PRESENT DAY

The following day, Alaric collected Elena after dinner and brought her to the rebellion's strategy room. Like all the other rooms in the underground fortress, wooden beams supported dirt walls. Nothing entirely exciting to look at. In the center of the room sat a large, circular table. For the first time, Elena wondered how on earth they'd gotten such large furniture through the narrow halls of the mine. Not a particularly important line of thought, but it distracted her enough to be caught off guard when a soldier stepped in front of her with a hand outstretched.

He bowed at the waist. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness," the man said. He was clad in dinged armor and held a matching helmet in his arms. The sets of armor held no royal crest.

Despite her desire to insist he drop the formality, she kept silent. Alaric wanted everyone to know her status, wanted her to use it as a tool to inspire. Still, the honorific did not feel quite right. A title that did not belong. Just as lost as the kingdom.

"The pleasure is all mine," she said.

"You'll use the entrance out of the old mine and head directly to the castle with your team," Alaric said. He motioned to the man who'd introduced himself, "Tyler will keep a close guard with the rest of his men. You have the next few hours to find what you're looking for and return. I do not want to spend additional resources recovering you and the team, so please don't get into any unnecessary danger."

Alaric ran a tight ship. Apparently, being the princess didn't actually give her any responsibility in his hierarchy. It just made her a tool.

The small force moved out, using a different entrance than the one she'd arrived through. Thankfully, because it was unlikely that these heavily armored men would be able to fit through that small hole in the wall that the child had used. At a certain point on the trip out, the rebel base turned into a mine again, with pickaxes scattered on the ground, mine carts, tracks that no longer went anywhere. In one place, she caught a pile of bones collecting on the ground out of the corner of her eye. Was all of this enough to ward off soldiers if they came looking? What if they were caught exiting? How were Salvatore's soldiers not entirely suspicious of the location?

As the group got closer to the exit, lanterns were doused and they proceeded in dark silence. At the mine's exit, there was no light to illuminate their path, no light by which any soldier could see—even their own. Complete and utter darkness wrapped tight around their bodies, sheltering them from prying eyes and keeping their rebellion safe and secret.

Silence continued on the mile long walk toward the old castle. Nothing along the way was a pretty sight. Everything had been demolished just as the village atop the mine, just as the castle had been. Having seen the destruction once didn't make it any easier. Its far reach throughout the kingdom only tugged at her heartstrings. Families displaced, people killed. All for what?

Hearing that your family home was reduced to rubble is one thing. Seeing it is another entirely. A hand slipped over her mouth, covering a gasp. Moonlight did not illuminate the entire picture, only a sliver of a clock tower here and an archway there. Hardly any structures remained fully intact. Half walls and piles of stone weighed on the ground, like the entire plot of land could be swallowed up at any point.

Elena exchanged a glance with Tyler. Even in the short time they'd known each other, she could tell his glance meant caution. The slightly raised eyebrows and the tilt of his head almost reminded her of Jeremy. But she nodded, despite her innate desire to ignore direct commands from those in a higher position than herself.

The front gates and the main doors of the castle sat open, a painting of the moment just before the bombs, when everyone fled. The Gilberts hours gone, abandoning their home to its fate. Elena walked up the front steps and through the open doors, only to be met by more piles of rubble and ruin, walls half crumbled, and archways leading into different wings. Holes in the roof let in moonlight, but she lit a torch to see the destruction more clearly.

It took careful movement to navigate the castle. Some rooms were caved in and entirely unaccessible while others sat outside with the ceilings blown off. Long past seasons damaged expensive furniture. Snow, rain, wind. Leaves stuck to the thrones still upright at the back of the main hall, only uncovered after she wrestled with a large tapestry that had collapsed atop them. She caught glimpses of the scene, filling in the rest with memory. A Gilbert family centuries prior. The first. Happy. Smiling. Coated in layers of dirt. Nothing about the Gilberts could be described as pristine any longer. It was, more than anything, a fair portrait of her family, past and present.

After digging through the throne room, she managed to find her way toward the East wing of the castle, where her family's quarters were located. The guards followed closely for a while, before departing to look for the armory—with specific promise to meet up in the ballroom when they were finished. Any cry for help from either Elena or the guards would be immediately heard, given the open air nature of the castle.

