Happy belated International Hard Candy day Agalicious/ My official Maid of Dishonour hehe @sekretny13 One of your fave songs so I hope I’ve done it justice.
Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes have been friends since attending the Mystic Falls School of Magic together. Now, years later, Caroline returns to New Orleans and, probably against her better judgment, agrees to act as his ‘interim’ personal assistant. Turns out they are still cleaning up each other’s mess even now. Literally and personally.
Your Mess is Mine
It was always me and you….
“It wasn’t me, it was Kol, I swear.”
“Surely you should know by now that using that excuse so often renders it basically null and void in my view, Mikaelson.”
“When I returned last night he was having a full-blown rager. Something I specifically requested he not do in my compound while I was out of town.”
“You know what a full-blown rager is?”
“I might have overheard someone saying it in passing but not really the point now, is it love?”
Just hearing him say the words almost made her laugh aloud but noting his unamused expression and tart reply, Caroline knew not to poke the wolf further this early in the AM.
Full-blown rager and blood buffet by the looks of it, Caroline thought as she surveyed the damage. Lifeless bodies were haphazardly strewn around the courtyard. As someone who strived for top-level cleanliness, this was jarring at best.
“It’s Kol, what did you expect? And, also, way to give your younger, irresponsible brother ideas, genius. Telling Kol not to do something is a recipe for disaster or a huge blood binge in this case.”
Caroline had known the Mikaelson siblings since they attended the Mystic Falls School of Magic together. She was still amazed that she seemed to know them better than themselves and each other still to this day.
Rebekah was in her class and after befriending the somewhat prickly but generous blonde she met the rest of the family.
With Elijah, she’d discuss literature, with Rebekah fashion, and with Kol the mysteries of the opposite sex. He still didn’t understand women, even after all these years if their night out together last week was any indication.
With Klaus it was different. Initially, she’d detested him for his arrogance and overblown ego. The fact he was dating multiple girls in her class didn’t help matters either. So, she’d kept a safe distance only allowing herself to trade barbs with him every now and again so at least he knew there was one person not enamoured with his ass. Someone had to keep him in check.
But on prom night that all changed.
She’d never forget him knocking on her door corsage in hand. She’d had a particularly bad break-up with her idiot ex Stefan who seemed to like his hair more than anything else and as such had no date to prom.
So, she refused to go, even if she had organised the whole thing from the theme to decorations. Caroline had her pride after all.
“Um, is this a joke?”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t the nicest way to speak to the guy who was standing there corsage outreached. But last she heard he was taking half her class and was a certainty to win prom king.
“Well, hello to you too, Forbes. Do you always greet your gentleman callers this way?”
“Funny, I don’t see any gentlemen.”
“That’s it, no corsage for you,” he retracted his hand, placing the box strategically behind his back.
Caroline immediately regretted it given it matched her white dress perfectly. But how he knew what to get was a mystery, then she realised. She loved Rebekah like a sister but drew the line on pity dates.
“Your sister blackmailed you into taking me, didn’t she?”
“Now, blackmail is such an ugly word,” he reasoned. “Maybe I came out of the goodness of my heart, did you ever think of that?”
“Doubtful.” She shot back arms defiantly crossed over her chest.
“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “I might have an ulterior motive and it’s not blackmail, not this time anyway.”
“You don’t say,” she smiled, loving the fact the power balance had shifted in her favour.
“I need a date.”
“Woah, did you break too many hearts, Mikaelson? I have no sympathy if you’ve messed with half the school.”
“Sounds like someone listens to unfounded gossip. Misjudging someone is not very becoming, just saying,” he growled. “I need someone to act as a distraction.”
“What kind of a distraction?”
“Like a fake girlfriend kind of distraction.” She could barely hear the word girlfriend as he uttered it but it was definitely there hanging wordlessly between them.
“Okay, I’m not sure if this is some new way of flirting, but it sucks.”
“I know how to flirt, Forbes, you don’t need to worry about that,” he bit back. There was that Mikaelson arrogance again but unfortunately she bought every word given the way his dark, blue eyes were on autopilot. “Look, pretend I never asked.”
“Fine, just this once. But I’ll have you know that I am not going to kiss you,” she drawled. “Ever.”
“Someone clearly thinks highly of themselves,” he scoffed. “Tell me what you really think, Caroline. Can we just attend this godforsaken dance together and leave it at that?”
Maybe it wasn’t romantic but Caroline decided the fact she’d have revenge on Stefan and a perfectly matching corsage wasn’t a bad deal.
And then something else unexpected happened.
Their friendship flourished until this very day, even if he frustrated her, a lot.
As someone who lived to organise others it was too tempting not to run his life when she came back to town and he asked. He also hadn’t complained mainly because he clearly needed structure in his life.
Today, was case in point.
“Hello, Caroline?”
“I’m here,” she shot back. “I mean even for Kol this is a lot of victims.”
