Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away, there was a girl named Caroline.
Except she wasn't a girl at all.
Her first real memory is of cerulean blues as they form shapes above her head like endless swirls, and the voice of someone speaking, though it's garbled and she can't understand it. It's sterile and cold.
In her faint childhood memories there's a hall, wide and big - she doesn't think her little feet would walk her to its ends even if they tried - and the place is spacious and not at all how a small part of her envisions safety to be.
(What is safety?)
The food she eats never differs no matter what day it is, whether it's Sunday or Monday or Tuesday - oh look she can list the days now. She's getting better at knowing things.
She's not. She just likes to believe she is.
One day, her whole unit stands in a line. They all keep quiet, still as ever but she grows restless, head turning from side to side every few seconds. Four other girls look at her curiously.
In a certain twist of fate, they talk. She thinks she makes friendsthat day, but she's not really sure.
Each day, they enter a different arena with a task that they have to achieve. Sometimes they observe as others who wear white armor shot at targets with their blasters, lasers red and green as they burn their way through.
The first time she hears the sound it reminds her of a hiss in her ears, a strange sound if she's ever heard one.
It's when she turns ten standard years old that she gets her own weapon and her own armor and-
Sequal to Don't Drown My Fire (Let It Strive) for @supremeuppityone who asked.
Summary: Four times Caroline ran into Klaus through the centuries and the one she went to him.
1516,
Caroline learns early in her immortal life that her feet do not like to be shackled in one place for long. The only exception to that was Italy, but papa had been there and so it had been out of the question that she missed a single moment with him while his heart had still been beating.
Humans only lived for a short time, after all.
The sky and wind still called her though, it always had and always would.
Her father draws his last breath when she is only twenty five. It is not easy to ignore the tears streaking her face.
She sends the servants on their ways and closes the door to her home. She will come here again, just not soon. She does not think her heart could bear it, to look at the hallways where she had ran in, with ribbons laced around strands of her hair, and not feel like a knife was twisting and twisting deeper into her bones.
In Venice, Caroline sees the port full of passengers, wonders whether to let her wings lead her or see where the sea wants her to go.
The latter wins and she lands in Japan where the Noh Theater strives and she watches the performances about legends and old times.
Tan dons her body. She loves her kimono more than anything, floral prints decorating the fabric. Her mouth salivates each time she smells the local dishes cooked in the air.
Running into Klaus is a surprise, one where she is not exactly sure if she should be pleased or weary about. The memory of his eyes as he traced over her wings is fresh in her mind.
“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” he says, lips quirking at the edges where a set of dimples appear. She thinks of something sharp to say.
The words die on the tip of her tongue when she realises that they were no longer in her home and she can't demand things of him like she used to.
How unfortunate.
Caroline doesn't reply as quickly as she would have liked. Klaus was dangerous, that she didn't forget.
“Yes, it's quite the shock,” she says briskly.
His kimono is deceptively simple. She likes how its calm blue colour matches his eyes.
She blinks at her line of thought, whispers to her dragon, its nails sharp and ready to dig in a firm no. The music that is beginning to play in the distance tell her that the play she's here to see is starting soon.
It is the one about the Daimyo Samurai, her favourite. She refuses to miss it Klaus or no Klaus.
He sees it with her and parts away towards the finale. And that the end of it.
Or she so believes.
1624,
She adores this game she plays with herself; trying to guess which new place she's going to visit next. By the end of her first century she has visited Persia, Egypt, Greece and parts of China. Her tongue speaks every new word she knows. It's almost as freeing as soaring above Mount Tai during the night.
India, though, with its rich spices and colors draws her eyes immediately. She loves Asia. She loves everywhere she goes.
Her feet twirls around in the garden she has behind her home, and suddenly she wants to laugh with joy.
Papa would have loved it here, she thinks. The pain of the dagger that always carved its way through her at the memory of her father has lessened over the years, but that does not mean its sting is welcome.
In the morning, she walks to the market. A haughty blonde somehow ends up liking the very piece of silk that she's been eyeing for a few days. There's something decidedly un-native about her accent and familiar, too, but she can't exactly pinpoint what and has she mentioned that this particular shade of red is just perfect for a sari that she has in mind now please get your hands off it.
The blonde looks like she's ready to bite her head off, Caroline notes with amusement and she smells of raspberries, wood and that metal tang of bl-
“Rebekah, love, I thought we agreed to not make a fuss.”
How did she not noticed him.
“She,” Rebekah said with an accusatory glance towards her, “is the one who is brewing trouble not I.”
Klaus’s eyes shift over her as if he hasn't probably knew that she has been here and smiles, small and oh so charming.
No, she reminds the talons clawing at her mind.
“Pleasure to see you again, sweetheart.”
“I can't say the same.” Damn dangerous. “Should I be suspicious of our so called chance meetings.”
“Hardly,” Klaus smoothly says. “I promise it's just coincidence.”
She doesn't completely believe him but he doesn't need to know that.
There are days when the wind is not so chirpy, her wanderlust not so high and Caroline is left with this loneliness. She misses papa. She misses Italy, the beach and the flower crowns she weaved from the the roses and poppies she found on the hill not so far from the house.
The snarling, soaring creature that lurks beneath her skin on the other hand, is very satisfied with the sea that goes for miles, the way that she doesn't have to be so careful all the time, hiding behind clouds and flying out of sights.
It's the most beautiful thing she has ever seen in her life; the sunset framed by the edge of the water.
Amongst the quiet beauty of the mountain, the golden dragon sleeps.
1856,
Rumours of New Orleans circle around the supernatural world and she's intrigued. One of her witch friends tell her of her plans to live there, mentioning how other covens has already established themselves among the city.
Enzo seems quite eager to go explore and she can't exactly blame him. Their contact with other vampires and the likes had minimised during the past twenty years.
The magic that permeates the air mingles with her aura, and she breathes in the fragrance of burning sage and cinnamon from the herbs shop on the left side of the sidewalk across the streets.
“Did you get what you need?” her friend asks, trying to startle her from behind but she barely bats an eye.
(Really he should know better by now.)
She huffs at his antics with a short laugh. “Most of them.”
Procuring something from his inner pocket of his jacket, Enzo pulls out a middle sized envelope with elegant ink written words.
“What's this?”
“We just got invited to a ball.”
Her eyebrows lift up with a silent question, taking the envelope from his hand - and did her eyes trick her or was the ink treated with gold water.
“Who are our hosts?”
Enzo shrugs, “ I am not exactly sure. People who call themselves the originals, heard they were some sort of royalty around here.”
They will probably turn out to be extremely old vampires who have a knack for theatrics, Caroline imagines, thinks of he who shall not be named and decides from her experience, that yes vampires were very much dramatic.
She is not to be disappointed in that regard, at least.
The main staircase is like a grand stage that beholds them, Klaus and Rebekah and other two males that she's never seen before.
It's not long before he approaches, still the very same.
“Out of all the people i expected to see today, you were not one of them.”
The sweet aftertaste of the chocolate is on her tongue. “I moved in New Orleans a few days back.”
The two other males and she are eventually introduced. She sees the way the younger looks like a canon that wants to be set loose and fire, her nostrils drown in the aroma of blood that surrounds him. The older one is polite with easiness that can enamor. She is not fooled for a second, the quiet are always the ones to be feared.
And Rebekah is a delight, of course.
She gives her one hard-measured look that makes her fear for her neck and says, “oh, it's you.”
Klaus, is unperturbed by his siblings foolhardiness and neither is she. Her skin is not easily mangled, both figuratively and literally. He offers her his arm, with promises of showing around the city he and his family built.
Walking in the dress she's wearing would be uncomfortable if not plain unconventional, she points out.
Klaus does not give up, and instead of giving her a set of practical clothes of Rebekah (who in between dances and teasing her brother had found time to strike some barbs at her) or worse as she has dreaded he'd do, just postpones it to early morning.
At six o’clock.
She shakes her head and says, “ten.” When dragging her body from the warmth of the bed would not be such a chore.
By some sort of miracle, Klaus manages to persuade her to stay longer in New Orleans than she originally intended to.
Three months roll in and she's made herself a regular at the restaurant in the main square, a witch from the herb shop she frequents strikes up a friendship with her and at the end of every week Klaus takes her to try a new meal.
“I'll see you in a few decades,” she whispers when she begins to hunger for new places. Because that's her life now, grasping at the world with her fingertips, learning the mechanics of who she is and stumbling upon vampires every few years or so.
1923,
Apparently, she had really meant it.
Chicago brims with glamour and mobsters and trading guns among people is almost as common as inviting friends over for lunch.
Her heels click against the wooden polished floor of Gloria’s and she looks for Enzo, ends up finding him singing quietly from his table alongside the singer on stage.
“Enjoying yourself?”
He hums a confirmation without breaking eye contact with the band.
The music soon comes to a stop and the crowd clap and clap and the singer twirls, baking in the cheers, sewn beads floating around her as she does.
“I think this decade is shaping up to be a fantastic one.”
Her shoulder playfully hits his. "Of course you would think that.”
Enzo’s gaze sweeps behind her to where Gloria keeps sparing her untrusting glances. “I can't believe this one doesn't like you. All witches do.”
“Yes, it's a shame, isn't it?” she sighs in mock disappointment. All the old witches who amassed their powers take one peek at her and decide they don't like her at all.
At least they had adequate survival instincts.
“Alright, gorgeous. I am off to have some fun. See you in the morning.”
She sits contentedly, watching as another round of dancing commenced and high heels clicked, clicked, clicked.
Caroline fingers her coat, debates whether to leave and enjoy a good night in her bed.
Klaus and Rebekah sitting on a table on the corner catch her attention. (She is no longer surprised at seeing them, though the young vampire accompanying them at the table whose eyes are vacant and teeth gleam leaves her unsure.)
