Chapter Text
For over a hundred-and-forty years, I’ve hidden who I am from the world. I’ve supported and protected my brothers. I’ve lived around the globe both alone and with others. I had a family once, but it’s easier to pretend I didn’t.
Now, thanks to the never-ending feud between my brothers, our secret is about to be exposed. All of us are about to be exposed.
If that happens, I will lose everything, including him. I’m not afraid of death. Not really. I’ve already died once.
Perhaps I should start at the beginning.
My name is Elizabeth Marie Salvatore and I am a vampire.
Chapter One
There’s not a day where I don’t miss my brother. I worry about him constantly, being out there where anything could happen. I admire him for fighting to protect us, but I still wish he was here at home. Then Father wouldn’t always be angry with me.
I wish our visitor could be Damon home for good. I would do anything if it meant he could come home. I know Father thinks I need to socialize with young ladies my own age, but I don’t. I just need my brother.
~ Elizabeth Salvatore’s Diary
1864
The cracking of gravel along the drive in front of Veritas sent seventeen-year-old Elizabeth Salvatore flying down the main staircase with her long dark hair loose. Her pale pink silk gown rustled as she skipped steps in her rush, holding her skirts a bit, flashing a pair of her brother’s old boots laced tightly around her feet instead of the proper matching slippers.
Breathing heavily, she hastily brushed her skirts back into place and stepped out the front door, her cheeks flushed from the short dash down the stairs. It was the blasted corset that reined her in as always.
Her father and twin brother were already standing on the porch as the carriage rolled up and the horses halted. Despite the warmth, they were both dressed appropriately with their ties knotted and their hair parted and carefully arranged. They looked like gentleman.
“Elizabeth, honestly,” her father shot her a disapproving glare as he took in her half-finished appearance. “Can you not at least try to behave like a lady? Just for a day?”
“I apologize, Father. I will do better.”
Her brother stood there quietly and she knew he was secretly amused by the turn of events. Usually it was their older brother, Damon, who was on the receiving end of their father’s wrath. Now with Damon off fighting for the Confederacy, there was no buffer between them. Consequently, she now bore the full brunt of their father’s hostility. It didn’t help that she, like Damon, took after their deceased mother, Lillian, in looks.
Giuseppe Salvatore let out a huff in response before refocusing on the carriage and their new arrival. They rarely had houseguests at Veritas, let alone young women around her age. Elizabeth knew she should be excited about company, but she wished it was her brother home for good. That was the only visitor she truly needed.
The carriage door opened and slowly a young woman emerged, her dainty hand held by the coachman. She tilted her head up, her hat obscuring much of her face. Dark curls were artfully arranged to frame her face, her eyes a deep brown. She was the opposite of Elizabeth—ladylike and demure compared to the half-wild girl she most often appeared to be.
Their visitor made a deep curtsy before approaching the house, her gloved hands clasped together. Elizabeth quickly shoved her bare hands behind her back. She’d left her gloves atop her dresser. Again.
“Miss Pierce, please allow me to introduce my children. This is my son, Stefan,” Father said, gesturing toward her twin brother who made a quick bow. “And my youngest, Elizabeth,” he added with a hint of disdain as he gestured to her.
Even in her father’s stare, Elizabeth held herself tall. She wasn’t perfect. She was too wild and too stubborn, her father remarked; too much like her eldest brother. She never minded the comparison to Damon. Stefan may be the perfect son in their father’s eyes, but Damon was the perfect brother in hers.
“My oldest son, Damon, is away with the army. Perhaps you will get a chance to meet him in the future, or once we win the war.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Salvatore. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to stay at your lovely home,” the strange girl said. Her voice was sweet, like honey, but it seemed too sweet. Too fake.
“The pleasure is all ours,” Stefan said, kissing the girl’s gloved hand.
Elizabeth felt ill. She could feel it already, like a sickness, in the air. She wanted to bolt far away from the other girl.
“Welcome to Mystic Falls, Miss Pierce. I do wish your stay was under better circumstances,” their father continued, ever the gentleman and host.
“Please, call me Katherine.”
Elizabeth took that moment to slowly back away. The heat or maybe it was the tightly-laced corset was making her lightheaded. She needed air. She needed space. She needed to get away from this stranger. Right now.
She didn’t care how rude or improper it was. She couldn’t take another moment in her presence. Besides, her father and Stefan would entertain their guest.
Elizabeth slipped through the house and out the backdoor. With every foot between her and their guest, she felt lighter and more able to breathe. But that didn’t stop her from vanishing into the barn, out of sight of the house and Miss Katherine Pierce.
A few days later, all of her attempts to avoid their guest failed. She found herself cornered in the front parlor with a book from the family library in her hands. She could have done needle work, yet she much preferred the weight of a leather-bound volume to a slender needle and slippery thread. Her disdain for handicrafts had been frowned upon in finishing school by both her peers and teachers. They easily blamed it on her being motherless and without someone to teach her womanly arts. She blamed it on the shear dullness of needlecraft.
Their houseguest blocked the only exit from the room. “You must be Elizabeth. We never had a chance to formally chat the other day. I must say, you don’t look anything like your brother.”
“Hello, Miss Katherine.” She studied Katherine with her eyes, the same piercing blue as Damon’s. It had always amused him that she shared no similarities with her twin. “Father says we are night and day. Pray tell, why are you so keen on my brother?”
Katherine smiled wistfully at the youngest Salvatore, still standing near the doorway. The sickness was back again. She felt faint. It had to be the heat.
“Stefan is unlike any man I have ever met.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he is betrothed. His wedding is already set.”
Elizabeth watched the anger and jealousy flash across their guest’s porcelain features. It was her first glimpse of the real Katherine Pierce beyond the painted doll—the petty, impulsive, and childish woman. The sickness rose, bile pushing up her throat as Katherine moved closer.
“What a shame,” she said in that sugar-sweet voice. “She must be real special to ensnare his heart. Tell me, Elizabeth, dear, what is it about her that your brother finds irresistible?”
Katherine’s brown eyes bore into hers, probing and prodding for information. Elizabeth felt her lips part, as if to speak, then shut them.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse, She touched her throat, rubbing the skin. She still felt very lightheaded from being in close proximity to her.
“I was just inquiring about your sister-to-be.” Katherine smiled with her lips but her eyes remained cold and hard.
Elizabeth closed her book and slowly stood up, swaying on her feet. “I’m sorry, Miss Katherine, but I have other matters to attend to. Perhaps we can discuss this matter another time?”
“Certainly.”
She turned quickly, hurrying away from their unusual guest. Katherine’s very presence felt tainted and evil. Being near the woman made her ill. She couldn’t explain it, especially since both her father and Stefan seemed unaffected. They seemed to hang on their guest’s every word.
Elizabeth hurried as fast as her corset and skirts would allow from the parlor and the house. From Katherine and the darkness that surrounded her.