Fic: The Infinity Between Us (Sharp With the Glitter of Memory) - TVD
Title: The Infinity Between Us (Sharp With the Glitter of Memory)
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Relationships: Damon Salvatore & Stefan Salvatore
Characters: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Giuseppe Salvatore, Mrs. Salvatore
Category: Gen
Rating: General
Length: 6,659 words
Contains: mild spoilers, canonical character death that occurs offscreen
Summary: Life changes you, and some things are irreversible.
Author’s Note: I stopped paying attention to cannon for my writing a while ago: my stories go AU during Season 3 and I don’t consider this series to be at all compliant with ‘current’ canon after Season 4, and I stopped incorporating flashbacks into my stories after Season 5. Therefore, my ‘Mrs. Salvatore’ is different than Lillian Salvatore as depicted in Season 6. In fact, I only discovered her existence in the series by accident just before posting this story, as I am currently way behind on TVD. I like the way I’ve written her and have no wish to catch up on months of show before posting, so consider yourself warned that she will likely be considerably OCC, starting with her name. Also, other characters may become OOC as I continue to write this series.
I’ve adjusted Damon’s birth date from 1839 to 1843 to make him closer in age to Stefan. I always thought of them being relatively close in age until I learned (again, while writing this) there was actually a larger age gap, but by then my impression of them was cemented. I don’t feel it has any bearing on the actual story the show presents, so I’ve decided to leave it.
Beta by
scorpiod1.
1847
“Damon, come and meet your new brother.”
Father held his hand and led him into the room where he and Mother slept, where Damon very rarely got to go. Mother had gone in weeks ago and not come out. Damon had asked after her, tried to open the door when he heard her crying out, but his nursemaid Fidelia had come and fetched him back to the nursery every time. He saw Mother sitting up in bed and broke free from Father’s grasp, running to the bed and clambering up.
“Damon, careful!” Her voice was reproachful but she was laughing.
Damon crawled across the covers to where she was, then stopped, staring at the baby she cradled in her arms.
“Damon, this is Stefan. You are an elder brother now, and you must always look out for him.”
“Oh,” he said. The baby was staring at him with big eyes and waving his little hands around. Damon reached out and touched one of his tiny fingers. It was soft, and Stefan curled his little fist around Damon’s finger, making Damon laugh.
“Do you want to hold him?”
“Yes!”
“Sit down against the pillows and I’ll put him in your lap.”
Damon sat, putting his legs straight out in front. Mother laid Stefan across his lap, moving his arm out to support Stefan’s head. “Hold his head up like that, very gently now.”
Stefan squirmed in his arms, moving against the swaddling blanket. He was heavy for such a little thing and Damon worried that he might roll from his grasp. Damon held him tighter and he settled, gazing up and smacking his little lips.
“He’s hungry!”
“He just ate so he’ll be settling down for a nap very soon,” Mother said, smoothing Damon’s hair back from his face. “Are you happy to be a big brother?”
“Yes. Can we ride horses together?”
Mother laughed quietly. There were dark circles under her eyes and she sounded weary. Damon didn’t think he’d ever seen her so tired. “Not for a long time, darling. He will need you to be very gentle with him until he gets bigger. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course, mama. How long is a long time?”
“Many years. Father only just let you onto his horse with him, after all. He will tell you when it’s time.”
“Oh.” Stefan’s eyes drifted closed like he was sleeping. “What can we do, then?”
“You can hold him, and sing to him, and teach him to speak and walk when it comes time. How does that sound?”
“I’ll teach him my favorite songs, like you showed me.”
Mother smiled and settled back against her pillows. “When the time comes. You’ll be the best brother in the world, won’t you?”
“Yes, Mama!” They would play and be the best of friends, and Damon couldn’t wait for him to get bigger.
~~
1848
“Da-mon!”
“You said it, Stef! Mama, he said my name!”
Mother smiled from her seat at the table in the drawing room, her dark head bent over her needlepoint and her brow slightly creased in concentration. “Yes, son, I heard. He’s getting big now, isn’t he?”
“Damon,” Stefan repeated, bouncing on Damon’s lap where he was seated on the floor and grabbing his hair in a painful grip. “Damon!”
“Yes, that’s me, let go you rotten boy,” Damon grumbled and tried to release the grip on his hair as Stefan yanked on it.
“Mind your mouth, young man,” Mother chided, but Damon could tell she was barely paying them any attention.
He sighed and finally got Stefan’s hand out of his hair. “Come along, let’s play swords. At least then you can’t get my hair.” He stood and held his hand out to Stefan, who reached out and took it, toddling along to the next room where they had left their swords the day before. He was still looking forward to Stefan getting big enough to ride horses with him, but until then it was fun to show him all the things Damon liked to play.
~~
1852
“Damon, Father said I could go on your horse with you!” Stefan tugged at Damon’s pant’s leg and beamed up at him. Damon looked over to their father, who nodded sternly.
“You may walk him around the yard, Damon, nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” he said gravely. Father would be so angry if Stefan were hurt. “I’ll be careful.”
Stefan took his hand and pulled him over to where James had Blaze already saddled up.
“You mount first, Master Damon, and I’ll hand Stefan up to you,” James said, smiling from his spot at Blaze’s head.
Damon climbed the little set of stairs James had set out for him and mounted, scooting back in the saddle to make room for his brother. James lifted Stefan up and settled him in front of Damon.
“Put your arm around him, Damon, don’t let him slip off,” Father said, stepping up and patting Stefan’s leg. “And you sit still, young man.”
“Yes, Father,” they chorused. Father stepped back and Damon pulled Stefan close and heeled Blaze into a walk across the yard.
Stefan whooped and laughed, clutching the pommel in front of him for balance as they swayed through a turn at the edge of the woods and headed back to where they’d started.
“Go faster!”
Damon laughed and patted his stomach. “You’re too little for that.”
“I’m five now, we can run fast.”
“One day, little boy. I’ll teach you to have a good seat and we can race and ride around the countryside together.”
They waved at their mother, who was sitting in the yard with Fidelia and sipping tea, wide brimmed white hat shading her face.
“Look at me, Mama! I’m riding with Damon!”
“You look dashing, darling boy,” she called back, waving her fingers and smiling. “You keep him steady, Damon.”
“I am,” Damon said, spreading his fingers out against Stefan’s chest and holding him firmly in place.
~~
1854
“Master Damon, bring your brother along. The carriage is ready,” Fidelia said from the doorway.
“Come on, Stef,” Damon said, marking his place in his book and putting it aside.
Stefan huffed a sigh and stood up from the floor where he was spinning a top idly. “Do we have to go? It’s so hot already.”
“I thought you were looking forward to the egg race, you always like that on Easter Monday. And the Lockwoods will be there, we haven’t seen them in a while.”
“I bet I’m taller than Jonathan Lockwood now!” Stefan grinned and jumped, as though he could jump high enough to match Damon in height.
Damon ruffled his hair. “Get your hat, little boy. Let’s go.”
“I’m not a little boy,” Stefan grumbled, but he grabbed his summer straw hat off the chair and scampered out the door while Damon chuckled at him. They tramped down the stairs and out to the carriage, following after their parents.
“Mrs. Salvatore,” James said, stepping up to the carriage and holding out his hand. He nodded as she stepped up, then turned to Stefan. “Now you, Master Salvatore.” Stefan took his hand and climbed up, and Damon followed, thumping down onto the bench across from his mother and next to Stefan.
“Careful, boys, you’ll rock the carriage right over,” Mother scolded, settling her skirt around her daintily.
“Mama, I’m going to splash Jonathan with the water after we eat!”
“Are you now, Stefan? You’ll have to run fast to catch him. You won’t be able to surprise him like you did last year,” she said, smiling indulgently and patting at her dark hair and straw bonnet.
“I’ll wager I can surprise you with a bucket, Mother,” Damon said, and grinned at her mock scandalized expression.
“There will be no dousing your mother or any other ladies, young man,” Father said sternly as he climbed into the carriage and sat across from Damon. “Nor laying wagers of any kind in this household.”
“No, sir,” Damon said quickly, lest Father decide to lecture him on acceptable decorum. He dreaded Father’s wrath, but it was hard to remember sometimes that he must always set a good example for Stefan and never behave improperly.
