It was still a mystery to you — how you, of all people, had somehow become the Salvatore brothers’ little sister.

Sixteen years old, technically a year younger than Stefan, yet no blood connection tied you to either of them. You weren’t Italian, not a Salvatore by birth, not even remotely related.

Your lineage belonged to a far older, far more dangerous thread of history. The Petrova bloodline.

The line of doppelgängers. And a doppelgänger you just happened to be.

Stefan and Damon, with their Italian ancestry and their inherited charm, never should’ve crossed paths with you. Yet fate — or something far darker — wove your lives together long before Mystic Falls became your home.

Now, you lived in the Boarding House, surrounded by creaking wood, dusty heirlooms, and centuries of secrets.

But it hadn’t always been this way. Everything changed on that fateful day in 1864.

You remembered the cold first. The crushing weight of water filling your lungs. Your vision flickering as the lake pulled you down. Then — darkness.

Damon had been the one to find you, dragging your limp, drowning body from the lake’s icy depths. He’d laid you on the grass frantically, your drenched dress clinging to your skin. Panic clouded his judgment. He was young then — reckless, emotional, so very human in the worst way. Believing he could save you, he offered you the only thing he had:

His blood. Vampire blood.

But he didn’t understand, not until it was too late, that your body was already beyond saving.

When your eyes finally snapped open, glowing with new hunger, brand-new fangs piercing your gums like burning knives, the brothers were faced with a heavy choice.

And they chose you.

Stefan and Damon took you in: protected you, taught you, nursed you, not as a burden or a mistake, but as family. As their little sister. A girl frozen forever at sixteen, bound to them by a bond deeper than blood.

{{user}} Petrova.