STEFAN'S POV

1851. Atlanta, Georgia. Ten in the morning. The street is crowded with people. Coaches are making their way through the crowd. People are unwilling to move, so the horses are annoyed, and nervous. I can see it in their eyes. They're angry, or maybe sad. I do not know, I am too young to know, and no one has time, or will, to explain it to me. I am sad too, and I wonder are my eyes the same as the hoarse's, but I can't see my eyes, so I'll never know. I could look in the mirror, but I am too scared, because Tyler Lockwood told me if you meet your look in the mirror, your soul will get trapped inside of it. Even though I've never seen my soul, I'm very fond of it, because I can feel it circling inside of me. Mother taught me how. Close your eyes, and think about the thing that makes you the happiest. Now imagine that thing being taken away from you. Do you feel that? Your body shattering, every bone in your body breaking? That is your soul trying to fight its way out of your body, to follow the thing that got taken away from you, since the soul feeds on happiness. If you learn how to concentrate, you will be able to feel your soul, always.

There are children playing on the street, and some are dressed in rags. I wish I could give them some of my clothes since I have far too many, even on me now because father had overdressed me and I'm sweating underneath my coat. But father told me not to talk to them, and to ignore them if they ask for money.

Father left me and Damon in front of a building he went in, he said the place is far too depressing for two young boys. I'm not young, I'm four already, and in few years I'll marry Caroline Forbes, or so she says. I never actually agreed to marrying her, but I like Caroline, even though she is chatty and always bosses me around. Damon says all women boss men around, so if I'll end up being bossed around by someone anyway, I'd rather be bossed around by Caroline than some other girl.

Damon is squeezing my hand. My cheeks are slightly red, I can feel them burning, and my eyes are puffy. There's a trace of tears on my cheeks, and it burns my skin like acid. I know I'm sad, but if anyone asked me why, I'd not know how to answer them. No one notices I'm crying anyway.

It's silent in the house for two days now already. Mother fell asleep and she doesn't want to wake up. Father says she never will wake up, but I find that rather silly. Everyone have to wake up sometime. Once, I slept for too long, and I woke up tired, which was funny to me. How can you wake up tired? Sleep is supposed to make you feel rested. If mother is anything like me, when she finally wakes up she will be tired too, since she's sleeping for two day now already. Caroline told me her dad went to sleep too, when she was a baby, and he never woke up. They had put him in a box and lowered him in the ground, and every once in a while, they go to where they had put him, and they make a prayer, and her mother cries. I told her to stop talking nonsense, because if they had put him in the ground, how will they know when he wakes up?

I do not know why I'm sad, though. Probably because Damon refuses to talk to me, and father keeps saying mother will never wake up, and I really want her to wake up because she has to continue telling me my bedtime story about a prince from India who had an elephant for a pet and fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. No one knows that story but her.

Or maybe I'm crying because I feel like my soul is fighting its way out of my body.

All of a sudden, a girl appears in front of me. She's also four. Her soul told me so, and I don't think souls can lie. Soul is a well of honesty. Her cheeks are rosy red, her eyes locked on mine, and her thin lips pulled into a light smile. She's wearing a hat, so I can't see the color of her hair, but I'd like to. She's also wearing a low, red coat, under which hides a beautiful, baby blue hoopskirt. She reaches for the pocket of her coat and pulls a handkerchief with a floral pattern out of it, and gives it to me. She doesn't say anything, she simply stretches her arm out to me and keeps it there until I take a handkerchief out of her hand.

She's a complete stranger to me, but I think our souls are friends, because as soon as I looked into her eyes, I could have felt my soul playing a most beautiful melody inside of my body. I wonder can she feel her soul too, and can she tell that her soul wants to intertwine with mine. Her soul begs me to take her, but it doesn't work that way. She has to give her soul to me, willingly.

I do not know her, but I think I love her. Because she had noticed me crying, she's the only one who did. And until she did, I haven't realized how much I wanted someone to notice my tears. I bring the handkerchief closer to my face, and wipe the trail of my tears off my cheek. When I finish, and take the handkerchief off my face, she's gone. I can see her running away in another direction, and fall into her mother's arms. I know it's her mother because only a mother could hold her child like that.

My soul is fighting its way out of my body. Only now, I do not know in which direction it wants to go.

