Wow, y'all's reviews are making my day! Seriously!
I hope the next few chapters will answer any questions! If they don't, feel free to message me :) This storyline is a little complex, so I don't mind!
And as I promised, the "M" stuff will happen soon! This story is very fast paced in that aspect, but there does have to be some kind of build up lol. So, patience, it's coming I promise!
Lastly, I can't answer back to guest accounts, sorry! But one guest review made me feel like I needed to make a point on something...
Damon is a DARK character in this story. Of course there will be character development, but I'm not concerned with making him redeemable. Yes, he's practically evil, and even selfish. But he's supposed to be! Lol. Damon isn't the white night of the story here. He's a villain. Who just happens to be in love ;)
Anyway, I'll stop ranting and let y'all read! Hope you enjoy!
August 1567
Damon couldn't sleep.
Hadn't been able to all week; since his latest encounter with the Princess.
He'd heard rumors of her arrival weeks before the fact.
Eleniana. The Petrova heir, Stefan's new bride.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting of her.
Perhaps to be of equal caliber of the other women Stefan had courted.
But no, there was something more to this one.
Most women cowered in his presence, on the off occasion he'd come to contact with them, before Stefan quickly whisked them away from the big bad Salvatore.
But Eleniana Petrova, or Elena, as he'd heard her called...She had spark.
A temper burned underneath her surface, and each time she lashed at him, he felt as though he'd accomplished something important.
She was intriguing, to say the least.
Once alone in his room, he'd uncovered the altar he kept hidden in the corner.
He'd mixed the required herbs for the spell he was performing, and pulled a tiny shard of glass from the cloth he'd wrapped it in.
The same glass he'd pulled from the princess' hand.
Something had compelled him to keep it, just in case it was ever of use, and now he was glad he had.
Dropping it into the bowl before him, he began the incantation.
As he spoke, the contents caught fire, burning hot, until nothing but a fine ash remained.
Damon reached for his dagger, pushing the point into the tip of his index finger.
When red seeped to the surface of his skin, Damon sat the dagger down.
He then proceeded to place his finger into the ash, and brought it against the center of his forehead.
He drug the mixture down, making a line along the bridge of his nose, to the tip.
Then, after another dip, he drug his finger across his forehead.
The moment his blood intersected, he felt the familiar pull of power surge through him, as his vision clouded.
Flashes of what would come played in his mind, stilling him.
He fell to his knees under the weight of what was revealed.
Stefan reaches for Elena's hand, as Damon watches on.
His brother kisses her knuckles, and makes yet another departure.
Elena's arms wrap around herself, as her face falls.
This wasn't the life she wanted.
Seconds later, her lady's maid enter, urging her to hurry to the library, as she mustn't be late for her studies.
Him, pulling Elena flush against him. She giggled, "Damon, What are you doing?"
"Shh," he smirked, "We have but a moment."
Then his lips were on hers.
Elena took the dagger in her hand and stabbed it into the wall near his head.
"If you want her so badly, you do it!"
Elena in his bath, naked, with a bleeding heart in her hand, the blood running down her arms, turning the water red.
"Join me."
Elena chanting at an altar in the woods.
The wind blows widely, thrashing her hair around as the trees moaned and the ground shook.
A whirl of other things bombard him, fire and power and murder, but as the magic from the dream dust faded, the images became more choppy; fragmented.
Until they were completely gone.
He took a moment to breathe.
He didn't often find the need to watch the future.
It was set, fated.
No reason to glimpse what you can't change.
But this, this pull he'd felt toward the princess...
He'd known there was more.
Had enough magic in him to sense it.
And now there was no questioning the truth of what he'd seen.
Bring it fire or blood, she was his destiny.
Elena was excited for a change.
She'd have the opportunity for a little fun tonight, as the king was hosting a Masquerade Ball, in honor of her engagement to his son.
Elena loved dancing, and had hoped the night would give her the entertainment she'd lacked of late.
She stared down the stairway now, at the ballroom bustling with servants, making sure everything was perfectly placed.
She could imagine the extravaganza of it all, once they finished.
She smiled, her excitement growing.
"You shouldn't stand so close to the railing," a voice advised, startling her.
She turned, to find Damon Salvatore staring at her, his face emotionless.
She had seem him only a few times since their last encounter.
He only spoke to her when she was unaccompanied, even of her lady's maids.
However, the rare chance in which they did break words he was cautious, polite, yet endearing.
Damon held an air of mystery about him, and she always found herself curious of his secrets.
His haunting eyes usually kept her from asking, though.
"It yet lives," she teased, as he stepped forward.
A smirk graced his lips, elating her.
He was beautiful when he smiled.
"It likes to remain scarce," he offered, looking at the working party below them, "I see everything for tonight is in order."
Elena rose a brow, "Do you dance, your highness?"
