The summer of 1864 lay golden upon Mystic Falls. Lanterns glowed softly at the edges of the town square, carriages rattled down the cobbled roads, and magnolia trees spread their blooms, heavy with fragrance. For Stefan Salvatore, every step he took felt dreamlike, because on his arm she walked.

Her, eldest daughter of the Forbes family, was the very picture of refinement. Her honey-blonde curls fell in soft waves, and her laugh — clear and warm — carried through the gardens of their evening promenades. Though many men vied for her attention, Stefan could scarcely believe that it was him she favored.

“You look as though you’ve won some great fortune,” she teased one afternoon as they strolled near the town’s fountain.

“I have,” Stefan said earnestly, taking her gloved hand into his. “I have won you. And I shall never tire of reminding myself of that.”

She blushed, lowering her gaze, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Stefan Salvatore, you’ll turn my head with such words.”

“I speak only what I feel.”

For weeks, their courtship blossomed. They rode horseback through the countryside, attended balls where Stefan rarely let her leave his side, and spoke in hushed voices under the sprawling oaks. Her mother, though pleased by Stefan’s manners and the Salvatore name, reminded her daughter of the many eligible suitors who called. But her heart was set.

It was early autumn when Katherine Pierce came to Mystic Falls. She arrived in a dark carriage, stepping down with a confidence that caught every eye. Her beauty was like fire — dangerous, consuming — and her smile promised secrets better left untouched.

Introduced at a gathering hosted by the Lockwoods, Stefan and Damon both found themselves enchanted. Katherine’s laughter rang through the hall, her charm wrapping itself around every gentleman present.

She noticed the way Stefan’s eyes followed Katherine, though he quickly looked away when he caught himself. Later that night, she confronted him gently in the moonlit garden.

It was during a Sunday dinner at the Salvatore estate that the fracture widened. She had been invited by Giuseppe himself — a rare courtesy. She arrived in lavender silk, poised and lovely, her smile lighting the somber dining room.

Katherine was already there.

When introductions were made, Katherine leaned in to her and whispered sweetly, “I do so admire your composure. I imagine it must be… challenging, to hold Stefan’s heart with so many rivals.”

She drew back only slightly, her chin lifting. “A heart is not held by beauty or intrigue, Miss Pierce. It is held by trust. That I have.”

Katherine’s laugh was soft and knowing. “We shall see.”

Stefan, tense between them, forced a smile. “Shall we eat?”

⸻

Later that evening, after Katherine had departed, Stefan walked her home beneath the lamplight.

“You should not let her trouble you,” he said.

She turned to him, her eyes serious. “She troubles me because she troubles you.”

He stopped short, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I see it, Stefan. The way you look at her when you think no one notices. The way your voice falters when she enters a room. You speak of love — and I believe you love me — but she has some power over you, doesn’t she?”

Stefan lowered his gaze, ashamed. “It is… confusing. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And yet…” He caught her hands desperately. “She is not you. She could never be you.”