The Girl with the Fire Heart

Sure enough, Valentina turns just enough to see their carriage turn the bend and ride away from the house with no other carriage to follow behind it. When she turns her attention back to the party, everyone is staring at the four of them, just as Damon had said.

Damon feels Valentina hesitate before she voices it to him. He knew telling her they were the last of the guests to arrive could make her more nervous to be here but he also knew not telling her would make her feel even worse that she didn’t have time to prepare before everyone could see them so plainly.

“There are so many people,” she whispers back to him. He feels a slight smile tug at him but he forces it down, knowing his reputation of coldness must be maintained in front of these people.

“You’ve got this,” is all he says to her before they reach the cathedral style staircase leading up to the house. With shoulders pushed back and their heads held high, Damon and Valentina walk with their two chaperones make their way up to the front doors of the house, passing all the partygoers still milling about on the staircase waiting to be let in.

As the four of them pass, Damon can hear snippets of whispers as he ascends. Being the boy with the water heart was always a title too massive to wear, a cross too heavy with burdens to carry. Damon never realized just how lonely his road was until now. Walking besides Valentina, walking up the stairs with the girl with the fire heart, it dawns on him he does not have to carry this particular load alone anymore.

Damon is suddenly reminded of when he was about eleven years old when he attended his very first blessing ceremony, one almost as elaborate as the one he is attending now at twenty-seven. He remembers how excited he was that he'd been invited, that he would get to see a child be blessed with their element. He remembers when the carriage stopped, when he stepped out to look up at the house that seemed to look a whole lot like this one.

He remembers the way the people looked at him funny. He thought it was awe, or maybe reverence for his element. His parents had always told him to be proud of what his heart was made of, even if others couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until the end of the night, when he heard someone talking to his parents about how dangerous he could be if he let the power get to his head. He stood silent, hiding behind a door, waiting for his parents to come to his defense. He waited as each person his parents were surrounded by finished speaking such horrid things that an eleven-year-old boy should never have to hear.

He decided he didn’t want to stick around to hear what his parents would have to say. He learned that night that coming to a blessing ceremony was not something to be excited about, it was just another burden, another thing to hate about being different.

Damon is slammed back into the present when they reach the top of the stairs and the big cathedral style doors unlock and start their slow opening. When they swing all the way open, the crowds of people the group of four passed suddenly press in behind them, eagerly wanting to see the inside of the house and how the couple with the tanzanite hearts decorated their home for the first night of celebrations.

A trumpet sounds somewhere in the house, signaling the start of the night. As if on cue, everyone leaps forward into motion, pushing in through the giant double doors and making their way into the foyer. Blue ribbons, sashes, lights and gems are everywhere, covering every possible inch of furniture or open space available. There are ushers dressed in varying shades of blue and what appears to be head ushers wearing white to give direction to the more wandering partygoers.

The group passes through hallways lined with portraits of generations of people with tanzanite hearts, the couples in each painting smiling less and less and the air of superiority becoming more palpable as they look on. At the very end is a covered painting which would, at some point tonight, be revealed to show the family that now occupies the home and the start to the new generation.

The hordes of people are slowly guided into an elaborately blue and white draped ballroom with staff carrying silver trays with champagne flutes filled to the brim with some sort of blue liquid. The four pillars in the room seem to quarden off the dance floor and the surrounding areas. At the front of the room is a raised platform with an entire orchestra seated, playing softly as the guests take in the ballroom.

Lining the edges of the room are tables numbered from one to twelve and a butler standing in the center of the room directing guests to the correct table numbers. Somehow, in all the commotion, Damon and Valentina wind up at the end of the line, an eerie feeling settling over the both of them that this is not all that different from their arrival in their carriage.

The line slowly shrinks, the edge Damon has been feeling washing over him again at being at an event like this. He feels a tug around his neck forcing him to look down at his necklace. Locked in its cage, the water in his necklace is tossing and turning, not quite a massive wave but not settling either. Suddenly, he feels a wave of heat rush over him and he looks over at Valentina.

He finds that she is already looking at him. She wears a small smile on her face, her dark red lipstick making what would normally have been a reassuring smile something altogether more seductive. Damon shakes his head a little to shake himself loose from the moment and gives her a slight nod in acknowledgment.

At the same time, they turn to face the butler as they stand before him. Without looking up from his list of names, he asks, “Title?”

Damon schools his feature, suddenly reminded of his reputation among these people and coldly gives his position away.

The butler merely nods, seemingly not impressed with the position at all.

“Element of you and your guest,” the butler says more than asks, again not looking up from his list of names.

“Water and fire,” Damon says.

The butler looks up abruptly and with shock covering every inch of his face. The music at the front of the room goes quieter but doesn't stop and every person in the ballroom collectively looks over at Damon and Valentina with their two chaperones standing not too far behind them.

Damon feels more than hears the two chaperones take a step back as if expecting some sort of altercation to occur. Again, Damon feels the same eleven-year-old feelings rise in him before reminding himself he is not young nor is he defenseless anymore. He adjusts his stance to take a slight step forward and in front of Valentina, all the while appearing to be standing at her side.

Damon rolls his shoulders back just enough to reveal the defined muscles his suit hides. The butler opens and closes his mouth like a gaping fish, unsure of what to say and refusing to look down at his list to direct them to their table.

The doors behind the couple swing open, forcing everyone to turn their attention away from the rare elements of the young couple and to the parents of the child everyone is here to celebrate.

Valentina knows now more than ever that falling from the carriage would have been a small blunder compared to this. Walking arm in arm with a beautiful, fair skinned and blonde haired woman is the same boy with the tanzanite heart from her past. The very same one that left one day without a word and allowed his parents to send an invitation to his wedding months after his leaving. There, striding into the room, is none other than the former love of her life, Elliot.