Two days later.

Matthew wore black, his face grim and set into hard lines. Seated to his right, sat the House of Bourbon-Parma. The message he sent to them in Italy over the cables was met with grief, hostility. His alliance with them was currently delicate, tenuous. It was a message he never fathomed having to send, or perhaps he never allowed himself to think it. The priest at the head of the cathedral recited the rosary mechanically, as if he had done this many times before; no doubt he had. Matthew parroted back as did the rest of the congregation. He eyed the ornate coffin with trepidation. It was awash with winter foliage—the Bulgarian frost hadn't relented to allow the birth of burgeoning spring flora. And so, no flowers were draped delicately atop the casket. Large, tapered candles were placed about the altar and they flickered gently. The sun filtered through the high panes of glittering stained glass and cast its light onto the coffin.

It was a Roman Catholic funeral; it was what she would have wanted. For political reasons, their son Matty had been converted to Bulgarian Orthodox when he was still a baby. He and Elena had fought bitterly over it. She had even fled to Beaulieu, a seaside escape on the French Riviera, for a brief time in protest. Matthew had been furious when he was told. Treasonous, he had called it. He almost smiled when he thought of the memory now. It was a valiant effort, he could now admit. She didn't have much leverage but used what she could—herself. He even believed he had missed her then—oh, how he hated to have his possessions kept from him. She of course came home after a time. He was her husband and after all, his word was law—literally and figuratively. To satiate her whims, he allowed all the other children to be baptized Catholic. He staunchly refused to reconvert Matty back to Roman Catholicism, though, which was an issue of contention for the duration of their marriage. There were times in her life when she clung to her faith and it comforted him to know that he did as he was sure she would have wanted. She had a rare fire, his wife. And now? Matthew's eyes drifted back to the casket.

He was a fool to assume that he and de la Salvatore had undertaken a gentleman's agreement—that his wife's body would have been delivered to the St. Louis Cathedral in time for preparations for the funeral. It appeared de la Salvatore had come, though, only to desecrate the cathedral to slight him. It was a nightmare to keep the entire occurrence sedate. The altar had been destroyed and the bodies of two nuns had been discovered underneath the pews—nearly mauled to death and drained of blood. It appeared that they had been dragged from the rectory. Matthew shuddered. Elena's body was nowhere to be found. And so in a panic, the coffin was filled with stones and sealed shut at his behest. Elena's family was extremely affronted that they would not view her body but Matthew knew that he must stand firm lest conspiracies arise.

Their children sat with their new governess, Bonnie, at the pew directly behind him. He couldn't bear to look at them with all that transpired. Kyril had grown mute in the last few days and was barely coming out of his stupor while Matty had begun acting out in anger. Eudoxia, mercifully, adapted to change as most babies do. She was fine. Nadezhda…Nadi…she was but a few days old and cared only to eat and be changed…she would never know her mother. The thought of his youngest child brought despair into Matthew's heart. He had been selfish, yes he had. And still, such enterprises were difficult to relent. He was, nevertheless, a prince. And in spite of such, he still felt…guilt. The sight of his dead wife awash in blood and birth had given him night terrors the last two nights. And something told him that there was a great possibility of having another one this evening.

Matthew watched as the priest swung a thurible censer about the coffin, swinging it like a pendulum, as fragrant incense emitted from its recesses and curled upward towards the frescos. He frowned slightly during the prayer of absolution. How simple that all someone had to do was die, and their entire catalog of transgressions were forgiven. That was the whole point, he supposed. He sighed, rubbing his temple gently. The entire day was a blur of black and wails of grief. The coffin was to be entombed in the cathedral, beside the altar. They would not stay for the ensepulcher—he couldn't bear it. The idea in itself was obscene—a box of stone christened with holy water and prayed over before being buried beside the altar. He had no recourse. It had to be done. There was a large crowd outside of the church, standing in the cold with candles and prayers. And when they departed, Matthew offered a weak nod in acknowledgment but could not bring himself to do anything further.