Quietly, she approaches them and keeps still. Klaus doesn't even give the hint of having sensed her, seemingly taken with the little show.
“Now, slit your wife's hand and drink her blood,” the vampire commands the man who is sitting down across him, gives the knife and all but croons encouragement.
But before the knife can even so much as touch any skin, the silver blade find it way in the vampire's chest cavity, blood blossoming on his shirt.
“Seriously?” she snarls in contempt and regard both originals (still a ridiculous title might she add) with scorn.
“What-,” the vampire, ripper she notes now she's close enough that the stench of blood reeking from him suffocates her.
“Reverse what you did," she orders, vaguely aware of the claws threatening to embedd themselves in the ripper's neck.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Someone you wouldn't want to mess with, boy.”
The woman and her husband, (man and his wife, does it matter), go on their way with all their blood, skin and organs intact. The ripper growls at her lowly and she gives him a cold smile in return.
Fortunately for him, Rebekah demands they go out and he, too, is left untouched.
“Since when do you martyr for the humans?” Klaud breaks the silence between them as they walk alongside Chicago River, hand tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Since what your friend was doing was absolutely revolting.”
She doesn't condemn a good meal, she is rather fond of her hunting trips herself but that game of Rebekah’s who-knows-what was disgusting, point blank.
“And how are you doing here now that you are no longer in your kingdom?” Caroline speaks, diverting the conversation. “I bet it must be really difficult having the people not bowing to you at every turn.”
Klaus chuckles. “A good man knows how to make people kneel no matter where he is, love.”
“Hmm, love, sweetheart. Is it a British thing?”
“What?”
She shakes her head and laughs at his confusion. “Something I heard on the radio.”
2100,
It's the dead of the night. People sleep, the wind howls and she walks quietly through the street. Her hands find refuge in her pockets, safe to sweat as they want.
The manor on the far end stands out miles away. Like a haunted house amidst the modern buildings.
Her steps are slow, controlled. She knocks once on the door and waits.
He opens without hesitation, there's a wrinkle between his brows and she wonders how she looks, the only other soul awake now.
“It occurred to me we never saw any countries together,” she begins. “I thought we should rectify that.”
“At.” Klaus looks at his watch. “Two o’clock in the morning.”
She resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him, merely crosses her arms.
“No time like the present.”
The way Klaus flits his eyes over her is adoring and hungry and she smiles, small but genuine.
Her spontaneous decisions were not always terrible.
Peru is checked off her list and then Brazil and Mexico and she stops keeping track on paper after Norway.
Caroline used to cut her plane ticket after flights but these two, with the ‘Peru’ boldly printed on the front, are safekept with her kimono, sari, the flute she learned to play. Treasured in a big box that stores her firsts.
Pleeease tell me what you think. I'll love you forever.
Chasing Katherine, K+E take over residence of an English lord by compulsion and Caroline's his daughter. Twist: she's a vampire (or any kind of supernatural creature now that I think of it xD).
For day 6 of infinity week: other supernatural.
A/N: For purposes Elijah is not involved in this. Caroline is a dragon. Enjoy. Superbe beta work by @garglyswoof
Don’t Drown My Fire (Let It Strive)
Italy, 1511.
“Papa?” Caroline called out, body tense at the sheer stillness that seemed to have swallowed her beloved home.
Everything looked the same as it always did, from the rustling of the wind to the scratching of the rats the cleaners had yet to discover. Even the delightful smell of her favorite stew hung in the air as it always did when freshly cooked.
But the dragon under her veins didn’t take comfort in these things as it usually did, reacting to some old magic that ate at it. And while she may not like its ever looming presence, she trusted it enough not to second guess its agitation.
Creeping stealthily through the hallways, she reached the library; hearing her father’s breathing. She knocked, turning the knob and making her way inside.
“Caroline,” her father greeted her. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, fighting to make its way across her face and she would have let it had it not been for the vacant look in her father’s warm eyes.
A figure caught her attention, and her dragon went from agitated to a growling mess for some reason beyond her. The man’s gaze swept over her in a lazy manner, almost as if he was assessing a meal.
“I didn’t know we were expecting guests.” The thought tumbled from her mouth hastily, the weariness settled in her bones lacing her words.
“Lord Klaus had had some urgent matters and arrived here quickly so I had no time to tell you, dear.”
Even through the cordial greetings, the creature inside of her didn’t rest, tugging at her until she herself fidgeted uncomfortably, desiring nothing but to shed her clothing and fly away from whatever had raised her dragon’s awareness for just a little bit.
Klaus. She rolled the name around in her head, wondering what was it about him that caused her to mistrust him so; nonetheless something was terribly wrong and she would find out what.
And if the man in front of her happened to be tiresome, she could always eat him for lunch.
Later that night Klaus woke to the blunt metal of a knife digging in his skin, the Lord’s daughter staring back defiantly, teeth bared and eyes a shade of gold that he so desperately wished was his.
“What are you doing here?” The snarl was inhuman, monstrous, and he wanted to sink his fangs in it and lick it clean.
If fear was what the creature in front of him expected as a reaction, it was far from what it got. The ire that glowed in the flecks of red that appeared confirmed what the monster sought after but Klaus merely smiled charmingly, a little tauntingly, too, he’d admit.
“Is that any way to greet a guest, sweetheart?” The knife carved its way deeper into his skin in response.
“I’d start talking if I were in your place.”
Enraptured, by the shadows of flames that he swore danced at the tips of her hair, he didn’t answer. But he was also curious and if keeping her - Caroline - all anger and temper and that fire meant goading her a little more, then well, he was immortal and what was a single knife against his immortal heart and invincible body if nothing but an annoying hindrance?
What? He was bored.
Her fork tapped against the glass of her plate, a sharp tempo that managed to narrowly stop her from picking up a knife and slamming it in their guest’s chest cavity.
“I hope the room was suitable to you, my lord.” Her father’s kind voice said.
“It was well, although there were some….disturbances.” He shot her a smirk discreetly, and she flashed her golden eyes at him, pointedly ignoring his marvelled gaze.
“I wonder if these disturbances were ghosts coming after you, my lord, perhaps they wished you to join them.”
Her threat didn’t go unnoticed but Klaus only snorted, amused. “Well, I am afraid they’d have a bit of trouble accomplishing that task, love.”
Her eyes snapped to her father’s face, eyebrows almost raising up in disbelief at his serene glassy look, as if someone - practically a stranger- wasn’t trading barbs with her, adding thinly veiled flirtations in between. The pit of dread that was inside her only carved its way deeper.
She turned her attentions back to her latest battle at hand, forcing out a mocking smile. “Maybe, but you’ll find that the ghosts in this house are not defeated so easily either.”
He sunk his fangs deeper into the skin of the little human’s neck, taking the blood in large mouthfuls. The rhythm of the heartbeats slowed down but he continued feeding, deducing that a few more bites wouldn’t hurt. Much.
“That is quite disgusting.” He retracted his fangs, turning to see Caroline, nose scrunched up as she shot her gaze to the scene in front of her, eyes darkening as they stopped on the still gaping wound of the servant. The girl fell to the floor, breath laboured and whimpers falling from her lips. Sighing, he picked her up, ripping into his wrist and placing it against her mouth, allowing enough drops to flow inside her.
The girl stumbled out of the room, not even greeting her mistress in her weaknesses, though Caroline barely seemed to care; eyes so set on him as they were.
“It’s rude to walk in on people eating, sweetheart,” he said. Veins prominent on his face, he was inwardly pleased at the way Caroline looked curiously at his vampiric features. Her blonde hair flowed around her as she turned her head towards the corridor the maid had scurried off to.
“You let her go,” she said, a hidden question in her words.
“No need to get rid of perfectly available food.”
The corner of an eyebrow lifted up slightly but she inquired no more. Instead his favorite shade of gold bled into her eyes, the orange and red of a warm night’s flame surrounding her as she growled, “Does it have to do with the fact that you didn’t perform your mind trick on her as you did my father?”
His mouth lifted up into a smirk. “Finally figured it out, love?” A laugh almost escaped him at her sneer. “I’m disappointed, I expected you to figure it out sooner.”
“First off, don’t call me any of your vexatious titles. Secondly, the members of my home aren’t for you to sustain yourself with, so should you wish to feed, do it elsewhere.”
Caroline moved to exit, but he spoke, stopping her in her tracks. “So if I were to feed outside of your home, it wouldn’t matter as much?” he asked, calling her out on her double standards.
Caroline did not even flinch, her features remaining impassive as she squarely looked him in the eye. “Yes.”
He mentally chuckled. This had just gotten a lot more fun.
It was dangerous, dangerous territory she was treading on, she knew, especially when the old magic swirling around Klaus bit so deeply in his bones. And yet, her inquisitive nature was relentless in its pursuit, digging and wanting more, more, more. More of him or more of what he was, that was yet to be decided.
‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ she reminded herself as she saw Klaus entering the manor after yet another day of whatever he deemed worthy of his time in the nearby villages, a servant wordlessly following after him much to her dismay. She had no doubt what was to follow, the bloodlust was evident in Klaus’s eyes and clear as the afternoon sky.
Her monster rumbled and snarled at the scene, her possessiveness threatening to make her act irrationally. She gripped the railings of the balcony tightly.
As if sensing her unwavering gaze, Klaus flicked his eyes towards her, a smug smirk stretched on a corner of his lips. The iron railings dented under her extended claws and her resolved strengthened.
‘Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.’
The paper in his hands crumbled as he crushed it. Elijah had yet to find Katerina even with all his resources, and he would’ve thought his brother was misleading him like the love-fool he had unfortunately become if Klaus had not been having such a hard time hunting down the irritating doppelgänger himself.
His fangs thirsted to reveal themselves at the reminder of his failed ritual and he breathed deeply, trying to quell his building rage. Katerina’s little family was dead, and when he found her he’d make her suffering unbearable. For now he’d devoted his time to finding her, and his leads here in Italy had yet to run out.