“He decided this year to make his annual blood cleanse last two weeks instead of one. Looks like starving himself made little brother greedier than usual.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that your brother does a yearly cleanse. If he thinks it’s going to purge him of his myriad of sins he’s dreaming.”
“A healer once told him, it would make him look younger,” he joked.
“Anyway, you can’t talk,” she scoffed, gesturing to the bloodstain on his navy henley.
“I had a light lunch yesterday, what can I say?”
“How many times can I compel the dry cleaner?”
“You don’t need to do my dry cleaning, I can just get more clothes.”
“There are only so many henleys in New Orleans and the world,” she argued, surveying the damage again. “Now, I get that my cleaning is second to none but even this mess is below my pay grade.”
“I just wanted to keep you in the loop, you know just in case...”
“Just in case Kol decides to eat more people? It isn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last.”
“Well, that and...”
“What is really going on here, Klaus? I was happy to act as your personal assistant to instil some much-needed structure and organisation in your life because WWMKD.”
“As someone who speaks a multitude of languages, including Aramaic, you always know how to surprise me with an unexpected acronym.”
“What would Marie Kondo do? She’s only the premier organisational expert in the world.”
“So, what are her thoughts on blood stains and general murder and mayhem?”
“Not the point,” she shot back. “But last time I checked your emergencies are just everyday Mikaelson family drama and not really urgent.”
“Oh, like that time you contacted me from Bucharest last year asking my advice on what you should wear on a date with some Count. How was that urgent?”
“How about when you called me from London asking whether the song Werewolves of London was factually accurate?”
“It really isn’t,” he muttered. “You called me from Cambodia asking if it was okay to eat their signature dish of fried tarantulas.”
“Absolutely delicious as it turns out. Then you called me from Peru in case you died from the climb in the Andes, even though you are immortal, princess”
“Altitude sickness plays weird tricks on all of us, even supernatural beings.”
“So what was prom? Another excuse?”
“I’m not gonna lie, there was no ruse I just wanted to take you to prom, especially after Rebekah told me what that imbecile did to you. Also, I chose the corsage not my sister. She’s been incorrectly claiming that for years.”
“So, clearly I was right to ask your fashion advice then.”
“He never deserved you, Caroline. That’s why I came that night. I couldn’t let you not attend the prom you’d planned from scratch. The reason I asked you to be my assistant was because I’ve missed you, love. It’s actually kind of annoying to be honest.”
“Wow. That’s charming.”
“What can I say, you bring out the worst, not in me, but in my reactions.”
“Seems like we have that in common.”
“So what exactly does this mean?”
“We come with a lot of baggage, we make countless mistakes and will no doubt continue to do so into the future but what makes us us is that we know the other person will have our support.”
”Seems like we are supposedly good at fixing things but not ourselves.”
Author’s Note: It’s Qixi Festival here in China today and since it’s a festival partly celebrating the reunion of lovers, I couldn’t help but put Klaus and Caroline together yet again (as they should be). Here I present you a Hades/Persephone modern reincarnation AU. (I’ve only borrowed a small element from the original Qixi stories and tweaked it a bit, but anyone familiar with that mythology should be able to detect it.) Enjoy!
Caroline went to him as soon as she knew. First driving to the airport, then getting on a plane, then back to driving again on her rented car. Without a second thought, like it was a knee-jerk reflex, her body acting mechanically through the trivialities whilst her mind was stuck in that connection bigger even than herself. Yet here she was, across the ocean, rushing through the vast moors of the British Isles. Human life had become such a commonplace to her in the past twenty-or-so years.
Heather and daffodils were blooming outside her windows as she drove by, embellishing the monopoly of green on the lands regardless of the season being too early or too late. The bright colors rose at her approach and dwindled at her departure, forming a wave along the quiet roads of the countryside.
Caroline was never too good at controlling her powers provoked by her moods, nor did she cared to-in fact, she doubted any of the older gods did. They were all in their bones impetuous beings, driven more by the powers surging through their veins than a sane mind-which was probably why when the powers of nature ran thin and the piety of the few humans left believing in them wouldn’t suffice anymore a dozen centuries ago, they just ceased to be.
Vanishing was not too painful for her physically, just numb and cold, like the water of the Styx River guarding the Underworld. Her thoughts were frozen in place, her memories frosting and her emotions swallowed by a thick mist. And then when they thawed, drop by drop, the first thing breaking free from the nothingness was her last thought before there was no longer a her-the thought of his tousled blonde hair and widened blue eyes, fleeing into her mind like a lark that had been trapped in the glacier for centuries and miraculously maintained a heartbeat.
It sang to her, the melody always playing in the background when she pieced together her past as an immortal deity.
She didn’t know if it was a joke on nature’s part, to have gods like her reincarnated into a paltry human life, only to reconnect with their memories and powers when they’d barely grown into the weaker, more ignorant version of themselves. She wondered what it would achieve. Was it meant to be a lesson for them to rein in their hubris? To feel how fleeting life could be for these tiny creatures and show a smidgen of sympathy?