I wake up from a pleasant dream, a dream I've been dreaming for years now. About a girl I've met twelve years ago when my father had left me and my brother in front of a building in which he went to buy a coffin to bury my mother. I always dream of her as a child, since I do not know her name, or where she's from, or how does she look like, but my age often varies. Sometimes, I try to turn her childlike features to those of a young woman, but I am afraid my imagination can't quite capture her true beauty. I haven't seen her forever since, or maybe I have, but did not know it's her. I wonder would my soul play the same way it did if I ever meet her again. I haven't felt my soul for quite some time now, I think I forgot how to concentrate.

I glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table and realize, if I do not hurry, I will be late for breakfast. Thick, olive curtains are drawn all over my windows, and when I remove them, after I climb out of the bed, my face is attacked by strong beams of sun. I have a hard time getting used to spring and it's joys after a long, cold winter. I am pleasantly surprised.

I get dressed in a hurry, wearing the first thing I saw when I opened my closet. My pants do not match my button up shirt which collar is turned upside down. I do not look as a grown up man, more as a playful boy. And in reality I'm somewhere in the middle, even though I feel more like one than the other.

I open the door of my bedroom, and I can hear Mrs. Pierce's loud laughter coming from downstairs. I head to the stairs, and when I reach the last step, I can see Katherine and her mother sitting by our table in the dining room, father telling some story with his face as hard as stone, face he wears for as long as I can remember, but Mrs. Pierce is laughing hysterically.

I can't even hear what my father is talking about, because I am breath taken by Katherine's beauty. Her big, brown locks are touching her apple red cheeks, jumping on her shoulders, taunting me. There's always a devilish smirk on her face, and her lips look poisonous. Her skin is surreal, it looks like it's made out of glass. Sometimes I think Katherine really is made out of glass, because her posture is solid and hard, but at times, when you look at her more carefully, she looks like she's going to break any minute now. I am to be engaged to Katherine. Nothing is official, but I should propose to her in a year time with my mother's ring. I'd much rather marry Caroline than Katherine, like she said we would when we were kids, even though she is my best friend and the thought of kissing her on the lips is making me sick.

Katherine is beautiful, but I could never love her. My soul doesn't want to intertwine with hers, nor does it court her soul with a beautiful melody. It is true that I haven't felt my soul for a long time now, but I always believed when I meet the girl I'm going to marry, my soul would wake up. I remember my soul used to play when I was around Caroline when we were growing up, but it was a different kind of melody, one that had nothing to do with romance. It provided me with the feeling of safety, closeness and understanding.

I know Katherine enjoys my company, but I think she preferres Damon better than me. Of course, every girl likes his rough lines and bad boy attitude better than my childlike features and a good son behavior.

"Mr. Salvatore," Katherine exclaims after she finally notices my presence when I come into the room. I nod at her politely and smile at both her and her mother, while my father looks displeased my presence has got in the middle of his story, so instead of wishing me good morning, he looks at me sharply before he continues talking and Mrs. Pierce goes back to laughing hysterically.

I can feel Katherine's look on me. She's always so playful, especially in the morning. I've promised her I'd take her for a walk around the garden today, and that we will sit on a stone bench near the query so she can tell me everything about her adventures in all girls boarding school she just came back from last week.

"And when is the other brother coming home?" Mrs. Pierce asks, and I swear, I can see Katherine's eyes sparkle at the mention of my brother. Damon is serving as a solider in Civil War, and I haven't seen him for quite some time, even though he writes me as often as he can.

"Stefan, have you received any news from your brother?" father mutters at me, and Damon's name sounds so cold coming out of his mouth. Damon and father could never see eye to eye, and Damon's rebellious nature only made it worse. Damon hates taking orders, especially if they're coming from our father, and he likes to take matter into his own hands.

I, on the other hand, never had a problem when it came to dealing with my brother. We would always get along so well. The only problem was, Damon did not like Caroline very much, but then again, Caroline never liked him either. He used to say, when we were kids, that I should not be playing with a girl, but I never minded Caroline being a girl, nor did I understand why did he not like me playing with her. Now I see he found it more appropriate for me to play with other boys, but I've never got along with them well.

I shake my head. "No, I haven't heard from him in a month," I say honestly. I am not worried, because I know he's busy, and they do move a lot, and when he has time, he will write to me. But father frowns, and Mrs. Pierce sighs. I look at Katherine, and her look is lowered, but when she feels my look on her being, she raises hers up and smiles at me gently.