Father thumped on the ceiling of the carriage and it jolted forward, James’ call of ‘yah’ to the horses coming muted through the curtains. “Foolish tradition, splashing the holy water about to soak everyone. That water is intended as a blessing for the household, it’s never sat right with me.”
“It’s enjoyable for the young ones,” Mother said softly, patting Father’s knee. “James and the others packed a trunk full of eggs, it seems, enough for several egg races. And the Gilberts are bringing those lovely fruit tarts we feasted on last time.”
Father harummped, but kept silent. They bumped along for a while, Mother fanning herself, before she began quietly singing.
“Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine:
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine”
Damon joined in on the next verse, voice still higher than his father’s but a nice counterpoint to his mother’s soprano. They sang together often in the evenings, she at the piano with Damon standing off to the side in the proper place for a gentleman. It was pleasant to have her attention all to himself then, just as it was enjoyable to fill the long ride to the picnic field with a lively melody. Father smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in uncommon amusement, and lifted his voice in song as well. Damon settled back into his seat and enjoyed the ride.
~~
1855
“Boys, how do you plan to spend the day?” Mother applied a little jam to her biscuit and took a bite.
“The rain has finally stopped, so I thought I’d take Stefan shooting in the back meadow,” Damon said.
“You boys aren’t going anywhere today,” Father said. “I asked Henry to prepare an additional accounting lesson for you, Damon.”
“But Father, Damon has promised to show me how to use his Carbine rifle,” Stefan said, pouting a little. He would be expected to attend the lecture with Damon, and Henry would provide him material that was related to Damon’s but not too advanced.
“Your studies must come first, Stefan. You are the second son, but I expect you to work just as hard as Damon in the family business one day.”
“It has rained for almost a fortnight, Giuseppe,” Mother said. “They’ve had all the lessons they can absorb at one time. Let the boys alone for the day.”
“Mary, Henry is leaving in a month’s time back to Richmond and we should use of all our remaining time with him. We don’t know when we’ll get another tutor.”
“Of course, dear.” She poured him another cup of tea. “You did promise Henry he could visit the falls during his stay here and he has yet to see them. Perhaps he would enjoy taking the carriage out today.”
“I suppose I did,” Father said. He frowned and added a sugar lump to his tea, stirring thoughtfully. “If you think it’s best you may give him leave for the day.”
“I’m sure Henry will appreciate the outing.” She winked at Damon cheerfully before sobering up. “James will accompany you, and you will not let your brother fire that rifle, young man. Do you understand?”
“Yes, m’am. I was only going to show him how it’s done. He wasn’t allowed to come along on my lessons so he hasn’t seen it.”
Mother nodded, then turned to Fidelia where she was standing quietly beside the buffet. “Prepare the boys a light lunch and instruct James to ready the horses and my son’s rifle.”
“Yes, M’am,” Fidelia said in her soft voice. She curtsied and left the room.
“You may go no further than the back meadow, and I expect you home by mid afternoon,” Father said.
“Yes, Sir, we understand,” Stefan said eagerly, grinning across to Damon. They hurried through their breakfast and raced out to the stable.
“Young Masters! I hear we have a fine outing planned for today,” James said, tightening the buckle on the strap holding Damon’s holstered rifle on the side of his saddle.
“We’re escaping to the meadow and away from our lessons,” Stefan said, reaching up to pat Blaze’s noze.
James laughed, his dark face crinkling with a smile, and pulled the step stool over to Stefan’s horse. “Climb up, then, and let’s go.” They swung up onto their horses and James mounted his.
“I bet I can beat you to the meadow,” Damon said, and heeled Blaze and took off.
“No, you can’t!” Stefan shouted from behind, and then the pounding of hooves started up.
Damon bent low over Blaze’s neck as the ground sped past under him, squinting his eyes against the rush of air and giving Blaze all the rein he needed to run flat out. They’d been stuck in the library for days on end and Damon had been dreaming of getting out, getting more tense each day that passed. It felt good to let Blaze stretch his legs, powerful body opening up underneath him while Damon held on for the ride.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Stefan holding on determinedly as his own horse tried to catch up. He slowed a bit to let Stefan catch up and stem their flat out run. Stefan came alongside him whooping and laughing and Damon let him pull ahead at the last moment when the road opened up into the meadow.
“I won!” Stefan shouted and pumped his fist in the air, causing Lady to dance sideways. “Woah, girl, steady.”
Damon laughed and heeled Blaze close enough to smack the back of Stefan’s head goodnaturedly, ruffling his hair. “Careful there, baby brother, or you’ll fall off.”
Stefan shoved his hand away, but grinned up at him. “Show me your rifle now.”
~~
1857
Mother laid aside her needlepoint as he slipped quietly into the room. “How are your studies, Damon?”
Damon sat down on the chair at her bedside. “I’m doing well, Mama. Father says I’m on my way to taking a place in his company.”
“That’s good to hear. You get distracted so easily, and you know I worry about you.” Her voice lacked its usual strength, and she looked frail and small propped up on her pillows like a doll.
Damon shifted in his chair uneasily. He did have trouble sitting through the long study hours without getting fidgety. Stefan was so much better at quietly attending to his work and it frustrated Damon to no end to be shown up by his baby brother who wasn’t even trying to make him look bad.
Mother sighed softly. “No matter. I know you’ll make us proud, Damon, don’t fret over it. How is Blaze? Your Father mentioned he was injured.”
“He’s pulled a muscle in his hind leg. The farrier came to look at him and showed me how to wrap his leg so that it can heal. I can’t ride him for at least a couple of months, probably more.”
Mother squeezed his hand. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”
Damon shrugged one shoulder, trying to be nonchalant in the face of his shame. “I was racing him too hard over uneven ground. I can’t do that anymore.”
“I know you’ll take good care of him.” She smiled and it was almost like she wasn’t even sick. “We have to be careful with the things we love, they break so easily. You even have to be careful with the people you love. Remember that.”
Damon nodded. “I visit him every day so he won’t get lonely, since he can’t leave his stall yet. In a few weeks I can take him out for short walks in the yard, but I can’t let him get too frisky or he might re-injure himself.” He trailed off, looking for something to change the subject away from his mistake. He pointed to the hoop and thread she had laid down when he came in. “Are you enjoying your embroidery?”
“I finally have all the time in the world to practice my difficult stitches and I find I want to be anywhere but here,” she said, smiling sadly.
“Oh,” Damon said awkwardly, feeling terrible for making her think of her illness when he was supposed to be distracting her from it.
She smiled again. “You take after me, you know. I got frightfully frustrated with the endless hours of harpsichord lessons and sampler sewing and poetry reciting. I would sneak off at the first opportunity and hide in the attic so I could read.”
“Really?” Damon couldn’t imagine his mother as anything but the elegant and charming woman she always seemed to be.
“It’s true,” she said, winking goodnaturedly at him. “Oh, how my maid used to scold me for getting her into trouble!” She laughed, the sound warm in his ears, and it brought a glow to her cheeks that Damon hadn’t seen for months.
Just then the door opened and Damon jumped guiltily.
“There you are, Damon,” Father said reproachfully. “Come, and leave your mother in peace.”
“We were just talking quietly,” Damon said quickly. “I haven’t tired her out at all.”
“I’m fine, Giuseppe. Leave him be.”
Father smiled tightly at them, but shook his head. “I said it’s time to go.”
Damon sighed and stood, leaning down quickly to kiss his mother’s cheek before leaving.
Father closed the door gently, then turned and dragged Damon away down the hall by his arm. “Damon, I’ve said you cannot spend so much time around your mother, why do you keep defying my orders?”
“She’s just lying in there all by herself, day after day. I can’t just leave her alone.”
“She has her books and you have your visiting days, Damon. I’m not depriving you of her entirely.”
“Father, that isn’t enough-”
“You could become ill, Damon!” He shook Damon’s arm sharply, and fear suddenly showed on his face. He had never seen his father afraid of anything, and the sight made his blood run cold. “The surgeons don’t know how, but she may pass it on to you boys. I cannot allow that to happen. You must keep your distance.”