The train ride back to Sofia was nearly uneventful. The children sat in a separate sleeper car with Bonnie, under the watchful eyes of two assigned soldiers. He had personally spoken to Matty and Kyril about their mother's death the night before the funeral. Matty kicked him in the shin and had run from the room screaming like a hellion. Kyril said nothing at all and only nodded when asked if he understood. Bonnie was able to put them to bed, though not without significant effort. They missed Anna and he was told the woman had died during the melee in Talaud. He would have executed the soldier responsible, naturally, but it appeared that de la Salvatore's footman did it for him. When he was told of the massacre of his men, he found it unfortunate, but considered it collateral damage. He had his children home now. Matthew sat quietly in his train car, his eyes unfocused to the transitioning landscape. He thought of Elena and all they had endured before he lapsed into sleep. It had been a dramatic ordeal that had unfolded in rapid succession within his mind. He awoke not long after, gasping and covered in sweat. He had leapt to his feet before he was even fully conscious. He dreamt of music—of an opera. The music was haunting and he felt her eyes watching him. And when she smiled, it terrified him. Elena. Matthew moaned and braced his hand against the train window, stilling himself and willing the same for his thoughts.

'Ahime…morir mi sento,' she had said that night, that horrific night she died. She didn't know what she was saying, she couldn't have. Elena's words had seemed familiar but he had waved them off as the rambling of a dying woman. And suddenly, he knew. His heart twisted almost painfully with the realization. He had seen the opera once before, in St. Petersburg while on a diplomatic endeavor encouraged by Nicholas II. Aida, it was. He felt himself shudder with anger, revulsion. Ahime…morir mi sento. She felt death. Matthew's mind snapped to the cathedral…to the broken alter…to the stricken nuns. Everything fell oddly into place at once. She didn't know what she was saying, not consciously. But somewhere, deep inside, she knew. She knew what he was now realizing. She had been turned. It seemed so evident now. Matthew's face fell into his hands and he wept. The mother of his children had become a monster.

The ring had been thick enough to be melted down into two separate bands. Elena twisted the circlet of gold about her pale, thin finger and watched as it twinkled in the sunlight. She was bathed in the light of the day as she lay on the floor, the sun rays bleeding down on her milk-cinnamon skin. She twirled it again and again, transfixed. She slid the ring up and let her skin flush and begin to burn before she hissed in pain and pushed it back down into place. She healed instantly. She marveled at her new found body and yet mourned for her old one.

There had been new marauding instincts that overcame Elena in the first days that she had been reborn. She had been ravenous when she fed on the nuns and only the intervention of Damon had stopped their death. She had been wild. But now, weeks later, she was beginning to amass a semblance of self. She was supposed to be dead—passing from the mortal coil after her violent childbirth. Instead, she was reborn anew and severed completely from all aspects of her former life. The ghost of motherhood still hovered about her and she longed for her children. She was desperate to see them but knew there was a more than strong possibility that she would kill them. She was a predator now and her children were the easiest form of prey and for that, she stayed far away from Sofia. She could not risk it. That is, except for one instance…

Six months ago.

Though the Royal Palace was dark, it had been on high alert. Soldiers trawled the property in tightly monitored shifts, investigating any suspicious activity that occurred near the grounds . However, they underestimated that Elena knew the grounds like her own body and she moved with stealth from the outside estate and into the palace. She had stolen away in the black of night while Damon slept. Satiated on a recent feeding, she felt vital. Elena didn't initially know where she was going until she found herself standing quietly outside of the Royal Palace. She was barefoot, wearing a floor length dress of sheer black voile with a black silk slip underneath. Her skin was pale under the moonlight and her eyes were dark and dangerous. As she silently stalked upward towards the royal apartments, she could smell her children and her heart lurched painfully. She paused in the hallway, envisioning their bedroom door around the corner but tore herself away and moved towards Matthew's bedchamber after a long, contemplative moment. The room was bathed in darkness, but after noiselessly closing and locking the door behind her, she saw that Matthew's bed was vacant. The room was chilled and the fireplace was empty.

"I've been waiting for you."

Elena turned on her heels suddenly and saw Matthew on the chaise lounge, drink in hand. She smelled scotch in the air. Of course. Even in the blackness of her surroundings, she saw his eyes were red and circled with weariness. His golden hair was untidy and he was sprawled out while wearing a dark shirt, untucked from his dark slacks. She stood by the door, saying nothing. He lifted the glass to his mouth and drank the remaining contents in two full gulps before setting the glass on the floor beside him.

"Have you come to kill me," he asked thickly.

"Yes," Elena said softly.

Matthew's breath drew in and out slowly. At the sound of her voice, his skin prickled and a chill ran down his spine. He lifted his hands gently and looked at them, before setting them down at his sides. He accepted, with little astonishment, that he was not dreaming. He knew she would come. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness and he could see that she was standing just inside the doorway but could not distinguish her features.

