His blade struck hers with a force that sent her reeling backward, her fingers gripping the handle tight to keep it from dropping into the dirt. To be disarmed was to lose the fight, after all. Any good knight knew that.
Elena Gilbert was clumsy with a sword, but she didn't give up. Scrambling back to her feet, she thrust the sword forward, only for her opponent to knock it away again with ease.
"Surrender," he said, and she could hear the smile, the smirk. It only made her want to fight harder. One of these days, she would best him. Then she would be the one to smile pridefully. Damon Salvatore and his family, rulers of the neighboring kingdom Zicon, visited often, and Elena, young and petulant, made time to bother Damon for lessons any chance she got. This trip was no exception. They'd been out on the training ground several days in a row.
Like most of their sword fights, the King of Miria interrupted this one too. Otherwise known as her father. He switched between roles so seamlessly that sometimes Elena could not tell which he acted as at any given moment.
He approached from behind Elena, placing a hand on her shoulder. She sighed, sheathing the sword and turning to face him. "I know I'm supposed to be in class, but Father—" she said, words rushed and cheeks flushed.
Because he was the kindest king in all the lands, he offered her the softest smile as he ruffled her already messed-up hair. Brunette strands were woven into precise braids. At least, they'd been precise hours ago before she'd escaped her teacher and drawn her sword in the mud. Now hair fell out of those braids, dirt stained the bottom of her dress, and there was a bit of dried blood on her arm where she'd badly missed a block.
"Come along," he said, shooting a curt nod to her dueling partner before extending his arm. Elena took it, and they walked back to the castle together. Though, she could not help but look back over her shoulder at the boy only a few years older than her fourteen, standing in the mud with a breastplate and his sword still drawn. He smiled at her and her nose crinkled. Would it be too petulant to stick out her tongue? She resisted.
Inside the opulent castle of marble and gold, Elena received many a dirty look from those who passed them in the hall. She did not suit their standards for what a princess should be, and that had always been the case. While she loved to spend time with her nose in a book, she longed to be outside even more, and while the sword was not her strong suit—she wielded a bow with deadly intent, and her work with daggers almost always left her opponents in a state of shock.
Despite her father's kindness regarding her extracurriculars, unspoken tension hung between the pair. In just a few years, he would seek a man, a prince, to take her hand. And while there had been a few discussions with neighboring kingdoms, such as those who visited, whose sons she both dueled and studied with during their stay, Elena did not wish to marry. Why should her brother get all the glory in inheriting the crown while she joined some other family and ruled in a kingdom she knew nothing about? It was not only the arrangement of it all but the ruling, too. Ever since she'd been a young child, she'd begged to forsake her title, wishing to join the ranks of their cavalry instead. Her family had only laughed at this desire. So, she fulfilled her duties as best she could, while sneaking away at any given opportunity to fulfill her true desires.
Her father left her in the hall outside her rooms with a pointed glance that she knew better than to disobey. With a sigh, she pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by her ladies-in-waiting. Caroline and Bonnie had been by her side since her younger years. They kept her company and assisted with small tasks such as dressing and bathing. She could tell from the looks on their faces that they were both interested and disappointed. Typical.
Caroline motioned to a few dresses she'd laid out on the bed for the night's ball, and Bonnie brewed tea in the corner. Neither of them questioned where she'd gotten off to, but instead made quick work of helping her dress for the coming event.
Caroline couldn't help but comment on the elephant in the room. "Did you see him?" she asked, as she laced up Elena's corset after both she and Bonnie helped to scrub the dirt from her skin and rebraid her hair. Elena only smiled, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. Caroline smiled too, looking over at Bonnie and saying, "I knew it."
But Bonnie shook her head. "You're wasting your time on him, my lady." Ever polite despite how many times Elena had asked her to drop the title and use her name instead. She ducked her head. "I only mean, isn't he set to be married soon?"
The brunette chuckled. "Please, both of you. I have no interest in him. Besides, when I grow up, I'm going to be a knight, not a wife," Elena explained.
Her lady's maids exchanged a glance that made Elena sigh. No one ever understood what she wanted out of life. It only made her hungrier for it. She knew in her gut that what she wanted was within her reach, she just didn't know how to grasp it.
"Done," Caroline said, putting the finishing touches on Elena's makeup. "Oh, I hope you have so much fun tonight. I wish I could come with you."
"I wish you could go in my place," Elena sighed.
Once dressed in a soft pink ball gown, her hair braided intricately down her back, and her cheeks and lips the same shade of rose, Elena could procrastinate no further. Her ladies-in-waiting stayed behind, and one of the soldiers stationed outside the entrance to her chambers took over, leading her down to the ballroom.
Elena believed balls to be the most absurd show of pageantry and perhaps the most dreadful thing she'd ever had to participate in. Not only did the gown limit her range of movement and make her skin itch, but it also made it more difficult to breathe, and there were no places to store the daggers she'd swiped from the armory. Descending the steps, the herald announced her by title and name and she curtsied while looking for a particular face in the crowd.
Okay, so maybe she hadn't been exactly truthful in her conversation with Bonnie and Caroline. She did harbor a slight crush on the visiting crown prince. In the same vein, however, she knew that he would never see her as more than a kid. Eighteen to her fourteen, she was only a gnat to him. A little sister even. The thought alone made her stomach turn.
His brother, however, of her same age, always seemed quite interested in her. Before she even had a moment to get settled, he approached.
"Your Highness," he said, half bowing. He smiled when he caught her eyes, and Elena had to place a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
Finally, she curtsied. "Your Highness," she repeated back to the prince, stifling a giggle.