“But...” Damon teared up and stopped speaking. He knew without even needing to be told that she was dying, could see it in his father’s expression and his mother’s gaunt frame. She would eventually be gone from his life and he resented his father for taking her away before the end actually came. It filled him with a cold fury he’d never felt before and he put his palms to his father’s chest and pushed him away to break his hold on Damon. “You are despicable and I hate you,” he snarled, his breath hard in his chest.
His father stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock; Damon had never touched or spoken to him in any way that was ungentlemanly. He looked like he didn’t know what to do next, and Damon was viciously satisfied with the feeling of having the upper hand. He wanted to hit him and see how that changed his expression, but he reigned himself in and turned to leave.
Stefan was there, standing uncertainly at the top of the stairs. He looked afraid and Damon should stop to comfort him but he couldn’t. If he stopped he’d turn back to their father and see if he might be able to put a different kind of fear on his father’s face. He was full to brimming with anger, and underneath that with an all-consuming sorrow, and he wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of unleashing it. He had enough control left to realize that if he didn’t get out right this second he’d do something he’d regret later.
He brushed past Stefan and pounded down the stairs, out the door, and was running as hard as he could for the back meadow. His muscles strained with the speed but did nothing to alleviate the roiling need to do something that pushed up from inside and felt like it would consume him. He broke from the trees into the open sunlight and stopped, bending over and resting his hands on his thighs while his breath came in ragged gulps. He couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears running down his cheeks.
He heard Stefan’s footsteps crashing down the path behind him and soon his brother was there, resting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Damon?”
Damon stood and pushed Stefan’s hand away. “Nothing.”
Stefan stepped closer and put his hand on Damon’s shoulder again. “Don’t lie to me, I know something’s wrong.”
Damon pushed him away, like he’d pushed his father. He had no hatred for Stefan, only a desperate need to hurt someone and he didn’t want that someone to be Stefan. “Leave me alone right now.”
“I won’t,” Stefan said, and stepped forward determinedly to shove him.
Damon stepped back and turned a bit away, not putting up a fight. “I don’t want to hurt you and I will. Leave me alone.”
“Then talk to me.”
Damon stepped forward and shoved him back, making him stumble backward a few steps. “Father is a bastard, and I want to hit him,” he snarled.
“What did he say to you? You’re never normally this angry with him,” Stefan said, his brows creased in confusion.
Damon shook his head sharply. He didn’t want to tell Stefan about their mother dying, or their father’s fear. He had no comforting words about how they would soon be left solely in their father’s demanding care and how that terrified him.
Stefan shoved him again and Damon reacted without thinking, reaching up and pulling him down into a headlock against his side, like they had done any number of times before. Stefan struggled, attempting to twist away and Damon had to dance to the side to keep his hold firm. But Stefan turned the tables and pushed hard enough to knock Damon over backwards and he had to let go to get his hands back and break his fall. He stood over Damon smirking, and Damon hooked a foot out and knocked Stefan’s feet out from under him so he fell on top of Damon in a protesting heap. Damon got him in a headlock again and scrubbed his knuckles into the top of Stefan’s head until he shrieked with laughter and struggled again in earnest to get free. Damon finally laughed, too, and released him. Stefan stretched out on the ground and plopped his head down on Damon’s stomach, causing him to ‘oof’ out a breath.
“Brat,” he said affectionately, shoving lightly at Stefan’s head.
“Serves you right,” Stefan said, laughter still at the edge of his voice.
Damon sighed, and it came out shuddery and deep like he’d been holding his breath since his father came into the room and he could only just now breath. He closed his eyes and tucked his hands behind his head. The sunlight was warm on his face, the grass scratchy against the back of his neck, and Stefan’s head was a comforting weight bobbing on his stomach as he breathed. “I’m sorry,” he said, very quietly so as not to disturb the peace.
Stefan rolled to the side to look up at Damon, though Damon kept his eyes closed and refused to look at him; he didn’t want to see the honest concern there that he didn’t deserve. “I know.”
~~
1858
“Boys, sit,” Father said, gesturing them into the drawing room and onto the sofa. He took a seat across from them, face tight and expressionless. Damon had never seen him look quite so brittle before. “Your mother has passed. The consumption claimed her last night and she is never coming back.”
“No!” Stefan exclaimed, leaping up from his seat. “We prayed very hard like you told us, you promised God would help us, she cannot go with God yet!”
“I know it’s hard, Stefan, but it’s God’s will and I cannot change it. She has been very sick, it’s for the best, son.”
“It is not, and I hate God! I want her back!” Tears streamed down his face and his hands were clenched into fists.
Damon’s eyes widened in shock at Stefan’s blasphemy and he reached out to grab Stefan’s hand as he waited for their father’s anger.
“Stefan, be reasonable,” Father said wearily as he stood and awkwardly reached out to pat Stefan on the arm. Damon thought it was the first time he’d seen his father try to comfort anyone, but he was too wary of the lines of anger and sorrow on his face to wonder at the gesture. “We are all upset-”
“No!” Stefan slapped Father’s hand away, his voice shrill as he gulped for air. He kicked the table leg and caused it to screech across the floor.
“Young man, you will calm down and control yourself or I-”
“Father, please,” Damon cut in, grabbing Stefan’s arm and pulling him out of the room and outside to their favorite spot in the stable, in the very last unoccupied stall where they could lie for hours telling stories without being found.
“Damon, no, it’s not true is it?” Stefan’s face was streaked with tears and he looked at Damon with such desperate hope that it broke his heart.
“Yes, it is. You know how sick she was and the surgeon stopped coming months ago.”
“No,” he whispered, and his face crumpled with a fresh wave of tears.
“Stef,” Damon said, his voice broken with grief. He pulled his brother to him and they sank to the floor, Stefan gasping and shuddering against his chest. He was helpless to stop Stefan’s crying or his mother’s passing and he didn’t know what to do other than to let his little brother spill his grief into his shirt and ignore his own tears until it all passed.
They stayed there until Stefan’s last hiccupy cries stopped and he finally relaxed his grip on the front of Damon’s shirt. He sat up and lent stiffly against the wall next to Damon. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Damon said, bumping his shoulder against Stefan’s. “It’s fine.”
“What do we do now?”
Damon sat in silence while he mulled that incomprehensible question over. “We do what we’ve always done. Only it’s just us now, may she rest in peace.” Tears welled up again and his throat closed painfully so he stopped speaking and crossed himself.
Beside him, Stefan echoed the gesture.
~~
1862
“Damon, this ledger is all wrong,” Father said, dropping the heavy book on the endtable with a thud. “Correct it. I will re-evaluate it in the morning.”
“Wrong, Sir?” Damon said, looking up from his book. “What is wrong?”
“You failed to account for a third of the lumber we sold to Mr. Jones last month, and the recorded sum of money spent buying new horses last week was written incorrectly. I’ll let you find the third error on your own. It was an utterly foolish mistake that I expect you never to repeat again.”
“It’s after supper, I can’t have it finished by tomorrow.”
“Then you will not sleep until it is complete,” he said, gesturing firmly at the ledger and then pacing angrily in front of the couch. “I expect those in my employee to meet rigorous standards. When you are finished with your education and working for me you will receive no favor for being my son. It is important you learn that now.” He scowled, and Damon wished he could be somewhere far away and never come back. “It seems I have failed to instill in you the value of a job well done; this will begin to rectify that oversight.”
Damon bit his tongue on the impulse to remind Father that he had spent the last three weeks dutifully keeping his father’s books, and using every last bit of education he’d absorbed to complete the tasks he was thrown into. Father only saw that as an excuse for failure every other time he’d explained the reasoning behind his actions, and Damon wouldn’t risk that argument again. “Yes, Sir.”
“Father,” Stefan said from where he was sitting on the other end of the couch. “Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow? Then Damon can educate me on his errors so I can avoid them in the future.”
His face was innocent and inquiring, but Damon knew better. Stefan had spent days over the past weeks keeping Damon company during the tedious hours bent over the ledger, and interceded numerous times over the years to ease their father’s restrictions. He clenched the fist in his lap under his book until his nails dug into his palm, waiting to see if Stefan would be successful again. Damon had been lectured four times over the last two days and he didn’t think he could handle any more tonight without losing his own temper. He didn’t want Stefan to see him that way.