In that moment, Jenna walks in the room, carrying my breakfast to me. She puts a plate with toast, crispy bacon and two eggs in front of me, and it is then when I realize I am not even that hungry. Her look falls down my body, and she looks significantly in the direction of my pants. My look follows hers, and I see a handkerchief sticking out of the pocket of my pants. Yes, the same handkerchief that little girl gave me twelve years ago. I kept it because to me, it has some significance, but only Jenna and Caroline know about its existence, really.

I silently thank Jenna after putting the handkerchief deeper into my pocket, as I'd be embarrassed if someone notices I'm wearing a handkerchief with floral pattern around.

I expect Jenna to leave the room now, but she doesn't. Instead, she walks around my chair and stands near my father, saying, "Mr. Salvatore, could I have a word with you?" she asks with a shaky voice, and I instantly wonder what's wrong.

I remember when Jenna first came to our house. She was so young, and now her face is worn out. Her skin was pale, and now her cheeks are rosy and chubby. Her hands are sharp and red, but six years ago, when she came to us, her skin was as smooth as silk. She came to us after Mrs. Charity, our last maid, passed away. She came from a wealthy family, but she stayed pregnant out of wedlock. Father of the baby, Mr. Saltzman, who's a little bit older than her, married her, but everyone already knew she's pregnant, which was a huge disgrace for her family. So they have disinherited her.

"Of course" - father says before leaning into his chair.

"As you know, my sister and her husband passed away recently," she starts, fixing the ruffles of her black skirt with her long fingers, "Their son was sent to all boys boarding school, but their daughter, she has nowhere to go," Jenna locks her eyes on the eyes of my father, "She has no access to the money her parents had left her until she's 18, which is not for two more years. So I was wondering - "

"Can she stay here," father interrupts her in the middle of her sentence. I can see Jenna swallow. Sure, there's enough room, but father hates having strangers in the house. He can barely get used to having people he cares about here.

There's silence in the room.

I know what happens to the girls who lose their parents at the age Jenna's niece did, and father knows it very well too. They have a hard time finding a suitor because they're orphans, and if they do find one, he's not the best option. If they do not find one, they end up working as housemaids.

"Can she work?" father finally asks.

Jenna looks at him surprised. "No," she says honestly as she shakes her head, "but she can learn."

"Nonsense," I say finally. I rarely stand up to my father, but when I do, he knows there are solid reasons behind it. Now, I do not know why I'm standing up for this girl I've never met, but I feel sorry for her. I want to help her. "She never worked a day in her life," I say, trying to picture Caroline or Katherine having to do house jobs if they ever had a misfortune of losing their parents, and I'm unable to. I think Katherine would rather die than live like that. "She can study with me, finish what she had started," I say, hoping father will accept my offer.

"And when the summer comes?" father asks, and I can seee he's suspicious of the idea.

"I am prepared to spend my time with her," it's not like I have anything better to do, plus it would be nice to have a new and fresh face around here. Maybe a new friend, even. Not that Caroline is not enough, I'm sure Caroline would love to have a new friend too.

Father is pondering on the idea. I can see it on his face, as his forehead wrinkles. Jenna is looking at him nervously, and I am looking at him hopefully. I really do hope he says yes. I have no idea why am I so excited about this. A smile creeps on my face, and I can feel Katherine's judgmental eyes on me.

Father releases a loud sigh. "Very well," he responds, "When is she supposed to arrive?" his face is still hard.

"This weekend," Jenna responds, happiness evident on her face.

"Make the preparations then," father responds seriously.

"Thank you, sir, thank you so much," Jenna yells happily before running out of the room on her heels.

I feel like I've accomplished something. I also begin to wonder how sad she must be, and is her soul trying to fight its way out of her body. Is she sad as I was when my mother fell asleep? Of course, now I know she actually passed away, and when I realized the true meaning of death, I apologized to Caroline for calling her silly.

I'm still sad because I never found out the ending of that story, but I think the Indian prince found a way to be with the girl he loved.

ELENA'S POV

I am riding in my coach towards the house I'm supposed to live in for the two following years. I'm very grateful they've let Bonnie come with me. Even though it is only because their opinion is that every young lady should have a maid, but Bonnie is more of a friend to me than she is my maid. She's also the only thing I have left of my old life.

