held.
Maybe he hoped in the prolonging months, that she might actually come to love the Salvatore prince and feel less like a slave being sold in auction.
One could hope.
The footman opened her door, and reached a hand out in assistance, and then did the same for her lady's maid, Emily, once Elena was standing firmly on the dirt.
She glanced up at her new home.
The castle itself was as grand as ever.
Bigger than the eyes could take in at once, it was double the size of her home in Mystic. Large enough to get lost in, perhaps, if one so desired.
She took another settling breath, as small group of men walked toward her from the castles front double doors.
One, she recognized, was her father.
Despite her annoyance at his decision for her future, she smiled.
It had been weeks since she'd seen him last, after all.
Her grin was returned as he came close enough to grasp her hand and lay a tender kiss to it.
"Here is my angel. How was your journey, dear?"
"I've certainly traveled worse roads," she smiled, "And James was a wonderful escort."
"Glad to hear," her father nodded to the driver, then motioned at two of the men that had accompanied him in greeting her.
"Elena, surely you remember his majesty, Giuseppe Salvatore."
Elena gave the appropriate courtesy, "Your grace, I'm honored."
The older man's face softened, "As are we, my dear. You have certainly grown into a fine young lady. Hasn't she, Stefan?"
The youngest of the group stepped forward, and Elena could hardly believe that he was the same boy from her memories.
"Absolutely," he greeted, taking her hand and kissing it, as was custom, "And quite beautifully, if you don't mind my saying."
Elena blushed, but still smirked, "Your highness, surely flattery is beneath your station."
He smiled back, "Perhaps, but I suppose I could make an exception for you, Princess."
He dropped her hand and her father spoke again, "A room has been prepared to your liking. Emily can fix you up a bath before you join us for supper. I'm sure the trip over felt long."
He motioned for one of the servant boys that stood behind them to show her lady's maid to the rooms.
"Indeed," Elena nodded, gathering her dress in one hand, as Stefan offered his arm to escort her.
She looped her free hand through his, before addressing the king, "Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, your Majesty."
"It's the least we could do," he assured her kindly, as they made their way through the doors, "After all, by the New year, you'll be family."
She nodded, feeling her cheeks redden again, and glanced quickly at Stefan.
He was handsome, no doubt, and he was clearly polite, respectable, a man any girl would be lucky to be betrothed to, she was sure.
But he was still a stranger, and in five month's time, he would be her husband.
That thought alone was enough to occupy her mind for many hours to come.
The warm bath was welcoming as she sank into the tub.
The water helped calm her nerves and clear her mind, as she prepared herself for dinner at the royal table.
No doubt the men would be discussing politics, or war. Or both. It was a specialty of theirs.
It's what had led to this arrangement in the first place.
Men talking.
It was logical, of course, to join the kingdoms through marriage and combine their forces, but she couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a game of power and gain.
They put her where the needed her.
But then, this is the way it has always been, and it is her responsibility as Princess of Mystic.
Her duty, that she had no choice but to see it through.
She dismissed Emily to go to dinner in the servant's quarters after the girl finished lacing her dress, then stood back to observe herself in the full length mirror.
Her hair was pulled halfway up, and the part that hung down adorned soft curls.
Her dress was a nice lavender, a style of the most modern fashion, with sleeves that swept off her shoulders.
The bodice was tight, forming to her already perfect figure, and the skirt flowed out just enough to compliment her small waist.
Over all, she assured herself that she was perfectly acceptable for dinner and could postpone joining the men no longer.
She wished the sweet queen hadn't of passed some years back from that terrible fever. At least she'd been a nice buffer, and a lovely motherly influence for Elena, whose own mother had died before she really had the chance to remember her.
Never the less, she would have to find her courage and handle this.
She was well trained, well educated, and was expected to act as such.
Showing up late wouldn't do, so with determination, she opened her door and forced herself down the hall.
The castle was beautiful, this much was clear, as she walked through the grandness of the second floor.
Mirrors and paintings hung on perfectly colored walls, hand painted in elaborate designs. It went all the way up to the ceiling that towered above her head.
She was so entranced by the castle's architecture that she wasn't paying attention to her path, and ran right into something incredibly solid.