Father sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He looked far older and worn down than Damon could ever remember him looking. “Fine, but it must be done by tomorrow night. I need those figures for negotiations the day after.”
“Thank you, Father,” Damon said quickly. “It will all be correct by then.”
He nodded curtly. “See that it is, and that Fidelia banks these fires before you go to sleep. I still have work to do.”
He left, and Damon let out the breath he’d been holding.
“You mustn't let him run you down like that,” Stefan said quietly.
“What would you have me do? Reasoning does nothing, and I have no other leverage against him,” Damon said bitterly. “I’m the eldest, I have no choice but to live this damned life he has designed for me.”
Silence stretched between them, and Damon glanced over at Stefan. His head was bowed, expression pained as he tapped the cover of his own book. Damon sighed.
“Don’t take that to heart, Stef. You’re the only part of this life with any value, you must know that. I would have failed miserably the second day without your help. Thank you.”
Stefan smiled, but it lacked its usual cheer. “Do you really not want a life here?”
“I want to be here with you, where our family is. But Father, I cannot bear his disappointment when he looks at me. After Mother.... Ever since, I can do nothing right no matter how hard I try. I can’t bear the thought of years and years more.” His chest felt tight with anger and despair, and he closed his eyes and took one deep breath after another until he no longer felt so strangled. “But I am the eldest, so I will do it if I must.”
“I heard you mentioning school to Father. Would you really go away to boarding school?” His voice was carefully neutral, and Damon cringed a little inside.
He had thought of going, had desperately hoped Father would agree. Damon could complete his formal education and begin military training, which Father had mentioned favorably in the past as a good path for a young man. “I wouldn’t want to leave you, I know you aren’t as easy around Father as you pretend to be. But I can’t deny that I want to go. I don’t know how to spend my life working for him and some days I feel that if I don’t I’ll surely go mad with rage.” He whispered the last words, remembering with shame the times he’d yelled back at his father.
“But Father didn’t say yes,” Stefan said slowly, barely concealing his hope.
“He did not agree, no,” Damon said. “You’re stuck with me for some time to come.”
“Well then, we must go to bed so you can rest and show me those figures tomorrow,” Stefan said briskly, standing and putting his book away on the shelf.
Damon laughed and got up to put his own book away. “Don’t be so smug, you rotten little boy!”
Stefan feigned objection and punched him on the arm, laughing and darting out of the door ahead of Damon’s returning smack. He would find leaving Stefan terribly difficult, but he didn’t know if even his baby brother would be enough to keep him here.
~~
September 13, 1863 Dearest Stefan,
Life here at John B. Cary’s Academy is agreeable thusfar. I have been outfitted quite handsomely with a full uniform that includes a practice sword. I expect all the ladies to swoon, if we are lucky enough to meet any. I have the best rifle of all my classmates, you may thank Father for allowing me to take his Carbine. I’m glad he became quite tolerable after my decision to go to the Academy, he holds the school in high esteem. I will be learning everything there is to know about military service, the cavalry in particular, which will be an interesting new subject. They plan to teach us a new style of riding that is particularly suited to combat, which I am eager to learn. I expect to find it all quite engrossing. I am quartered with several other young men, but have become friendly with my bunkmate, who is called Jeffrey.
I wish you could travel to visit, you would find it a welcome holiday from your bookkeeping. I hope you are well at home, picking up the work I left, and that Father is treating you gently. Please write, I am bereft without news of home.
Sincerely, Damon
October 21, 1863 Dear Brother,
I did not realize until now just how tedious your work was, despite sitting with you for long hours. You did me no favors by shielding me from that fact, and I have quite unhappily taken the full brunt of it now. But don’t worry, Father is quite occupied by purchasing all the land he can buy in town and hardly spares a thought for his mature timber business. I am often safely tucked away in the office and happily forgotten.
Jonathan Lockwood has lately been the talk of the town for commissioning the largest buggy anyone has ever seen. It requires two additional horses to pull it, and he parades around in it like a proud peacock. I hardly recognize my old friend some days. I expect any news I have to give is dull in comparison to your exciting new life.
From your brother, Stefan
~~~
“Why are you so quiet tonight, brother?” They’d retired to the drawing room after dinner, while Father went to his study. “Father was full of praise for me, for once in his life, yet you look like you can’t wait for me to leave again.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy him fawning over you.” His voice was sharp, and Damon didn’t understand why.
“Of course I did,” Damon said, pouring himself and Stefan a glass of brandy. “It isn’t likely to happen again unless I get promoted to Major General, so I’ll enjoy it while I can.”
Stefan didn’t smile with the glib comment as Damon had hoped, or drink from the glass Damon handed him.
“Do you want to be a Major General?”
“That’s quite a lofty goal. I’ll settle for just coming home at the end of it all.” He chuckled, but it came out strained and not as humorous as he wanted.
“Don’t make light of that, Damon!” Stefan’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, and he was unaccountably angry.
“I’m not making light of anything,” he said, hands spread and placating. “I plan to do my best and be promoted as I can, come home a soldier Father can be proud of.”
Stefan turned away, his jaw clenched hard.
“It is an honorable thing to do,” Damon said defensively. “The older Lockwood boys are going, as well as Matthew Gilbert and Alex Calvert. I won’t just sit here and let them ride off to war and defend our homes without me!”
“But you’ll ride off and leave me, and laugh about how you may not come back?” His voice broke, and the sound made Damon miserable.
“I’m not laughing Stefan, don’t twist this into something it’s not.” He supposed he’d expected a hero’s send-off, not to be accused a traitor for leaving. He was beginning to anger that Stefan refused to acknowledge this was the best chance he was going to get to gain Father’s esteem.
“Promise me you’ll come back.” He suddenly looked young and scared and Damon knew he should be soothing and comforting, but he had never managed to be so. Not even when their mother was dying.
“War is dangerous, Stefan. Father may not tell you the truth of it, but I’ve never lied to you and I won’t start now. I won’t promise to come back because I can’t guarantee it and I will not break that promise to you.”
Stefan planted his foot and punched Damon square in the jaw, sending him reeling in shock for the sofa to steady himself, his tumbler dropping to the floor with a loud crack. He put his hand to his face and his fingers came away smeared with blood.
“You could at least promise to try,” Stefan snarled and stalked out of the room, leaving Damon to gape after him in complete astonishment. Of course he would try, he had no desire to end his life prematurely. But Stefan was gone already.
They’d never fought before, not like this, and Damon had no idea how to bridge the gulf suddenly between them.
~~~
January 3, 1864 Dearest Stefan,
I have arrived safely at our camp. We don’t yet have our orders, so I don’t know when your reply will reach me, or where. I know we had our differences before I left, but I can’t bear you continuing to think ill of me. Please understand that my choice to join the army is in spite of my affections for you, not a sign that I don’t care. I suppose the cause is just enough, to assert our way of life and financial independence, and Father is quite enthusiastic about me following grandfather’s honorable example of fighting in the war of 1812. It is the first time he’s had any sort of pride in me in I don’t know how long. Don’t worry over me too much. I will be just fine, and expect to return home to find you bored and full of stories from my time away.
Damon
April 15, 1864 Dear Brother,
You needn't worry, I could as soon hate the moon in the sky. I apologize for my rash actions that evening, and for allowing my emotions to overtake my good sense. I was just so angry you would choose to leave! But I know you are only doing what you feel you must. I don’t want to burden you with guilt, please don’t let it trouble you any longer.
We have taken on a boarder. Her name is Katherine Pierce, and she is lovely. She is from Atlanta, where her entire family perished in the fires. It is a most unhappy situation, but she has utterly charmed Father and he has assured her she can stay as long as she needs. It’s nice to have someone around to keep company. We often walk in the evenings when it is cool, and she tells me about growing up in Atlanta. I imagine you are seeing all the beautiful places she describes, though I know you are too busy for sightseeing.
I pray nightly for your safekeeping, and listen constantly for the dogs to herald your arrival home. Please don’t keep me waiting for too long.
From your anxious brother, Stefan
Endnote: The song that Damon and his mother sing is To One in Paradise, by Edgar Allen Poe.
