Even as Damon spoke, Elena could hear the echoes of what he'd been told by the assembly who had come to Dr. Meggar's door. They had been afraid, too.
Maybe this could be the start of something important, Elena thought, her mind soaring away from her own small problems. Even death wouldn't be too high a price to pay to free these wretched people from their demonic masters.
"But that's not what will happen!" Damon said, and Elena realized that she must be projecting her thoughts. There was genuine anguish in Damon's voice. "If we had planned things, if there were leaders who could stay here and oversee a revolution - if we could even find leaders strong enough to do it - then there might be a chance. Instead, all the slaves are being punished, everywhere that the word has spread. They're being tortured and killed on mere suspicion of sympathy with you. Their masters are making examples all over the city. And it's only going to get worse."
Elena's heart, which had been soaring on a dream of actually making a difference, came crashing down to the ground and she stared, horrified, into Damon's black eyes. "But we've got to stop that. Even if I have to die - "
Damon pulled her back in close to him. "You - and Bonnie and Meredith." His voice sounded hoarse. "Plenty of people saw the three of you together. Plenty of people now see all three of you as the troublemakers."
Elena's heart went cold. Maybe the worst thing was that she could see from a slave economy's point of view that if one incident of such insolence went unpunished and word of it spread...the tale would grow in the telling....
"We became famous overnight. We'll be legends tomorrow," she murmured, watching, in her mind, a domino toppling into another which hit another until a long string had fallen down spelling the word "Heroine."
But she didn't want to be a heroine. She had just come here to get Stefan back. And while she could have faced giving her life to stop slaves from being tortured and killed, she would herself kill anyone who tried to lay a hand on Bonnie or Meredith.
"They feel the same way," Damon said. "They heard what the congregation had to say." He held her arms hard as if trying to brace her. "A young girl named Helena was beaten and hung this morning because she had a similar name to yours. She was fifteen."
Elena's legs gave out, as so often they had done in Damon's arms...but never for this reason. He went with her. This was a conversation you had sitting on bare floorboards. "It wasn't your fault, Elena! You are what you are! People love you for what you are!"
Elena's pulse was hammering frantically. It was all so bad...but she had made it worse. By not thinking. By imagining that her life was the only one at stake. By acting before evaluating the consequences.
But in the same situation she would do it again. Or...with shame, she thought, I would do something like it. If I knew that I would put everyone I loved in danger I would have begged Damon to bargain with that slave-owner worm. Buy her for some outrageous price...if we had the money. If he would have listened...If another stroke of the whip hadn't killed Lady Ulma...
Suddenly her brain went hard and cold.
That is the past.
This is the present.
Deal with it.
"What can we do?" She tried to pull free and shake Damon; she was that frantic. "There must be something we can do now! They can't kill Bonnie and Meredith - and Stefan will die if we don't find him!"
Damon just held her more tightly. He was keeping his mind shielded from hers, Elena realized. This could either be good or bad. It might be that there was a solution he was reluctant to put to her. Or it could mean that the death of all three of the "rebel slaves" was the only thing the city leaders would accept.
"Damon." He was holding her much too tightly to get free, so Elena couldn't look him in the face. But she could visualize it, and she could also try to address him squarely, mind to mind.
Damon, if there's anything - even any way we can save Bonnie and Meredith - you have to tell me. You have to. I order you to!
Neither of them were in a mood to find that amusing or even to notice the "slave" giving orders to the "master." But at last Elena heard Damon's telepathic voice.
They say that if I take you back to Young Drohzne now and you apologize, that you can be let off with just six strokes of this. From somewhere Damon produced a pliant cane made of some pale wood. Ash, probably, Elena thought, surprised at how calm she was. It's the one substance equally effective on everyone: even on vampires - even on Old Ones, which they undoubtedly have around here.
But it has to be in public so that they can get the rumors started the other way. They think then that the turmoil will stop, if you - the one who started the disobedience - will admit your slave status.
Damon's thoughts were heavy, and so was Elena's heart. How many of her principles would she be betraying if she did this? How many slaves would she be condemning to lives of servitude?
Suddenly Damon's mental voice was angry. We didn't come here to reform the Dark Dimension, he reminded her, in tones that made Elena wince away. Damon shook her slightly. We came to get Stefan, remember? Needless to say, we'll never have a chance to do that if we try to play Spartacus. If we start a war that we know we can't win. Even the Guardians can't win it.
A light went on in Elena's mind.
"Of course," she said. "Why didn't I think of it before?"
"Think of what before?" Damon said desperately.
"We don't fight the war - now. I haven't even mastered my basic Powers, much less my Wings Powers. And this way they won't even wonder about them."
"Elena?"