With that thought in mind, he threw the useless pieces of paper in the fireplace, adjusting his vest as he crossed the numerous hallways, heading for the door.
“Going somewhere, my lord?”
Ah a distraction, just what he needed. Turning, he saw Caroline’s arms crossed, a richly-embroidered cloak folded over one arm.
“Yes, care to join?”
“If it’s no bother, I have some business in town.”
Leisurely, he motioned with his hands an invitation. Unwittingly, the feeling of excitement and anticipation that usually appeared around Caroline’s presence rose.
Both of them didn’t bother to head for the stables, now that they were alone and unbound from their human façade, playing on a more wider field seemed like a fit decision.
“How about going the long way?” his eyes challenged her silently, an unspoken dare. Caroline inclined her head in agreement.
Always determined.
The twigs and fallen leaves crunched under their feet, few breezes rustling the branches here and there. An idea bloomed in his mind, a sudden desire to ruffle Caroline’s seemingly perfect feathers and bring forth her burning hidden anger.
He turned to her and she stopped, glancing at him warily as if she could sense his thoughts.
He smiled in return. “Since it will take us sometime for us reach our destination, I’d like to propose something to pass the time.”
“You’re the one who suggested we take the long way,” she said, her gaze narrowing.
“Well, you’re the one who agreed,” Klaus shot back, unwilling to let her have the last word.
She huffed, annoyed. “What’s this proposal of yours?”
“A race.”
Caroline’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment but he continued on, unconcerned. “We’ll use our respective abilities to cross this piece of land until we reach the inn on the outskirts of town. Whoever arrives first wins.”
“What do I get out of this?”
“The satisfaction.”
Her expression turned into one of contemplation before she pursed her lips in fake sweetness. “As exhilarating as I’m sure it will be to beat you, I need a more attractive offer to be convinced.” She paused. “If I win, I get to ask you ten questions of my choosing.”
“Ten is a bit much, love.”
“I am playing your game, am I not?”
He shrugged but didn’t relent.
“Fine, five then.”
Caroline stepped in front of him as she made her way to the thick trees of the forest. His voice called out, “aren’t you going to ask me what my demands are?”
Without missing a beat, she replied, “There won’t be any need seeing as I am the one who’ll be victorious.”
Chuckling under his breath, he waited as Caroline walked ahead of him, delving deeper until she disappeared from his sight.
He flashed through the forest, running and passing through paths, thinking of his upcoming victory, and while the spoils wouldn’t provide power and renown, he was beginning to think they’d be much sweeter. Reaching their agreed spot, he glanced back then turned his eyes forward.
And came face-to-face with Caroline.
She continued lacing the front of the dress’ corset not sparing him a glance or showing that she noticed his arrival, and once she finished, she smiled at him icily.
“I win,” she declared off-handedly, walking towards the market leaving him both furious and captivated.
In truth, she was not entirely sure what to ask. Or more accurately what she should ask. Hundreds upon hundreds of questions flashed through her mind - how old was he, what sort of magic surrounded him, were there others like her?
They all held some allure, and she was tempted to ask everything. However, she knew that a creature like Klaus was not to be fooled, and to make sure she got the best of the little game she’d won, she had to be careful about what she asked.
One afternoon, an hour or so before they were to have lunch, she knocked on his door, her short list of questions sorted and clear in her head. Klaus opened it, showing no hint of surprise as if he had known she was just outside, which, she thought irritably as she made her way in, was probably true.
“So, what are your questions?”
A bit relieved by his immediate delving into the subject without the stifling niceties, she sat down, squashing the wave of nervousness that started to clog up her throat.
No weaknesses allowed.
Clearing her throat, Caroline voiced her first question, “What do you know about what I am?”
Klaus regarded her for a minute. “I know that you have some sort of fire magic flowing through you, and by the physical changes that occur when you’re particularly angry I reckon you have some shape-shifting abilities. You also get awfully furious when I touch something that you consider yours.”
A surge of disappointment filled her as she was presented with more or less nothing new about her monster. “I would, however, like to put a name to you, sweetheart,” he said.
“Dragon,” she said distractedly. “At least that was what that book in the library I found said.”
“I suspected,” his faint whisper followed.
Her interest was piqued again, but at Klaus’s devious expression she didn’t attempt to ask; she’d probably waste all her questions and he still wouldn’t tell her anything. The bastard.
“What made you what you are?”
He narrowed his eyes as if lost in a memory then replied, “Werewolves, a very foolish mistake and a very guilt-ridden mother.” For a minute a hint of remorse made its way onto Klaus’s face before disappearing, replaced by the familiar smirk. “And it’s vampire, love. Not blood-sucker, I do hate the term accurate as it may be. So unrefined.”
She laughed at his mildly offended tone.
“You know, I have to say this idea is one of the most childish things I have heard of,” she paused. “but since I have you so kindly at my disposal, I am not complaining.”
The sunlight stretched languidly across the field; a breeze soft and light blew through his hair. Caroline, hair untied and wild, walked slowly, savoring the peacefulness.
“That girl you asked that friend of yours about, who is she?” Neither of them stopped but she shot him a look of curiosity.
“Didn’t you have your round of twenty questions already?” he asked, sighing.
“There were five, actually.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “And don’t try and weasel yourself out of my question, especially since you tricked me into wasting my remaining ones and then let me continue on so you could have this walk.”
“I didn’t trick you into anything,” he reminded her. “I’m hunting her if you must know.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “What did the poor girl ever do to you?”
“Thwarted my carefully constructed five hundred-year old plan, ensured I could never attempt to do so ever again and then had the indecency to flee before I punished her thoroughly.”
“How dare she,” she said dryly.
He didn’t appreciate her comment, the faint ghost of his wolf that he had carried with him for nearly all his life a sharp reminder of what he was, truly was. Leaving behind such thoughts, he focused his attention on Caroline again. “I’m leaving in one week.”
“Really?” she asked gleefully.
“Oh, don’t sound so happy, you’re hurting my feelings.”
She breathed suddenly as if in realization “You have them?” she asked, shocked.
At his humorously offended look, she giggled heartily, the sound ringing with such clarity for a moment he felt his mind humming with contentment. She laughed and laughed and he chuckled along with her.
“Join me tomorrow?” he requested after Caroline had started picking up some stray flowers. Her fingers moved, trying to weave them together.
“You are leaving in a week and you plan to try and woo me in that time? That is an overestimation of confidence if I have ever seen one.”
He smiled slightly. “I do like a challenge.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed before she nodded. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow then. But I’ll be the one who decides where to go.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
The waves crashed and rolled, pulling the sand from its shores and enveloping it until the coarse particles became one with them. She closed her eyes, allowing her heightened senses to be consumed by the feelings surrounding her, though still acutely aware of the gaze watching her.
After some time, she turned her head towards him, too curious to see what he seemed so transfixed on. Shock bloomed inside her, finding Klaus’s gaze nearly devouring her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Caroline asked, bemused.
“Curious,” he drawled out.
A snort found its way out of her at the way the word came out, managing to sound both lazy and focused. “About?”
“I’ve never seen someone like you before.”
She bit her lips coyly. “So I’m one of a kind of then.”
“Perhaps?”
She laughed, skin wrinkling at the edges of her eyes at his teasing manner. “You know, someone with your kind of charm shouldn’t be allowed to roam as freely as you do.”
“So you admit I’m charming.”
She held a finger up, pointing it at him. “I never said you weren’t.” She sighed, rubbing her toes in the sand. Her blue sundress brushed against her skin. A deep desire filled her, her body singing with the need to fly and soar and just be. She contemplated changing, the clouds were perfect for her but..
“Go.” Klaus said, his face hoisting an expression of longing and understanding.
Caroline gave him a grin and then stood up, dusting off the particles of sand as she ran to the cave on the far end of the shore. She untied the laces and then..
She let go.
She was magnificent, Klaus thought as he spotted the golden dragon making its way through the clouds. She flew elegantly, her wings moving with extreme precision and well-acquainted comfort. He’d have to ask her about it. Later. For now, he’d satisfy himself watching her gliding across the sky, like a bird finally set free from its cage.
He longed to see her change into this form, to watch how the skin changed into scales, fingers into claws and wings blooming. Lethal and majestic, power rippling in her veins.
But he did not have the right to that intimacy, not yet. For as much as he wanted it, Klaus knew he did not have Caroline’s complete trust.
Yet.
I’m super excited that I finally posted this one shot since I had so much fun writing it and couldn’t wait to share. Please, tell me what you thought because I’d love to know.
So basically I was having urges for dancer! caroline au and the idea wouldn’t leave no matter what so i relented and tada here’s roughly 6k of that with actual klaus on the side.
PS: I know I titled the fic after a florence + the machine song but this whole thing was actually inspired by I Don’t Wanna Live Forever by TSwift and ZAYN, like everytime I lacked the motivation, I’d just play it and it’s the song I imagined Caroline dancing to the first time Klaus sees her and the lyrics kinda of fit Caroline's initial "mood" but enough of my rambling.
The only explanation for his current predicament was that he was bored.
He'd enjoyed dancers’ blood often, loved the feel of his teeth sinking into their necks right after their choreography training, sweat on their skin and their blood pumping vigorously through their bodies to make up for the exercise they pushed it through.
Though he’d never went into a dance studio specifically for prey, had never went to one, period. It had never held appeal, truth be told, to feed amidst tiny studios when he’d much rather do so in more likable places; theaters and stages and culture clubs where the numerous heartbeats of the crowds were like an aphrodisiac.
But tonight he was with Kol after waking him from his daggered sleep. His brother had coaxed him to accompany him on this hunt, citing his desire for little flexible brunettes and guilting him into it with the reminder of how he put him to sleep.
