Author's Note and Disclaimer: Hello everyone, and welcome to my first Vampire Diaries fanfiction! I am still somewhat new to the Vampire Diaries fandom, and I hope you will all be patient with me as I find my wings here. Please feel free to PM me with ideas, comments, and suggestions at any time (or leave your thoughts in a review *wink*); I am writing this story not only for my own enjoyment, but to have the pleasure of interacting with other TVD fans!

I DO NOT own the Vampire Diaries, as much as I might like to. I will be using the episode transcripts available on the Vampire Diaries wiki as a guide to this story, so the basic storyline will remain more or less intact. Much of dialogue will be taken verbatim from aforementioned transcripts, and I DO NOT own whatever "canon" quotes appear in this narrative. I hope you will all enjoy this story, as much as I am enjoying writing it!

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a little town called Mystic Falls, Virginia. Mystic Falls was extremely insignificant in terms of nationwide affairs, much less on a global scale. It was one of those idyllic small towns whose little churches with white steeples adorn the covers of postcards and which city tourists coo over but do not remain in for long because of how "boring," or "unexciting" it is.

Mystic Falls did have an interesting history, as far as small towns went – (but then, which Southern small town doesn't in some way or another?). It had been founded by five wealthy families in 1860 A.D. (the Fell family, the Forbes family, the Gilbert family, the Lockwood family, and the Salvatore family). Eventually, these families came to be known as the Founding Families of Mystic Falls, Virginia. As the years passed by, the Founding Families both maintained and strengthened their prestigious position in the town, eventually coming to be regarded as the "royal families" of sorts of Mystic Falls. They founded the Town Council, a board of dedicated civil servants who managed the political and economic affairs of Mystic Falls, and played a great role in shaping its social life as well.

Members of the Town Council tended to be somewhat secretive, and it was no secret to the inhabitants of Mystic Falls that founding families often built secret closets in their homes and preserved old artifacts and memoirs of their ancestors such as diaries and watches. However, this was perceived as nefarious in any way – what family does not want to preserve their progenitor's musings on the Civil War, or preserve the pistols their ancestor fought with in the Civil War, or display the pretty, delicate embroidered sampler their Great- Aunt So-and-So made while waiting for her husband to return a hero from the war (the husband who returned sans one leg and became the old man who regaled the town's children with wild tales of war until he died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of ninety-something) ? Indeed, many American families are fond of displaying old firearms, knives, and other possessions of their ancestors on their mantelpieces.

There is the small fact that diaries and letters often contain facts which the writer did not wish to share at the moment he was writing them, or never intended to share, but so what? The worst any of these diaries could contain would perhaps be the embarrassing fact that Mr. X had an affair (and possibly a child – what a scandal!) with Ms. Y while married to Mrs. X, and that Ms. Z's father was therefore not actually Mr. Z but Mr. X. Or perhaps these diaries might reveal the even more shameful fact that Mr. X had had an affair with Mrs. X's slave woman. Or, the supposedly honorable Mr. X had cheated Mr. Y of some money – but of course, that had happened long ago, and it would be foolish for the Forbes to hold a grudge against the Fells for something their ancestors did in the 1920s. Grudges and feuds were not very common among the founding families, though they certainly did occur sometimes.

So Mystic Falls has gone on with its idyllic, mundane existence for one hundred and fifty years. The worst occurrences in this little town are funerals, which of course are the result of natural causes, and some more adventurous souls actually find themselves wishing something bad would happen – not because they are malicious, but because their lives are so utterly predictable. Such adventurous souls, when particularly bored with their current existence, might wander out to the edge of town where the ruined houses of original inhabitants of Mystic Falls lie rotting quietly amidst overgrown trees and bushes, wrapped and strangled in ivy and looking out at the world through shattered windows. These houses groan at night when the wind blows, almost as if reminiscing about their glory days when men in fine suits and ladies in hoopskirts filled their lavish halls, and adventurous souls might torture their avid imaginations by playing games of hide-and-seek in the silent, cobweb-filled corridors and pretending ghosts inhabit these places, although their rational minds assure them they are only playing make-believe. Those who are more artistic, and perhaps a little more morbid, might wander into the cemetery (Mystic Falls is so small that it needs only one cemetery and the new headstones with their clear engravings are mixed in with the old headstones whose engraving has been worn down by weather and the passage of time) and read the names of the deceased and perhaps compose stories for themselves about who they were, how they lived, how they died, and who their descendants might be. Those adventurous ones who are, as they say, "history buffs," might find themselves at the Historical Society of Mystic Falls and pore over old books and family histories, thereby transporting themselves into a past era, when Model T's grumbled about the lanes and men wore bowler hats.

So, when all is said and done, Mystic Falls is old, beautiful, charming, and in all honesty, like small towns sometimes are, "unexciting." Nothing significant ever happens here.

But all of that is about to change. Because in fact Mystic Falls is the very center of a supernatural war which has been going on for the last millennium, and the stirrings of revolution are once again beginning to throb in its cursed soil.

Of course, every revolution has a beginning, a catalyst. And the catalyst of this revolution, as is so often the case, was a tragedy, an act of senseless violence...

A/N: So, how did I do? Like it? Love it? Hate it? I would love to hear your thoughts on the prologue, as well as your ideas for future chapters. Constructive criticism is welcome.

The 1st chapter should be up during the next two weeks, hopefully sooner. You can just follow this story or me to get updated instantly when I post the next chapter!

Au revoir, mes amis!

~Sabre