A flicker of something passed over his face, "It's Damon, please...Just Damon."
She bit her lip, thinking she'd offended him again, "I apologize."
To her surprise, he chuckled, "You're too quick to please, Princess."
She smiled, "Do not berate me for having proper etiquette, Damon."
"Does proper etiquette mean you don't get to think for yourself?" He challenged, turning to walk back toward the hall.
She threw one last glance at the servants below, before following him.
"I do think for myself," she insisted.
He stared ahead as he walked, but answered her, "I'm not sure I believe that, Eleniana."
Her name sounded strange on his lips.
Perhaps it's because the only male to address her as such, was her father.
All others, even her fiance, called her by her title.
However, Damon was nothing like other men she'd encountered.
Which is perhaps why she was still walking with him.
"Elena," she corrected in despise of her given name, "And what influences your opinion, might I ask?"
"I've seen you as the days pass," he stated simply, "You're miserable."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but found herself unable to lie.
Not to him.
"I'm doing what I must for my country," she said instead, "Happiness wasn't part of the negotiation our fathers made."
Surprisingly, he didn't retort back with another rude accusation.
And she felt probed to say more.
"Besides, I'd be just as miserable at home. It's the price you pay for luxury. And this is a grand opportunity for our countries. It's not often kingdoms are able to conjoin so peacefully. And Stefan is a good man."
Again Damon offered no answer, and her annoyance spiked.
"You believe differently?"
Sensing the anger in her tone, he stopped.
His blue eyes were intense as they held hers, "What I believe, Elena, is that you haven't said a single thing that they haven't told you. And if that's what it takes for you to get yourself though this, alright, but don't pretend like you actually believe what you're saying. Anyone who takes two seconds to look at you can tell that you hate this negotiation. And I pity you."
She flinched at the intensity of his words, and at the truth of them.
She swallowed her anger, and spun away from him.
Only to find a wall.
She glanced around and realized that her surroundings were unfamiliar, and three different halls were available to her.
She'd followed Damon to a part of the castle she'd never been.
Finding her way back was going to be a nightmare.
Damon watched as she picked a hallway at random, and began to storm away.
She didn't get far before his hand closed around her wrist.
"Let go of me!" She demanded, pulling at him.
"That's the wrong way," he warned.
"I don't care!" She growled, unable to yank her arm free.
Angered, she hit his chest with her palm.
In a move faster than lightning, he had her backed into the wall, arms pinned above her head, and every inch of his lower body pressed against hers as he used his hips to hold her in place.
She blushed furiously, with a heat she wished was only from the inappropriate situation she'd landed herself in, and had nothing to do with the fact that her chest was pressed against his, and those blue eyes were darkening.
"Release me," she told him, trying to keep her voice calm, "Release me, or I'll scream."
He smirked again, his face entertained.
"Go ahead," he taunted, "No one will hear you."
She knew that all the servants would be preparing for the ball, on the other side of the castle, and the guard was with Stefan and the king, who had ridden out to the nearby city and wouldn't return for hours.
Fear filled her at the thought, as Damon's eyes draped over her face.
"Relax, Princess," he stated finally, backing away, "I don't wish to compromise your virtue."
His gaze over her body, however, said otherwise.
She blushed further, knowing she should leave now, but unable to.
"What do you wish then?"
He crooked his head, observing her.
"That's not the question you need to worry about," he told her.
"I thought you wanted me to think for myself," she shot back, "How does that work if you're telling me what to worry about?"
She was rewarded with his grin.
"See," he praised, "You're learning quickly."
He offered nothing else as he turned toward another hall, one that would take them even further than where she needed to be, she was sure.
"Why do you like to irritate me so?" She accused.
He stopped, with a laugh, turning to face her, "Because that's the only time I get to see who you truly are, Princess. Everything else is the mask they've made; the real mask you'll be wearing tonight, as you play the happy part of loving betrothed, for the people of our fair cities," he stepped even closer, enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, "But I can see that there is more to you. Perhaps, if you get angry enough, you'll realize the same."
She wasn't sure how to respond, and was saved from doing so when he pointed to the hall on her left, "That one will take you to the east wing. Follow the stairs, and you'll find your way back to your quarters."
Then he left, once again turning his back to her.
Elena tried not to think about the encounter as she prepped for the ball that night.
She'd found her way back easily enough, and had been able to enjoy a few hours of solidarity before having to get ready.
But she couldn't stop thinking of Damon's words.
And how true they really were.
Not that she'd give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud.
She couldn't explain the frustration she felt in his presence, or the desire she now felt to see him again.
It was wrong, her mind knew that, but he was a puzzle.
Alluring and seductive, and she had nothing else of interest left to occupy her thoughts.
Nothing accept for the party tonight.
She wondered if he'd be there, but a masquerade ball really didn't seem like it would appeal to him.