He’d only given in because he knew that sooner or later his brother would undoubtedly wander, in a few months or years when he became too restless, wanting to engage in some fun of his or to run with the latest coven of witches that caught his fancy, and despite all his claimings he did miss his brother when he was away from the rest of the family.
So he’d endured the stiff structure and went, shaking his head at his brother's eager laugh before he closed the doors to the local studio and flashed through the hallways.
He knew from the lack of screams that followed that Kol wasn't in the mood for chase but wanted to use his boyish charms and flirtations, which would ensure that half of the dance team would be head over heels in love with him by the end of the day, tumbling over each other to be his willing chew toy.
Kol was sadistic like that and Klaus had to admit that he felt amused by such antics, but he had enough of his fanatic groupies who lapped at his attention like lost puppies to bother with mere humans.
He enjoyed a bite or two, licking at the bloody trail and humming in satisfaction when his hunger subdued. The dancer in his grip was all dazed eyes and lax muscle, simply waiting for his tiniest order to comply with.
He sent him on his way after sneaking another bite, in no mood for burying bodies when he was surrounded by civilisation, and he did quite enjoy Seville with its architecture and little festivities to leave it just because of small talk of wild attacks.
Though it'd be quite fun to paint the city in blood, he had quite the fondness for the Alcázar to risk it being destroyed.
It was two hours before he considered leaving Kol behind and simply roaming the streets but he knew there would be endless whining later and he didn't want to drag the daggers out so early when it'd only been a week. Knowing Elijah he'd reappear out of whatever hellhole he’d disappeared in just to give him a lecture that would rival that of an endless television tirade.
When had everything and everyone become so boring?
He heard music coming from the end of the hallway, pausing when he recognised the American pop song playing and deciding that maybe leaving one body to be found wouldn't be so bad after all.
Such disrespect to play mindless noise in the land of flamenco dancing.
He entered through a door that led to a room with one-way glass that gave view to the trainees with them being none the wiser.
And paused.
To the rhythm of the music a blonde danced without a care in the world, her movements erratic yet she was absorbed.
She danced without a definite style, floating through ballet moves while moving her hips to the tempo of the song; she butchered several famous routines and yet the end result was a mix of freedom he didn't see in many, with a sensualness that was hard to pull off.
He was mesmerized.
Klaus kept on watching her as the song finished and another began, seeing her become more in tune to the music until she closed her eyes, limbs still moving.
He wondered why no one was coming to reprimand her, for he didn't think she was a solo dancer training; perhaps a rule breaker, maybe someone up for a bit of adventure seeking the dull thrill of getting caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Nik!” Kol yelled, breaking his thought process.
He sighed, cataloging the girl's features and her eased, messy dancing and wondered how her blood would fare coating his lips, before flashing to where his brother was waiting for him, the studio quiet except for the laboured breaths of Kol’s prey and that horrible pop music.
“Where have you been? You missed all the fun,” Kol asked, a wild grin on his face, exhilaration coating his eyes.
Not bothering to reply, he left. He had a feeling that he’d just uncovered a source of his own entertainment.
He was impressed. His brother hadn't lasted five weeks before leaving, growing more antsy with each coming day.
Rebekah had tried to soothe him, going out together on bloodbaths outside Seville and drinking entire bars dry, but in the end he left and Rebekah was spending her time licking her wounds from the hurt and trying to get over the raging jealousy that spiked whenever one of her brothers left her behind in the dust while she was still relying on one of them at a time.
Klaus was currently employing his time finding the weak links in his inner circle; he'd heard a rumor that a witch in his servitude was finding a way to gain more power, seemingly unsatisfied with what she had right now.
So he had snuffed her out of existence, feeding her vampire blood and setting her on fire in the middle of one of her meetings with her secret agents. By forcing her to transition, she previewed an eternity of misery in death cut off from the life that was all she knew and destroying whatever chance she could have had at happiness. Her screams had rung through the night as she came to terms with what she’d become until her emotions reached a high tide that made her numb.
It was poetic, a message out to anyone foolish enough to trifle with him.
He had no doubt that the murmurs would ripple through the world at this news, horror would flood the supernatural community and those who knew of his name would quake in their boots. What he'd done to that witch had been a kindness and they all knew it. There was no escape from the millennia of torture he could bestow on someone should he wish it.
He could just picture the reverence with which they'd mention him, the fear, and how he loved it.
Seville sparkled at night, yellow lights casting shadows on the streets giving the city some natural magic witches could never wield.
It was the magic of existence and creation, far beyond the simple bending of the souls and the resurrection of the dead.
Seeing Seville like that brought back memories of New Orleans and all the nifty corners in Europe that he'd built where magic ran wild and free, vampires feeding without fear and wolves as packs always had a better chance at survival.
He flashed on the top of one of the buildings, hoping for a better view, but something else entirely caught his attention.
It couldn't have been and yet it was, the blonde he'd seen in the studio, Caroline, who he hadn’t been able to find any information on besides her name and address and other useless things, who danced with not one single hesitation.
Who was very much a mortal human and yet continued as she had in the studio, except this time on the rooftop where she could so easily fall to her death.
A smidge in and out of time, barely remembered, always forgotten.
And yet, he knew she couldn't care less about that detail.
Caroline stepped on the very edge. He entertained the thought of her being suicidal.
But she didn't tumble and fall. No, Her legs stayed on the edge hovering on that nearly invisible line but never faltering, her eyes open, body not willing to surrender to chance any more than she had already forced it to. He looked at her, noticing how aware she was of every movement she made.
What a thing, to know that you could cease to exist at any given moment, and yet going ahead with the risk anyway.
She was still butchering every choreography known to man though and he genuinely did not understand whether she did it on purpose or simply lacked proper instruction.
After fifteen minutes his patience waned and he flashed towards her, slowing as he neared before he revealed his presence.
She tried to scream bloody murder, feet slipping as her body threatened to meet the ground meters below her. He caught her before it could and brought her further away from the edge, hand clamped on her mouth to silence her yells.
“I mean you no harm,” Klaus told her in perfect Spanish.
Her face looked torn between incredulousness, fear, and the tiny flicker of hope for survival that was ruthlessly squashed down finally giving away anger.
She murmured against his mouth, forming intangible words that only seemed to become more angry as he kept his hand on her, entranced by the fire he saw in her eyes.
“Dude, what the hell?” her English was only minutely startling, the American accent pronounced in her words.
He pretended not to understand her, wondering how the conversation would go.
“I saw you on that edge,” he continued in Spanish, even adding an ‘I swear I'm not a serial killer smile’. “I feared you'd jump.”
The scepticism didn't disappear and he liked it, liked the cleverness that was becoming more visible by the second.
“Don't worry, sir,” she replied, tongue stumbling on the words only once but her lack of accent was apparent. “I know perfectly well not to visit death sooner than I have to.”
He laughed slightly at that.
“Now if you'll excuse me,” she attempted to pull his hands off but wasn't successful, huffing as she finished,, “unless you want to continue this conversation in English?”
He raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“You have that haughty British vibe about you,” she said, switching to English and crossing her arms over her chest, well, as much as she was able to.
He smirked playfully, “I hope that is a good thing, love.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, “Not really.”
He still kept his hands on her, watching how she carefully narrowed her eyes at them as if they were ticking time bombs.
Which considering him, they probably were.
“Let me go.”
He released her, watching her as she picked up her bag and went to the stairs, not bothering to look back.
A game of chase could commence, but he didn’t bother, eyes trailing her as she walked serenely through the streets.
He'd see her again soon enough.
Here’s how it was not supposed to go.
He trailed bloodied fangs across a shivering neck, fear soaking his prey and raking her petite body. Her blood was sweet, tinged with a little sourness, her bite a gashing wound on her throat.
She’d stopped fighting a while back, her sobs mostly reduced to whimpering as she fought to stay conscious in the dark alley.
It was such a thrill for his wolf, to breathe in that tantalizing fear.
A startled gasp pulled him out of him his blood haze and he turned his head to find Caroline, mouth agape as she stared at his red mouth and yellow eyes, double sets of fangs and veins prominent on his face.
She didn't scream or cry, she simply inhaled and exhaled sharply.
“Oh my god,” Caroline mouthed.
When would her shock fade, he wondered, when would she run and shout ‘monster’ to the city walls?
What was her breaking point, he wanted to know.
He looked at her and she looked at him, and vaguely he thought that some poet would find that romantic if not for the body hanging limply from his arms between them.
A body that now moaned faintly, but it was enough for Caroline's attention to shift towards the sound. Sadness flashed in her eyes when she looked at the girl.
When their eyes met again, he smirked before flashing away, leaving one girl alive and the other with her last breath.
He did so love being a question people coveted answering to no avail.
He met her again sooner than he thought he would; observing the Plaza de España and its wide courtyard, the tourist population not running around en masse a respite that allowed him to enjoy the view.
Caroline settled beside him on the bench, without announcing her presence, half-knowing he was aware that she was there and half-working up the courage to speak.
“You're a vampire.”
It was a statement and not a question.
“Yes.” Not quite the truth, for he was something else entirely, his wolf was a part of him as much as his monster.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her biting her lower lip hesitantly, allowing silence to settle. She joined him in watching everyone come and go, upper body leaning forward and hands clasped in front of her face, her fingers drumming a nervous tempo against each other.
Caroline opened her mouth, once, twice, bit her lip again before she sighed.
“What does it feel like?”
His head snapped towards her in faint surprise, the question unexpected.
He pondered her brittle bones and easily broken skin. He could shatter her and mold her and twist her in spirals. “You don’t want to know, sweetheart.”
Her muscles became tense with anger, eyes flashing brightly, and he knew he wouldn't put it past her to snarl at him.
“You don’t tell me what I do or do not want.”
She rose and walked past him before he clasped her wrist, his thumb on her beating pulse that fluttered wildly.
He caught her gaze, bringing her skin to his lips and whispering against it the answer.
“Invincible.”
