#depravedmortal

“O, WERE I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear,—if I were loved by thee? All the inner, all the outer world of pain, Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine;” ~ Sir Alfred Lord Tennyson From the time I was old enough to walk, I idolized Damon Salvatore. He was two years older and always lead our games. We were inseparable, rambunctious, and curious, playing games of hide and seek, fighting battles with his tin soldiers, and shooting marbles on the lawn. My mother told us both stories at her knee, and afterward we would act them out, pretending to be Robin Hood and Will Scarlet or fairy tale knights with toy swords out to save the kingdom from dragons and monsters. I was five years old when his younger brother, Stefan, was born. That was when I realized that Damon and I weren't the same. Up to that point, I had known his family was richer than mine. That much was obvious. But I never felt inferior until I was told I couldn't go see the new baby. My mother sat me down and explained that Damon would be busy soon with school and wouldn't have time for silly games anymore. When I asked why I couldn't go too, she told me that was impossible. It was time for me to learn that he and I would never be equals. From that point on, he was the master, and I was to follow his orders and be his man in all things. I was to be Damon's manservant, which meant I was to learn to press his clothes, shine his boots, dress his hair, and I was to ensure he had everything he needed. I was to wake him in the morning, get him ready for the day, help him if he needed something carried, deliver his correspondence, dress him for dinner, and prepare him for bed. My job was to be by his side from the time he woke until he fell asleep at night, attending to his comfort. I was given a little bed in a narrow room above his, and I was to begin sleeping there right away in order to grow accustomed to my new position. My mother told me it was a great honor to work in the house, and I would learn to read and write so I might be of use in that way as well. To explain my role, she told me the story of King Arthur and his knights. One day, she said, Master Damon would inherit everything. He would be taught the things he needed to know to be a gentleman, which she said was like being a knight. He would have to be strong and brave and handsome, and when I said he was already those things, she laughed and tousled my hair. I was to be like his squire, helping him in any battles he might face so that one day he might be a great man. “So it’s like a game?” I asked, peering up as I sat on her lap. “Like makebelieve?” “No, Antonio,” she said, brushing my hair back from my face. “This is very real. The time for games is over for you. Damon will have his brother to play with now, but you, my son, must grow up. Your life is to serve him from this moment on. You are his to command, and he is yours to care for all your lives. You will be inseparable, just not in the way you have been.” “But I don’t want things to change,” I said, my lower lip trembling. She hugged me close, kissing my brow. “Life is change, my little ‘Tonio. But you will see. Damon will need you, and you will be the truest companion he will ever have, just as I am for his mother. Things will not be the way they have been, but you will get used to it soon.” I cried the first night in that little bed all alone. Then, through the floor beneath me, I heard him crying too, and I suddenly understood what my mother had been talking about. He needed me. I had never been more sure of anything in my life. My tears stopped, and I knew I had a job to do. Though I knew I would be in trouble if I was found out of bed, I slipped out in my nightshirt and tiptoed barefoot down the back stairs and down the hall to his room. The doorknob was hard for me to turn by myself, but I managed it, then closed the door behind me. I crept to his bedside, then crawled in beside him, taking his hand in mine as I laid my head beside his on the pillow. “It’s all right, Master Damon. I’ll take care of you now. You don’t have to worry.” That was how it was from that moment on. I was his to command. He was mine to care for. If he was in trouble, I took the blame as often as I could. That was my job too. We were still inseparable, but it was no longer a friendship we could show openly. That wasn’t the world we lived in. He had his place, and I had mine. Only behind closed doors could we be ourselves again, laughing and joking as we once did. We grew up side by side, and while Damon’s brother Stefan and I were friendly as well, I would never be close with him the way I was with his elder brother. My attentions would always be fixed on Damon, and only when we were much older did I come to understand the deeper emotions inherent in our connection. Throughout all that time, it never occurred to me to categorize my feelings for him. He was simply all I thought about, the object of all my attention and affection. I did as I was told. My job was to care for him. I found that easy to do. My one wish was for his happiness. It’s what I was raised to want and strive for. I didn’t have time to make other friends, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have wanted to. He was my everything. It was only once I reached the age of puberty that I realized my lack of interest in girls was unusual. Girls had never been a part of my frame of reference. The only women I knew well were adults the age of my mother or more, and my only real opportunity to encounter any my own age was during church, but my sheltered life and my position as a servant made me shy to speak to any of them. They seemed like oddities, all fluttering dresses and giggles, and I had no desire to have any closer acquaintance with them than that. Then came one fateful Sunday when one of those doll-like creatures approached Damon with coquettish intent. He smiled at her, seeming to flirt back, and I felt a flame of anger and betrayal I didn’t understand. I had never before felt proprietary of him, but in that one moment, I had a surge of panic that she might steal his affections from me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I was helpless, feeling the eyes of the entire household would be on me if I made a scene, and so I ran all the way home, leaving them all there in the churchyard. Only when I was alone in my little room did I throw myself face down on that narrow bed and break down in tears, sobbing with a broken heart. I didn’t want to share him. Not with anyone outside the family, and I didn’t want that smile of his to be given to anyone but me. That look he’d given her was so like the one he gave me in private, and how could I ever hope to compete with her? I was only a servant, after all, while she was a gentleman’s daughter. All through my childhood, I had envisioned being his sole companion and confidant in life, and in that moment, I felt how foolish and naive it was to expect that things would remain that way. Of course he would marry one day. All gentlemen did, didn’t they? It was what was expected of him. All the fairy tale princes found a princess, after all. There was no place for me in his future except in a very narrow scope. He would forget our friendship as he had forgotten his boyhood toys, and I would become like every other servant to him, someone beneath him whom he kept at arm's length and commanded without warmth or tenderness. He would treat me as his father treated the servants. Our closeness was over, and I was bereft of the only love I had ever known. I envisioned him putting his arms around her, kissing her the way Robin Hood kissed Maid Marion in all those stories, and I felt sick at the very thought. I didn’t want him kissing anyone. Not anyone but me. Shattered, I cried all afternoon, refusing to go down even when I knew I had duties I was expected to perform. At last, I had no choice. It was nearing dinner time, and I was expected to help Damon dress for table. With eyes red and raw from tears, I went down to his room and began laying out his clothes, not looking or speaking to him, but keeping silent and trying not to sniffle. Part of me was praying he would notice my change in behavior, while the other half wanted to be left alone in my misery and not have to admit my foolish lovesick notions.