Since mother and father died, I've barely eaten anything. I do not feel like eating, or smiling, or talking. I do not need strangers coming to me, saying everything will be okay, because nothing is ever going to be okay from this moment on. My parents are dead, how is that okay? But my family is influential, and I was raised as a lady, so I have to smile and shake their hands and receive their hugs and pitiful looks, as well as words. And all I really want to do is scream. All the time. I want to scream in their faces, and when I'm alone, I even want to scream while I'm sleeping. But I'm not allowed to scream, because I'm a lady. Screaming is for savages, for those who do not know how to use words as a device of communication. But in a way, aren't all of us savages?

This war, because of which I've lost both of my parents, proves that.

They took my brother away. He's only fourteen, still a boy, and they've ripped him away from everything he knows. He's been through a tragedy, and by taking him away from me, only family he has left, they have heightened that tragedy. I most likely won't see him for two years, which makes me incredibly unhappy.

How unhappy can I be, really? I think I've become numb to pain. But I do not want to test it, I have no desire to prove myself wrong.

They've contacted my aunt, aunt I did not even know I have. It is so cruel, what my family did to her, and it made me incredibly sad to know my mom was able to let her sister go like that. I wonder did she have any say in the matter, or was she hurt by her sister being taken away from her as I'm hurt by my brother being taken away from me.

It was so nice of Mr. Salvatore to take me in. I've heard he's not the friendliest person, not since his wife passed away twelve years ago. Which is fine, since I've also been told I won't even see him around that much. He has two sons, Damon and Stefan, if I remember correctly. Damon is serving in the army, and Stefan is my age. He will be the one I'll spend the most of my time with.

I do not know how I feel about this. I feel like he's been assigned to babysit me, even though I've heard it was his suggestion, because his father wanted to take me as a maid.

Stefan sounds rather boring, to be honest. His name sounds boring, and his idea about us studying together is boring. I am grateful to him, to all of them, but I will spend next two years of my life washed with sadness, and pain, and missing my brother, I do not want to be bored too. Too bad Damon is in the army, he sounds fun. More fun than Stefan, at least.

I look through the window, and nature around here is beautiful. I've always preferred nature to the urban environment. The city I grew up in is too big, and too loud, and too crowded. There were a lot of poor people, and I always felt sorry for them, but I was not allowed to talk with them, or to help them, which made me even more sad. I never understood why I'm not supposed to help others since I have more than I need and they have less than they need.

There is something magical about the nature, about big endless meadows, and sunflowers almost as big as you. There is nothing scary about living near the forest, going to sleep while the owls are singing, and waking up to the song of a rooster. That is the only thing I'm looking forward to, honestly. Fresh air, strong sun, clean water. I do not need anything else. Could I survive without a human contact for two years?

"Here we are," Bonnie says, and I look through her side of the window. There's a mansion roaring in front of us. Big white house, blue door, white blinds and windows, huge porch with columns, and a swing, and pots of flowers. I guess their estate is huge, since I can't see another house nearby.

The coach stops in front of the house, and Bonnie opens the door. She hops out of the coach and stand there while coachman gets from his position to help me get out of the coach. After I step on the ground, I can feel someone throwing their arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. This must be my aunt. I put my arms on her back and give her a hug.

"How rude of me," she says as she pulls away from me, which is when I get a better look of her. She looks like my mother, especially when she was younger. Same hair color, same eyes, same little nose I've also inherited, thick lips I did not have a fortune of inheriting. I can imagine her skin was smooth and her face gentle before she started working as a maid. But she seems happy. I do not know is she happy in general or because she has finally met me, but I do hope she's happy in general. I think my mother would have wished the same, even if she had something with banishing my aunt from the family, which I really do not want to think about. I do not want to think about my mother badly in her death. "You probably do not even know who I am," she smiles tiredly at me.

"Of course I do," I say, wondering is she not aware of the resemblance in looks she shares with my mother. "I'm Elena," I take the fabric of my skirt in between my fingertips and bow down, like they had taught me from early childhood.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elena" - she says as her eyes glisten.

"Likewise," - I really am glad I've met my family, but I do not know how much longer can I keep this smile on my face before it becomes obvious it's fake.