Rebekah was hiding something from him, he thought as he roamed the city, and he had a feeling that it was a new lover she feared he'd turn into a paint bucket.
Which honestly he only did when he was in the mood for an authentic blood red.
But as long as she didn't have any ideas of running off into the so-called sunset, he had no objections to humoring her before he disposed of her lover.
It was a cycle they’d refined to the finest detail. He doubted his sister knew any other way to go about her affairs.
He ran into Caroline in a particularly crowded street, and she stopped in front of him, eyes wide. Curiosity swelled within him and people talked in Spanish with a myriad of emotions.
“Do you dance?”
Klaus startled, it seemed she’d found another hobby other than her wild dancing, spewing questions at him out of the blue at odd times.
“Not the way you do.”
In so many more ways than one.
“Can you show me?”
Tilting his head to the side, he took her in, noting the slight bounce of her heels and the fidgeting of her hands, even if she's doing a better job at hiding these movements from his notice than most people would.
Such a pretty little thing Caroline was.
He wanted to show her everything.
She asked, demanded and insisted on going to the dance studio, visibly stomping her foot on the ground when he sighed and attempted to refute her request, tried to suggest that they could always dance in his house if she desired.
“What's the point of dancing in your home when there's a big studio that is just begging to be used?” she said, and fluttered her lashes. He had half a mind to say no but he couldn't ignore that this was the most animated he'd seen Caroline, she was bursting with excitement at the thought of spending time in a place she so obviously loved.
So he said yes, laughed at the way she barely kept an excited squeal in that was bursting to be let out.
Curiously, he watched as she snuck in from the back, explained how this particular room was unused and how the director was generous enough to let her use it until they had the resources to renovate. She said that everyone mostly ignored her while they were working on their routines, not bothering the American girl with her pop songs.
She rolled her eyes, mouthing the last words with a mocking voice and a patronizing tone.
When she moved to choose the music, he stopped her, tsked slightly at her confused face and told her that since she asked him to show her how he danced, then it was only fitting the music selection was his.
Caroline huffed silently but did not object and her eyebrows shot up in surprise when the classical music broke through the quiet.
He offered her his hand, and she took it though she looked at him with playfully narrowed eyes, a silent question of ‘what are you doing?’ that she didn't get to ask, for he spun her around.
Waiting for her to face him again, he spoke lowly as he curtsied, “and now my lady, we dance.”
She fell in step faster than he expected her to, the waltz a natural rhythm for her feet to follow. Caroline made every move in perfect fashion, never faltering.
“You know you're a marvelous dancer.” He whispered to her, voice lilting.
“I had training,” she told him proudly, achingly, sadness and anguish in her eyes.
Caroline started telling him facts about herself as they roamed the city's streets, walking side-by-side. Her face, unlike when they were dancing, was melancholic and passive, though she smiled at the sight of the public artists and musicians lining the streets.
It was almost funny how relaxed she became around music; an addiction she never bothered to shake.
“Here are some truths about me,” she said, and carefully laid them out. “Caroline Forbes, twenty one, high school graduate, former supposed-to-be Miss Mystic Falls.”She laughed at the supposed-to-be part and the sound came out choked and bitter.
Caroline paused and bit her lip, offered to buy them some candy, didn't bother to wait for his answer as she sprinted across the sidewalk towards the stall; running from her words.
And he watched amused, because when had someone ever bothered to buy him candy, ever, and it's all very laughable really.
She was a girl who dangled herself in the edge of a roof and danced bizarrely, a macabre ballerina of sorts. She looked at him like he was a painful reminder of unwanted memories but never with fear in her eyes.
Sometimes she smiled at him too.
Rebekah had groaned, pouted and set a room on fire, claiming boredom and feeling ignored as the cause for her antics. He’d waited patiently as she went through their wooden furniture two weeks in a row and changed the entire interior of their classic six apartment, buying new rugs and dresses and furniture to fill a palace.
His sister was such a fickle being.
When she’d hesitantly broached the idea of joining Kol, he’d smirked at her discomfort. It was so blatantly obvious she expected another daggering for her request. Oh, Rebekah had rolled her eyes and snarked at him, but in her eyes he’d seen the fear and Klaus had felt disappointed.
She could have done better.
He certainly wasn't averse to the silence the empty house provided him, it was good to sketch in quiet as opposed to the sounds of chairs and tables being moved around, screeching across the floor.
Klaus added the last lines to his drawing, feeling pleased. Perhaps he'd redo it on canvas if he was in the mood.
He'd just have to get the particular sunshine colour of Caroline's hair perfect.
The invitation to her apartment was unforeseen, more so because he knew Caroline was aware of the significance of such a gesture. She had held determination in her posture as she ‘asked him out for coffee’ - as she so aptly put it - glaring at him when he dared to chuckle.
He teased her on her home being the location and she had drily said that she didn't want a massacre on national television should he dislike the coffee.
Caroline's apartment was a small studio, her bed in view of the living room and kitchenette. The decorations were simple and cheap and it made all the questions he’d accumulated about her rush to the forefront of his mind; the sort that he couldn't find answers to from having reports delivered from his inner circle.
It was intoxicating, all these mysteries she represented.
He wished to know how her hummingbird heart could withstand the fright of falling.
When she handed him his cup, strangely filled with tea, he grimaced at the taste of what, in his opinion, was an undrinkable beverage.
Caroline spotted his expression of distaste. “You don’t seem like the type for cappuccino, so tea for you, and I only know how to make packaged stuff, sooo…” she finished, shrugging endearingly.
He laid the glass on the counter, impatient to know every little detail.
“We should talk.”
“Talk?” she repeated.
“It's an instance where two people converse about a variety of subjects,” he said lightly.
Caroline's eye twitched at the mocking before she, too, set her cup down.
“So what do you want to “talk” about?” She even added air quotes.
“Oh, I want to talk about you,” he smiled slightly. Caroline raised a brow. “Your hopes, your dreams, everything you want in life.” His lips curled around the words.
She looked at him attentively before lowering her lashes.
“I told you I came from Mystic Falls, right? Well, I have always hoped to see the world. I dreamed about being a journalist before I changed my mind. Now, I just want to be whatever it is that I want to.”
“Very vague.”
Caroline hmmed in reply.
“Did I ever tell you how I left Mystic Falls?”
He knew but he wanted to hear it from her anyway, not the superficial details but the ones that were hers.
“I was seventeen, visiting my Dad and I was enjoying myself, so much so that I didn't want to go back; I'd been sad for a while, having nightmares, kind of angry too, though I can't remember why,” she frowned in frustration, eyes glazing over slightly before clearing and she shook her head.
It did not escape his attention, the signs of compulsion were stark to him and his wolf growled. The scenarios in his head were not kind and he swore the end of whoever was responsible.
“I was ignoring my mom's calls and she ended up driving all the way there to take me back. We fought, said some not-so-nice things that I think the entire highway heard. When we finally neared the town’s sign, the place was on fire.”
She continued on telling him of her mother's decision to park outside the town limits near the trees and keep Caroline safe while she went as was her duty as sheriff. How she’d waited restlessly for two days hidden in the woods, starving and thirsty surrounded by the suffocating stench of ash hoping for her mother's return.
“By the second night, some help came, a police task force and the fire department, though really what were they hoping to do by that point? They found me, called my dad and I was back to where I had wanted to be.” Caroline laughed bitterly.
She said she settled in well enough, or as well as someone who’d seen her home drowning in flames could, the first two weeks spent making sure her papers were in order and what she had of her possessions were intact. And that she stopped screaming from her nightmares.
Then her father had told her of vampires.
How Mystic Falls was lost to a war between two brothers in love who threatened and murdered to set their lover free from a tomb. How there were twenty seven ancient vampires there and they delighted in the chance to reclaim their home.
How a war started and fire laid claim to everyone.
Klaus had heard the story of course, had known of the Salvatores and though he thought of the elder one a cocky infant playing a game that wasn't his, he did miss the ripper. Hearing his end had been tragic.
But when he found out there had been a doppelganger present, Klaus had carved out the messenger’s intestines, had destroyed every surviving inch of Mystic Falls and ten other towns near it.
Lucky for the world that he'd broken his curse five centuries before, that Elijah had the foresight to resurrect Katerina after the ritual supplying him with blood for his loyal hybrids. It wouldn't have survived his rage otherwise.
William Forbes had told Caroline these stories with the intention of channeling her anger and directing it towards hunting the supernatural, had wanted her to finish her high school education and devote her time to learn from him.
Caroline had not been amused. There had been a fanatic gleam in her father's eyes that made her uncomfortable, insisting that she honed her mind to resist it being controlled.
“I think he wouldn't have hesitated to throw me into the lion's den, he would have recruited me to hunt vampires again and again and again and what kind of life is that?”
She did not tell her father of her hesitation, instead settling to learn the tricks of resisting compulsion, plotting her escape.
“Fortunately, I met a vampire who was two centuries old, he was nice and taught me stuff, told me how to make it out of the USA untracked and to start a new life. So as soon as I got my high school diploma, I bailed and I have been living here ever since.” She finished, sipping on her drink, her eyes distant.
Caroline stood, a sudden restlessness plaguing her.
“That’s quite a story.” His face was neutral, calmly taking it all own, but inside he was anything but calm. It was great to finally sate all his curiosities.
“Yeah, I have to really congratulate you on your poker face; if I didn't know any better I'd say you’ve heard this before.”
“Someone’s been snooping,” he said, amused.
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But honestly you don't exactly scream subtlety.”
“Do you goad me out of ignorance of my age or simply because you're brave?”
He really was curious.
“Uh, to be fair, forty to me is old, sixty is ancient and two centuries is where you hit mummy state in my book so no it's not that. It's probably because I was born with no filter and lost my last flying fuck that day,” she said with a thoughtful expression,her fingers tapping against her chin. “Also I really love to rile up people, it's the inner head cheerleader in me.”