Originally posted at http://pslasher.dreamwidth.org/59036.html. Read
comments over there.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Relationships: Damon Salvatore & Stefan Salvatore
Characters: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Giuseppe Salvatore, Mrs. Salvatore
Category: Gen
Rating: General
Length: 6,659 words
Contains: mild spoilers, canonical character death that occurs offscreen
Summary: Life changes you, and some things are irreversible.
Author’s Note: I stopped paying attention to cannon for my writing a while ago: my stories go AU during Season 3 and I don’t consider this series to be at all compliant with ‘current’ canon after Season 4, and I stopped incorporating flashbacks into my stories after Season 5. Therefore, my ‘Mrs. Salvatore’ is different than Lillian Salvatore as depicted in Season 6. In fact, I only discovered her existence in the series by accident just before posting this story, as I am currently way behind on TVD. I like the way I’ve written her and have no wish to catch up on months of show before posting, so consider yourself warned that she will likely be considerably OCC, starting with her name. Also, other characters may become OOC as I continue to write this series.
I’ve adjusted Damon’s birth date from 1839 to 1843 to make him closer in age to Stefan. I always thought of them being relatively close in age until I learned (again, while writing this) there was actually a larger age gap, but by then my impression of them was cemented. I don’t feel it has any bearing on the actual story the show presents, so I’ve decided to leave it.
Beta by
scorpiod1.
1847
“Damon, come and meet your new brother.”
Father held his hand and led him into the room where he and Mother slept, where Damon very rarely got to go. Mother had gone in weeks ago and not come out. Damon had asked after her, tried to open the door when he heard her crying out, but his nursemaid Fidelia had come and fetched him back to the nursery every time. He saw Mother sitting up in bed and broke free from Father’s grasp, running to the bed and clambering up.
“Damon, careful!” Her voice was reproachful but she was laughing.
Damon crawled across the covers to where she was, then stopped, staring at the baby she cradled in her arms.
“Damon, this is Stefan. You are an elder brother now, and you must always look out for him.”
“Oh,” he said. The baby was staring at him with big eyes and waving his little hands around. Damon reached out and touched one of his tiny fingers. It was soft, and Stefan curled his little fist around Damon’s finger, making Damon laugh.
“Do you want to hold him?”
“Yes!”
“Sit down against the pillows and I’ll put him in your lap.”
Damon sat, putting his legs straight out in front. Mother laid Stefan across his lap, moving his arm out to support Stefan’s head. “Hold his head up like that, very gently now.”
Stefan squirmed in his arms, moving against the swaddling blanket. He was heavy for such a little thing and Damon worried that he might roll from his grasp. Damon held him tighter and he settled, gazing up and smacking his little lips.
“He’s hungry!”
“He just ate so he’ll be settling down for a nap very soon,” Mother said, smoothing Damon’s hair back from his face. “Are you happy to be a big brother?”
“Yes. Can we ride horses together?”
Mother laughed quietly. There were dark circles under her eyes and she sounded weary. Damon didn’t think he’d ever seen her so tired. “Not for a long time, darling. He will need you to be very gentle with him until he gets bigger. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course, mama. How long is a long time?”
“Many years. Father only just let you onto his horse with him, after all. He will tell you when it’s time.”
“Oh.” Stefan’s eyes drifted closed like he was sleeping. “What can we do, then?”
“You can hold him, and sing to him, and teach him to speak and walk when it comes time. How does that sound?”
“I’ll teach him my favorite songs, like you showed me.”
Mother smiled and settled back against her pillows. “When the time comes. You’ll be the best brother in the world, won’t you?”
“Yes, Mama!” They would play and be the best of friends, and Damon couldn’t wait for him to get bigger.
~~
1848
“Da-mon!”
“You said it, Stef! Mama, he said my name!”
Mother smiled from her seat at the table in the drawing room, her dark head bent over her needlepoint and her brow slightly creased in concentration. “Yes, son, I heard. He’s getting big now, isn’t he?”
“Damon,” Stefan repeated, bouncing on Damon’s lap where he was seated on the floor and grabbing his hair in a painful grip. “Damon!”
“Yes, that’s me, let go you rotten boy,” Damon grumbled and tried to release the grip on his hair as Stefan yanked on it.
“Mind your mouth, young man,” Mother chided, but Damon could tell she was barely paying them any attention.
He sighed and finally got Stefan’s hand out of his hair. “Come along, let’s play swords. At least then you can’t get my hair.” He stood and held his hand out to Stefan, who reached out and took it, toddling along to the next room where they had left their swords the day before. He was still looking forward to Stefan getting big enough to ride horses with him, but until then it was fun to show him all the things Damon liked to play.
~~
1852
“Damon, Father said I could go on your horse with you!” Stefan tugged at Damon’s pant’s leg and beamed up at him. Damon looked over to their father, who nodded sternly.
“You may walk him around the yard, Damon, nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” he said gravely. Father would be so angry if Stefan were hurt. “I’ll be careful.”
Stefan took his hand and pulled him over to where James had Blaze already saddled up.
“You mount first, Master Damon, and I’ll hand Stefan up to you,” James said, smiling from his spot at Blaze’s head.
Damon climbed the little set of stairs James had set out for him and mounted, scooting back in the saddle to make room for his brother. James lifted Stefan up and settled him in front of Damon.
“Put your arm around him, Damon, don’t let him slip off,” Father said, stepping up and patting Stefan’s leg. “And you sit still, young man.”
“Yes, Father,” they chorused. Father stepped back and Damon pulled Stefan close and heeled Blaze into a walk across the yard.
Stefan whooped and laughed, clutching the pommel in front of him for balance as they swayed through a turn at the edge of the woods and headed back to where they’d started.
“Go faster!”
Damon laughed and patted his stomach. “You’re too little for that.”
“I’m five now, we can run fast.”
“One day, little boy. I’ll teach you to have a good seat and we can race and ride around the countryside together.”
They waved at their mother, who was sitting in the yard with Fidelia and sipping tea, wide brimmed white hat shading her face.
“Look at me, Mama! I’m riding with Damon!”
“You look dashing, darling boy,” she called back, waving her fingers and smiling. “You keep him steady, Damon.”
“I am,” Damon said, spreading his fingers out against Stefan’s chest and holding him firmly in place.
~~
1854
“Master Damon, bring your brother along. The carriage is ready,” Fidelia said from the doorway.
“Come on, Stef,” Damon said, marking his place in his book and putting it aside.
Stefan huffed a sigh and stood up from the floor where he was spinning a top idly. “Do we have to go? It’s so hot already.”
“I thought you were looking forward to the egg race, you always like that on Easter Monday. And the Lockwoods will be there, we haven’t seen them in a while.”
“I bet I’m taller than Jonathan Lockwood now!” Stefan grinned and jumped, as though he could jump high enough to match Damon in height.
Damon ruffled his hair. “Get your hat, little boy. Let’s go.”
“I’m not a little boy,” Stefan grumbled, but he grabbed his summer straw hat off the chair and scampered out the door while Damon chuckled at him. They tramped down the stairs and out to the carriage, following after their parents.
“Mrs. Salvatore,” James said, stepping up to the carriage and holding out his hand. He nodded as she stepped up, then turned to Stefan. “Now you, Master Salvatore.” Stefan took his hand and climbed up, and Damon followed, thumping down onto the bench across from his mother and next to Stefan.
“Careful, boys, you’ll rock the carriage right over,” Mother scolded, settling her skirt around her daintily.
“Mama, I’m going to splash Jonathan with the water after we eat!”
“Are you now, Stefan? You’ll have to run fast to catch him. You won’t be able to surprise him like you did last year,” she said, smiling indulgently and patting at her dark hair and straw bonnet.
“I’ll wager I can surprise you with a bucket, Mother,” Damon said, and grinned at her mock scandalized expression.
“There will be no dousing your mother or any other ladies, young man,” Father said sternly as he climbed into the carriage and sat across from Damon. “Nor laying wagers of any kind in this household.”
“No, sir,” Damon said quickly, lest Father decide to lecture him on acceptable decorum. He dreaded Father’s wrath, but it was hard to remember sometimes that he must always set a good example for Stefan and never behave improperly.