"It's been weeks," Matthew uttered lightly. "I couldn't…I haven't slept..."

Elena slid towards him fluidly and once upon him, she straddled him, taking his face into her hands.

"Did you miss me, husband?" Her tone was seasoned with malice.

Her fingers dug into his skin harshly and she felt him tense briefly before he reached up his hand and placed it over hers.

"I never wanted this to happen to you." His eyes searched hers in the darkness.

Elena blinked, slightly taken aback. Her hands suddenly slid down his neck and squeezed slightly.

"Save your crocodile tears. Do you know how easily I could snap your neck?" She asked, her temper returning.

"Yes," Matthew swallowed back.

The wall clock ticked softly in the room. Elena kept her hand at Matthew's throat and heard his heart beating in perfect cadence with the timepiece

"Your father is grief-stricken," he said quietly. "I believe he hates me."

"Wise man," Elena mused, her fingers sliding over his jugular. "He'll survive. He was blessed with the strength to bear tragedy. It's peppered his entire life."

"I filled your coffin with stones," Matthew admitted, lost in the memory. "I—I didn't know what to do. Your family was affronted that I refused a viewing of your body."

Elena gave a hard half-laugh.

"I'm sure my step-mother was bereft that she couldn't confirm it with her own eyes. She always hated me. I reminded her too much of my mother."

"And the children…"

"Children," Elena said quickly, all hate evaporating from her features. "What about my babies?"

Matthew shook his head, feeling a painful ball form in his throat. He felt as if he were dreaming, as if he were going mad, drunk on misery and scotch. Everything was amiss and in the wake of its destruction, his conscience pushed forth.

"Matty…Kyril…they don't understand. They've asked for you and for the governess Anna almost every day," He shook his head. "Their entire world is unsettled."

"And what do you say?"

"That you're in heaven," As Matthew looked up his tears crested his lids and descended down the curve of his cheek.

"Elena, I was a fool…"

"Bite your tongue," Elena said shortly. "I don't care to hear such sentiments. "What of Xia? Of the baby?"

"Xia is too young to understand," Matthew shook his head. "She's already taken with Bonnie—she's fine. And Nadezhda…"

"Nadezhda," Elena whispered quickly, her heart tightening. "You named her so?"

"Nadezhda Klementine," Matthew murmured. "You named her, don't you remember? She—she's beautiful. Perfect."

"Is she?" Elena's voice grew small.

Her hands slid off his neck and one curled at her neckline, twirling the voile in her fingers.

"She is. And she has such a fiery spirit already. You should see-" Matthew slowly trailed off into silence.

"Forgive me," He said.

"It's too late for such sentimentalities, Mathew."

"I was jealous…angry. I was a fool! Elena, I—I still don't regret fighting for you. You were mine to fight for."

"I was never yours."

"But you were," Matthew said lightly. "You loved me once. Don't you remember?"

"I don't want to," Elena recoiled, her memory flying to their courtship before shaking it away. "All I remember is the lies, the tears and the empty bed."

"Do you remember that you used to wear rosebuds in your hair…"

"Stop it," Elena put her hand back at his throat as a warning.

"Take my life," Matthew hurried, "but please know that my dying breath was laced with my sorrow. You were good to me. But I took it for granted and I was not loyal. I was…pathetic…"

"Mmmyes. And yet I can still smell Lord Lockwood in the air. So much for being regretful of your disloyalty. Ha!"

"I loved him. Love him," Matthew corrected himself.

Elena stared at Matthew, her retort dying on her lips.

"And he could have been killed for loving me," Matthew said. "I was decently fond of you but with him…Do you know what they do to men like us?"

"That is no excuse and I resent you throwing that in my face now!"

"Elena," Matthew's hand went to her hip and she realized he was hard underneath her.

His gaze had changed just slightly. She knew his eyes went over her like liquid.

"You're obscene," she looked down his lap and back into his eyes.

"I can't help it. You still…"

"Perhaps a gelding would help?"

She felt his heart quicken and she smiled savagely.

"Ignore it," he said gruffly. "Listen to me. You were my wife, my Princess. And I…never let myself love you. I wanted you but never let our relationship evolve beyond that. Maybe because I loved him, maybe because I don't know if I could ever truly love a woman. Regardless, I am wretched for how I treated you. I was not a good husband. I was cruel and selfish. All you wanted was my love and the only one who gave you that was De la Salvatore. I drove you to him."