Yet how could she sympathize with them, if she’d never looked down upon them in the first place? She never took pity on the withering flowers, just as he never did with the dead in his realm. The only thing demeaning them was nature herself, creating cruelties like spring and death, constant reminders of their mortality sneering mockingly to their faces, and waiting for them to weakly sneer back.
Just as what she was doing to Caroline right now. Reminding her of how much time she’d lost-time with him-and mocking her for just realizing it after spending twenty-one meaningless years in oblivion.
But no matter. Now that she had eternity on her hand she just had to find him, like he found her the first time.
Although it might be more accurate to say that she had unconsciously drawn him to her, with her dainty fingers plucking a rosebud, its stem snapping with the fresh scent of sap as a last cry, mixed with her blood adorning the stubborn thorn.
She’d always secretly wanted to crush the flowers she created, to feel their velvety petals break into tatters in her palm, the sweet juices seeping from between her fingers so desperate and mournful. She wanted to crush them one by one, until the whole season was nothing but a muddled mess of tangled colors and pungent smells. After all, what was one spring if there were an infinite set of springs to come?
She was sucking her finger prickled by the thorn into her mouth when she heard his voice, soft and low, and her own blood instantly tasted sweeter, “I see you have a touch of death on your own fingertip.”
She knew who he was even before she stared into his beautiful face. Millions of times she’d granted plants the wills to feed from the rotten flesh six feet under-the silent darkness felt so very familiar she had to suppress a tiny smile as she discarded the rosebud in a cavalier flick of her wrist.
“I am merely doing it justice.”
She bit her tongue when those words escaped from her reckless lips, knowing full well his reputation of being sturdily just and impartial in his ruling of the Underworld.
“Then it seems we have more than one thing in common.”
The rosebud deserted on the ground slowly spread its petals into full blossom, but its color paled in comparison to her blushing cheeks. She watched as the almighty King of the Underworld bent his knees before her to pick up the rose, kissing it before placing it on the collar of his toga, just above his heart, all the while piercing her with his iron-hot eyes.
In that moment she knew she’d always make herself a place in his world, like a resilient plant sticking its roots into the hardest rocks, be it the impenetrable realm of the dead, or the English countryside in the disguise of a human life.
She knew his memories hadn’t come back yet, nor did his powers. The grapevines among the reincarnated deities brought to her the knowledge that the older and more powerful the gods, the slower their awakening. By now the lands were teeming with gods of nameless ponds and streams but those who were present during the battles of Titans were nowhere to be found.
Though his location was no secret to her-she felt the unbearable pulling even in her fitful sleep on the airplane, her heart thrashing in her chest ready to burst out. The name “Klaus” came to her in a murmur through the winds, and the rest of discovering his identity in the human world was just logistics.
She stopped the car at the back of the ancient mansion where a large garden resided. It’d been no surprise to her that Klaus would make his living by grooming people’s backyards. He’d always been fond of the manual work-he excelled in it, which was never made common knowledge. They had their own gardens just outside their palace in the Underworld, and he was the one who always tended to them, cropping and brushing just like he did with an artwork, even if he knew she could make the plants flourish without a batting of her long lashes.
Caroline wandered along the windy paths lined with cypress, her heart already settling down feeling his proximity. Rounding a corner she came into sight of a giant pomegranate tree, the orange-red flowers blooming like little flames among the branches, burning her eyes with a sudden rush of hot tears.
It was only fitting that the plant the fruit of which kept her with him before had brought her back to him.
She’d asked him once why he’d offered her pomegranate on her first visit to the Underworld. It was the third winter they’d spent together as King and Queen, the hearth in their room crackling with drowsy warmth as the scent of the fruit etched into their sheets and covers. The fruit was ever present on the nightstand beside their bed, a gesture he’d silently assumed since their union. She hadn’t once brought it up. She just used her powers to ensure the prolific supply, and then turned it into their own aphrodisiac by licking the juices from his tout muscles.
That morning she was feeling all too comfortable, wrapped up in the cool silk, his tight embrace, and the residue daze from her previous orgasm, that the tiny branches of curiosity were sprouting in her heart. So she picked up a few seeds from the glass plate, rolling them on her tongue while whispering the question in the crook of his neck.
She heard him sighing into the crown of her head in response, the tips of her hair spread out along her back humming with the inviting sound, “they remind me of immortality, these bizarre little fruits.” He traced the lines of her lips idly with a finger, “the endless time we have in our hands is no more than wasting in the void, with tiny pieces of sweetness stuck in your teeth. It’s a torture in disguise really.”
“But you enjoy torture.” She nibbled on his finger challengingly.
He huffed a laugh, “That may be so. However,” he put a little force on his finger and she sucked it in willingly, her tongue circling it like boneless vine, “this is a different kind of torture. You’d always get a taste of your heart’s desire,” suddenly he drew his finger out, leaving her with an emptiness in her mouth and a pout on her lips, “but never quite enough.”