Hard enough to knock her to the floor.
A sharp pain jolted through her arm, and she realized her palm had landed on some broken glass.
She winced as a voice rumbled.
"Look what you've done to my drink, you clumsy wretch!"
She flinched, then looked up to see what she'd clearly ran into.
Or who.
A tall, young man, with dark hair and piercing eyes stared down at her.
He seemed slightly familiar, but the embarrassment of her current predicament outweighed her curiosity.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she started, trying to stand, but winced again at the pain, and brought her hand up for inspection.
A shard of the glass that must have contained his drink stuck out from her palm.
The man was still watching her.
She heard him sigh, then his hands wrapped around her arm, and her lifted her to her feet.
"Let me see your hand," he instructed.
Her eyes shot up to his, but no longer found his blue orbs angry and cold.
Just blank.
Hesitantly, she placed her palm in his outstretched hand, surprised to find warm.
He observed her cut, "I'm going to pull the glass out."
He worked quickly, and it was almost painless, as he cleared her injury, then pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around her hand, tying it gently.
"Thank you," she told him politely when he'd finished.
His eyes met hers, "You should be more careful. Especially if you're going to be wandering around without an escort."
She straightened herself, "I wasn't wandering. I was heading to dinner. I'm supposed to join my father and the Salvatores."
His face relaxed some, "You're King Petrova's daughter. The Princess of Mystic."
"I am," she confirmed, her memory churning, "Have we met? You seem awfully familiar."
His face was void of emotion as he answered, "It's possible that you'd seen me around in our years of childhood. You use to play with my brother."
Brother?
She studied his face, realization dawning, "You're Damon, aren't you? The eldest Salvatore prince?"
"Nice deduction," he offered, the ghost of a smile on his face."
She swallowed, "I thought you died. No one ever saw you, rumors passed...everyone just assumed-"
"That I'd wasted away like my mother? Not quite, though my father likes to pretend so."
She dropped her head at his harsh tone, "My apologies, your Highness, I meant no disrespect."
He didn't answer for a moment, and she was compelled to look up at him.
His face seemed shocked.
"Your grace?" She inclined.
He snapped out of his stance, "Sorry, it's just that no one really addresses me as such."
She found that odd, "But you're the eldest son of the king. Heir to the throne, by law. Why wouldn't you be given the respect of your title?"
He eyed her, then his lips turned up in a smirk that made his entire face beautiful.
"You'll come to find that many things around here aren't as the should be, my lady, nor what you'd expect them to be."
She considered him curiously.
What did he mean by that?
After a moment, he extended his arm, "If you like, I'll escort you to the dining hall."
She nodded, "That would be much appreciated."
He smiled again as her arm slipped through his, "Tell me, do you practice being so polite, or does the niceness just come out all on its own?"
She watched her feet as he led her to the stairs that would take them to the first floor, before answering, "Being polite isn't a bad thing."
"No," he agreed as they came to the landing and he led her to the door on the far left, which she assumed, was the dining area, "But being too polite to everyone is probably how you ended up becoming Stefan's newest toy in the first place."
She froze, spinning to face him, "You rude oaf! I am his betrothed, not a plaything to be had for entertainment, and how dare you suggest otherwise!"
Damon was chuckling now, "It seems we'll make a habit out of offending each other, Princess, but know that that wasn't my intent. I am not being purposely rude, just honest."
She wasn't really sure how to respond to that, and was saved from having to when he reached for her hand and slowly brought it up to his lips, his eyes remaining on her.
She felt her stomach flutter as kissed her hand once more, before dropping it, "Good night, your Highness."
Her brows furrowed, "Are you not joining us?"
He shook his head, taking a step back, "It's wiser if I eat alone tonight. I wouldn't want to deliver offense to anyone else this evening."
She couldn't help but smile, "Do that often, do you?"
His only answer was a wink, before he turned and began to ascend the stairs.
She watched him until he disappeared, strangely feeling more compelled to join him for dinner than the over dutiful rulers behind the door she was now opening.
But this was her place, and she had no say on the matter.
Okay, chapter three is finished!
In case anyone isn't following, each chapter will flip.
Past/present/past/present.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please review to let me know what you think! ;)