He laughed. “Stereotypes?”
Caroline shrugged again.
“You really are a strange creature, Caroline.”
“And proud to be,” she declared.
He chuckled.
Her gaze turned towards his forgotten cup and she narrowed her eyes, “Can't you at least pretend to enjoy it?”
Klaus arched a brow at her question, to which Caroline rolled her eyes.
“Aren't British people supposed to be courteous?” She complained under her breath, perfectly aware that he heard her.
“Not British actually, sweetheart.”
“Whatever.”
He developed an addicting routine of visiting Caroline in the morning to drink coffee while remarking how it tasted so much better than her tea, to which she would roll her eyes.
But the issue of her compulsion nagged at him; she had left her hometown permanently whilst still seventeen, which meant that she could have possibly been compelled at sixteen and it made him want to sink his teeth into someone's throat.
She was his and the thought of some low cut vampire’s hands on her, possibly one of the Salvatores, riled up his wolf til it desired the comfort of tendons and organs under its claws.
He could undo it so easily and know exactly what happened, but he'd need Caroline's permission and willingness to bend her mind to his will, and he was unsure of what her reaction to his request would be.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Caroline interrupted their quiet silence. The curtains in the living room were drawn far, sunlight lighting up the place.
He smirked, “My thoughts are worth far more than that, love.”
An unamused stare met him in return.
It delighted him, the casual way that Caroline regarded him.
“You've been compelled,” he said off-handedly.
Caroline looked at him for a full minute before she swallowed a mouthful of tea.
“I know.”
Wasn't that a surprise.
“My vampire friend, remember him? He recognized the signs, tried to undo it but that didn't work.” She shrugged in a supposedly careless manner but he saw it, the marks of annoyance and vexation.
“Lorenzo St. John,” he murmured the name of her friend.
She shot him a look of exasperation. “You are such a show-off.”
He didn't bother denying; why hide his power when it was meant to be wielded, and it did have the added benefit of riling her up so thoroughly.
“I could undo it.”
Scepticism was her answer.
“I am an original, love. And the only one of my kind at that.”
“So you're like a super-powered vampire?” She asked slowly. “Seriously?”
He hmmed in return.
What will your answer be, sweet Caroline? Klaus wanted to question.
She sat silently, contemplating, before sighing.
“Okay,” Caroline agreed. “It's not like I'll lose anything.”
It had taken nearly the whole day, Caroline had called the director of the dance studio to inform her not to expect her, fidgeting for two hours.
He'd let her be, allowed her nervousness to wear off before he could attempt to cajole her mind into unveiling what had been hidden from it. If he pressed too hard it could break, between his thrall and Caroline’s willpower.
Once she'd settled down, it was easy enough, those who honed their minds to resist being controlled could make themselves susceptible should they wish.
Caroline had breathed deeply before nodding at him.
He'd watched as her eyes glazed over, memories flooding before some semblance of awareness snapped at her and she rushed to the sink where she vomited, sobs racking her body.
“Please get out,” she had cried violently, and he had hesitated before another sob tore its way out of her.
It had been so unlike him to retreat when asked, to pull away instead of heading on vehemently but Caroline's expression was like seeing his own so many eons ago. The boy he'd been, whose pride had stopped his siblings from helping after a particularly nasty beating so that he could hide his tears and emotional pain.
And now here he was sitting in Parque de María Luiza, two days after, barely keeping from punching Caroline's doors down.
He felt her presence behind him and stifled a laugh.
What was the saying again? Oh, speak of the devil.
Of course, Caroline looked nothing like a devil in her black leggings and faded blush-light sweater, her hair pulled in a bun and feet in sneakers. Human, that was how she appeared to be, fragile and breakable with tear-rimmed eyes.
She approached cautiously.
“Hi,” she said promptly before settling next to him on the bench.
“Hello, love.”
Before he could say anything else, she hastily told him, “I don't want to talk about it.”
He could relate to that wish, much as he detested that fact, the memory of whips on skin and swords smearing blood and you useless boy.
And the way Caroline shifted to keep a certain distance, making sure his body didn't touch hers, how her eyes darted with new-found realization and awareness confirmed his suspicions. He wasn't sure which of the Salvatores had touched her, but it was mercy they burned in that town rather than by his hands.
“Klaus,” she broke the silence, staring ahead at the flora, the green vivid and vibrant against the pale palette she made. “Tell me about the world.”
He appreciated the reprieve from an unpleasant memory lane, didn't like that in such a short span Caroline had unwittingly dug up so many unwanted memories. Part of his vampire wanted to kill her just to prove a point, but his wolf silenced such a part with a vengeance, roaring at the thought.
And his lovely human girl had no idea of the sway she was beginning to hold over him.
Or maybe she did.
Regardless he began to weave tales for her, spoke of Al-Andalus as he'd seen it during the eleventh century and its vast culture, the ripe age of Islamic civilization, eventually hinting at Thailand and its lush islands and floating market, watching as Caroline relaxed her stance, some of the weariness abandoning her.
They were on the roof of the Plaza de España, at his insistence, truthfully he was getting tired of all the tourists basking in the summer sun, and the glimmer of excitement and instinctual fear in Caroline's eyes was enough incentive to convince her.
She had, of course, refused to set foot in any place or even consider going anywhere without her customary cup of tea and pastries. Imagining her daily routine with blood instead set his fangs on edge.
When he had gotten them on top, she had whispered this is crazy but seemed so utterly charmed by the view.
Their peace was certainly helped by the fact that he compelled the security to overlook their presence if they were spotted; humans naturally explained anything that was amiss to fit their rationale, though two people on a roof was hardly something staggering in the grand scheme of things.
Caroline was enjoying the sunset, hair in various shades of gold and orange, expression peaceful.
She was beautiful.
“You know,” she murmured quietly. “It's kind of funny, I left Mystic Falls for so many reasons and I didn't even know half of them at the time. My mother and I had the worst existing relationship in that town and she died in a fire trying to save me and the town, my dad had a major dick phase in which he wanted to turn his only child, who was a minor, barely out of school, into some monster-hunting-killer regardless of the fact that I was cracking which led me to take up dancing to just forget. The last five years have sucked majorly but it's hilarious from a certain point of view.”
Caroline paused thoughtfully.
“Also my last recent two "relationships”, this one included, have been with vampires who you could, arguably, say are the bane of my existence. My life is weird.”
He moved to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, tangled his finger in her strands and soothed her cheek with his thumb.
“You have to adjust your perceptions of life now that you know about all that which lurks in the dark, Caroline. Only you decide how it affects you and how you react and what you think of it.”
“Don't you think of humans as weak though?”
He didn't refute her observation. “I do.”
It was nearly on the tip of his tongue to offer her eternity. But Caroline, sweet stubborn human Caroline, beat him to it.
“Klaus what does being a vampire feel like?” She asked him again.
“Free.”
The rhythmic movements of pencil against paper were the only sounds in the room along with the calm inhales and exhales of the compelled girl in the corner, calm and compliant ready to give her blood. The room was shaded in black, where the curtains were drawn to prevent letting the sun in.
On the nightstand was a perfectly designed lapis lazuli ring, its craftsmanship regal and elegant, every little detail of it chosen to Caroline’s prefrence.
The blue would look wonderful on her skin, a contrast against her porcelain complexion, a compliment to her eyes.
Her hair was spread around her head on the bed, face relaxed and body taut, a perfect image of serenity were it not for the unnatural angle of her neck, the paleness of her cheek and the lack of heartbeat
But that was to be rectified in mere minutes.
Soon, he would be able to teach everything to this fierce, sharp-tongued baby vampire, to show her cities like Shanghai, New Delhi and Alexandria.
He’d teach her every dance and every language. Show her the world and make her strong. A force to be reckoned with, where her intelligence could shape the world around like he knew it was capable of.
A sharp breath sounded and Caroline's eyes snapped open, confused momentarily before black veins creeped up her cheeks, her gaze hungry.
Inspired by the tags of goldcaught’s post (I didn’t know your birthday was yesterday but lucky coincidence, i guess) And like wow, it’s been?? so long?? since i wrote a human au. But it’s been fun and I enjoyed it. Hope you guys will too.
(I don't even know what to say in this author note, how am i a writer?)
Anyways.
The thing was Klaus Mikaelson was not a charitable person. It was a known fact, irrefutable truth, no denying it.
In fact that particular characteristic could not be truly applied to any of the esteemed members of the head family of one of the USA’s biggest exports empires.
Oh they did charity work, attended various balls and functions for their public image, donated an annual sum to a group of big foundations that specialized in providing for poor students during summer vacation through necessities and jobs and made a point of hosting an exemplary party at the beginning of every year to promote donating and promote them in general, at their headquarters in New York but that was the gist of it.
His father, or as Klaus liked to very fondly refer to in his head, Mikael, saw that each penny you spent out had to be for a certain purpose and he generally avoided having to spend more than necessary on such matters when in his opinion, Mikael’s that is, you had a hoard of workers to pay salaries for and insurances and having to accommodate the luxurious lifestyle they all led.
That however did not stop the family from enjoying their new year ball tremendously and it was there that Klaus found himself sipping on expensive champagne while being surrounded by the elite of New York city.
The classic music was playing in the background, the chatter of all the attendances on full blast. He could spot Rebekah and Kol in the corner by the Buffet, no doubt scheming for a disaster to happen, something to make his father red in the face and have Elijah visibly gripping for control all the while he'd laugh at his siblings’ misbehaviour.
It would be after all, an entertaining event to spice up a bloody boring day.
A few cornered him into idle chit chat that he quickly shut down, too miffed with the simbering to tolerate it. He made his way around the ballroom, in the end making his way to where the entire family stood, even Rebekah and Kol joining in, barely concealing their mischievous smirks.
His mother was especially pleased with being surrounded by such a lavish affair, she lived for organising these events as much as Rebekah did for her shoes and that was saying something.