"He found me," Elena shook her head. "And I found him. You had no part of it and don't flatter yourself otherwise."

"You can't lie to me, Elena. You never could. I am the catalyst of your romance no matter how you try to retell the story. No matter how the story ends, I don't regret fighting for you. You were mine…you are still mine."

"I was never yours. And why are you telling me this? Are you trying to ensure a painful death?"

"I've made my peace. I know I won't leave this room. But you have to know this. You need the entire story. I fought for you wrongly. I know had I treated you with the love and kindness you deserved, you wouldn't have been seduced by De La Salvatore's charms."

"I was made for him and he for me. You cannot conceive of such a thing—of that kind of love. The way Damon looks at me…talks to me…touches me..." Elena drifted off for a moment before continuing in a whisper. "Our souls are kindred. There is nothing you could have done to change that."

Matthew leaned forward, his forehead barely touching hers.

"If I asked you to come home—to me, to our family—even now—if I promised to cherish you and try to love you…would you come home?"

Elena moved off of his lap quickly and began to pace the room, glaring at him.

"I don't love you, Matty," Elena said bitterly. "And you don't love me. How on earth would happiness ever be attained between us? We'd be miserable."

"But you love the children…as do I. And I could try to make you happy."

Elena pictured her children…Matty…Kyril…Xia…Nadi. She shook her head harshly, her heart twisting beneath her ribs. Could she be happy here? She could watch her children grow. She could see them married. She could see her grandchildren. Elena stopped suddenly.

"They would never be safe with me," Elena realized aloud. "and I would have to see them grow old and die. I couldn't…" Elena shook her head, switching gears. "And Lockwood? Would you forsake him for me?"

Matthew said nothing.

She walked towards the open window and stared out into the gardens that she had loved so much.

"Where will you go," he asked.

"I don't know," Elena hugged herself and closed her eyes. "I've given Damon my blessing to make the arrangements."

She heard Matthew rise and felt his presence behind her.

"Does he…make you truly happy?"

"More than I can articulate," Elena said, eyes still closed. "He makes me feel so alive and safe and warm. Damon's so caring and considerate. I know you can't envision it but it's true. He's selfless when it comes to those he cares about…he'd die for me. What we have is dark and it's dangerous. I know this. But I love him, Matty and I can't stop it. I don't want to stop it ever."

"I can see that…"

Though her eyes stayed closed, the tears fell from beneath her lashes. Elena mourned for her children, for her failed marriage, for her own death and for all of the pain she had endured in the last hellish year.

"You know that I won't kill you, don't you," Elena's voice broke and she buried her face in her hands. "Even now…"

Matthew's arms went around her waist and he pulled her back against him without struggle. His chin rested on her shoulder and he lightly kissed her ear.

"I know," he said. "Do you believe me? I need to know that you…?"

Elena's head rested back on his shoulder.

"I think so," she sighed. "I suppose it took my death for you to desire atonement."

"It never should have gone this far. But Elena, please, I thought I was doing the right thing—I was saving my wife from a vampire," Elena felt him shrug. "But I never considered that she didn't want to be saved. I never considered that your love for me was anything but endless. I only cared that you were supposed to be mine—the mother of my children. Then, he stole you from me. I never bothered to truly think about you and what you wanted. And when I got the boys back and came here to take you away from him…well, it all went so wrong. Then, you went into labor. I was a fool. I'm sorry you…I'm sorry that I…that the doctors couldn't save you and I'm sorry that I brought this all on."

Elena's mind flashed to the exhausting birth of Nadi. She suddenly felt so weary.

"My body wasn't made for more children," she said quietly. "We knew that. But I don't think either of us truly understood how serious it all was."

"Do you," Matthew barely whispered, "…is she mine?"

Nadezhda.

Elena turned in his embrace and faced him.

"What are you asking me," her eyes searched his in the dark.

"De la Salvatore—"

"Vampires cannot pro-create…" Elena interrupted.

"…he told me about Sir John," Matthew finished.

Elena's mouth went dry and her blood was ice in her veins.

"What did he say," her voice grew small, barely a whisper.

"I didn't know," Matthew shook his head. "I didn't know…I should have known. I was so blind to not see the manipulation. When I think of what he did…"

"He," Elena broke off and started again. "He's dead. The past is finished. We cannot change it. It was…"

"Do you think…" Matthew stopped himself.

