Heyy, so I finally got this chapter finished.
Hope ya'll like it!
August 1567
Darkness fell relativity quick that night.
Dinner was as slow and boring as ever, with all the talk of war and political views.
Elena had completely tuned out the conversation, in hopes of it soon ending.
Eventually, it had, and she'd dismissed herself.
Emily waited in her chambers, a dress in hand.
There was a stiffness in the way the girl carried herself now, and Elena knew it was because of their last argument.
She did not allow it to bother her though.
She had gotten her point across and that was all that had mattered.
"What is this?" She asked, closing the door to her room as she eyed the gown in her maiden's hand.
"His highness dropped it off for you. He left a note," Emily explained.
Elena reached out to touch the shimmering fabric.
The black silk flowed through her fingers like a waterfall of onyx.
She exhaled, "What does the note read?"
"I did not open it, my lady," Emily bowed her head holding the rolled parchment out, "I assumed it private."
Elena smiled, taking it, "Kind of you. Very well, that will be all for the evening. You may take leave."
With a bow, Emily slipped away.
The greater of Elena's attention, however, was on the letter Damon had left for her.
Elena,
Consider this gown a token of my appreciation for you accompanying me tonight.
I can not wait to see it on your body.
On my floor.
I look forward to our evening beyond these walls.
All my love,
Damon
She smiled at the words, reading them over again, heart filling with love for her dark prince.
Her excitement grew.
She had no idea what to anticipate for the night ahead, but Damon had promised that it would be an evening unlike any she'd ever experience.
And Damon had yet to break a promise to her.
Quickly stripping her layered, plain dress, Elena held up Damon's gift.
It was made of fine silk but had a stretch pattern in its bodice she had never seen.
Her fingers grazed over it for a moment, before she decided to slip it on.
It fit perfectly.
As she moved to examine herself in the tall mirror, she thought that maybe it was a little too perfect to be natural.
Maybe Damon had spelled it?
The curves hugged her to the point that she felt naked.
The material seemed thin enough, with it's single layer.
No more than the translucent sheer of the sleeping gowns she wears for Damon at night.
Only she could see none of her skin, where the fabric covered her.
It was a strapless bodice, that curved her breast far too deeply to be considered decent, and showed far too much of her back, even though the black silk fell loose from her waist.
The thigh length slits on each side made it easy to move, and showed flashes off her flesh as she turned.
If one thing was certain, Damon wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her, and because of that, she had to love the dress.
With a smile, she reached to her dresser, picking up the necklace Damon had given her.
The magic amulet of his mother's power.
She only took it off before meals, when she was sure to see the king, in fear that he would recognize it.
Not likely.
But no reason to make him needlessly suspicious.
She donned the latch and let the jewel fall to her throat, hanging perfectly above the line of the dress.
The red stone seemed to glow, most likely reflecting light from the fire behind her, but Elena liked to think that maybe it was more.
This necklace, this power, it was a way to a new life.
To freedom.
She waited until the clock chimed ten times, before summoning her magic, as Damon had shown her.
It was fairly simple, now that she had practiced, and the world around her span.
Within a second, she was in Damon's room.
She found him, kneeling in front of his alter, his eyes closed, shirtless, chanting quietly.
His skin was covered in hand-drawn red markings.
She had witnessed this a few times, and knew better than to interrupt.
So she watched instead.
There was a symbol drawn on the ground around him; an intricate of circles, where he kneeled in the middle.
From the darkened color, she'd guess they were drawn in blood, as were the ones on his body.
His chanting grew faster, and the bowl in front of him rose,seemingly on its own.
Inside of it, was a heart, human.
As Damon's words rose to a shout, the bowl's contents combusted, fire sparking as it dropped, clattering in front of him.
Damon fell silent, his eyes opening.
After a deep breath, he grabbed the heart from the bowl.
It was darkened from the flames, but still oozing the life source of the witch from whom it was taken.
Elena took a slow step forward.
"Damon?"
He glanced up at her in acknowledgment, then stood, heart in hand.
He proceeded to wrap it in a cloth, and place it in a satchel, before turning.
"Sorry," he offered her a smile, breaking the strain, "I was just preparing for tonight. The hour ran away with me...I see my gift was delivered."
She returned his smirk, "Indeed. Though I am still undecided if the gift was for me, or for your own enjoyment."
He laughed in that way she loved, "For both, my darling, but mostly for it is for tonight. The Shadowcasters in attendance will be wearing the color, and I do so enjoy showing off what is mine."
She touched one of the blood drawn symbols on his chest.
"Yours, am I?"
He held her gaze, "Only mine."
She could certainly live with that.
He lifted a finger, which was still covered in blood, and touched it to her neck.
She leaned into him at the contact.
"My print here will mark you tonight. It will insure that no one else try to claim you. Remember that you are not a witch, Elena. You are not a slave."
She nodded, "I am yours."
He smiled, "Good girl."
With a kiss to her cheek, he turned, grabbing a shirt from the end of his bed.
It was white, translucent, and she could see the blood marked symbols beneath it.
A V-shaped front showed off the top of his chest, and Elena had to stop herself from reaching for him.
He smirked, seeming to sense her eagerness.
"Later, my love," he promised, placing a hand on her neck, "But for now, we must go."