“Not if you share it with another.”
She dove into his mouth, pushing the pomegranate seeds in along with her nimble tongue. Soon they were rolling around both their tongues, the friction setting off little sparks on her nerve endings, making her shiver with need and her powers oozing out of her like the juices between her legs. The seeds began sprouting in their mouths, the soft shoots tickling her palate till they reached down her throat. She moaned aloud in pleasure, her eyes snapping open for a moment, only to curl at the corners as a laugh involuntarily rolled out of her.
As aroused as she was, the image of the King of the Underworld with his mouth stuffed like a herbivore was too hilarious to let pass.
But then he was pinning her down and swallowing all her laughter, turning them into one moan after another, till the new branches growing out of the pomegranates on the nightstand broke their window, and the whole realm heard her screams of ecstasy.
That memory was one of the first to come back to Caroline, and for a long period of time the only one that she had. She’d savored it over and over just like a pomegranate seed, sucking up every last drop of juice and taste, drowning in the sweetness, but never getting enough. The empty yearning nearly drove her crazy.
And now, looking at the pomegranate tree before her eyes, she wondered if he’d suffered, even unconsciously, as she did. If he had ruby-colored dreams and felt lost when he woke, if the sight of the fruit made his cock and heart throb at the same time, if that was the reason why he was planting pomegranate trees in a British garden.
Entranced, Caroline reached out to pick a pomegranate flower from the tree, her eyes squinting a little at the fresh smell of the stem breaking. When she opened them again Klaus was there, the shades of the branches casting on his face covering his expression, only the up-turned corner of his lips lit up by the mid-summer sun.
“It’s a pity.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, “it won’t grow into fruit now that you’ve led it to an early death.”
Caroline snorted, “die a flower or die a fruit, what does it matter?”
“You put Prince Hamlet to shame, love.” He stepped out of the shadows, and Caroline’s breath hitched as she stared at his face, the face she’d dreamed of every night after she remembered him and the face she’d longed for in the hollow darkness of her sleep before that.
It’d been so long since she last saw him in broad daylight. There was no sunlight in the Underworld, the sky always steely-grey and the air stuffy with despair. She’d always pictured him with her in the half year she was among the living, but she didn’t remember the color of the sky bringing out the blue in his eyes like this, nor did she recall the lines on his smirking face filled with shining gold.
She wanted to run into his arms right then and there, to mash their flesh and bones together with the sun like honey and the scent of the herbs they crushed under their feet the spice. They’d make the perfect dish with everything blended and nothing out of place, and she’d devour them, as a whole. She’d drink and gorge and breathe and fill her aching palms with it, letting it rain on her from head to toe, drown herself in it, in them.
But she was frozen in place as the idea hit her like Zeus’ lightning bolt-he didn’t know her yet. He didn’t remember the time they spent together and the time they suffered apart, half-years of light and darkness passing before their eyes in turn like the streetlight cut into pieces by the sprinting midnight train, long before they were tossed into a human world where trains had been invented and that metaphor made any sense.
He didn’t understand any of that. He was only an un-awakened deity with the erroneous notion that he was human and an inexplicable fixation on pomegranates and maybe cypresses.
But then he was but a step from her, his fingers scorching her wrist and his head bending down. He was kissing the pomegranate flower ever so gently yet Caroline saw the poor flower catching on fire in her mind’s eye, as did her heart.
“I don’t…I don’t know why I did that.” Hesitation seeped into his eyes as he straightened up, and Caroline had to wonder how those blue orbs could appear so clear even when she could see the storm brewing in the midst, “except that it could make you stay.”
She cupped his cheek with a trembling hand, smoothing over his furrowed brows with her thumb and he effortlessly leant into her touch, closing the distance of several long meaningless centuries. “Apparently your instincts are failing you.” She smiled to reassure him as the dark shadow of dejection flashed through his face, “even the powers of the gods wouldn’t be able to drive me away.”
Klaus should probably be surprised, or even alarmed at that, but he just seemed pleased, his eyes fixated on her face drinking her in, murmuring things of which Caroline was sure he himself wasn’t aware. He had always been drawn to danger, trudging into the darkest gorges, fighting in the deadliest battles, falling for the woman who was suited to rule the living and the dead, as if he’d known all along it would change his life forever and he welcomed it.
It was with that certitude that he invited Caroline into the mansion where the owners had left him in charge while they went on vacations to the Caribbean. Somehow they shared the same feeling of waiting for something to happen, like holding one’s breath for the impending boom of thunder. But neither of them spoke of it. The lingering stares and brushes of skin left them simmering in a gentle fire all day long, their body tender and minds half-melted till they barely registered the goings-on around them.
That afternoon Klaus showed her around the garden, his masterpiece of trees, bushes and vines. He told her their names and characteristics, the shape of their flowers and the smell of their fruits fallen on the ground crushed by human foot. Caroline listened to him, rapt, not for the knowledge stored in her brain since birth, but for the passion in his tone, the rise and fall of cadence, the imperceptible pride coating his voice.
