Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries! I only own my OCs "Juliet Jordan Gilbert Salvatore", "Ivan Christos" and "Alexia Victoria Elena Salvatore", and any other characters I make up along the way! I own nothing but my own ideas.

Summary: Alexia Victoria Elena Salvatore, the daughter of Stefan and Juliet Salvatore, has been moving her entire life with her family. But when her parents announce that they would be staying in London until Lexi finishes college, she's absolutely thrilled. But being in London hasn't been everything it's cracked up to be. Lexi begins finding out secrets about her family, the new friends she makes, and even secrets about herself that she never dreamed possible.

Author's Note: I have no idea what's gonna happen with this story but I think it's gonna be cute and fun! Besides, who doesn't want to read about Juliet and Stefan's daughter?

This story is a companion to my story "Ripples of Reality", however, you don't need to have read Ripples of Reality to understand what's happening. I'll be mentioning things from the story in this story as the plots continue, but I do encourage you to read it to get a better understanding of the story.

P.S. Contains spoilers from seasons 1-6 of the Vampire Diaries.

Enjoy!

I huffed as Dad put a box in my arms. "Why am I carrying this?" I groaned as I adjusted the box so that it wouldn't tip out of my arms.

"Because you're the kid," Dad replied as he picked up a rather large box with ease. Dad had always been strong, though. "Unpaid labour is the whole reason why your mother and I had you."

"Stefan," Mom slightly scolded as she passed by him, but she was supressing a grin.

"See, if you guys had more children, then at least the load would be lightened," I grumbled as I began walking up to our new house.

I don't even know what number it was. Of houses, I mean.

For practically my entire childhood I'd been moving around. My Dad's job required him to move a lot (something about setting up new business branches in new locations and then moving when another branch needed to be opened again). It was a bit cool, actually. I've lived all around the world. Granted, I couldn't remember all the cool parts, but it was still cool to tell people that you've lived in Australia, Germany, Italy, and Romania all in a span of six years.

Our last place that we lived in was Idaho in America. We'd lived there for a maybe a year when Dad came home and announced he was being relocated again.

Mom didn't seem to have much of a problem with the constant moving. She told me once that she accepted Dad's job from the first day she met him, knowing that if they got married moving was going to be a part of the package.

It was only ever me that had a problem with moving all the time. Just when I think I was starting to get comfortable, bam, we were buying plane tickets.

It was easier when I was a kid because the whole thing seemed like an adventure, but as I got older, it got more irritating. Just when I was getting into the groove of school, making friends, developing crushes, we left. I think the longest time we'd ever spent anywhere was Romania when I was eleven. We lived there for at least three years and then we relocated to Switzerland.

I dropped the first box on to the ground as I heaved a sigh. The only thing I wasn't complaining about was the house. The new place my Dad's boss had sent him was London, and it was my first time ever to London. But it wasn't in the city, more of the country where Mom and Dad would commute to work. The house was really big, like the size of a mansion, and really olden time-y. My mind flashed back to what Mom said about the house on the plane: it used to be a hotel, and Dad got it because the owner of the hotel worked with Dad. It was their "summer home", but they were letting Dad use it for the time we would live here. To be honest, we were probably going to live here for a short time. I could already see myself taking down pictures that weren't even up yet to pack away.

The good thing about it being an old hotel was that the rooms would be amazing (the building was kept up to date so it should be amazing) and the secret passageways that hopefully this place had. Other than that, what would the point have been?

"Move your butt," Dad said as he gently kicked the back of my legs. "I've brought in four boxes and you've brought in one."

"Excuse me for daydreaming," I argued, but I went back outside to bring in more boxes.

The movers began bringing in our furniture, so I had move past them and avoid hitting them (or getting hit myself-that bruise from when I was ten took forever to go away).

It took about an hour or so to bring the furniture in, and then it took another half hour to bring in the rest of the boxes. We didn't have much (Mom always bought stuff when we moved to the place that she could sell back so we could travel light) but the stuff we did have was all personal items. Clothes, pictures, books, and a bunch of other stuff.

"Lexi?" I heard, and I turned around to see Mom and Dad walking towards the door. "Your Dad and I are going to go pick up some dinner, do you want to come with us?"

I shook my head, gesturing to the boxes. "I'll just start unpacking."

"That's our girl," Dad smiled as he pointed at me. "Oh, and don't forget to call Matt! He said he wanted you to call him when you landed." And with that, the two of them walked out the door.

I turned back to the piles of boxing, blowing air out of my mouth as I eyed them. Why did I volunteer to stay and unpack again?

I shook the thought off as I leaned over and grabbed a rather large box. I grabbed the box cutter from off of the sofa and cut the box open. The label on the side read "photo albums" but Mom's reused boxes before that had nothing to do with the content inside. Once when I took all the boxes labeled my stuff to my room, I opened one to see Dad's old books.

But no, true to its label, it was photo albums. I pulled out one and began flipping through it.

