A/N: I've been working on this one for several months now. Inspired by the Mexican telenovela 'Pasion,' I bring to you my newest, original work. I really hope you enjoy, because I'm quite fond of the plotline I have in store for this tale. Please let me know what you think and if you would like to read more!

Chapter One: The Music Box

December 25, 1635

Portsmouth, England

The ringing from the bell tower marked the end of the first hour.

The 10 year-old's short legs couldn't run fast enough.

He was outside the small, brick building when he heard the coughing. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he quickly swept them away. He had to stay strong.

The boy pushed back his dark hair away from his face as he sprung the wooden door open and stepped inside. A horrid stench immediately filled his nose as he approached the tiny room in the corner. It took everything in him not to vomit at the sight.

The sheets of the small bed were stained bright with blood and the floor was covered in vomit. In the middle of it all, lay his dying mother.

His father was kneeled beside her, stroking her hand. He looked up, a look of relief washing over his face.

"Damon, did you bring it?"

Damon nodded as he handed over the pitcher of water. His father took it with trembling hands and placed it carefully under her lips.

"You must drink Virginia," Giuseppe pleaded with urgency. Virginia only groaned and shook her head.

Damon took a seat on the edge of her bed next to his crying younger brother. He placed an arm over him and squeezed gently. "Stop crying Stefan," he whispered. "We must stay strong."

Virginia's eyes snapped open. "Damon," she creaked. "Damon, my son."

Giuseppe quickly stood up, grabbed Damon by his shirt and tugged him towards Virginia.

"Yes, mother. I'm here."

Virginia's watery blue eyes met Damon's own as she reached out a hand to lightly caress his pale cheek.

"My boy," she said softly. "My sweet boy."

Using all the force she had left in her, she reached under her pillow and took out a small music box. It was her most prized possession.

She gently placed it in Damon's small hands. "Open it."

The moment Damon unlatched the clasp, the top of the little wooden box sprung open and a sweet melody filled the air.

"The Hunter travels night and day

searching for what, I cannot say;

The Heart yearns what the Hunter fears,

For he knows it will bring only tears."

Virginia's own tears fall down her cheeks as her hoarse voice recited her lullaby.

"Oh, Hunter, there is no need to fret,

Following your Heart is your best bet.

For legend tells of a tale unlike any other,

Of a Hunter's Heart, son, listen to your mother."

As the tune died out, so did Virginia's voice. Damon placed the box in his trouser pocket and put his mother's hand on his right cheek.

"Please, don't go Mother," he pleaded in a small voice. Stefan's sobs got louder. "I don't know what to do without you."

Virginia gave him a small smile. "I'll always love you Damon. Follow what's in here," she gestured to his chest, "And you'll never be lost. Take care of your brother."

And with those final words, Virginia's eyes rolled into the back of her head as she flopped back into her pillow.

A stunned Damon was forcibly thrown off the bed by Giuseppe's strong arms as he made his way over to clutch Virginia's body. "Virginia! Virginia, darling! No…"

Damon bit his lips to keep from sobbing out loud and went over to little Stefan. "No more crying Stefan," he said softly, but sternly. "It's time to become a man."

As he led Stefan out of the room, Damon took out the music box and gave it a light kiss. It's all he had left of his mother now.

June 1, 1650

Somewhere in the English Channel

"Captain! A ship has been spotted! They bear the flags of the Royal fleet!"

The Captain's mouth turned upward into a smirk. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. He tightened the belt on his dark coat and placed his hand over his sword hanging down his side.

"Excellent. Prepare the ship for battle," he commanded, a tone of excitement in his voice.

"But Captain – "

"Now, Stefan," he rebutted swiftly.

"Of course."

Stefan turned to the crew and began shouting orders. "Ready the cannons! Batten down the hatches!"

The Captain stood on the quarterdeck, watching his crew scurry around, when a sudden wave of sadness hit him. He reached into his trouser coat pocket and took out a small, wooden box. His mother's music box.

"What would you think of your son now, mother?" Damon whispered.

"The ship approaches!" Stefan shouted.

Damon swallowed and placed the box back securely in his pocket.

Upon seeing the Royal flag approaching ahead, a large smile appeared on his face. This was going to be a good one.

Portsmouth, England

House of Gilbert

The beautiful bride stood in front of the long mirror staring at her reflection.