Father thumped on the ceiling of the carriage and it jolted forward, James’ call of ‘yah’ to the horses coming muted through the curtains. “Foolish tradition, splashing the holy water about to soak everyone. That water is intended as a blessing for the household, it’s never sat right with me.”
“It’s enjoyable for the young ones,” Mother said softly, patting Father’s knee. “James and the others packed a trunk full of eggs, it seems, enough for several egg races. And the Gilberts are bringing those lovely fruit tarts we feasted on last time.”
Father harummped, but kept silent. They bumped along for a while, Mother fanning herself, before she began quietly singing.
“Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine:
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine”
Damon joined in on the next verse, voice still higher than his father’s but a nice counterpoint to his mother’s soprano. They sang together often in the evenings, she at the piano with Damon standing off to the side in the proper place for a gentleman. It was pleasant to have her attention all to himself then, just as it was enjoyable to fill the long ride to the picnic field with a lively melody. Father smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in uncommon amusement, and lifted his voice in song as well. Damon settled back into his seat and enjoyed the ride.
~~
1855
“Boys, how do you plan to spend the day?” Mother applied a little jam to her biscuit and took a bite.
“The rain has finally stopped, so I thought I’d take Stefan shooting in the back meadow,” Damon said.
“You boys aren’t going anywhere today,” Father said. “I asked Henry to prepare an additional accounting lesson for you, Damon.”
“But Father, Damon has promised to show me how to use his Carbine rifle,” Stefan said, pouting a little. He would be expected to attend the lecture with Damon, and Henry would provide him material that was related to Damon’s but not too advanced.
“Your studies must come first, Stefan. You are the second son, but I expect you to work just as hard as Damon in the family business one day.”
“It has rained for almost a fortnight, Giuseppe,” Mother said. “They’ve had all the lessons they can absorb at one time. Let the boys alone for the day.”
“Mary, Henry is leaving in a month’s time back to Richmond and we should use of all our remaining time with him. We don’t know when we’ll get another tutor.”
“Of course, dear.” She poured him another cup of tea. “You did promise Henry he could visit the falls during his stay here and he has yet to see them. Perhaps he would enjoy taking the carriage out today.”
“I suppose I did,” Father said. He frowned and added a sugar lump to his tea, stirring thoughtfully. “If you think it’s best you may give him leave for the day.”
“I’m sure Henry will appreciate the outing.” She winked at Damon cheerfully before sobering up. “James will accompany you, and you will not let your brother fire that rifle, young man. Do you understand?”
“Yes, m’am. I was only going to show him how it’s done. He wasn’t allowed to come along on my lessons so he hasn’t seen it.”
Mother nodded, then turned to Fidelia where she was standing quietly beside the buffet. “Prepare the boys a light lunch and instruct James to ready the horses and my son’s rifle.”
“Yes, M’am,” Fidelia said in her soft voice. She curtsied and left the room.
“You may go no further than the back meadow, and I expect you home by mid afternoon,” Father said.
“Yes, Sir, we understand,” Stefan said eagerly, grinning across to Damon. They hurried through their breakfast and raced out to the stable.
“Young Masters! I hear we have a fine outing planned for today,” James said, tightening the buckle on the strap holding Damon’s holstered rifle on the side of his saddle.
“We’re escaping to the meadow and away from our lessons,” Stefan said, reaching up to pat Blaze’s noze.
James laughed, his dark face crinkling with a smile, and pulled the step stool over to Stefan’s horse. “Climb up, then, and let’s go.” They swung up onto their horses and James mounted his.
“I bet I can beat you to the meadow,” Damon said, and heeled Blaze and took off.
“No, you can’t!” Stefan shouted from behind, and then the pounding of hooves started up.
Damon bent low over Blaze’s neck as the ground sped past under him, squinting his eyes against the rush of air and giving Blaze all the rein he needed to run flat out. They’d been stuck in the library for days on end and Damon had been dreaming of getting out, getting more tense each day that passed. It felt good to let Blaze stretch his legs, powerful body opening up underneath him while Damon held on for the ride.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Stefan holding on determinedly as his own horse tried to catch up. He slowed a bit to let Stefan catch up and stem their flat out run. Stefan came alongside him whooping and laughing and Damon let him pull ahead at the last moment when the road opened up into the meadow.
“I won!” Stefan shouted and pumped his fist in the air, causing Lady to dance sideways. “Woah, girl, steady.”
Damon laughed and heeled Blaze close enough to smack the back of Stefan’s head goodnaturedly, ruffling his hair. “Careful there, baby brother, or you’ll fall off.”
Stefan shoved his hand away, but grinned up at him. “Show me your rifle now.”
~~
1857
Mother laid aside her needlepoint as he slipped quietly into the room. “How are your studies, Damon?”
Damon sat down on the chair at her bedside. “I’m doing well, Mama. Father says I’m on my way to taking a place in his company.”
“That’s good to hear. You get distracted so easily, and you know I worry about you.” Her voice lacked its usual strength, and she looked frail and small propped up on her pillows like a doll.
Damon shifted in his chair uneasily. He did have trouble sitting through the long study hours without getting fidgety. Stefan was so much better at quietly attending to his work and it frustrated Damon to no end to be shown up by his baby brother who wasn’t even trying to make him look bad.
Mother sighed softly. “No matter. I know you’ll make us proud, Damon, don’t fret over it. How is Blaze? Your Father mentioned he was injured.”
“He’s pulled a muscle in his hind leg. The farrier came to look at him and showed me how to wrap his leg so that it can heal. I can’t ride him for at least a couple of months, probably more.”
Mother squeezed his hand. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”
Damon shrugged one shoulder, trying to be nonchalant in the face of his shame. “I was racing him too hard over uneven ground. I can’t do that anymore.”
“I know you’ll take good care of him.” She smiled and it was almost like she wasn’t even sick. “We have to be careful with the things we love, they break so easily. You even have to be careful with the people you love. Remember that.”
Damon nodded. “I visit him every day so he won’t get lonely, since he can’t leave his stall yet. In a few weeks I can take him out for short walks in the yard, but I can’t let him get too frisky or he might re-injure himself.” He trailed off, looking for something to change the subject away from his mistake. He pointed to the hoop and thread she had laid down when he came in. “Are you enjoying your embroidery?”
“I finally have all the time in the world to practice my difficult stitches and I find I want to be anywhere but here,” she said, smiling sadly.
“Oh,” Damon said awkwardly, feeling terrible for making her think of her illness when he was supposed to be distracting her from it.
She smiled again. “You take after me, you know. I got frightfully frustrated with the endless hours of harpsichord lessons and sampler sewing and poetry reciting. I would sneak off at the first opportunity and hide in the attic so I could read.”
“Really?” Damon couldn’t imagine his mother as anything but the elegant and charming woman she always seemed to be.
“It’s true,” she said, winking goodnaturedly at him. “Oh, how my maid used to scold me for getting her into trouble!” She laughed, the sound warm in his ears, and it brought a glow to her cheeks that Damon hadn’t seen for months.
Just then the door opened and Damon jumped guiltily.
“There you are, Damon,” Father said reproachfully. “Come, and leave your mother in peace.”
“We were just talking quietly,” Damon said quickly. “I haven’t tired her out at all.”
“I’m fine, Giuseppe. Leave him be.”
Father smiled tightly at them, but shook his head. “I said it’s time to go.”
Damon sighed and stood, leaning down quickly to kiss his mother’s cheek before leaving.
Father closed the door gently, then turned and dragged Damon away down the hall by his arm. “Damon, I’ve said you cannot spend so much time around your mother, why do you keep defying my orders?”
“She’s just lying in there all by herself, day after day. I can’t just leave her alone.”
“She has her books and you have your visiting days, Damon. I’m not depriving you of her entirely.”
“Father, that isn’t enough-”
“You could become ill, Damon!” He shook Damon’s arm sharply, and fear suddenly showed on his face. He had never seen his father afraid of anything, and the sight made his blood run cold. “The surgeons don’t know how, but she may pass it on to you boys. I cannot allow that to happen. You must keep your distance.”