With the armory in the West, some space sat between her and the team, but she liked the distance. Exploring her childhood home, blown apart by war, should have brought tears to her eyes, should have triggered memory after memory. But with strangers close at hand, it was nearly impossible to feel anything other than annoyed. Fine, maybe Alaric was right. A single arrow had almost taken her out completely, but she learned something from that attack, too. She wouldn't make those same mistakes again.

But now, by herself, running her fingers along jagged pieces of stone as she walked through the Eastern wing's wide hallway, tears began to sting at the corners of her eyes. How many times had she walked these halls? If she focused, she could almost see them again as they once were, untouched by Giuseppe's confusing war.

She could still remember running through them that final morning, when the only thing on her mind was Damon and how he'd dared to stand her up at dawn. Oh, how she missed the simplicity. If only that morning had gone differently. There were those words again. If only. If only. They made her head hurt.

Walking blindly and without reason, she came upon her own quarters, situated across the hall from her brother's, with her parents' the next over, at the end of the hall. The door to her own quarters remained in perfect condition, while she could see the entirety of Jeremy's rooms from the hallway. With her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated.

Following a lead, that's what she'd told everyone when they questioned her motives. But was there really anything to find within all the rubble? Could anything within those fallen walls really lead her to Damon? Or had she just wanted to see the damage for her own eyes, wanted to see what more he'd done to her? Had she only wanted to add fuel to her own fire with the remains of his? Her fist clenched at her side, her hand tightened on the doorknob. If she wanted to find Damon, she should have marched up the front steps of his still-standing palace. Maybe with the element of surprise, she could have killed him with ease.

She twisted the handle and let the door fall open inward. At her feet, a line of demarcation divided the quarters from the hallway. Elena's quarters sat perfectly and completely untouched. Curtains hung from intact windows, and dust gathered on the coverlet atop her bed. Not even a stray book littered the floor next to her shelves.

The sight dizzied her. To see something so perfect and preserved against the layers of damage just a few steps away was rattling. Certainly, this was no act of divine intervention. For despite the fact that Elena had attended church as a young child, she'd never prayed to the divine more than required, and thus they would have no reason to save her alone. Besides, what good did saving her room do when she had not even stood inside it at the time of impact? No one had gone to any trouble to save her mother when the bombs fell, to save her father from Damon's sword, to save anyone that actually mattered.

She pulled out a seat and sat at the small table where Bonnie and Caroline used to play cards. Running her fingers over the divots caused by thrown knives, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. There were happy memories within those walls, no matter how hard they were to find.

But why had she come? Why had she come? Hoping to find clues within those scattered stones seemed to be a lost cause, though the memories found flowed freely. Her father's study. The council room. The war room. Those were the places that could hold clues, not her childhood bedroom, which only held stories and clothes that no longer fit. She'd taken everything important on her last departure. Weapons, mostly.

Stepping from her old chambers, an ear-shattering scream pierced the air. Distant and faint but horrifying all the same. With a hand reaching for the handle of a dagger, she sprinted from the room, deftly moving through the rubble toward the sound.

The princess fell. Once and then again, over jagged rocks unavoidable. Her hands hit the floor hard, pieces of glass cutting through the fragile skin of her palms. Armor shielded the rest of her body, but her knees still reverberated against the metal on impact.

Looking up, her eyes met the tip of a sword. She followed the length of it upward, slowly, and met an unfamiliar face. Not one of her own guards. Scrambling to her feet, she drew her own sword. Alaric had equipped her nicely. The iron short sword moved fast in her grip, and with her own lovely little dagger in the offhand, it was easy enough to disarm and disable the unknown soldier. Now he lay flat on his back, with her sword pointed at his throat.

Wind whipped by her ear. No. Not wind. An arrow. Familiar with exactly how long it took to restring and fire again, she jumped to the right behind yet another pile of debris. The soldier she'd taken down was wounded, but not dead. Though he didn't look as if he would rise to fight anytime soon. Moonlight glinted off his armor, just catching the Gilbert crest.

What? Could Salvatore really not afford new armor for his soldiers? How sad. If her family had killed another and invaded their country, they'd at least find some way to get rich because of it. Although, of course, the Gilberts never would have committed crimes so heinous. It made her laugh all the same, to find that the Salvatores still needed the Gilberts in some strange roundabout way.

Enough thinking. She popped up from her hiding spot and threw a dagger as soon as the archer revealed themselves, catching them between the eyes. For a moment, she stood transfixed by the blood slipping down his face before she took off down the hall, grabbing the dagger off his corpse on the way.