"No," Elena said suddenly, firmly. "Our daughter has the blood of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha in her veins. She is not his. She could never be his."

Elena suddenly comprehended that she believed this truth. For the last nine months, Elena had hoped with all her heart that the child was Damon's. Her delusions had been her sole comfort during the uncertainly of her pregnancy. It was how she coped with her expectancy in the wake of her rape. But with those days behind her, Elena was filled with self-assurance and calming clarity. No, her baby was not John's. She would never let it be John's. His blood line ended in Talaud. She looked up at Matthew and found him watching her.

"Keep them safe," she said softly.

"You know I will," Matthew hesitated before continuing. "I intend to marry again…they—they need a mother."

Elena looked way and then down at her feet. A new mother…another woman comforting and raising her children—the thought burned like fire inside of her. Another woman would kiss them…sing to them…feed them and love them. Another woman would do all of the things she herself had never been capable of doing. Another woman would be a mother better than she.

"Find a woman that doesn't require your love, Matty. Find a woman that isn't looking for that. It's cruel to do otherwise."

"All I want is a capable woman who will help me raise our children. I am not looking for love—just a capable consort."

"Ensure that she knows that."

"I will."

Elena walked towards the window and touched her pale hand against the cool window pane.

"We are leaving tomorrow," she said.

"Do you think you will stay in Europe?"

"I'm not sure. All I want is to settle somewhere far or remote…where my face is as unrecognizable as the next."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know," Elena pressed her forehead into the pane.

"Elena, I know that saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't repair the past or make things right. But I am sorry and know that I will do right by our children."

"Yes, you will," Elena straightened and turned to look at Matthew, who was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She walked towards him and stood in front of him, staring down into his eyes.

"I intend to be kept abreast of you ," she continued.

"I would expect nothing less," Matthew nodded.

"Don't disappoint me."

"I don't ever intend to."

Elena reached out her hand and cupped the side of his face. He didn't pull away from her touch and she saw there was despondency in his gaze.

"I wish our marriage could have embraced this kind of frankness," her voice was light. "I'll never forget you, Knyaz Матей."

His hand reached up to his face and briefly rested over hers.

"Thank you…for bearing my children and for doing me the honor of being my wife. I suppose," he said, "I won't need this anymore."

He pulled Sir John's ring off of his finger and placed it on the bed beside him.

Elena bent down, her cold lips touching his warm cheek. Matthew closed his eyes and breathed in. He dropped his hand into his lap and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

Elena continued to toy with her ring as a shadow fell over the window pane. Damon watched Elena from across the room, bathed in saffron rays. Her clothing had long singed off of her body and she was sprawled out on the hardwood floor, wearing nothing but a strange half-smile. He watched as her skin flushed and began to glow, before she hissed in pain and pushed her daylight ring down her finger. She looked up at him, saying nothing, and shrugged. She had begun to burn herself every day since she snuck to the palace. Damon never asked her where she had gone but he knew—he could smell the prince on her when she came to back to him. He could not fault her for seeking closure with him. It made him insanely jealous but he had kept his emotions severely in check, knowing that Elena loved only him. And yet, there was still an undeniable desperation that clung to her. And so in an effort to heal her, Damon was determined to take her away, far away, to a new beginning.

Elena looked up at him slowly and he saw her features soften, her brown eyes glowing in the luminosity of the day. She reached her arms up towards him and Damon pulled her upward and into his arms, kissing her softly. They stared out of their cabin window on the S.S. Majestic and watched the blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean froth and dance beyond the ship. A school of dolphins breached the surface of the water and dove gracefully into the depths below. Elena smiled and tucked her head under Damon's chin as her fingers absently played with the hair at the base of his neck. He kissed her hair and pulled her close, his hands gliding up and down her bare back. In the distance, they saw Jeremy and Anna strolling slowly along the deck of the ship.

Anna and Jeremy walked with leisure, her arm threaded through his. She periodically bent her head to briefly rest it on his shoulder. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose, wavy bun—a la Gipson Girl—and her rosy lips were curved into a soft smile. Jeremy held her close, protectively, and couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She wore a narrow, gored skirt in a deep shade of mustard and the dark long sleeve jacket she wore was trimmed in the same shade. Her figure was tightly laced in an elongated corset, giving her body a slight S-curve silhouette. On her finger was the twin of Elena's ring. Anna held her trimmed hat in her other hand and Damon and Elena watched as she playfully swatted Jeremy with it. There was an intimacy between the two of them, something impenetrable to Damon & Elena.