“But...” Damon teared up and stopped speaking. He knew without even needing to be told that she was dying, could see it in his father’s expression and his mother’s gaunt frame. She would eventually be gone from his life and he resented his father for taking her away before the end actually came. It filled him with a cold fury he’d never felt before and he put his palms to his father’s chest and pushed him away to break his hold on Damon. “You are despicable and I hate you,” he snarled, his breath hard in his chest.
His father stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock; Damon had never touched or spoken to him in any way that was ungentlemanly. He looked like he didn’t know what to do next, and Damon was viciously satisfied with the feeling of having the upper hand. He wanted to hit him and see how that changed his expression, but he reigned himself in and turned to leave.
Stefan was there, standing uncertainly at the top of the stairs. He looked afraid and Damon should stop to comfort him but he couldn’t. If he stopped he’d turn back to their father and see if he might be able to put a different kind of fear on his father’s face. He was full to brimming with anger, and underneath that with an all-consuming sorrow, and he wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of unleashing it. He had enough control left to realize that if he didn’t get out right this second he’d do something he’d regret later.
He brushed past Stefan and pounded down the stairs, out the door, and was running as hard as he could for the back meadow. His muscles strained with the speed but did nothing to alleviate the roiling need to do something that pushed up from inside and felt like it would consume him. He broke from the trees into the open sunlight and stopped, bending over and resting his hands on his thighs while his breath came in ragged gulps. He couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears running down his cheeks.
He heard Stefan’s footsteps crashing down the path behind him and soon his brother was there, resting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Damon?”
Damon stood and pushed Stefan’s hand away. “Nothing.”
Stefan stepped closer and put his hand on Damon’s shoulder again. “Don’t lie to me, I know something’s wrong.”
Damon pushed him away, like he’d pushed his father. He had no hatred for Stefan, only a desperate need to hurt someone and he didn’t want that someone to be Stefan. “Leave me alone right now.”
“I won’t,” Stefan said, and stepped forward determinedly to shove him.
Damon stepped back and turned a bit away, not putting up a fight. “I don’t want to hurt you and I will. Leave me alone.”
“Then talk to me.”
Damon stepped forward and shoved him back, making him stumble backward a few steps. “Father is a bastard, and I want to hit him,” he snarled.
“What did he say to you? You’re never normally this angry with him,” Stefan said, his brows creased in confusion.
Damon shook his head sharply. He didn’t want to tell Stefan about their mother dying, or their father’s fear. He had no comforting words about how they would soon be left solely in their father’s demanding care and how that terrified him.
Stefan shoved him again and Damon reacted without thinking, reaching up and pulling him down into a headlock against his side, like they had done any number of times before. Stefan struggled, attempting to twist away and Damon had to dance to the side to keep his hold firm. But Stefan turned the tables and pushed hard enough to knock Damon over backwards and he had to let go to get his hands back and break his fall. He stood over Damon smirking, and Damon hooked a foot out and knocked Stefan’s feet out from under him so he fell on top of Damon in a protesting heap. Damon got him in a headlock again and scrubbed his knuckles into the top of Stefan’s head until he shrieked with laughter and struggled again in earnest to get free. Damon finally laughed, too, and released him. Stefan stretched out on the ground and plopped his head down on Damon’s stomach, causing him to ‘oof’ out a breath.
“Brat,” he said affectionately, shoving lightly at Stefan’s head.
“Serves you right,” Stefan said, laughter still at the edge of his voice.
Damon sighed, and it came out shuddery and deep like he’d been holding his breath since his father came into the room and he could only just now breath. He closed his eyes and tucked his hands behind his head. The sunlight was warm on his face, the grass scratchy against the back of his neck, and Stefan’s head was a comforting weight bobbing on his stomach as he breathed. “I’m sorry,” he said, very quietly so as not to disturb the peace.
Stefan rolled to the side to look up at Damon, though Damon kept his eyes closed and refused to look at him; he didn’t want to see the honest concern there that he didn’t deserve. “I know.”
~~
1858
“Boys, sit,” Father said, gesturing them into the drawing room and onto the sofa. He took a seat across from them, face tight and expressionless. Damon had never seen him look quite so brittle before. “Your mother has passed. The consumption claimed her last night and she is never coming back.”
“No!” Stefan exclaimed, leaping up from his seat. “We prayed very hard like you told us, you promised God would help us, she cannot go with God yet!”
“I know it’s hard, Stefan, but it’s God’s will and I cannot change it. She has been very sick, it’s for the best, son.”
“It is not, and I hate God! I want her back!” Tears streamed down his face and his hands were clenched into fists.
Damon’s eyes widened in shock at Stefan’s blasphemy and he reached out to grab Stefan’s hand as he waited for their father’s anger.
“Stefan, be reasonable,” Father said wearily as he stood and awkwardly reached out to pat Stefan on the arm. Damon thought it was the first time he’d seen his father try to comfort anyone, but he was too wary of the lines of anger and sorrow on his face to wonder at the gesture. “We are all upset-”
“No!” Stefan slapped Father’s hand away, his voice shrill as he gulped for air. He kicked the table leg and caused it to screech across the floor.
“Young man, you will calm down and control yourself or I-”
“Father, please,” Damon cut in, grabbing Stefan’s arm and pulling him out of the room and outside to their favorite spot in the stable, in the very last unoccupied stall where they could lie for hours telling stories without being found.
“Damon, no, it’s not true is it?” Stefan’s face was streaked with tears and he looked at Damon with such desperate hope that it broke his heart.
“Yes, it is. You know how sick she was and the surgeon stopped coming months ago.”
“No,” he whispered, and his face crumpled with a fresh wave of tears.
“Stef,” Damon said, his voice broken with grief. He pulled his brother to him and they sank to the floor, Stefan gasping and shuddering against his chest. He was helpless to stop Stefan’s crying or his mother’s passing and he didn’t know what to do other than to let his little brother spill his grief into his shirt and ignore his own tears until it all passed.
They stayed there until Stefan’s last hiccupy cries stopped and he finally relaxed his grip on the front of Damon’s shirt. He sat up and lent stiffly against the wall next to Damon. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Damon said, bumping his shoulder against Stefan’s. “It’s fine.”
“What do we do now?”
Damon sat in silence while he mulled that incomprehensible question over. “We do what we’ve always done. Only it’s just us now, may she rest in peace.” Tears welled up again and his throat closed painfully so he stopped speaking and crossed himself.
Beside him, Stefan echoed the gesture.
~~
1862
“Damon, this ledger is all wrong,” Father said, dropping the heavy book on the endtable with a thud. “Correct it. I will re-evaluate it in the morning.”
“Wrong, Sir?” Damon said, looking up from his book. “What is wrong?”
“You failed to account for a third of the lumber we sold to Mr. Jones last month, and the recorded sum of money spent buying new horses last week was written incorrectly. I’ll let you find the third error on your own. It was an utterly foolish mistake that I expect you never to repeat again.”
“It’s after supper, I can’t have it finished by tomorrow.”
“Then you will not sleep until it is complete,” he said, gesturing firmly at the ledger and then pacing angrily in front of the couch. “I expect those in my employee to meet rigorous standards. When you are finished with your education and working for me you will receive no favor for being my son. It is important you learn that now.” He scowled, and Damon wished he could be somewhere far away and never come back. “It seems I have failed to instill in you the value of a job well done; this will begin to rectify that oversight.”
Damon bit his tongue on the impulse to remind Father that he had spent the last three weeks dutifully keeping his father’s books, and using every last bit of education he’d absorbed to complete the tasks he was thrown into. Father only saw that as an excuse for failure every other time he’d explained the reasoning behind his actions, and Damon wouldn’t risk that argument again. “Yes, Sir.”
“Father,” Stefan said from where he was sitting on the other end of the couch. “Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow? Then Damon can educate me on his errors so I can avoid them in the future.”
His face was innocent and inquiring, but Damon knew better. Stefan had spent days over the past weeks keeping Damon company during the tedious hours bent over the ledger, and interceded numerous times over the years to ease their father’s restrictions. He clenched the fist in his lap under his book until his nails dug into his palm, waiting to see if Stefan would be successful again. Damon had been lectured four times over the last two days and he didn’t think he could handle any more tonight without losing his own temper. He didn’t want Stefan to see him that way.
