"Don’t try to get up. You’re hurt." A musical soothing voice warned.

Katherine? Did she come back?

Damon was about to shake his head but his head protested. No, it couldn’t be Katherine. Katherine was dead....he had seen her ashes....both of them had....

He wasn’t going to just lie here waiting for an answer. He had to move. But first he had to open his eyes. Opening his eyes, for a second made him speechless, which didn’t happen very often. Damon found himself in the middle of a beautiful hall. A hall with massive silk pillows.

"Oh good, I thought that you would never open your eyes." Damon’s eyes swung from the pillows and clashed with the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. They reminded him of freshly grown leaves in the spring time. It reminded him of Stefan.

With that, Damon winced. He didn’t want to be thinking of his brother. He didn’t want to think of anyone except himself.

"Are you in pain?" That voice asked, concerned. Damon had been so immersed in this creature’s voice that he never even looked at the person.

He was looking at her now and she was beautiful. No, she was breathtaking, Damon silently amended. There was no other word to describe her.

She had long black hair; wavy long hair. The color of a raven’s wing. It reached her waist and flowed over her back like a waterfall. Her skin was dark, an olive color. Her mouth was full and luscious. A mouth made for kissing. A pouty mouth. High cheekbones and dark eyebrows; they all came together to form one perfect female. And she was bending over him and tending to his wound.

"Are you in pain?" Her voice grew insistent and worried. A frown burrowed between her brows.

"No, I am not in pain." Damon responded slowly. His head was still throbbing and he desperately needed a drink to soothe his dry throat.

The girl touched his forehead with her small dainty hand. A current ran through her body and into his. Damon felt it through his very bones. It was frightening; Damon had never felt like this before. Not with Katherine not with anyone. It just wasn’t real. Damon silently scoffed, nothing was real anymore. Not to him.

"You have a fever. You’re burning up. I have to make the fever go down. I don’t know what they did." She moved away from him and went to a long table on the side of the room. Damon heard lapping water and saw that she was putting a cloth into a basin. She squeezed the cloth and returned to Damon’s side.

Damon sighed when he felt the coolness of the cloth hit his forehead. Maybe he was sick. He had only been a vampire for a day; he wasn’t sure that all of his powers were fully developed. He didn’t know how long it took for a vampire to adapt to his full nature. Katherine had left that out. But then he remembered that the girl had said that she didn’t know what they.... They? They who?

"Who are they?" Damon muttered, his eyes closed, savoring the cold, wet water seep into his skin and cool his burning skin.

The girl look startled, "Did you say something?" The girl motioned with her hand and a guard or whoever this man was came forward with the basin of water. Damon hadn’t noticed him before. He hadn’t noticed anything except the girl.

Damon raised himself by his elbows, raising a hand slightly to muffle the girl’s protests. Once settled, he really looked over his surroundings.

He was in the middle of a palace.

Damon’s eyes roamed from the elaborately carved ceiling with crystal chandeliers hanging from them. They lit the hall with candles on each one. A long table was one the side of the hall. The table where the basin came from. It also contained a candelabra and various food and drinks displayed for the viewers’ pleasure. The floor was marble; white marble. And he was lying in a pile of blue silk pillows over a cushioned velvet mat. It would put his own, well, his old home, to shame. It would be a poor farmer’s cottage compared to this fortress. Where was he?

His mouth opened to form the question but trumpets sounded in the doorway, reverberating in his head and making it ache.

The girl’s hand fell away from his arm and stood up. She left the area where Damon was and walked towards the door. He craned his neck to see what was happening.

A short plump man entered the room and immediately everyone; the guards and the trumpet players bowed down. Everyone except the girl.

What was this place? Damon didn’t know what was going on, but he was going to find out.

"Calisandra, I see the boy is well." The man might be short but his voice held an unique authority that made people want to listen. This man reminded him of his father. And that wasn’t a pleasant memory. Damon didn’t want to listen.

And apparently the girl, no, Calisandra, didn’t either. That was what he thought that man had called her. Calisandra.... A picture of a brook with water running over rocks came into Damon’s head when he repeated her name. He almost smiled; Damon Salvatore spouting words like a poet. That was a laugh.

Ah, but he was day dreaming. He still didn’t know what was going on. Damon looked at the man who was now speaking to Calisandra.

"....Father he has a bump on his head. What did you do to him?" Calisandra’s voice grew angry and shook with passion. Damon never noticed how small she was. Maybe it was because she had been sitting. She wasn’t much taller than her father, who compared to Damon, would only reach his chin.

"Now, now Calisandra, don’t get all anxious. Is the boy not alive and breathing?" Her father replied chidingly. Thinking the matter dismissed, he turned to one of his guards.

"No Father, he is not alright. He has a fever and could barely move. Now, what did you do to him. I demand to know." Her body was taunt and her back rigid. She wasn’t about to budge one inch until her father answered her.

The man turned from the guard and raised an eyebrow. "You demand to know? Really Calisandra, I thought your tutors had taught you the basic etiquette when speaking to others, especially your elders."

A dark red velvet chair was carried into the hall and placed near the door. The man sat down and was handed a goblet of wine. He took a sip, "My guards just took the necessary measures to ensure that he was brought without a fight to the palace...."

"You mean you sent your guards to attack him and render him unconscious so that he couldn’t put up a fight." Calisandra interrupted. Damon could feel her anger radiate off her body like heat waves. He almost smiled at her fierceness. He had never seen someone so angry for him before. It was an awesome force. "Why? Why, Father; what was your motive?" Calisandra questioned.