"I was just curious if I could have your first dance, Princess?" he asked.
Elena shifted uncomfortably. "Stefan," she whispered under her breath. "You know I'm not a very good dancer."
"Well maybe if you stopped skipping your lessons to bother my brother…"
She wished to smack him in the arm but knew there were far too many eyes on the pair of them to ever do any such thing. "Fine," she said, words harsh and annoyed as she took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. More than anything, Elena despised the attention associated with being the daughter of the king and queen of Miria. Her life would be so much better if only she could sneak around unnoticed.
"Don't be nervous," Stefan said, taking her other hand. "We've done this a hundred times."
His words did not help, and she proceeded to step on his toes once, twice, three times. Her cheeks blazed bright red, and she wanted nothing more than to detach from her friend and hide behind her parents' thrones like she'd done when she was much smaller. Only now, her head would certainly peak out over the top and everyone would be able to see her anyway.
Each time a new song started, she tried to slip away into the crowd, but Stefan held her hands firm, with a knowing look. Sometimes, she hated how well he knew her. She longed to disappear into the garden or sneak back to her chambers when her parents weren't looking—but Stefan knew all of her tricks. Her father must have enlisted his help to ensure she stayed present for the entirety of the night.
What she did not expect, however, was for Stefan's older brother to tap him on the shoulder and say, "Mind if I cut in?"
Stefan's brows furrowed, but after a pointed glance from his brother, he released her hands and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Elena had danced with Damon many times before, and in some ways, it was less intimate than sparring. But still, the feeling of his hands in hers made her cheeks flush. It seemed as if they'd be some shade of pink the entire night.
She tried to relax and pretend that his attention did nothing to her. "What do you want?" she asked, eyes drifting up to meet his. They had done this a million times, since they were even smaller. It didn't mean anything now just as it hadn't meant anything then.
With cool blue eyes, Damon looked down at her. He smirked and she nearly rolled her eyes at that alone. "Your swordsmanship still needs much work," he said, finally, then spun her away—following the same steps as other partners on the dance floor around them.
When he pulled her back in, she stepped on his toes. Unlike Stefan, he didn't comment on her poor dancing. "It does not," she said vehemently, refusing to admit her lack of skill to him, despite the fact that they both knew the truth.
"You won't be a knight if you can't best me in a duel, Princess." As the crown prince, Damon did not often see battle, but his father—the King of Zicon, had taught him everything he knew. And he certainly knew more than she.
Many words were left unspoken. Practice was not the only thing that held her back and they both knew it. But his words gave her hope anyway, let her imagine a life where she wouldn't be tethered by marriage.
"At dawn, then," Elena said, looking him in the eye. "A rematch."
When dawn came, she leaned against a stone wall with the handle of her sword tight in her grip. At least an hour passed of watching soldiers train before she gave up on waiting for him. He wouldn't have intentionally left her out in the morning cold, her eager eyes morphing into disappointment as more time passed, would he? He'd never missed a training session before, and despite his rough exterior, he'd always been kind in his own way.
When she finally left the training ground, defeated, eyes cast downward, she entered the castle to a fury of movement. Servants carrying bags and trunks, and the Salvatore family nowhere to be seen.
It was Jeremy she found first, her brother and the crown prince—though he hardly took the title seriously, not that she could pass judgment.
"What's going on?" Elena asked, eyes shifting around the palace corridor, trying to find either of the Salvatore brothers' eyes or their parents in the crowd.
"You haven't heard?" Jeremy asked, voice low. He pulled her by the arm into a nook where they couldn't be heard. "Stefan was poisoned last night."
TEN YEARS LATER: PRESENT DAY
Elena road astride a chestnut horse in a rusted silver breastplate—old and used and altogether loved, with dings and dents from fights long since past like scars she would never forget. Her horse, a striking brown thoroughbred with white spots and a dark nearly black mane. She rode hard and fast toward the ruins of her kingdom. It had been nearly ten years since the night she'd left. The night her family had narrowly escaped from an unexpected ambush.
After the death of Stefan Salvatore in the middle of the night, his father, King Giuseppe of Zicon, had ordered a full strike on her castle—the only place she'd ever called home. Zicon and Miria, Savlatore and Gilbert, had long since lived in harmony beside one another. They'd fought in wars together, signed many a treaty, and established solid trade routes. Everything crumbled with Stefan's death, leaving questions unanswered.
The princess, with no kingdom, had made it her mission to unearth the truth of what had happened that night. Although her parents and Jeremy had escaped the initial attack, they'd been picked off one by one in the last ten years. Her mother first, then her father, and only a few months prior, Jeremy. But to Elena, none of it made sense. Her family had denied involvement in Stefan's poisoning until their deathbed. But there was no other obvious answer and their king—once Giuseppe and now Damon—was dead-set on revenge. Death chased her, followed her around every corner.
But still, she did not understand. Who would have killed Stefan and why? And why had the Salvatores been so quick to blame the Gilberts? A family they had deep connections to? None of it added up, and no answers had come about in the long years she'd spent in hiding.
As her horse stopped in front of a small tavern a few miles north of her kingdom, she took a deep breath and released it unevenly. Dismounting the horse, she pulled her hood up over her head, covering her hair and shading her eyes. It was time to finally figure out what happened that fateful night ten years ago.
A/N: Thank you so much for checking this out! I'm super excited to get into this one. As you guys know I LOVE a fantasy setting for Delena, and I needed to write them in a longer story after enjoying An Autumn Duel so much. Hope yu enjoyed this first chapter! Be back soon with more.