Elena's Dress At The Mikaelson Ball นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Beneath the chandeliers and masks, secrets passed in coded glances and veiled threats. I wore a crimson gown with a thigh holster. Adrian was in a tailored tux, every bit the disarming gentleman. “She’ll be here,” I said as we surveyed the ballroom. “She can’t resist power.” A violin string snapped, sharp and loud, and for a moment, everyone paused. Then she appeared. Eliza Morden. No mask. No fear. Wearing white like a bride at war. “You always did like theatrics,” she said, stopping just a few feet away.

, Anastasia shouted, drawing attention to the scene. “It's okay Ana, she didn't mean to. I could happen to anyone”, Elena was calm, lips slightly raised as she dabbed on the spot with a paper towel. Elena looked so beautiful tonight, he dress was a black feathery ball dress, with thousands of gem stones, She looked like a warrior and a princess. “I di-didn't mean to clash into you-you Elena, I'm so sorry”, I apologize again, not minding the loud Anastasia.

A year ago, they would have been shaking. "You ready?" Elena appears in the doorway, her silver hair pinned elegantly and her expression warm. She's wearing a deep blue dress I've never seen before, she must have bought it for the occasion. "I think so. Are they?" "Well, Damon is pacing and Mike is trying to calm him down. Josh is telling everyone that he's the ring bear, emphasis on bear, and he'd like to know where his bear costume is." I laugh, and the sound surprises me with its lightness. A year ago, I couldn't laugh like this. A year ago, laughter felt like tempting fate.

This time, it was her. The music shifted, a slow, melodic pipe organ melody filling the hall. Elena stepped into the light. My breath hitched. She looked like a dream—no, she looked like a goddess. Her dress was a deep, midnight blue that shimmered like moonlight, and her hair was pinned back in an intricate braid woven with small, silver flowers. She looked ethereal. All eyes were on her, the pack members falling into a stunned silence as she walked the aisle.

The line buzzed faintly, then went quiet as Jace resumed listening in. Elena exhaled, her gaze sliding across the ballroom. Couples twirled in elegant arcs, laughter chimed like silver bells, and chandeliers spilled golden light across gowns and jewels. The gala glittered with wealth and pretense, a mask for corruption, secrets, and tonight, for murder. Her target was within reach. All she needed was the right moment. And until Jace gave the go ahead, she had to stay in character.

But, on the second day, they took time off and went to a nightclub. Elena wore a bloodthirsty red dress, with a generous neckline and opening on the sides. She was the personification of sensuality, or debauchery; that depended on the mind of whoever saw it. She had very little left to the imagination, as every line of her body was on display.

He wasn't going to let a nameless omega ruin his empire. "Your name," Kaelen commanded. His voice was a low heavy baritone that rattled my teeth. "Elena, Your Majesty," I whispered, hating how small I sounded. Kaelen inhaled deeply, confirming the scent, confirming the tragedy of the match. When he opened his eyes the gold was gone. Only grey ice remained. "Elena," Kaelen said, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the silent ballroom. "Look at me." I forced my chin up, meeting his dead gaze.

"Or just an obsolete legacy balance sheet desperate for an executive bailout?" The circle of matrons parted instantly, a collective hush falling over the immediate perimeter. Elena stepped into the golden glow of the chandeliers, looking entirely unbothered and dangerously radiant. She had deliberately avoided traditional ballgown tropes, opting for a razor-sharp, custom ivory tuxedo dress with structured satin lapels and a deep, plunging neckline that showcased the rigid, confident slope of her collarbones. Her long dark waves tumbled over one shoulder in loose, glossy ribbons, and her crystal-clear eyes locked onto Vivienne with clinical amusement.

Arm-in-arm with him walked Elena Vance. She wore a tailored crimson silk coat dress, her chestnut hair styled in a sleek, sovereign knot, her emerald eyes blazing with an unyielding, queenly fire. On her finger, the black diamond band, the white diamond ring, and the pink diamond eternity band flashed under the cold chandelier lights with icy, untouchable brilliance. Behind them marched Marcus Knox and twelve elite tactical operatives, securing the perimeter with silent, lethal discipline. Absolute, paralyzed silence fell over the grand ballroom. The elite aristocrats of Vienna stared in unadulterated horror at the man and woman they had just plotted against.

Half an hour before I was to seal a blood bond, my vampire fiance's steward stopped me outside my own bedchamber. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but your key doesn't fit this lock." His words made my stomach drop. "That's impossible. Crowley Ashbourne handed it to me himself." "According to our records, the bedchamber is currently occupied by Lady Elsa Ashbourne, Lord Crowley's adopted sister. She set a ward over it, and only Lord Crowley's blood seal can open the door." My lady's maid, Marta Bell, went white at the steward's answer. The bonding gown, the moonstone ring, every single thing the ceremony required, all of it was still inside that room. In half an hour, vampire nobles from every territ