“So Nik, anyone caught your eye, yet?” Kol spoke under his breath, too quietly for the rest of the family to hear. Klaus simply smirked, the night was still young and there was plenty of potential candidates.
“We shall see, brother.”
Kol was deeply excited to know his choice for the day.
“Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen.”
Everyone in their tight circle stopped talking as they stared at Annabelle, their trustworthy secretary. Petite and smart she handled Mikael’s public transactions and when the family were all in one state, their group meetings.
“A Miss Bennett and a Miss Forbes of Collective Journeys would like to speak to you.”
They all sighed but it was a muted thing, in that single action they collectively expressed their distaste to the negative side of this party; listening to people as they droned on and rained compliments so the family would help, it was a wasteful process that he detested. Even Henrick looked like he was all for a way out of such a talk, and he was the gentlest of them all.
Mikael nodded resigned and he shot Kol a withering look when he laid a hand on Henrick and attempted to swiftly pull them both backwards. It was clear where he stood on the matter, they were all to endure this as a family.
Klaus thought it was a twisted sense of a family bonding session if he'd ever seen one.
A few moments later a blonde walked towards them with a brunette next to her, and though Klaus thought the brunette was rather lovely, his eyes fixated on the blonde who had her hair tied up in a neat bun at the top of her head and wore a navy blue suit dress, her heels were a pair of black peep toes that served to make her look elegant and classy while not shying from making it clear that she was a vivacious young adult.
Suffice to say, he was impressed.
“Good evening,” she said, a professional smile across her lips. “I'm not going to take much of your time so this will be brief.”
He could have snorted at the sigh of relief that came from Henrick, making the girl sweep her eyes over them as she located the source of the sound, her gaze meeting his in a brief moment before she looked at his youngest brother and her smile widened in understanding and amusement. He felt it unfair that her eyes didn't linger on his longer when he was paying her his undivided attention.
“Now, Collective Journeys is a foundation that aims at procuring resources to provide for the homeless across the fifty states of the USA, whether they're immigrants or local citizens who were kicked out of their houses or in debt, etc.”
At that she paused giving room for her companion to continue.
“CJ is currently concerned with seeking shelter for them and thus far we have managed to relocate five thousand homeless people, which given that we've only started our work a year ago has been feat.” The pride in the brunette’s voice was clear as daylight.
“We're hoping that you might be interested in providing an outlet of sorts during your charity functions, as we're currently working on a more lowkey basis and we could use a word to be put in or even better that you'd take part in donations yourself.”
The pregnant pause that came after was only polite on their part as they waited for them both to continue but when it was clear that when they said brief they had actually meant it, Mikael was the first to reply.
“Why would you want me to waste my money on a bunch of brutes too lazy to find work and earn their income to find a home for themselves?” he laughed amusedly, only the barest slur in his words, giving away how intoxicated he was.
And only because he was his brother’s companion for their entire lives, did Klaus understand what the brief flutter of Elijah’s lashes meant, residgness with having to fend off what will surely be a word-lash by the mass of New York's media and all the paperwork that’ll ensue.
The brunette, Bennett, looked faintly surprised and disgusted by the comment. The blonde, however, remained with her professional smile on her face, though he didn't miss the way her eyes slightly narrowed.
“I find it extremely bold of you to assume they'd want your money in the first place, Mr. Mikaelson.”
Mikael froze, his mother's mouth parted in surprise and astonishment, Finn and Sage looked at her strangely and Elijah seemed like he was choking on something, Kol looked like he was this close to laughing while Rebekah had an eyebrow perfectly arched upwards and Henrick was looking between all of them like this was a fascinating tennis match.
He took in the blonde more closely and felt the seed of intrigue plant itself in his mind.
She let the smile slip from her face and folded her arms neatly in front of her. “Now if you'll excuse me. I apologise for wasting your time.”
She said as she walked away, “Do try not to slip champagne on your expensive clothes, sirs and madams, it would be a waste of money.”
A week later found him climbing the stairs to the marble white building that housed the blonde’s organization in Chelsea. It was a small apartment building, no more than four stories, the type where half of the building was used for business purposes and the upper floors were for living arrangements.
He was on the “save-our-faces-from-public-doom’ duty.
Of - fucking - course.
Elijah had taken one look at him three days ago when he’d entered his office and proceeded to give him a small speech about how extremely busy he was and handed him a file with all the information he’d need before going out of the office, to see to his so called meetings and utterly nonsensical reasons, leaving his younger brother with a confused look on his face before he even attempted to process everything.
And then Elijah had taken the noble route and disappeared off the face of New York, ignoring his calls and messages.
For. Three. Bloody. Days.
It was just another day to detest being a Mikaelson.
Inside the building was a strange mess of chaotic, peaceful and utterly busy. Everyone seemed to vibrate with a certain energy as the rushed around, pink caps on a certain group of people who were lifting boxes in vans to go.
He walked towards the secretary desk - or at least who he thought was the secretary, though he didn't think he was one given the disdainful look he shot Klaus when he politely demanded to meet the head of the organisation as quickly as possible.
Or maybe all the people who worked here happened to be very rude?
It was a wait of fifteen minutes where he contemplated how he was going to evade his family's demands at a summer gathering - because really they brought on nothing but disasters for him - namely his sister's and his mother's, making a mental note to reconnect with his friend Stefan whom he hadn't seen in a couple of years and who could hypothetically offer him respite from having to endure a disastrous dinner.
“She'll see you now.” The maybe-not-a-secretary told him.
He stood up from the couch he'd settled in and adjusted his coat before making his way inside the office. It was well furnitured in the sense that it only held items of use.
He wondered if its owner was of a similar personality, and quickly dismissed that thought. He had a goal to accomplish and getting distracted would just not do.
A knock sounded on the door and he turned his head to find the blonde staring curiously at him, coming inside and giving him a once over.
He waited till she was behind her desk before extending his hand for her to shake.
“Klaus Mikaelson.”
She shook hands, briefly. “Caroline Forbes.”
He resisted the urge to say I know and told her instead, “I must say Miss Forbes, your secretary did not seem very pleased with my visit.”
She frowned at him, offended. “Matt’s not a secretary.”
Well, that answered his question.
“How can I help you, then?” Caroline asked motioning so they could sit
He cocked his head to the side, “Help me?” He paused, wondering what she’d say next. He knew from the clever gleam in her eyes that she was smart, and he wants to know if she’ll be as sharp-tongued as she was when she knocked his father down a few pegs and throwed his words back at all of them.
She laughed and it was mesmerizing; the way her eyes sparkled.
“I usually prefer to be direct and blunt Mr. Mikaelson so let’s cut an unnecessary chase, you’re here to make sure that your family doesn’t have a scandal on their hands because of some choice words of your father and let me assure you, you won’t have one.”
“Your terms, love?”
She laughed again, “No terms. Believe it or not but I do have more important things to do than chase down magazines to cause a big scene and I would not want any money of yours to touch a cause that many people believe in as a sort of compensation. The people we’re helping may be homeless but they have plenty of dignity.”
Every meaning she was insusating was loud and clear.
He felt temper flare inside him and he clenched his jaw trying in futility to tame his temper.
“Well, allow me to express my deepest regards for such strong characters, sweetheart.”
She raised an eyebrow at his sardonic tone but otherwise bit her tongue. Literally. He spotted how her cheeks moved and her jaw clenched.
Klaus wondered if the pretty blonde would end up strangling him by the end of this conversation and found himself amused by such a possibility.
They spent a moment and then another staring contemplatively at each other. He took in her perfect curls, the way she held herself with a practised air of confidence, the simplicity but elegance of her clothes.
“So anything else I can help you with?”
He chuckled, sweeping his eyes over the room. “Truth be told, love, I fail to see how you would be able to help me with anything.”
Though he’d said this with no ill intention, his words seemed to be the last straw for her.
She smiled sweetly in the same way she did before she lashed at Mikael. “Get out.”
His face dropped in a steel mask “Excuse me, love?”
She did not just do what he thought she did.
Apparently, Caroline was not on the same page as he, “You heard me perfectly clear, Klaus, I have had it with your condescension and poorly disguised disdain for this building and everything to do with it. Get out.”
He stood up, jaw clenched. “I am not sure you understand the ramification of your actions, sweetheart.”
She gave him a cold look, “I don't?”
He stepped closer, as much as the wooden desk between them allowed him to, and spoke. “You do know that kicking out one of the USA’s biggest businessmen could tarnish your little project's reputation beyond repair, don't you? And we both know that you could do without it, sweetheart.”
Caroline breathed once deeply, told him in deathly tone, “I'll deal with it.”
She walked to the door and held it for him. “Rest assured, Mr. Mikaelson, you won't be having to save your asses from the tabloids. Now get out.”
The rest of the week was spent in tying loose ends for his branch in California while he was in their New York base and replaying the conversation he’d had with Caroline, his biting tone and crass words.
It shouldn't have bothered him so deeply, in any other situation he simply wouldn't have cared, but something about her flushed cheeks and the utter determination and belief in her tone tugged at his attention.
The irony of the situation didn't escape, had Caroline backed away from her word, he would have essentially fucked things up that much worse. Not only had they demolished their respectable reputations but they - he - had also insulted a respectable charitable organization on their own turf.
God, the thought of Elijah’s disapproving face directed at him had that happened made him shudder.
And still he found himself pondering on Caroline much more about the actual situation.
It was frustrating.
Sighing, he picked up the file Elijah had given him, he’d skimmed through it briefly for show more than anything a week ago but now he was reading every paragraph with newfound eagerness.
When he realized exactly what he was doing, he closed the file with a snap and threw it on next to him on the couch.
He tried to ignore the itch in his hands to continue reading it; finishing his latest drawing in his sketchbook, emailing his assistants back in California about their work process and even sending a brief text message to Stefan.