Six months earlier

They sat motionless in the distance, surveying the scene through the window. The night was black and silent, save the constant rotation of guards trawling the acreage of the royal estate. There was a bitter chill in the air and it smelled of snow.

"What do you think she is saying," Anna asked softly.

Jeremy shrugged carelessly, though his eyes were sharp.

"Her piece," he assumed.

They could see the prince and princess clearly through the window of the bedroom. Elena stood with her head in her hands; her body shuddered softly with what they rightly assumed were sobs. Her dress was ebony and against the voile she wore, her skin was cinnamon frost. Behind her stood Prince Matthew and they could see that they were obviously in the midst of an emotional conversation. They witnessed as Prince Matthew put his arms about Elena's scant waist and rested his chin onto her shoulder, kissing her ear. Anna felt Matthew stiffen beside her.

"It's not what you think," she said. "Lord Lockwood is who he prefers in his bed."

Jeremy said nothing, his eyes dark in the night shadow of the white oak tree that they stood under. They didn't speak again until Elena stole out of the bedchamber and into the night, away from the palace. Jeremy straightened and looked down at Anna beside him. They had both recently fed as a precaution and were full and flushed as they walked lithely into the palace. As they neared a service entrance, Jeremy's arm was steel over Anna's hand and she looked up at him in surprise.

"Do you remember what I said," he asked mildly.

"No more than ten minutes," Anna responded dejectedly.

"And?"

"I can't…" Anna paused, her voice dropping. "I can't touch them…"

"It's just to protect them, that's all."

"I know."

After compelling Bonnie to sleep for the next hour, Jeremy and Anna entered the bed chamber of Xia and silently watched her sleep. She had grown in the few months away from Anna and Jeremy and it warmed and also tore at Anna's heart. She slept in a large, ornate crib surrounded by small silk pillows. It was very different from the simple crib that held her in Talaud, made by the loving hands of Jeremy. Anna longed to hold Xia and kiss her and tell her that she loved her. She began to silently cry and after a time, allowed herself to be led out of the room by Jeremy. Once she was in the bed chamber of the boys, her heart clenched tighter with grief. It was how she remembered seeing it last—large and bright, filled with toys and books—books that she read to them often at bedtime. A candle burned low on the night dresser and the explosion of excitement from the children caught Anna unawares and she froze. Matty and Kyril bounded out of bed.

"Anna! Uncle Jeremy!"

"Mama!"

Jeremy moved quickly and intercepted the children before they reached Anna. Their chubby arms went around his neck and over his shoulders; he saw the pained look in Anna's eyes.

She could smell their scent—the sweet odor of prey. It frightened Anna and took everything she had to disregard it. Had Jeremy not been with her, she knew she would never have been able to see them without jeopardizing their lives.

"Sweethearts," Anna said with an aching happiness.

"Can we go home," Matty asked.

"Home," Kyril happily repeated. "We want home!"

Anna took a tentative step forward towards the children, her hands in trembling fists at her side.

"You are home, my little loves," she said.

"Mama," Kyril twisted in Jeremy's grasp and reached his chubby hands out to Anna. "Mama!"

Anna's hand went to her throat and Jeremy saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.

"Your mama is gone, dearest," her voice shook, ending in a small sob.

"Kyril," Jeremy's voice was cool, yet commanding.

Kyril turned quickly back towards Jeremy. Anna saw as Jeremy's eyes changed subtly and she turned away suddenly, the heels of her palms going over her eyes.

"Your mother is in heaven," Jeremy said calmly. "Matty? Look at me, son. You two along with your sister have been here in the palace—you've always been here. You've been good children. And you will grow into men someday and do incredible things. One day, you may be told stories of a time you were taken away from here…but you won't remember. You won't remember Anna or myself or our time at Talaud."

The children began to whimper and Anna broke out into renewed weeping and she turned to look at them. She rushed forward and reached her hand towards Kyril, wanting to tell Jeremy to stop, but her hand died in midair and she pulled it back towards her chest.

"You will be good children for your father and good brothers to Xia and Nadi, won't you," Jeremy asked.

The children nodded silently.

"You will feel safe and loved with your family," Jeremy said softly, moving towards their bed. He placed them in their bed together.