She remembered him introducing her to his kingdom the first time she followed him into the Underworld. He’d used the same voice, briefing her of the dead souls trapped there, every single one of them, going into details about their deeds as they lived and their sentence after death. She’d listened with cold interest, surrounded by broken limbs, out-stretched viscera and ear-piercing shrieks without a lift of her brows. When he’d finally finished she’d merely hummed.
“This place stinks.”
“Then we’ll grow flowers, everywhere you’d like.” He held her hand, as if trying to distract her with the heat of his palm from the use of the word “we”.
“I suppose it will do.” She pictured the white petals of lilies splattered with blood, and it was not at all an unpleasant sight.
It all seemed so distant looking back. The time when he endeavored to win her either with a kingdom or with chains or even both, the time when she was still trying not to show all her cards. They’d danced around each other, probing with a word here and a touch there, both thinking they were reeling the other in while in reality they were bound to meet in the middle.
But not this time. They’d waited so long for this without knowing they were waiting, without the existence of themselves, and that ended the second she booked the flight like a good little human.
That night Caroline pranced into Klaus’ room in her tank top and a pair of boxer shorts. She didn’t hold his gaze, but she didn’t evade it either. She walked right to the bed like she owned the room and she’d done it a million times before, every thud of her bare feet touching the hardwood floor her claim over him, his space, his life.
She climbed into the bed where he was leaning shirtless against the headboard. She curled into his side, wrapping his sheet around herself and placed her head on his stomach, using it as a pillow. The feeling of his warm skin against her cheek made her sigh out, and she felt his fingers tangling into her hair like a sigh of his own.
“Tell me a story about yourself.”
He chuckled and his fingers in her hair shook with it, “demanding, I see.”
He complied while she ran a finger along the lines between his abs-he’d always complied back in the days, telling her all about the ten years of the Battle of Titans, how he and his siblings overthrew the elder generation. But this time he told her about football matches and bar fights, how he’d gotten his tattoos on a drunken night, (those were new to her, and she scratched their edges slightly in envy that they’d accompanied him in his human years rather than her; but also desperately in desire because she was dying to lick them till those little birds on his bicep were too wet to fly)-things she filed into her keen mind to tease him about when he’d regained his memories.
“I was a dork in school, as people would say.” Klaus curled a strand of her hair around his finger and tickled her neck with the tip, making her squirm in protest, “when I was younger I was quite fond of wood-carving. Not to brag about it but I knew my way around knives. I used to carve out a whole palace with gardens attached,” His voice dimmed, “but somehow I couldn’t keep it-I couldn’t bear the sight of it.”
Caroline snuggled closer to him, biting her lips to keep her tears at bay. The exact picture of the carving flashed through her mind, only it was much older than this time. It was placed on the mantelpiece in their room from the Underworld, with mosses and tiny little flowers growing out of the dead wood, coloring the gardens and every window of the mini-sized palace-her finishing touch to his silly pastime.
“A girl in my class-Sally, I believe-begged to take it off my hand. I smashed it right before her. Got detention for a week.”
She’d seen punishments a thousand times harsher than that, 180 days a year in her past life. Blood had splattered on her white dresses, ruining one piece and another, but it was no more than a nuisance. Yet now hearing the ridiculous human approach of discipline placed on him pained her like thistles in her heart, the contradiction between their past and present cutting her raw and broken.
“It’ll all make sense in time, right?” Klaus brushed her cheekbone with his knuckle, “now that you are here…Soon. I can feel it.”
And so could she, clear as his heartbeat under her skull.
They settled into a peaceful routine in the following days, neither bringing up the subject again. He’d take her with him to do his gardening work, tending to the delicate plants with his strong hands and slender fingers. Jealousy looked unbecoming on Caroline (not that Klaus would ever agree-he always loved her eyes ignited with green fire), but she couldn’t help it. These plants dared to vie for his attention in her presence-cheeky little bastards playing damsels in distress when they’d survive a stampede out in the wild.
She was boiling in fury until he gently grabbed her hands and pushed a bunch of seedling in her palms. Guiding them into a pit he’d dug in the ground, he held her hands in place with one hand while the other pushed down the soil around. The earth was warmed by the sun but his hand was warmer, their fingers intertwined around the seedling, the tender flesh at the base of her fingers buzzing from all the sensations that Caroline had to close her eyes for a while to control her breath, otherwise the seedling would turn into a grown tree by now.
“Does it scare you that I wish it weren’t just our hands down there?” Klaus whispered, his eyes fixed on their hands buried in earth.
“It’ll only scare me if you don’t.”
For all its darkness and gloom, she missed the Underworld. It was the only home she chose for herself, and she its rightful Queen. The outsiders only knew of the reputation of death and suffering, of the goddess of spring forever imprisoned in the most harrowing place in all realms. But little did they know that before human technology it was the only haven where flowers bloom in the throes of winter-they thrived on the hopeless tears of the dead.
