Mystic Falls, Virginia
1863

    My mother, Margaret Forbes, was the woman I admired the most in the world. She had five children, yet she still looked the same as she did when she was twenty. Her blond hair was lighter, with a few strands of silver combined with the gold. Her eyes, soft and blue, reminded me of the sky early in the afternoon, where the sky faded from the lightest colour to a deep blue. Her eyes were big and soft, warm, full of care and love wherever she looked at. 

   My siblings had the same eyes, beautiful. Frances, Charlotte, and Abraham had blue eyes that were very similar to those of my mother's. They were deep, beautiful, and held the ocean in them. Thomas, the youngest, had beautiful brown eyes. They were rich, like new boughs of the trees, free of moth, bright, youthful. Thomas' eyes were like sunshine shining through my father's whiskey.

   My eyes, unlike the rest of my siblings, were green. They weren't a spring-like green, like the green that filled the trees after a long and dead winter. They weren't beautiful, they weren't filled with warmth or anything that resembled the beauty in the eyes of my family. My eyes were full, like the green just before the leaves faded into a dead brown. They were a hideous muddy green, like the dirt on the street right after it rains and everyone steps on it.

   Whenever someone would comment on my eyes and say they were beautiful, I would shake my head, give them a gentle smile, and tell them that they were dirty. Damon Salvatore, the man I loved the most in the world, would laugh and say, "No, they're not." and continue with out walk. But, then, there was his younger brother, Stefan, who would say the complete opposite. He would take my hand, look straight into my eyes, and softly say, "You know Mrs. Whittle's cat? The grey one with the beautiful green eyes that everyone loves, the ones you admire and call beautiful? Clara, your eyes are just as beautiful as Mrs. Whittle's grey cat. They're rich, and beautiful, and they hold stars in them."

   "My eyes are pond scum," I would say as I made a face.

   He would throw his head back and laugh, and shake his head, and then look into my eyes once again, and say, softer this time, "The colour of carrot tops."

   "What?"

   "The green of the first spring leaves on plum trees, mossy green speckled with the colour of pecan shell," he would smile. "As green as summertime water trough."

   I pulled my hand away from his hold and covered my face, hiding both my smile and my flushing cheeks. "Stefan..." I groaned, shaking my head. The heat began at the back of my neck, slowly spreading up to my cheeks and behind my ears.

   "Hey!" Damon cut in with a laugh, laying his arm around my shoulders. "What are you doing wooing my fiancée, Stefan?"

   "Was I wooing here?" he asked. He smirked, and looked as if he knew what he was doing. "I wasn't aware that I was."

   "Yes, you were!" Damon laughed. He pushed his brother lightly. Stefan stared at him for several seconds, a smile of disbelief in his lips. He pushed him back. The brothers pushed each other with laughter echoing around us, joy filling their bellies. 

   "Now, come on, boys!" I cut in, giving the boys a small smile as I laid my hands on my hips. "Is that any way to fight when one of you is leaving for war?" My smile died down, until it faded into a pout. The brothers stopped fighting, their smiles also dying down.

   Damon was to leave with the rest of the men who joined the Confederate Army. He never wanted to join the army, but due to his father's orders he did what he was told. Damon, just like many of other men who joined, hated what the South stood for, what the Confederation stood for. When he told me he was to join, to leave, I felt as if my heart sunk. Even though he had yet to leave, yet to marry me, I felt as if I were a widow. The man I loved would be joining the thing he detested most, do what he detested most. 

   "Now, Miss Forbes." Damon walked up to me with a smirk around his lips. "You shouldn't pout so much. It doesn't look good on you." When he reached me, he brushed his fingers under my chin, making me look up at him. "Come on, Clara, where is that beautiful smile?"

   "It'll appear when you return, Mr. Salvatore," I said, pouting. I grabbed the opening of his uniform jacket, swallowing hard. 

   Damon laughed and leaned down, kissing me full on the mouth. His lips tasted like whiskey, like sugarplums and mint. They were simultaneously soft and rough, a burden I would miss too much. I had kissed him too many times, but I had never felt tired of his kisses. They were wonderful, filled with force and love and I wanted nothing more but to keep kissing him. 