He grabbed her hand, and the satchel containing the heart, before beginning his chant.
Elena closed her eyes, knowing what was to come.
Sure enough, when Damon squeezed her hand, she could feel wind on her face.
They were outside.
Her eyes opened to see a forest surrounding them.
"Stay close to me," Damon commanded.
She had no problem obeying, as the high moon did little to comfort her, as they walked through the darkness.
When nothing became more nothing, Elena began to wonder if they were lost.
But then Damon stopped abruptly.
"It's here," he told her.
She looked ahead of them, but saw nothing.
When she told him this, Damon laughed.
"It is spelled, darling, hidden."
"How do we gain entrance, then?" She wondered.
Damon pulled a dagger from his belt, "Through sacrifice."
She watched as he cut his palm, deep enough for blood to pool in his hand, then lifted it.
It seemed as though he had just lifted his hand to dead air, but the second he stretched his arm, a structure appeared, a door, on which his hand was placed.
He pulled the door open, to reveal a set of stairs.
"We are here," he told her.
She exhaled, before following behind him as he descended the stairway.
Noise echoed toward them, a party, with music and chatter.
Elena relaxed some.
The world of socializing was familiar to her, a world she understood.
The stairs ended at two large double doors, which Damon opened without touching.
Eyes turned on them as they entered, some of the chattering stopped, but Elena was too distracted to notice.
The room was large, circular, like a ball room.
But all along the walls, were men and women, shoulder to shoulder, each in a matching red scrap of fabric that barely covered their flesh.
Chains bound their hands and feet, with just enough space to move around.
Each held a tray, adorned with food, and stood silent, as if they were statues.
A few others, also in the red fabric, danced in the center of the room to the music.
Elena noticed that these individuals were not chained, but were covered in blood.
It dripped from gashes on their bodies, onto the marble floor.
"Well, well, well," a voice called, grabbing Elena's attention, "Look who decided to show."
A very attractive man sauntered over to them, followed by two other males, both shirtless, and clearly of servant status.
Damon greeted the man who'd spoken with a firm handshake, and a smile, "Klaus."
Damon turned to her then.
"Elena, this is his Lord Niklaus of Gent, House of Mikaelson. Klaus, this her royal highness, Elena Petrova, Princess of Mystic."
"My," Klaus reached out, taking her hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you, love."
He kissed her knuckles, and Elena bowed her head respectively, "Likewise, my lord."
Klaus smiled up, glancing between her and Damon, "I have heard rumors that Mystic and Aurelia were joining their forces through matrimonial means. I'd assumed that this meant there was only one heir to Mystic's throne."
Elena held her chin up, "There is."
A smirk crossed Klaus's lips, "Tsk, tsk...you have been naughty, haven't you, Damon."
Damon seemed at ease with this man's conclusion, "The means in which I spend my time outside of these walls are not of concern to you."
"Perhaps not," Klaus allowed, "But you do have a way of continually surprising me."
He looked over at Elena, "From what little Damon has shared with me, it seems that you are a natural to our ways."
Elena blushed slightly, "I still have much to learn, but each time we practice, I improve."
Klaus nodded, "How much magic do you harness?"
Her eyebrows pulled together, "Sorry?"
Luckily, Damon stepped in, "He means, blood. Your consummation."
He turned to Klaus, "You have forgotten. Elena drinks the blood from me, while she learns. I did not wish to overpower her before she was ready. She has never consumed the fresh blood of a born witch."
Klaus rose a brow, "Well, tonight holds much in store, then.
The music changed rhythm, and Klaus escorted them over to others.
Elena quickly discovered that Damon was in high respect here, as guest after guest bowed toward him in greeting.
"Damon!" A redheaded woman called out, hurrying over, with another man following close behind.
She embraced him with enough intimacy for Elena to feel uncomfortable.
"Sage," Damon greeted, pulling away from her, "You look well."
"As do you," she smirked, "We have missed seeing you around here. It has been quite a few months."
"A few," Damon agreed, drawing Elena to his side, "I have been occupied."
"Fresh meat," the man who'd come over with Sage smiled, "You must be Elena."
She nodded, allowing him to shake her hand. "Beautiful," Sage complimented her, "Truly you are. From what land do you hail?"
"She is the heir to Mystic's throne," Damon intercepted.
"Stefan's betrothed?" Sage asked.
Damon's eyes darkened, "Mine, actually."
Elena's gaze shot to him, but his eyes gave nothing more.
"You, Damon?" Sage grinned, "Since when do you have interest in vows? Or the means to reclaim your crown?"
Damon just winked at her, before his name was called again.
He looked at Elena, "Will you be alright?"
She nodded, "Go ahead."
He kissed her cheek, then walked off, the man whom had appeared with Sage followed.
Elena watched Damon, until she felt an arm loop through her own, and turned to see Sage next to her.
"You must be something special," the woman sighed.
"What do you mean?" Elena asked her curiously.
Sage smiled, "Damon has always loved the women, Elena, and they have always loved him back...but the way he looks at you...it is unusual for him."
Elena flushed again, but smiled, "Yes, I am quite fond of him as well."
"Easily witnessed," Sage teased, "But we should allow the men to attend to things of men. Come with me?"
Elena smirked, "Lead the way."
Let me know what you think ;)