Little did they know that every day in the land of the living ailed her, tearing her heart apart petal by petal that could only be repaired by his deadly loving hands.
Caroline wondered if they could just dig their joint hands deeper and deeper until the ground cracked opened and revealed the gates of their home. She was never one for patience. In the past when he spent too much time in his meeting hall she’d send tenacious vines growing into the seams between the pillars and roof of the palace until it crashed and crumbled.
He’d break out of the debris to drag her to the side and kiss her senseless, even fuck her right on the ruins with stones and bricks digging into them like blood-thirsty teeth. But never once did he forge the grand building into invincible steel, something well within his aptitude.
He always did know how to soothe her temper-and in the process soothing his own, like right now as he pulled her hands out of the soft soil and pressed a kiss to her muddied knuckles, “you look ravishing with your hands dirty, love.” He smirked with dust in his stubble, “so I think I’ll have you under the sun for a while longer.”
Just like that, suddenly it wasn’t so bad playing the mundane human couple on a land that used to only remind her of his absence.
And they played it to the fullest. Every night was movie night, with a single sofa, her folded into his lap, and every snack shared between bites. Caroline was simply amused when she learned that horror was Klaus’ favorite genre. She sat through the repetitive plots and sound effects with a fine view of his neck and jaw line, more fascinated by the shrieking monsters and humans chasing each other reflected in his eyes.
“Do you not enjoy this?” She felt him caressing her bared shoulder, drawing a pattern she was almost sure resembled the scales of the vicious creature on the screen.
“It’s alright.” She searched her brain for an answer that would fit the speculations of his still-human mentality, “just a little scared.”
Truth was she felt almost at home when one of these movies were playing. They were not nearly as gruesome as what she’d witnessed in the Underworld, but if she turned her eyes away and let the screams and cries wash over her like a faraway thought, she could for a fleeting moment picture herself frowning in half-sleep in their old bedroom and him whispering apologies that he’d shove nettles down their throat the night after.
Memories of those nights made her sleepy so she snuggled further into him. She felt his smiling lips pressing to her forehead but his mumbled word was lost in her ears.
“Liar.”
The next morning that word finally caught up with her as she found Klaus in the little shed outside that he apparently used as a studio. She’d never before that day been aware that he kept his old passion, simply assuming that it transformed onto the canvass of nature and the palate turned from more grey to more green. She stared in silent awe and burgeoning hope as he painted her in one of the scenes from the movie they watched the night before, in the dress that she wore the first time he found her-an image he’d painted countless times in the past.
They dedicated a whole room to storing all his works featuring that one theme, an eternity of springs lining the walls soaked by the thick frosts of winter.
“You were so moved by Orpheus, yet he changed his flimsy tunes every time, not knowing that the greatest stories only ever needed one song; the else were mere pale duplication.” He’d told her when she playfully complained about the staggering amount, “though that’s why he earned but his own path to the living, while I rule in a throne right beside my Queen.”
His painting spree lasted for days to come, always the scenes from those horror movies they watched and always her smiling under the spotlight. The more blood and gore spread out around her, the brighter her smile.
Caroline didn’t ask. She didn’t point out that their past was gradually seeping into the paintings, shadows of the landscape of their realm appearing in the background, the faces of the made-up characters substituted by familiar ones sentenced to the Underworld since the void of Chaos. But she was ever present in the focal point of them all, past her, present her, in dresses, shifts, T-shirts and camisoles, smiling while the two different worlds etched into each other.
It was almost as if he was building and shaping his majestic kingdom all over again around the presence of her.
Caroline didn’t utter a word until one day, the content of the painting finally changed.
Whereas in the previous days the canvass was dominated by red and bluish-grey, this time it was almost swallowed by pitch black. She knew that color, the black with no shades-not a hint of another color added, the darkness impervious to sound or even light. It was the color of the Styx River guarding the border of the Underworld, ruthlessly dividing the two realms with its lethal waters. And there in the far corner, drenched in the darkness of peril, was her.
Caroline’s lips trembled at the sight, that same darkness from the painting aching in her bones, the coldness sawing through her every pore, leaving her hollow and unsteady. The same feeling weighing her down on that day. The day when all the gods faded from existence.
But…how could he know?
“I saw you.” Klaus’ voice startled her, and he reached out to ease the tremors of her body, his hand hovering just over her forearm, as if suddenly afraid of the touch, “I see everything in our realm, remember?” He let out a bitter laugh, his hand finally landing on her skin, instantly fighting away the chills that could never be rid of once you’ve been exposed to the waters of Styx, “I watched as you struggled in that blasted river but I was too weak to get to you…”
“You? Weak?” The forced laugh cut her throat, “beats my imagination.”