Another scream pinpointed exactly where she needed to be. She continued forward, vaulting over more rubble with more care than before. She couldn't afford another fall, not this close to the fight where someone could easily remove her head without giving her the chance to fight back. And that certainly would not do.

She crept around the corner, careful to keep her movements silent. What had once been the grand ballroom was now littered with the bodies of rebel guards. They had been meant to protect her, but this still felt like a personal failure. If only.

A man with broad shoulders and full plate armor faced away from her, holding the body of one of the guards. Tyler, maybe? She couldn't tell from a distance. Nor could she tell whether or not he still took breaths.

Time was of the essence, but still she found herself taking a beat too long to analyze the situation. Would it be better to run at him with her sword, or would a throwing knife suit her purposes better? Quiet, quick movements would be best. She drew her bow, stringing an arrow and carefully aiming. His armor was much more impressive than the others. A helmet protected his head and neck, and the chest plate wrapped around to his back. Gauntlets and pauldrons protected his arms. She aimed for the unprotected spot where the helmet ended at the base of his neck. Steadying her breathing, she released the arrow.

The arrow did not slip between those two pieces of metal and deep into his skin. Instead, it froze in midair an inch before making contact. The man did not turn, did not move, barely even registered the interference. While the arrow hung in place, she worked quickly to restring another. Crackling energy surrounded the suspended arrow, dissolving it from end to end. Ash fell slowly to the ground.

Elena released the tension on her bow and whipped around the corner, holding her breath in hiding. She rubbed her eyes with gloved fingers. Surely a trick of the light had confused her vision. Shaking her head rapidly, as if to knock the seconds old memory loose and straighten herself out, she peeked around the corner. Slow and steady. As long as she kept her nerve, everything would be alright. Don't overreact. Don't assume. Her bow returned to her back. A hand on the hilt of her sword. Breathe.

Peering around the corner, the fallen princess was met with only bodies and heavy, aching silence. No. There had been someone there. Tyler's body lay twisted where the man had stood only seconds prior. This wasn't insanity. It couldn't be. No other exits offered escape. He had to be within.

Despite her best judgment, she stepped free from her hiding spot. After all, it only protected her from sight from inside the room that now stood seemingly empty. This proved, immediately, to be the wrong decision.

Someone, silent as a wraith and much stronger, slipped a crushing arm around her midsection and hoisted her backwards. Their armor clanged together, echoing through empty halls. A hand came up, gripping the hilt of a longsword. He held it close to her neck, but not quite touching it. Taunting.

"Well, what do we have here?" the man whispered, lowering his head to her ear. A full body shiver wracked through her. A voice she hadn't heard in ages, tainted by an evil she didn't understand.

It would have been easy to freeze, to let him take her or kill her or do whatever he wished after all this time. But Elena Gilbert refused to go down without a fight. The arm bracing her back against his chest only pinned one arm in place. Her left was free, and with it she palmed a dagger and slashed upward against his sword, pushing it out of the way on the upswing and down into the top of his other hand on the down.

He did not react.

She held the blade against him, driving it deeper into his hand. Blood oozed out, darkening the glove. By this, he seemed unbothered. He only chuckled, dark and eerie. "Anything else you'd like to try?"

"How about you set me down and we have a fair fight?" she snarled. She didn't thrash in his grip, didn't kick and scream like she had as a child in a similar position. No. Here, she only calculated, only worked through plans in her mind until she found one that just might save her life.

"I'm afraid no fight against me will be fair," he said. The familiar snark in his tone cut deeper than any blade.

"Then what are you afraid of?" she whispered, trying to keep the fear from her words even though she almost certainly would die here.

Another chuckle, dry and full of what could only be described as loathing. Loathing of her? Of her people? Of what he had to do? Impossible to know.

Finally, she steeled her nerves and quieted her best senses. "Damon," she said, appealing to any bit of humanity left behind his cold words. "Please."

His own name struck him harder than the dagger, and he flung her away. Elena flew forward, hitting the ground hard and rolling through rock and dust, coughing but not crying even as pain overtook her. Stitched on her shoulder reopened, and blood poured down her arm, dripping onto the stone as she forced herself upward, sliced up palms in the dirt.

Not without a fight.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Working on the next chapter of Aim for the Heart now, so that should be up in the next few days.