Then, I notice a young man standing behind my aunt. He's more of a boy than a man, but nevertheless, he is very beautiful. He is not like one of those city boys, messy and smugly, smoking cigars and throwing insults out of their sleeves. No, his hair is combed very tidy, and it reminds me of honey. It is brown with strains of gold, a hair that is basically beginning you to pull your fingers through it, although something tells me he would not let anyone touch his hair. I doubt anyone ever asked him to touch his hair, and maybe I'm the first weirdo thinking about it. His eyes are emerald green, and they're shinning a certain kind of bright out of them. They're so familiar, but yet so distant. Maybe they're part of my past, of my future, because they're too kind and too friendly to be only part of my present. His face is warm, and there's a light smile pulled across it.

I am sure my aunt can see me staring at the boy, but he is staring at me as well. She turns around and smiles to him. "Elena," my aunt says, stepping aside, "Let me introduce you to Stefan Salvatore," his name rolls down her tongue like he's her biggest pride and joy.

That is Stefan? Boy with a face of a man and smile of a child, eyes of an angel, and to me it seems like his lips are covered with sugar. If only I could have a taste. I never tasted anyone's lips before, nor did I want to. Not until now. I look at his clothes, and he's dressed rather clumsy, but I like it. It suits him. The ruffles on his shirt and his slightly twisted collar.

Well, he does not look boring at all. And all of a sudden, his name doesn't sound boring either.

He makes a step forward and stretches his hand out to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gilbert," someone has done their homework, I think to myself, surprised with his knowledge of my last name.

I squeeze his hand in mine, and I can feel this surge of energy between us. "Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Salvatore," I smile as I notice him looking at me like I'm out of this world.

Maybe I won't be as bored here as I initially thought.

STEFAN'S POV

She looks nothing like the girls in Mystic Falls. Nothing like the girls I grew up with. Even though every one of them is exceptionally beautiful, from my best friend Caroline to my future bride, and as I think of those words a knot appears in my stomach, Katherine, there is something about Elena that makes her beauty special. Extraordinary. Spectacular.

Girls here usually wear their hair tied up in some way, so their face, and neck, are clear. Their skin is tanned all the way through the year, cheeks chubby and rosy, lips full, and their body curvy. Elena has none of those things. Her long, brown, straight hair is sprawled all over her back, glued to her cheeks and swan like neck. There are little bows in her hair to remind people she's still a child. Her eyes are big, like two marbles, looking at me like she expected less, so now, she's pleasantly surprised. She is very pale, and her cheeks are dry. Her lips thin and long, and she is very skinny. The dress she's wearing slides down her body, showing her collar bones, skinny graceful arms, there's lace over her breasts and her hoopskirt is starting not at the end of her waist, but where her little, round hips end.

I wonder does every girl in the city looks like this, and no matter how much the thought seems logical, I refuse to believe anyone looks like this. Because she seems special. To me, she is special, and even if every girl in the city is a carbon copy of her, to me, she's one of a kind.

Her eyes ram all over my body, and my to the same. I notice her eyes are locked on my lips a little longer than they should be, so I blush.

I make a step forward and greet her. I give her my hand, even though I'd much rather pull her into a hug to feel her whole body pressing next to mine. The skin of her hand should be fine for now. And it is fine, more than fine, especially when our skin finally meets, and I feel like I've been electrocuted.

I think she felt it too, because her eyes glisten as she looks into mine.

"Shall we go inside?" I ask with a smile on my face, "My father is anticipation to meet you."

She smiles at me, little devilishly, takes the fabric of her skirt in between her fingers to lift it of the ground, and walks past by me. Little black girl with coal, black hair and deep brown eyes, who is probably her maid, follows her.

If I knew her all my life, I'd probably follow her like that too.

I want to follow her now.

xxxx

Hey guys, we meet again :D Anyway, this is my new story, as you can see, and it is placed in 1864. I really wanted to try to write something in the first person, so here it is. It will be from Stefan and Elena's point of view, even though I will most likely, from time to time, present you with point of you of some other character's, probably Damon's, once I finally decide who will be his love interest, since I'm still between two options. Stefan and Elena's relationship in this story will be a little bit different, but of course, I will try to capture the true essence of their love, like I always do, like, I believe, everyone try to do when they write a story, no matter which direction their relationship takes. I will also alternate their characters a little, as I'm going to write Stefan as a boy he was before he was turned, but of course, his main traits will remain. And I promise Elena won't be Katherine like, if that's what you thought.

I hope you like how I started this story, and I hope you give it a chance.

Love you all!