   I pulled away from him and hit him in the chest, smiling. "Sir, you are no gentleman."

   "An apt observation," he replied, leaning down to kiss me once again. "And you, Miss, are no lady." His lips brushed against mine, and they were gentle and soft, like the breeze.

   Before he kissed me once again, someone cleared their throat. We pulled away from each other and looked at the culprit, finding a smirking Stefan with his arms crossed. "Are you going to keep hugging my brother all to yourself, Clara, or will I be able to say goodbye?"

   "Now, Stefan," I smiled, laying my head against Damon's chest. "You had him for just yourself for over seventeen years."

   "And you will have him for the rest of your life," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Would you please allow me to bid my brother goodbye? It will only take seconds, then he is yours."

   I pouted, but pulled away from Damon. He moved towards his brother, a smile on his lips. Although it was a sad union, the brothers held smiled on their lips. They stared at each other for several seconds, until the pair moved in for a hug. Damon held on to his brother tightly, just like Stefan did in return. It was a moment between siblings that was filled with love, and I couldn't help but smile as I watched between the Salvatore brothers. It was after several seconds that they pulled away from each other. 

   "When I return," Damon began, "I expect you to be my best man at the wedding."

   Stefan stared at his brother in surprise, a grin spreading around his lips. "You want me to be your best man?"

   "You're my brother!" Damon laughed. "What else would you expect, Stefan?"

   "I expected you to chose James, not me."

   "You expected wrong," he grinned. "Like I said, Stefan, you're my brother."

   Stefan initiated the hug this time. He slapped his brothers back, and grinned when he pulled away. He turned back to me and chuckled, taking a step back. "He's all yours, Clara."

   Damon opened his arms and smiled at me. I couldn't help but run to him, wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. It was unavoidable in my part, but I cried. I let the tears flow freely as I held on to him tightly and felt the world around me crumble. His arms tightened around me, as if he also didn't want to let go. He let out a sigh and pressed his lips over my head. 

   "Clara, say you'll marry me when I come back or, before God, I won't go," he said. "I'll stay around here and call your name under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice and compromise you, so you'll have to marry me."

   I giggled and pulled away, wiping one of the stray tears and shaking my head. "I said I would marry you the moment I first saw you," I told him.

   "I'm making sure you're not just marrying me because of my good looks, Miss Forbes," he smirked, laying a quick peck on my lips.

   "If I were marrying for good looks, I'd be married to a Fell," I teased, pulling his face down to mine. This time, I initiated the kiss. I allowed my lips to mould with his, to enjoy the simple taste of whiskey, sugarplum, and mint. It was the simple taste I would miss on my tongue, the one of candy and alcohol.

   As he kissed me, I recalled the simple night we spent in the woods. We sneaked out just to meet each other, and we would spend every moment until sunrise together. Damon would have pushed me against a tree, and ran his hands all over me as he kissed me full on the mouth. His cold fingers would brush up my legs, between my thighs, up my stomach and arms, over and under my breasts—every single inch of my body—and I would shiver with anticipation. It was a love I desired, a love I wanted to last forever.

   Damon pulled away and stared into my eyes for several seconds, his lips wet and red from the kiss. His hand was on my cheek, his thumb gently brushing up and down. "I have to leave," he said, his brows gently furrowing.

   "I know," I responded, frowning. 

   "Clara, whatever happens, I want you to promise me that you'll at least wait for me," he said, laying his forehead against mine. "Just for a few months, wait for me. Don't marry any other man that comes by and woo's you."

   "I promise I won't marry Stefan," I said, trying to make light of the situation. Although I let out a laugh, the tears were still falling. 

   Damon smiled. "Good." He pulled away from me and took his hat from my hands. I didn't know that I had been bunching it up between my hands until he gently took it from me. With a sigh, he turned to look at his brother. "Look after her for me, will you?"

   "I will," Stefan said, nodding. "I'll keep her safe."

   "Don't marry her," the eldest Salvatore teased, squeezing the youngest's shoulder. "Unless I die, then you can marry her, but that's only because I know she'll be in good hands."

