While one of the Salvatore brothers, particularly Damon and Stephyna a decent of they family aka a cousin, had imprisoned a formidable figure deep within the manor, several days had gone by. This time was primarily spent on repairing the manor and uncovering more details about the werewolf troubles they faced. A pressing question lingered in everyone's thoughts: who was the madman that had nearly brought the house to ruin?
The night was filled with drinks and conversations, but the shadow of the recent massacre in Mystic Falls loomed heavily over everyone. The tragedy had shattered the town, leaving its residents in despair. Amidst the chaos, one person but of chose to ignore the turmoil, focusing instead on his own agenda to track down a werewolf named Mason none other then Damon himself.
Damon entered the bar with a straightforward mission: to confront Mason and extract information about the ongoing werewolf issue. However, as he navigated through the crowd, he was taken aback when Mason seemed to disappear, replaced by Bonnie's Gam, Shella who sat calmly at the bar.
Confused by the sudden shift, Damon approached her, signaling for a drink, and soon they were deep in conversation more or less unwilling or not.. momentarily escaping the weight of their surroundings.
Damon downed his drink and turned his gaze toward Shella. "I hear you've put someone under house arrest?" she inquired, her tone steady and unruffled. Damon responded with his signature annoyed expression, adding, "You could say that. Why do you want to know?" Shella simply smiled.
A light chuckle escaping her lips before she continued, "I'll keep this brief, Damon. I'm not thrilled to be here, and I don't have much fondness for you either. So, let's get to the point."
She took a long sip of her drink, leaning in with a determined look, ready to present her demands. The air around them thickened with an unspoken tension as she prepared to clarify her intentions. "Let the boy go, get him something to eat, and cover all the basics," Damon sneered at her proposal, finishing his drink. Just as he was about to leave, Shella placed a small white object on the bar, something Damon had been searching for. "I suppose you don't want the moonstone either?" she remarked casually.
Before Damon could snatch the stone and make his exit like the greedily asshole he is, Shella reiterated her terms, this time with greater emphasis. "You'll receive the stone only after I see him out of that prison you've put him in, understood?" Her tone was firm, laced with urgency. "Crystal clear," Damon replied, reaching for the stone again, but Shella vanished along with it, leaving him momentarily stunned.
The atmosphere crackled with unresolved tension as Damon processed her words. He had expected a simple transaction, but Shella's insistence changed the stakes. Now, he was left grappling with the reality that he would have to negotiate further if he wanted what he sought. but that's too much trouble so he'd soon leave the grill shortly returning back to the manner.
~ At the Salvatore Manner ~
A nameless man, bound by chains, slowly lifted himself from the frigid floor. As he stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, he felt the chains around him loosen unexpectedly. A broad smile broke across his face, revealing a toothy grin as he instinctively licked his lips, reminiscent of a wolf eyeing its prey.
Just as he reviled in this newfound sense of freedom, an unfamiliar sensation stirred within him, akin to a flickering heartbeat. Confusion washed over him as he grappled with this strange feeling, sensing that something significant was on the verge of unfolding, yet unable to decipher its meaning. Suddenly.
A woman appeared before him, her presence transforming the atmosphere. The air thickened with tension, leaving him both intrigued and apprehensive about what was to come.
As she entered the room, the fragrance of roses enveloped him, and her radiant skin seemed to beckon the sun. Every part of him buzzed with energy, caught in a precarious balance between life and death. Time stretched, each second heavy with intensity, as the sensation within him twisted into a disorienting mix of desire and dread. In that moment, the world around him faded, leaving only her presence and the tumult of his emotions, fully aware of the storm brewing within.
He never truly caught a clear glimpse of her, having been focused on trying to end her life just hours earlier. Yet, as the sunlight filtered through the trees and glided though the windows of the lower floors.
It illuminated her in a way that captivated him. The golden rays danced across her eyes, creating a mesmerizing glow of sun-kissed red, while her skin appeared impossibly smooth and plump, leaving him with a whirlwind of questions about her beauty.
Her figure was striking, igniting thoughts in him that he had never entertained before. The contrast between his previous intentions and the allure she now presented was jarring, pulling him into a realm of fascination he hadn't anticipated. Each detail of her figure seemed to draw him deeper into a world of wonder, challenging his perceptions of his on desires.
Even nearly after a millennia in solitude, trapped in a state akin to death, he found himself undeniably and profoundly in love. This unexpected emotion surged through him, transforming his existence and awakening feelings he thought were long buried. The complexity of his past clashed with the intensity of his newfound affection, leaving him both bewildered and enchanted
as if what had appeared before the tyrant was not bad, the memoires of a time long forgotten flooded him in a instant.
~ many centuries ago ~
The light kissed the sun, creating a dazzling tapestry of golds, reds, and shimmering hues that melded into a vibrant chaos. The crimson floors, adorned with flickering candles, danced in rhythm with the music, while an angelic voice wove a spellbinding melody that captivated all who listened.
Among the revellers, the once-bloodied warlord now donned the garb of ancient nobility, a divine crown resting atop his head, and a wolf-like mask that revealed only the deep, ember-like glow of his eyes.
As the dancers moved in unison, their steps intertwined, none were as enchanting as she. Her mask, adorned with delicate hair, concealed her features, yet her movements spoke volumes, mesmerizing a man who could only watch in awe. Together, they twirled beneath the growing moonlight, their connection drawing the attention of onlookers who marvelled at their graceful partnership.
In a heartbeat, clarity pierced through the chaos. Unshackled from his former constraints, Berserker took a bold step forward, wrapping his arms around Stephyna's waist with an unexpected gentleness. This tender act contradicted his fearsome persona as he lifted her hand toward the heavens, marking a significant moment between two formidable spirits.
Stephyna, caught off guard, felt the weight of the encounter envelop her. Their lips met, and in that primal connection, Berserker entwined his tongue with hers, a fusion of fervour and raw longing, before retreating to savour the taste of their kiss.
Yet, as he gazed at her flushed cheeks, painted in hues of pink and red, the gravity of his actions left Stephyna momentarily speechless. In a swift reaction, she slapped him hard enough to leave a mark, her voice trembling with indignation.
"How dare you touch me! You disgusting animal! Are you so shallow that you think you can just lay hands on me!?" Her fury was palpable, a stark contrast to the tenderness he had just shown.
Berserker, however, did not respond with anger or resentment; instead, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an act that seemed futile in the face of her wrath. In a sudden burst of strength, Stephyna seized his hand.
Twisting it and sending the tyrant crashing to the ground. A swift kick to his jaw drew blood, painting his face with the evidence of her defiance. Just as she turned to leave.. Damon lurked nearby, witnessing the brutal aftermath of the encounter between the feral titan and his mark.
As Stephyna dashed through the hall and up the stairs, she paused momentarily, pressing her hand against her chest. Her heart raced, igniting a long-buried sensation of fear intertwined with an undeniable thrill.
Each breath came out in a haze, and the flush on her cheeks from the recent encounter left her momentarily speechless. Struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions, she was just about to turn away when Damon appeared, startling her and prompting a small yelp of surprise.
"Damon! You scared me half to death!" she exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm. He responded with a muffled chuckle, straightening up to meet her gaze with a cocky grin. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Stephyna quickly interrupted him, "Don't you dare say a word."
"I wasn't going to say anything; what could you possibly mean, my dear little cousin?" he teased, his smirk widening. "Say the word, and you won't see tomorrow," she shot back, trying to mask the embarrassment that still lingered.
"That stupid stupid man.."
~ end chapter ~