*A/N* I'd just like to put out there that Katherine is one of my favorite VD characters because she is so developed and complex as a person and I think its ok to say that we don't really know who she is. Does she care or does she not care? Who is she really? And what did she go through to make her the way she is? I believe that Katherine Pierce has her own story and what I'm doing here is trying to tell it in my own words the way I see it

DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE MY OWN OPINIONS AND INTERPRETATION OF KATERINA PETROVA AND HER LIFE AND MAY BE DIFFERENT FROM THE INTENTIONS OF THE FILMMAKERS

Either way I'd love it if you comment below and tell me your opinions about Katherine Pierce. Do you love her? Do you hate her? Am I completely wrong XD? Tell me what you think :D *A/N*

Chapter 1: Bulgaria

Katherine POV (obviously)

I stood staring at my reflection in a pool of water held by a delicate bowl. Designs covered the edges in elegant decoration of a pretty circle of painted leaves encasing the pool of water. The bowl was brought earlier just in case, since our family wet nurse had decided the time for my baby was close. I smiled and placed a hand on my stomach which was stretched outward with the burden of the life moving inside me. I had tried to hide it as long as I could knowing the harsh life that awaited a woman that had lost her virtue before marriage, but I had simply postponed the inevitable.

Some may call me foolish for fooling around with the neighborhood blacksmith, everything about the relationship was unstable. Marriage was out of the question since he was below my station, even before my father found out I knew he would disprove. A tear rolled down my cheek and fell into the pool of water causing ripples and distorting the image. Everything about the relationship was wrong but during the time it felt so right. It wasn't long before I knew I was in love. I continued to weep as I remembered the night that my father caught me sneaking out to meet him and followed me. When he realized what was going on he was outraged, he pulled his sword from his sheath and ran my lover through with his own molded steel. I wept and screamed for him to stop but it was too late as I sat and watched as the life bled out of him. My father then proceeded to grab me and drag me home returning later to clean up the mess. I was locked in my room for months afterward to prevent me from finding him or as punishment or both. It didn't matter, I wouldn't have wanted to leave anyway. My dreams were plagued with his smiling face as I mourned his loss. Not long after I found out I was pregnant with his child. For months I sat and wondered would it have his likeliness would the child have his eyes? Or his hair color or his smile? Or would it resemble me? When my father found out he was pregnant he was just as outraged and told me I had disgraced this family by losing my virtue that I would never be able to marry. Part of me didn't care as long as I had my child.

Coming to terms with the fact that I was forever forsaken I smiled at my unborn child feeling a connection that only a mother can have. No matter what happened, I knew, I loved my child... and that was when the pain began. The horrible unbearable pain that came in waves. My screams sent the wet nurse running in the room and supporting me as I leaned over the pool of water holding onto the edges of the table with white knuckled hands. With a soothing voice she ushered me over to the bed where I carefully lay down feeling another wave of pain hit. I tried to keep from screaming out but it was almost impossible my vision was blurry with tears. The wet nurse brought the bowl of water over and soaked a rag in it proceeding to hold the wet rag to my forehead.

"That's it just breathe" she instructed in Bulgarian.

I tried to follow her advice and took shaky breaths. I hadn't even noticed anyone enter the room and was surprised when I felt a warm hand holding my own. I looked over and saw my mother sitting beside me. The waves continued each one leaving me more tired than the last, with each ripple I felt my strength ebbing as I struggled to hold on to reality. I knew that childbirth was dangerous and that only 3 out of 5 women usually survived it. My chances were not great and I knew that as I struggled to keep from going unconscious, I would survive, I had to survive, for my child! In the months I sat locked up I contemplated names for the baby, it was impossible to determine whether it would be a boy or a girl so I made a list of both continuously narrowing down the choices until I decided that if it was a boy his name would be Daniel, and if she was a girl her name would be Nadia.

A final contraction hit and I was afraid that I would pass out, then it passed and the waves stopped. I looked down and saw my mother holding the baby, my baby, my child in her arms. I noticed that she was a girl, that she was Nadia, my Nadia, Nadia Petrova.

"Let me hold her, once just once!" I pleaded with my mother and she reached over to hand me my child. I was an inch away when I heard my father's voice.

"Woman what are you doing!?" He then reached over and grabbed my daughter from my mothers arms and walked out the door with her.

"No! Papa! Please Papa!" I pleaded. "Forget it," he retorted "You have disgraced this family!"

"No papa! Nadia!" I screamed as my father walked away from me taking Nadia with him.