   "Don't talk like that!" I called, frowning. 

   He turned back to me and smiled. Even thought it was big, I could still see the sadness that was hidden. "I'm just saying something that might happen, Clara."

   "Don't you talk like–"

   "I will say no more," he cut me off. "I'll see you soon." He told me, then looked at his brother. With a single nod, he put on his hat, turned, and marched away. 

   I moved to stand next to Stefan, watching Damon's retreating back. He looked indifferent with the rest of the men in uniform, with the rest of those that walked alongside to what may be their deaths. I didn't know why, but I reached for Stefan's hand and squeezed it tightly, my other hand shaking with both fright and longing. 

   "How much will you long for him?" Stefan quietly asked. 

   I quickly glanced at him. "A longing heart can only stand so much longing."

   "For a long time, then?"

   "For as much as I can," I replied, looking down at the Damon's foot prints. "For as much as my heart allows."

   Stefan sighed and nodded, pulling out his arm with a small smile forming around his lips. "Should we go back inside, Miss Forbes?" he softly asked. "It is getting kind of chilly."

   I smiled and wrapped my arm around his. "Thank you, Mr. Salvatore," I said, walking alongside him. We passed by crying wives, whimpering children, and mothers who desired nothing more but to take the place of their sons. As we passed them, I held on tighter to Stefan. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

   "You'd probably be married to a Fell," he teased, smiling.

   I laughed and shook my head. "It would have been horrible if I did go into a courtship with Harold Fell, don't you think?"

   "Would it be horrible if you ever entered a courtship with me?" Stefan asked, staring down at me with a curious gaze. 

   "A courtship with you?" I questioned out loud, slightly pursing my lips as I thought about his question. "To be frank, dear Stefan, I think a courtship with you would be flowers and candies and smiles all around.

   "So, different from Damon?"

   I laughed. "You two may be brothers, but you are very different." I glanced up at him and tilted my head to the side. "Why are you asking me such things? Have you ever imagined being in a courtship with me, Stefan?"

   He smiled and looked down. "Sometimes," he admitted. "Those times I remember when you and I are such good friends, when I remember that I prefer you a million times more than Rosalie Cartwright."

   Once again, I laughed. "Okay, fine, then tell me: what do you imagine our courtship to be like?"

   "I imagine it to be filled with smiles," he began. "I would bring you flowers everyday, even if they were the wild flowers that you'd find beneath a tree. I would bring you a box of sugarplums, and we would eat them under a tree by the quarry. I would kiss you every chance I got, even if your lips were covered in sticky honey and your tongue tasted of plums, because your kisses would be like the sun shining every morning through milky clouds in a dull day. I'd sneak out at night just to see you, and I'd push you against a tree and kiss you as if it were the last time you'd ever be kissed, kiss you like you deserve to be kissed. I'd touch you in places you desire to be touched, kiss every inch of your skin, and make you whimper my name as you wither beneath me." He was watching me as he spoke, his green eyes carefully glancing from my lips to my eyes. "If we were in a courtship, I'd love you every single moment, and reminded you that I did. I'd write letters, poems, and have them be published in the newspaper so everyone can see just how much I love you."

   I swallowed hard and began to fan myself with my free hand. From a silly situation, Stefan managed to make my heart beat wildly against my chest and my skin to feel hot. Just like before, when he commented about my eyes, the heat began at the back of my neck and ended somewhere along my forehead. 

   "You mustn't say things like that, Stefan," I said, my voice a bit hoarse. "What would people think if they heard you?"

   "They'd think I'm a very stupid man for being in love with my brother's fiancée," he said, glancing away from me. He let out a laugh and brushed his hair back. "I-I-I mean, I think that is what they would think..."

   "Yes..." I trailed off, swallowing hard once again. "Yes, I think so as well."

   "Let's get you back home, Clara," he said, quickly changing the conversation. "Your mother must be very worried that you're yet to be home. I did promise that I'd bring you home before six."

   As Stefan walked me home, as my arm was held tightly around his, I couldn't help but wonder: what would a courtship with him be like? What if it was him instead of Damon? What if?