"Elena, dear, why do you look so miserable?"

Elena sighed as she tore of the veil from her head and threw it on the ground.

"You know why Caroline."

Caroline let out a deep breath as she picked up the veil and sat down next to Elena on the edge of her large bed, fluffing the skirt of her pink gown.

"You do realize how fortunate you are, right?" Caroline asked her, a look of envy in her eyes.

Elena shook her head. "Oh yes, I know." She stood up and angrily paced the room, her blue gown flowing around her. "I get to marry one of the richest men in town. Lord Richard Lockwood."

Caroline sighed in frustration. "He's much younger than your other suitors, and still relatively handsome! You're going to live like a princess! Have a life of stability!"

"But I don't care about that!" Elena said exasperatedly, heading toward the window.

She pulled back the lace curtains and stared at the glimmering ocean waters on the edge of town. "I don't want a stable, boring life," she said softly. "I want…something more."

"What?" Caroline asked, her green eyes thoroughly confused.

Elena let go of the curtains and looked back at Caroline. She clutched at her necklace tightly with one hand, while the other hand tucked a brown curl behind her ear.

"I don't know," she said in a quiet voice. "But I know I won't find it here."

"Where are you going Captain?"

"Stay here," Damon ordered as Stefan lowered him down in a small boat to the side of the ship. "I'll only be gone in hour. If I'm not back by sunrise, leave without me."

"Captain!"

"That's an order," Damon says, his blue eyes flashing.

"Of course," Stefan said, wiping the sweat of his brow.

With a quick glance behind him at his beloved ship, Damon made his way to shore. He took out a large, brown robe from his sack and put it on over his torn, blood stained clothing. Leaving the boat tied securely, Damon ran into the trees, knowing exactly where he was headed.

As soon as the town lights came into view, a smile spread across his face.

Portsmouth.

The place that had once been his home. The place that held all his best, and worst, memories.

The sound of heavy footsteps made Damon quickly hide behind a brick building. Sneaking a peek, Damon swore under his breath.

"Damn, British army."

Making sure they were out of sight, Damon placed the hood of the robe over his head, and walked quickly to his destination.

It didn't take him long before he arrived at the church and knocked twice lightly.

The door opened. "Come in," a frantic voice said. "Quickly."

Upon entering, Damon removed his hood, his face breaking into a grin. "Father William!"

The older man gave him a warm smile as Damon hugged him tightly.

"Son, what are you doing here? This is dangerous."

Damon squeezed the older man's shoulders. "I'm not a stranger to danger Father."

"No," the white-haired Father said, "but you shouldn't have come. There are guards everywhere, looking for your kind."

Damon nodded, stepping back from the man and pulling something out of his back pocket. "I know, but I needed to give you this." He extended his hand out to the Father, in it, a large sack of coins.

The older man shakes his head. "It's not necessary son…"

"I insist," Damon said sternly, forcing the man to take the bag. "It's been several months since I made a contribution."

Sighing, Father William grabbed the sack and set it out on a table behind him. He looked up at Damon, who had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Damon, son, when will you leave this life?"

Damon turned his head away and straightened up. "You know it's not possible."

"Yes, it is son, you just need to – "

"Enough Father," Damon waved a hand to shut him up. "This is my life now. This is what I was destined to be."

The Father opened his mouth to argue, but a loud bang on the door interrupted.

"Father, open this door!"

The Father looked up at Damon, his eyes wide. "It's the Royal guard," he whispered frantically.

Without another word, Damon gave the old man a quick hug, pulled the hood over his head, and jumped out the side window.

The moment his feet landed on the ground, a loud voice rang out, "Over there!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Damon sprinted off at full velocity. But the guard was relentless and quick on his tail.

Cursing, Damon was left with no choice but to hide. Spotting an open window, Damon hastily jumped inside and crouched down.

When the voices had died down, Damon stood up and let out a sigh of relief.

His hand automatically reached to his chest, and fear suddenly overtook him. His music box must've dropped when he rolled in. Getting on his knees, Damon frantically searched for it.

"Looking for this?"

In a millisecond, Damon was on his feet, his sword extended out.

The girl in front of him, holding the box in her hand, let out a soft gasp. With her other hand, she tightened her lace robe around her waist, and tugged her nightgown down nervously.

"Who are you?"