In the end though, he found himself begrudgingly reading everything he could about Collective Journeys and its incredibly stubborn - ahem, and very beautiful - director.
He had a plan, it was meticulous, effective and well put in his very humble opinion.
The fact that said plan had to be executed at the unholy hour of 7am?
Simple details.
It was a sharp contrast to the lively, chattering building he'd visited last time. Now, it was quiet and mostly empty, though he knew he'd find Caroline despite the early hour.
He stood though observing, taking notice of details that weren't visible to him before, the plastic flower arrangements that blended in with the decor and gave off a peaceful bright feeling, the simple floor tiles, the pictures that were hanged on the walls in perfect order.
Naturally, he was drawn to the last bit and he stood there for a while, looking at group pictures where people were wearing pink caps and holding their thumbs up with others who were happy and fulfilled smiles and spotting one in the far corner that held a certain blonde smiling delightedly, standing next to two girls, one of whom he vaguely remembered as the one to accompany her to their ball and the other he didn't recognize, her curls tumbling free to frame her face and next to her was the definitely-not-a-secretary.
He was enraptured by the sight of such a free smile on Caroline's face and his hands wanted to capture that sight among charcoal lines.
Someone screamed behind him and glass crashed on the floor. He spun around quickly, prepared for the off chance of getting mugged in a charity - he really was cursed, he mused - before he realized that it was only Caroline.
Caroline, who was clutching her chest as it heaved and wore the expression of someone frightened out of their skin.
So maybe the plan might've needed a little tweaking, particularly the entrance part.
“What are you doing here?” She screeched.
“I came to apologize.”
If anything that made her voice rise an outcave. “You what?”
“Apologize,” he repeated, suddenly unsure of himself. “I had overstepped my boundaries the last time we conversed-"
“No, you know what,” she cut him off firmly, cheeks red and eyes blazing. “You and your stupid pet names and your rude family can leave me and the charity the fuck alone. You guys are so egotistical it's a wonder New York hasn't blown up yet from your sheer arrogance.
“Like do you guys even understand what is to be a decent human being? Does your stupid family care about anything other than making sure that everyone knows how better you are than everyone else and that everyone recognizes your stupid name? I mean seriously, Mikael Mikaelson? Not only is your father a jerk, he's a jerk with a stupid name.”
Klaus was both impressed and concerned with how she almost managed to fit her entire rant in one breath, pausing only once.
There was that vague feeling of guilt curled inside him, slight regret at the way he was so utterly crass.
Coughing once, he spoke. “Well I supposse should probably answer your questions first, hmm? 'Do we understand what it is to be decent human beings?’ as you so aptly put it, I'd reckon probably not.
“‘Do we care for anything other than making sure our name is widely known everywhere?’ We care for truly few things, Caroline, but each other most of all. And as for the third point,” he paused and chuckled. “You'll have to thank the media for that. When my father started the business, he named it ‘Mikaelson, Inc.’ in after all of us. As we were all enrolled in school under ‘Mikaelson’ the publicists assumed it was the family name.”
Caroline tilted her head in curiosity and he was pleased to see that she was less inclined to punch him in the nose.
“My paternal grandfather was from Norway and so we use suffixes in our naming system.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip hesitantly. “You aren't from Britain?”
He latched on to the conversation.“Oh we are, my parents were born there and my eldest brothers recall some early memories from when we lived there full time. We go every once in a while.”
She hummed in response.
Silence settled between them and he took it to partake in his recently favourite - and according to Stefan, creepy - hobby; observing Caroline.
“You're from Virginia, right?”
She snorted, “wow, stalkery much?”
He shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. “I like to know everything about the subject that intrigues me so.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and laughed, “you seriously did not just say that.”
He smirked.
“You know, this is probably the first time I had a decent conversation with any of your family members.”
He smiled, “Well if that's the case then I'm delighted to be have that honour.”
Caroline laughed again, “seriously? Tone it down a little, buddy. You're going in a little too strong.”
He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, feeling himself lighten up everytime they spoke more.
Klaus extended his hands towards her, “Friends, then?”
She pursed her lips, “A little too soon since this is literally the first conversation we had where we didn't subtly insult each other,” she then shrugged carelessly. “But you know what? Yes, friends.”
Forks and spoons clanked against the plates. The dining table was complete with its components.
Two of the waiters walked around the table in timely fashion, making sure that everyone was satisfied and enjoying their meals.
Both Mikael and his mother were engaged in a heated conversation, whispering furiously between themselves. Finn and Sage both ignored them, speaking to Elijah in a slow relaxed manner. Kol, by some sort of miracle was quietly humming to himself, seemingly preoccupied with one thought or another and Rebekah was much too absorbed in her phone, her fingers typing away at lightning speed.
Klaus was listening to his youngest brother as he recounted every single fact about the art competition in his school.
His mother had seemed particularly happy when she'd learned that by some miracle all her children had business in New York and since Rebekah and Kol were home for the summer after finishing their academic year in University, she insisted they dine together.
Personally, he wouldn't have put it behind her to have bribed everyone to make sure she knew when he was in the city so that she could snatch the opportunity.
But whatever.
“I am definitely entering that competition,” Henrik told him confidently. His accent stuttered a bit, the american lisp more pronounced on his lips than the others.
Klaus ruffled his hair in response, smirked when Henrik sputtered in indignation.
“Oh my god,” Rebekah exclaimed from opposite him. Kol looked at her curiously; broken out of his reverie and even Elijah spared her a single glance.
“Oh my god,” she repeated louder, the previous time not wielding the reaction she'd hoped for.
“What, Rebekah?” His mother asked experatedly.
“You will not believe this piece of news,” the blonde stated firmly.
He would.
He had a decent guess to where this conversation was going; found himself amused at how long it took for it to even come to pass. It's been months and yet none of his family picked up on it.
Truly, he was surprised.
“Guess who was seen spotted regularly these past few months with Nik?”
“Stefan Salvatore?” questioned Elijah, who knew the deep friendship that ran between the two, especially considering they were in the same school together.
“Marilyn Monroe?” Henrik replied sarcastically.
Kol snapped his fingers before pointing his index at his sister, “Jack the Ripper.” He met his eyes and told him, “he seems to be more of your style.”
She slapped him on the back of his head. “No you idiotic buffon,” Rebekah yelled. “It's that girl, the one from the night of the annual ball, The Sirs and Madams girl.”
When he’d told Caroline of Rebekah’s honorary title for her, she'd laughed so hard that she teared up. It had been a particularly amusing sight to be greeted with after he hadn't seen her for a couple of weeks, her charity work and his business often clashing together in their time schedules.
“The what?” Sage inquired, confused.
“The Sirs and Madams girl,” his sister repeated impatiently, motioning her hands in agitation. “The one who was all: ‘we wouldn't need your money anyway’.”
Klaus did so enjoy how Elijah sighed before sipping on his tea, the way his father’s face flushed in fury.
“Is it true, Niklaus?”
He shrugged casually at his father, taking a bite of his food.
“We are friends.”
“Have been since January,” piped in Rebekah, enthused that her information was getting its time to shine. Really all that was missing was her rubbing her hands together like a witch.
“Why-" Esther began slowly, as if still comprehending what's been said “-are you friends with that girl?”
“Caroline,” he said testily. “Her name is Caroline.”
“She's also 25 years, graduated from Yale, her father used to own a moderately successful law firm that made him have quite the reputation with the upper class men during her childhood And she's single,” Rebekah finished with flourish.
Her brothers shot her varying looks of awe mixed with exasperation at her antics while he wondered what exactly was Rebekah doing in fashion design when her career at detective work and investigation was ever so ripe.
Kol caught his eyes and winked. Klaus simply felt tired from his siblings and their mischief.
“She's pretty,” Henrik whispered under his breath and nodded at him in approval. He raised an eyebrow but his youngest brother only smiled innocently.
Mikael looked on the edge of exploding, opening his mouth to speak when Elijah interjected.
“I suppose any remarks on our part will not stop you from seeing her?”
He resisted answering in a faux cheered manner, only saying, “No.”
Elijah sighed again but his interruption of what would have been the catastrophic yelling match of the century quelled any arguments.
Klaus didn't doubt that Mikael thought his relationship with Caroline was fuelled by the barb she'd directed at him, the animosity between father and son blatant but he couldn't find it in himself to be but amused by such a ridiculous notion.
Caroline Forbes was a fascinating lovely enigma that had many adoring quirks and qualities; the circumstances to their first meeting were simply an added bonus in the grand scheme of things.
Besides he had much more important things to worry about, mainly their first date two weeks from now.
“You went to Boston with her during one of the campaigns?” Rebekah screeched at the top of her lungs.
“-And then the old lady insulted her which quickly ensued into a really big messy fight. God, you should have seen Matt, he was trying to separate everyone from pulling each other’s hair off but ended up looking like a misplaced Hagrid in a sea of blast-ended skrewts, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.”
Caroline finished her story with a small giggle that had him looking at his clock again, willing the minutes to pass faster so he’d be done with his work and finally go meet her.
It was a hot tight coil; the anticipation in his stomach. He was nearly intoxicated with giddiness.
“You know, you should definitely sell those paintings I made for the charity, anymore and your office will be littered with them.”
“Oh,I already did,” she said. “It bought back tons of cash in for the latest campaign. You should so thank me when you’re standing in Judgement Day and like a whole worth of good points show up next you; because fyi that will be totally my doing.”
He laughed at her utterly sure tone.
“Isn’t it particularly sinful to hold a good deed done for others over her head?” He teased.
Klaus could practically envision Caroline’s spectacular eyeroll in his head.
“I’ll see you in a few hours, Klaus.”
He smiled, “Of course.”
Wasn't that just cute or what? I don’t know if this is as terrible in reality as it is in my head but yolo i am rolling with it.
Make sure to tell me what you think, loves. May you have a beautiful day.