Though, admittedly, she hardly knew him.
Emily laced the back of her dress, claiming her attention.
"Sorry, M'lady," Emily winced as the dress pulled even tighter.
As if the corset beneath hadn't restricted her breathing enough already.
She sighed.
The dress was one of her father's choosing.
He had connections across the seas, and often had precious and rare gifts brought over for her.
The latest styles in fashion were included.
Finally, the gown was laced properly, and Emily backed away so she could observe herself in the mirror.
She immediately understood why her father had chosen this gown specifically.
It was an ivory satin, a few shades away from white, and the cream of it complimented her dark features beautifully.
The elegant skirt puffed out enough to distinguish her as royalty, for who else could afford such fabric.
The front scooped off her shoulders, revealing smooth skin that was now being adorned with a string of pearls.
She looked every bit the bride she was meant to.
Lastly, Emily slid her adorned, jeweled white mask into place, careful not to ruin her artfully twisted hair, and she was ready.
Giving herself one last glance over, she decided it was as good as it would ever be, and walked out of the room.
As expected, music filled the halls, growing louder as she made her way to the top of the staircase platform, where Stefan was waiting to escort her down.
He looked like perfection.
His royal dress robes fit the contours of his body brilliantly, and his simple grey mask did little to hide his kind face.
He smiled as she approached, Emily straightening the back of her dress, as she came into view of the public.
Stefan signaled out, and the music came to a halt.
"Honored guests," the king's voice bellowed from his balcony view across the room, Elena's father standing with him, "I present to you, the crowned prince, Stefan Salvatore of Aurelia, and his betrothed, her royal highness, Elena Petrova of Mystic. With their marriage, we will join our land, our kingdoms, and will truly rise as the greatest empire since the fall of Rome!"
Cheers and applause filled the air, as the band started again, and Stefan linked his arms in hers.
As they descended the stairs, he leaned into her ear, "You look beautiful, my lady."
She smiled at him, "And you are as dashing as ever."
They reached the bottom, and began the customary "first dance".
Stefan was clearly trained, and moved without hesitation, each step sure.
He whirled her around, showing her off to the room.
Soon though, the tempo changed, and the floor flooded with others.
This dance was a traditional waltz she'd seen done a million times growing up in the palace.
She was twirled, then passed to the arms of an older duke, then a Lord, as Stefan was claimed by a countess.
Each person of note congratulated her, and bowed gracefully before passing her to the next contender, each as stiff as the last.
After what seemed like an hour of dancing, she'd lost sight of Stefan completely, and was whirled into the arms of her next partner.
A steady hand gripped her hip, and she looked up into blue eyes that could only belong to one person.
"You came," she breathed, as he moved them across the floor.
His black mask didn't change the affect those eyes had on her knees.
"You didn't think I'd miss this, did you?" He teased, their earlier scuffle apparently forgotten.
She couldn't help but smile, "You seem to enjoy your privacy."
He shot a glance around the room, "I still do. But isn't that the whole point of a masquerade? Animosity?"
He slid his arm further around her back, pulling her tighter against his body.
"Damon," she warned.
They were at a ball celebrating her engagement to his brother, and him holding her like this was nowhere near acceptable behavior.
"Just relax," he repeated, "Have fun."
She pulled away slightly, holding his gaze, "What are you doing here, Damon?"
She didn't have the patience for his games.
He seemed to realize this.
"Would you believe that I came to rescue you?"
She laughed, despite herself, "You, rescue me? From what? A long night of dancing and dining?"
He smirked, "The prospect of being stuck here all night doesn't frighten you?"
She let him twirl her, before insisting, "The only thing that frightens me, sire, are your manners."
Furthering her point, he pulled her back against his chest, leaning toward her ear.
His velvet whisper left goosebumps on her skin, "That's not the only thing, Elena. I've seen things, I know things. And you'll never be satisfied."
He spun her again, this time, their chests meeting.
His eyes entranced her, "So the way I see it, you have two options..."
"Is that right?" She asked defiantly.
He grinned, "It is. Option one, you can stay here, attend the party. Be the good little girl you've always been, the one they trained you to be, and go to bed tonight, wondering what would have happened if you'd chosen option two."
Her throat suddenly felt dry, "And what is option two?"
"You'll have to follow me to find out."
She looked around, "But...everyone, the guest-"
"Are so captured in themselves that they won't even notice your absence."
He dropped his arms, backing away, "It's your choice, Princess."
He walked away then, leaving her with the decision.
She knew what the right thing was, the responsible thing.
Don't do it, she told herself, as the last of Damon's dark hair disappeared from sight, Don't follow him.
Don't you dare.
Don't.
Personally, I love how this chapter turned out! Hope y'all did too!
Can't wait to hear from you!
P.S. Told you I'd try to make longer chapters! Lol