And she dared not imagine him frail, helpless, wasting away not in the eternity they were granted, but into the unthinkable nothingness, a void where she was but also wasn’t, where they took no shape or form, bore no minds or thoughts. For all her time of being she’d never been that scared and the only one who could drive that fear away was him. It was still two days from winter and she’d fought so hard to get to him, rules be damned. But in the end, it was all for naught.
“The same way I couldn’t bear the sight of you losing yourself in those dark waters.” His eyes averted to the painting and hers followed.
She saw herself in that moment, her face blank and disoriented, the dark mist of the river eating away at the blue in her eyes. She remembered how the river of hatred poisoned her heart, consuming her with such resentment and bitterness she could no longer see clear. Images of his face, every time she was leaving their realm behind stabbed at her from all angles, making her want to bellow out like a savage animal.
“All I ever wanted,” She tore those words out from the deepest layers of her, those hidden petals in the core of the bud that had never seen sunlight; she drained them from her marrow, scratched them from the walls of her vessels and pulled out her nerves to spell every letter, “is you.”
“Then you shall have me.” He answered, marrow, vessels and nerves, “and I, you.”
Their lips crushed together as their bodies mashed and this time it was not they that were fading, but the whole world around them. Yet it was not fading away, but rather fading into the two of them. Her hands roamed over his body and the sun was flowing underneath her fingers, she breathed him in and his smell was decorated by that of the cypresses, she swallowed his tongue and the summer breeze with the taste of pomegranate slipped down her throat.
And she knew they were now in the garden, in broad daylight, for all creatures and gods to see.
He flicked his wrist and there were wild flowers and briar between his fingers, weaved into a crown just like the old times. He placed it gently on her head with such an intense gaze, the thorns needling her making her moan softly and the smell of the few drops of blood from his fingertips making her knees weak from need.
He tended to her like a flower, caressing and brushing with the most delicate touch; he forged her like steel, kneading and stretching with unparalleled force and finesse. When his stubble prickled the lips of her core she cried out with her back arching, her nipples sticking out into his unrelenting waiting fingers and another scream was pried out of her. She felt his chuckling hot breath in between her legs and she had to clench them on his shoulders to anchor herself.
“Will you grant me permission to your Underworld, sweetheart?” He ran his fingers at the base of her thigh, just short of reach to her sex, and a fire spread from there to all the surfaces of her body but she wanted so much more-she wanted it burning inside her. She choked out a “yes” between her panting, and felt a scorching kiss on her inner thigh.
“As you wish, my Caroline.”
Reincarnation had never felt so real until he called her by the name of a new life, until his tongue dove into her to claim his presence. He licked and sucked and nibbled, the flesh, the warmth, the spasms between pleasure and pain that was the signature of existence. She felt death blooming all over her as she reached her high, and nothing had made her feel more alive.
She lost track of time the moment he thrust into her, their deviated paths now joined again for another eternity. Hours past or maybe years and centuries, with the world violently shifting its positions around them, the sky either above or under, her fingers twisting this minute into midair and the other into the soft earth, their juices and sweat dripping onto every leaf and every pebble.
In the throes of passion they clang to each other in exaltation and in despair, their newly-restored powers pouring out of them in sheer abandon. Skeletons burst through earth in a maze of deadly white, the fountains in the middle of the garden sprung hot-steaming melted steel while the hydrangeas growing rampant on the ground ever since they laid hands on each other turned blood red. Blowing in the wind was the sweet singing of larks, symphonied with the drawled-out howls of lost souls.
“How was that for reunion sex?” He whispered in her ear, his finger brushing her over-sensitive nipple, sending another shiver rippling through her.
“It’ll do,” she nibbled at his shoulder, already feeling his cock swelling once more inside her, “for now.”
He chuckled, “you always have a penchant for understatements, Kore.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the use of her old nickname. “Well I have high standards.”
“Then what about me?” He smirked cheekily, pinching her nipple while slightly moving his hip, his cock stirring a gasp out of her, “where do I fit into your high standards?”
“Beyond.”
He was perfect in all his imperfect ways. So were their following days loitering in the land of the living, just exploring the world born out of sunlight and enjoying each other’s company, like a normal human couple going on their second honeymoon.
It’d been centuries since he’d stepped foot out of the Underworld. He was strict to himself exactly as he was to the dead souls trapped in the lifeless realm-in they went and out they never shall be. Yet he had shown mercy, under her persuasion, once or twice in the string of centuries. He’d always made exceptions for her-she was that exception. But Caroline feared that this exception would not be extended to himself.
For spring could fit herself among the living, but never could death.
The ominous news arrived in the form of whispered words rousing her out of her sleep. The sheet on his side of the bed was cold as the feeling of dread settling in her heart, and she snuck down the stairs barefoot to the entrance of the drawing room.
It was odd, seeing the King of all gods donned in an immaculate suit, not a hair out of place. But his sharp eyes were what betrayed his true identity, the thunders booming underneath the calm façade of dark brown.
“And here I thought the first to call upon my door would be your designated messenger.” She heard Klaus’ voice, “how is good old Hermes fairing these days, brother?”