"And you will never, ever remember Anna or m…Uncle Jeremy. But you will remember your swimming lessons—you won't forget that you can swim, will you? You won't forget that you're loved and that you've always been loved. You will keep good memories of your mother and honor her faithfully as good sons do."

He pulled the blanket up over them and tucked them in slowly. He touched their heads and swallowed back.

"Now you will go to sleep," he whispered, his eyes now glassy. "And tomorrow, you will wake up happy and be well-mannered to your governess. We—we love you boys. And we always will."

"We love you," the boys said in unison, closing their eyes as the command of slumber overtook them.

"I love you, darlings," Anna whispered.

Matthew looked up and reached his arm out to Anna and she rushed forward, taking his hand. He pulled her to his chest and they stood, watching the children as they silently wept. Their mourning was interrupted by the bed chamber door opening with Prince Matthew staring into the room with surprise.

Jeremy turned, his gentle emotions turning to stone.

"Oh lovely," Jeremy murmured. "It appears that we no longer have to go in search of you."

"What are you doing in my sons' bedchamber," Matthew advanced with panic, reaching for a small dagger at his waist. "I was told you were dead."

Matthew stared at Anna with astonishment, distrust.

"Come in, please," Anna compelled. "We mean them no harm, be still."

Matthew stopped where he stood and stared from Jeremy to Anna and back again as he re-sheathed his dagger under her guile.

"What are you doing here," Matthew asked again, his tone growing placid.

"To say goodbye," Anna said.

"…and to ensure the children are well taken care of," Jeremy finished.

"They will be, on my life they will," Matthew said.

"That may be so," Jeremy said skeptically. "But I intend to ensure it."

Jeremy walked towards Matthew and stood in front of him as his dark eyes bore into blue eyes.

"You will love and protect your children," Jeremy said.

"Yes," Matthew agreed.

"And you will always speak of their mother reverently. The children must never suspect anything but the utmost devotion from you towards Princess Elena."

"You will spend time with them," Anna interrupted quickly. "You'll enjoy reading to them and having meals with them. Take…take them swimming when you can," she paused. "Make sure Kyril wears his jackets he—he takes cold so easily. And remind Matty to be kind and to share his things with his brother. He will be a ruler someday and he must be just."

"I will spend time with them and speak well of their mother," Matthew said hypnotically.

"Ensure that their governess takes more than ample care of their needs," Jeremy uttered.

He slung his arm over Matthew's shoulder and propelled him towards the door.

"You will not remember this encounter," Jeremy commanded silkily. "In fact, you also won't remember your conversation with Princess Elena tonight."

Anna looked up suddenly, her gaze tearing from the children.

"Jeremy," she asked questioningly, alarmed.

"She died," Jeremy ignored her, continuing, "giving birth to your infant daughter. You saw her die. And de la Salvatore died the same day—on the landing of your stairs."

Tears slid down Matthew's cheeks and he said nothing.

"You buried your wife. You kept a close casket because you were too bereft to look into her face after bestowing her with such treachery."

Jeremy touched the side of Matthew's face almost tenderly.

"You will love your children fiercely and tomorrow morning, you will exile Lord Lockwood from your sight for the rest of your life."

Matthew gave a half moan of acknowledgment deep in his throat.

"What are you doing," Anna asked quickly. "Jeremy!"

She walked towards Jeremy and stood beside the two men.

"Tell him he is a reminder of your misdeeds," he continued, ignoring her. "Tell him…tell him you don't love him any longer. Banish him without regret and cease your love of him. He may tell you things that seem to be falsehoods—but you will feel strongly that he is still under the guile of vampire compulsion. Do not trust him. Say what you must to ensure he finds you sincere. Do you understand?"

"I…I do," Matthew said shakily.

"Good, now leave this room and retire to your bed chamber for the night. Tomorrow your life will begin anew."

Matthew stared at Jeremy for a moment, searching his eyes. His shoulders dropped, dejected and he turned away and slowly walked from the room.

As the door closed behind them, Anna stared at Jeremy in disbelief.

"That seemed unnecessarily cruel."

"It's no less than he deserves."

"His regret seemed sincere," Anna mollified.

"You're too tenderhearted to understand," Jeremy pulled Anna to him and looked down at her. "Regret does not erase misdeeds. Men like Prince Matthew aren't allowed to win by my account."

"Win," Anna asked quietly, shocked. "Is this all a game?"

"No. But when you live for an eternity, after a time you will find that you make few concessions for others. Nevermind what I've done—I owe this to my maker and much more. It would be dangerous for the children and us if he knew we were all alive."