It was definitely the one filled with my baby photos. It was photos from my first day in the hospital. My Mom was surrounded by my Dad, my Uncle Matt, my Uncle Damon (Dad's older brother), my Aunt Caroline and Uncle Ivan (Uncle Ivan was Mom's twin brother, Aunt Caroline was his wife and also Mom's best friend since they were kids) my Aunt Bonnie (Mom's other best friend), Uncle Tyler (Mom and Dad's friend, though I didn't see Uncle Tyler very often) and Grandpa Alaric (though he hated when I called them that-he said it made him feel old). I took the picture out and flipped it around. In Dad's writing, the words "Alexia Victoria Elena's first day" was scrawled on the back.

Alexia Victoria Elena Salvatore. Could they have given me an even weirder name?

According to Mom and Dad, Alexia was Dad's best friend for many, many years, but she died a few years before I was born. My first middle name, Victoria, was what Uncle Matt picked. Vicki was his sister who had been attacked by an animal and also died a few years back. And finally, my last middle name, Elena, was Mom's adoptive sister's name. Aunt Elena had gotten into a bad car accident and fell into a coma that Doctors said she wouldn't come out of. So, Mom and Uncle Jeremy (their brother) pulled the pull and let Aunt Elena die with a little grace. Apparently this happened just before Mom had gotten pregnant, and she wanted to honour Aunt Elena.

Most people would think that it was weird to be named after three dead people, but I chose to see it as those three people were so important to my parents that they named their only daughter after them.

You're probably wondering where Uncle Matt fits into the picture. Technically, Uncle Matt was my biological father. Mom and Dad were unable to concieve, so they asked Uncle Matt to be a sperm donor. Uncle Matt said yes, and nine months later, here I was.

Even though Uncle Matt signed away all parental rights to Mom and Dad when I was born, Mom and Dad still treated him as if he was my parent. What I mean by that was that every other weekend since I was born, I spent it with Uncle Matt. But when I was two, we started move and the cycle never stopped. Uncle Matt chose to stay in Mystic Falls (my birth town) and married my Aunt Sophie, and he had kids of his own. My (technical) half brother Aaron and (technical) half sister Rachel.

I started looking through other photo albums and smiled when I saw a picture of me and Uncle Klaus last year. Despite the moving around thing, there was one place that had been a constant for me: Uncle Klaus's home in New Orleans. Technically he wasn't my real Uncle, but Mom was his best friend so he might as well have been. Mom and Dad blame him for the reason I was so "spoiled" as they liked to put it, but he insisted that since I was a princess, I should be treated like one.

Besides, Uncle Klaus wasn't the only person who'd spoiled me. According to Dad, Uncle Damon never put me down since the first time I was in his arms. He held me whenever Mom or Dad weren't and insisted on buying me everything my heart desired.

Aunt Caroline was the same way. Whenever I spent "Aunt Caroline" days with her (whenever I did get to see her) she would take me shopping and we'd literally shop to our hearts content. Honestly, I think Uncle Ivan and Aunt Bonnie were the only ones that ever treated me normally when I was growing up, which was why I insisted I wasn't all that spoiled. I was certainly better than Uncle Klaus's daughter Hope, who he would literally give the world to if he could.

I started looking through Mom's old photo album from her high school days. Mom and Dad pretty much hadn't changed since their high school days ("We age like fine wine," Dad would joke. "MAC make up doesn't hurt either," Mom would add) but somehow, she was definitely more beautiful in high school. I know Mom lost her parents-my grandparents-when she was in high school, but in the pictures, it looked like she was trying to keep everyone's spirits up. Uncle Jeremy said that was just the kind of person that Mom was.

My fingers skimmed over a copy of Mom's favourite picture with her and Aunt Elena. It was just before Grandma and Grandpa died, and she and Aunt Elena had their arms wrapped around each other, smiling and laughing like nothing was wrong with the world. Truth be told, it was my favourite picture of Mom, too. Well, second favourite picture. My first favourite was of Mom and Dad. I know most kids made faces when they thought of their parents acting romantically, but I thought it was sweet. It'd been almost eighteen years and they still looked at each other like they were first meeting.

I dropped the photo album to the ground as I went back to unpacking. Nostalgia was fun, but it could suck you in like a really good book, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but still.

By the time I had emptied a few boxes and the huge living room was starting to look like our living room in Idaho, Mom and Dad had come home with Chinese and paper plates.

"The last thing I need to do on top of unpacking boxes is cleaning plates," Mom shivered. She was the queen of hating to wash the dishes. She said that once she and Uncle Jeremy were washing the dishes and they were goofing around, which led to a broken plate and Mom getting her hand cut open. Every house we'd lived in had a dishwasher, but I was pretty sure that this place wouldn't.

After dinner, I made my way upstairs so that I could pick a room. It took a while, but I finally settled on one that had a beautiful view of the actual country. Most people preferred city and beach views, but the country view to me was just as good as it.

Hopefully this place would start to feel like home.

TBC...

I am loving the feel of this story! It's gonna be AU (of course) as some stuff I have no idea (such as the future of Hayley and the baby and yadda yadda yadda-I'm just gonna make shit up) so heads up about that!

Anyways! What do you guys think about this story? I think it'll have real promise!

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