Father sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He looked far older and worn down than Damon could ever remember him looking. “Fine, but it must be done by tomorrow night. I need those figures for negotiations the day after.”
“Thank you, Father,” Damon said quickly. “It will all be correct by then.”
He nodded curtly. “See that it is, and that Fidelia banks these fires before you go to sleep. I still have work to do.”
He left, and Damon let out the breath he’d been holding.
“You mustn't let him run you down like that,” Stefan said quietly.
“What would you have me do? Reasoning does nothing, and I have no other leverage against him,” Damon said bitterly. “I’m the eldest, I have no choice but to live this damned life he has designed for me.”
Silence stretched between them, and Damon glanced over at Stefan. His head was bowed, expression pained as he tapped the cover of his own book. Damon sighed.
“Don’t take that to heart, Stef. You’re the only part of this life with any value, you must know that. I would have failed miserably the second day without your help. Thank you.”
Stefan smiled, but it lacked its usual cheer. “Do you really not want a life here?”
“I want to be here with you, where our family is. But Father, I cannot bear his disappointment when he looks at me. After Mother.... Ever since, I can do nothing right no matter how hard I try. I can’t bear the thought of years and years more.” His chest felt tight with anger and despair, and he closed his eyes and took one deep breath after another until he no longer felt so strangled. “But I am the eldest, so I will do it if I must.”
“I heard you mentioning school to Father. Would you really go away to boarding school?” His voice was carefully neutral, and Damon cringed a little inside.
He had thought of going, had desperately hoped Father would agree. Damon could complete his formal education and begin military training, which Father had mentioned favorably in the past as a good path for a young man. “I wouldn’t want to leave you, I know you aren’t as easy around Father as you pretend to be. But I can’t deny that I want to go. I don’t know how to spend my life working for him and some days I feel that if I don’t I’ll surely go mad with rage.” He whispered the last words, remembering with shame the times he’d yelled back at his father.
“But Father didn’t say yes,” Stefan said slowly, barely concealing his hope.
“He did not agree, no,” Damon said. “You’re stuck with me for some time to come.”
“Well then, we must go to bed so you can rest and show me those figures tomorrow,” Stefan said briskly, standing and putting his book away on the shelf.
Damon laughed and got up to put his own book away. “Don’t be so smug, you rotten little boy!”
Stefan feigned objection and punched him on the arm, laughing and darting out of the door ahead of Damon’s returning smack. He would find leaving Stefan terribly difficult, but he didn’t know if even his baby brother would be enough to keep him here.
~~
September 13, 1863 Dearest Stefan,
Life here at John B. Cary’s Academy is agreeable thusfar. I have been outfitted quite handsomely with a full uniform that includes a practice sword. I expect all the ladies to swoon, if we are lucky enough to meet any. I have the best rifle of all my classmates, you may thank Father for allowing me to take his Carbine. I’m glad he became quite tolerable after my decision to go to the Academy, he holds the school in high esteem. I will be learning everything there is to know about military service, the cavalry in particular, which will be an interesting new subject. They plan to teach us a new style of riding that is particularly suited to combat, which I am eager to learn. I expect to find it all quite engrossing. I am quartered with several other young men, but have become friendly with my bunkmate, who is called Jeffrey.
I wish you could travel to visit, you would find it a welcome holiday from your bookkeeping. I hope you are well at home, picking up the work I left, and that Father is treating you gently. Please write, I am bereft without news of home.
Sincerely, Damon
October 21, 1863 Dear Brother,
I did not realize until now just how tedious your work was, despite sitting with you for long hours. You did me no favors by shielding me from that fact, and I have quite unhappily taken the full brunt of it now. But don’t worry, Father is quite occupied by purchasing all the land he can buy in town and hardly spares a thought for his mature timber business. I am often safely tucked away in the office and happily forgotten.
Jonathan Lockwood has lately been the talk of the town for commissioning the largest buggy anyone has ever seen. It requires two additional horses to pull it, and he parades around in it like a proud peacock. I hardly recognize my old friend some days. I expect any news I have to give is dull in comparison to your exciting new life.
From your brother, Stefan
~~~
“Why are you so quiet tonight, brother?” They’d retired to the drawing room after dinner, while Father went to his study. “Father was full of praise for me, for once in his life, yet you look like you can’t wait for me to leave again.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy him fawning over you.” His voice was sharp, and Damon didn’t understand why.
“Of course I did,” Damon said, pouring himself and Stefan a glass of brandy. “It isn’t likely to happen again unless I get promoted to Major General, so I’ll enjoy it while I can.”
Stefan didn’t smile with the glib comment as Damon had hoped, or drink from the glass Damon handed him.
“Do you want to be a Major General?”
“That’s quite a lofty goal. I’ll settle for just coming home at the end of it all.” He chuckled, but it came out strained and not as humorous as he wanted.
“Don’t make light of that, Damon!” Stefan’s hand clenched into a fist at his side, and he was unaccountably angry.
“I’m not making light of anything,” he said, hands spread and placating. “I plan to do my best and be promoted as I can, come home a soldier Father can be proud of.”
Stefan turned away, his jaw clenched hard.
“It is an honorable thing to do,” Damon said defensively. “The older Lockwood boys are going, as well as Matthew Gilbert and Alex Calvert. I won’t just sit here and let them ride off to war and defend our homes without me!”
“But you’ll ride off and leave me, and laugh about how you may not come back?” His voice broke, and the sound made Damon miserable.
“I’m not laughing Stefan, don’t twist this into something it’s not.” He supposed he’d expected a hero’s send-off, not to be accused a traitor for leaving. He was beginning to anger that Stefan refused to acknowledge this was the best chance he was going to get to gain Father’s esteem.
“Promise me you’ll come back.” He suddenly looked young and scared and Damon knew he should be soothing and comforting, but he had never managed to be so. Not even when their mother was dying.
“War is dangerous, Stefan. Father may not tell you the truth of it, but I’ve never lied to you and I won’t start now. I won’t promise to come back because I can’t guarantee it and I will not break that promise to you.”
Stefan planted his foot and punched Damon square in the jaw, sending him reeling in shock for the sofa to steady himself, his tumbler dropping to the floor with a loud crack. He put his hand to his face and his fingers came away smeared with blood.
“You could at least promise to try,” Stefan snarled and stalked out of the room, leaving Damon to gape after him in complete astonishment. Of course he would try, he had no desire to end his life prematurely. But Stefan was gone already.
They’d never fought before, not like this, and Damon had no idea how to bridge the gulf suddenly between them.
~~~
January 3, 1864 Dearest Stefan,
I have arrived safely at our camp. We don’t yet have our orders, so I don’t know when your reply will reach me, or where. I know we had our differences before I left, but I can’t bear you continuing to think ill of me. Please understand that my choice to join the army is in spite of my affections for you, not a sign that I don’t care. I suppose the cause is just enough, to assert our way of life and financial independence, and Father is quite enthusiastic about me following grandfather’s honorable example of fighting in the war of 1812. It is the first time he’s had any sort of pride in me in I don’t know how long. Don’t worry over me too much. I will be just fine, and expect to return home to find you bored and full of stories from my time away.
Damon
April 15, 1864 Dear Brother,
You needn't worry, I could as soon hate the moon in the sky. I apologize for my rash actions that evening, and for allowing my emotions to overtake my good sense. I was just so angry you would choose to leave! But I know you are only doing what you feel you must. I don’t want to burden you with guilt, please don’t let it trouble you any longer.
We have taken on a boarder. Her name is Katherine Pierce, and she is lovely. She is from Atlanta, where her entire family perished in the fires. It is a most unhappy situation, but she has utterly charmed Father and he has assured her she can stay as long as she needs. It’s nice to have someone around to keep company. We often walk in the evenings when it is cool, and she tells me about growing up in Atlanta. I imagine you are seeing all the beautiful places she describes, though I know you are too busy for sightseeing.
I pray nightly for your safekeeping, and listen constantly for the dogs to herald your arrival home. Please don’t keep me waiting for too long.
From your anxious brother, Stefan
Endnote: The song that Damon and his mother sing is To One in Paradise, by Edgar Allen Poe.
Originally posted at http://pslasher.dreamwidth.org/59036.html. Read
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