"What about his men? Surely they will inform him of the truth."

"I compelled them the night Elena died. Just not Lockwood. The man laces his breakfast tea with vervain."

Anna said nothing, absorbing his words before nodding. She looked towards the children again.

"Will we ever see them again," she asked, watching them sleep.

"I don't know," Jeremy said softly.

He pulled her into his embrace for a moment, mourning the loss of their family. Everything would be different now…everything had changed. Their life at Talaud had begun to seem like nothing more than a blurred, lovely dream. It was a dream that they would never have again. Despite it all, Jeremy took comfort that the children would raise from the tumult relatively unscathed. It was all he could do, all he could give them.

"Let's go," Jeremy kissed Anna's hair.

She gave one more long and desperate look to the boys before Jeremy led her from the room and out of the palace. All they had now was each other. In their time succeeding their departure from Bulgaria, Anna and Jeremy would grew closer than even they thought possible. The bond of their shared joy and loss forged them together in an intricate and passionate lock. Never would they speak of that night. And yet that night and the memory of Talaud mingled with them always and held them together. They loved each other tenderly and zealously and looked forward to discovering their new life together.

"She's good for him," Elena mused aloud, watching Jeremy and Anna walking along the deck of the ship.

"You think so," Damon asked, watching them.

Elena looked up, throwing her head back to look at him.

"You don't think so," Elena raised her brow.

Damon shrugged carelessly and raised his hands to either side of Elena's head.

"Had he come sooner or warned me, you'd be alive right now. I haven't forgiven him for that—or forgotten her part in it," Damon said softly, lethally.

"You don't know that. I still could have died in childbirth. We'll never know. Besides, haven't you ever loved someone so passionately that you forget that anyone else ever existed," Elena's eyes lowered to his lips and back again.

"Yes," Damon nodded, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "I'm looking at her now."

He pushed her back towards the bed and watched her as she laid onto the soft down comforter. He slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt, his eyes never leaving Elena's. He watched as her eyes went over him, leaving not even an inch unassessed by her gaze.

"Forgive him," Elena said kindly. "He is bereft even now. You know how much he adores you. And he's been so attentive to me and so very repentant."

Damon unbuttoned his slacks and tugged them down past his carved hip bones with shadows playing along them tantalizingly. He stepped out of his pants that pooled at his feet and climbed onto the bed and loomed over Elena.

"I don't want to talk about Jeremy anymore," He drawled, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

Elena smiled into his mouth but after a beat she pulled away.

"Fine," She smarted. "But remember, dearest, I am still alive in my own way…our way. Perhaps this was all by the hand of fate. I'm with you, my Radamès. We escaped the confines of death and are here—together. Forever."

Elena pulled his craned neck back down to her and kissed him deeply.

"My Aida," he murmured, caressing her softly.

She reached up and touched the side of Damon's face, tracing his jaw with her gaze.

"Falling in love with you is the most beautiful thing that I ever experienced," She paused. "Do you think I'll like America?"

"You'll love it."

"A new beginning," She asked.

"It's the start of a wonderful adventure."

Damon spread Elena's thighs apart without another word. Elena sighed blissfully and pulled him down to her, eager for his mouth. And as Damon firmly entered inside of her, they were finally home.

Outside the cabin, the skies were a brilliant cerulean—the horizon and the sea were nearly indiscernible from one another. There was salt in the air and the breeze was warming in the August day. The S.S. Majestic, travelled through the expanse of the Atlantic with ease. Behind all of them was the ghost of the pain they had endured over the past year. Behind them was a legacy left behind—where the well being of her children hinged precariously on the exodus of Elena. To the west was the unknown, a burgeoning country where millions of others were journeying to seek their fortunes anew. America. The word rolled off Elena's Bulgarian tongue like a caress. She did not know what the future held for her or Damon—neither of them did. All they knew was that they would experience it together. She had cast off her former indulgences and found the future limitless. She could think of heroin now and finally, blissfully, it caused no flutter within her. She had fallen from high society and found that she did not mind the darkness, in fact, she reveled in it. Now, her excitement was only aroused by two singular fascinations—blood and Damon…Damon and blood. And fortunately for Elena, these preoccupations were intricately intertwined. Damon and Elena welcomed immortality together and knew that the swirling, dangerous obsession that they held for one another was only just beginning.

Fin.