“Unfortunately, it is considerably hard to locate him given his well-known prowess. The same, however, could not be said about you.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Klaus feigned innocence.
Zeus merely chuckled, “you stirred quite the chaos the other day. I believe the human term of speech was…PDA?”
“And since when have you concerned yourself with humans?” She could detect the menace hidden in Klaus’ words, and apparently so could his brother, as his tone turned serious.
“I don’t. But that is no excuse to leave the Underworld untended.”
Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure both of them would have heard her by now. But for her sake neither addressed her as the conversation pushed forward.
“I would be more than glad to return to my kingdom,” Klaus paused, something soft creeping into his voice, “as long as Caroline comes with me.”
“We’ve been through this. Demeter…”
“I don’t bloody care what Demeter thinks! We’ve all been reincarnated and I say the rules change from here.”
Zeus sighed, “I understand that you two must be inseparable right now. But we have eternity on our hands, and you and I both know how time erodes all things. Could you swear to me that Persephone and you wouldn’t have been reduced to what Hera and I used to be, had we not made that deal?”
Her heart dropped when she didn’t hear him respond, but after a short while his sneer reached her ears, the cold sound warming her all over, “Hera had always been a cunning floozy and you, brother, were nothing but a hypocritical coward. Sorry but the comparison fell flat on me.”
“That may be so.” Zeus’ face revealed no emotion, “but I would do anything to resume the balance, and Hera hated you enough to lend me her powers so she wouldn’t ever see your face even on Gaia’s land. I guess there was something salvageable between us after all.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Klaus hissed through clenched teeth.
Zeus raised his hands and bolts of lightning whirled around Klaus like mesh, blocking him from her blurry sight, “you know I would.”
Clashes of thunder shook the room and then, as abrupt as they came, the lightning bolts disappeared into thin air, leaving in their wake the dizzying smell of burned debris and an absence that was Klaus mere seconds ago. She was frozen in place, feeling disoriented and lost like she was once again drowned in River Styx, not even a strangled scream could break through her clogged throat.
She watched in horror as Zeus fixed his cuff links with his eyes downcast, his voice vague and indecipherable in her ringing ears, “it’s only two months till winter, Persephone. I suggest you sit by and let the leaves fall on their own accords.”
And then he was gone.
Caroline slipped down the wall, curling into herself on the cold hardwood floor and sat there for days. What was time to her anyway? She had loads and loads to squander, time that she should be spending with him but wasn’t.
Once again she pictured him in the Underworld, painting her, thinking about her, but never uttering her name even in his sleep where he didn’t dare dream about her. He’d look after their flowers and water them with blood tortured out of the dead, he’d listen to the pleas of the poor souls sent to his realm each day, building a case for pardon like she might do in his mind, and then vindictively sentence them to even harsher punishments because she wasn’t there.
There would be no day or night for him, for the days didn’t see her return and the nights didn’t have her warm in his bed.
She imagined all his eternity in those fleeting days because there was not much to imagine. They had all the time in the world and yet the world was cruel enough to make them forsake half of it.
She wouldn’t have it. Not this time. Not ever again.
Just like driving the car and boarding the plane after she’d found Klaus’ whereabouts, she traveled to the borders of the Underworld straight from the floor of the British mansion without a single stop, in her sheer silk night gown with her feet bare and her hair a tousled mess, with the residue warmth and liveliness of the end of summer clinging to her skirt.
Let the leaves fall in her wake. Let the flowers wither and the fruits stricken by frost. Humans could call it El Nino or whatever fresh term of the day they invented to appease their narrow minds-it was but a blink of an eye in the eternity that she was claiming for her own.
The Styx River was as it always had been, darker than all the nights combined and colder than a heart maliciously scorned-but never colder than the prospect of his absence. The black mist whirling above the water hindered her sight but she could hear the whimpers of Cerberus from the other side. The loyal beast was trying to warn her-he had seen this once. He knew she wouldn’t make it across the river however hard she tried.
A condescending smile adorned Caroline’s tight lips. She never repeated her mistakes.
With her arms opened wide, a forest grew from scratch behind her, the trunks stretching high and the leaves casting shadows covering half the surface of the water. Flowers budded, bloomed and fell faster than a breath, and then the branches of the trees were teeming with ripe fruits, cherries and apples and apricots, their fragrance flowing over the stillness of the river like waves.
Soon there was a loud noise fast approaching from the other side, high-pitched cacklings like that of when a soul was flogged by brambles rolling together like thunder. Then came the shadows that shrouded the other half of the water. Crows, thousands of them, marching their way through the heavy mist of Styx River towards the fresh fruits that were never found in the realm of the dead, their beaks tainted with rotten flesh and stale blood glistening at the enticing aroma.
There were so many of them you could not tell one from another, their bodies forming a black bridge over the river with no seams nor holes in between.
Caroline closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, the sweet scent of fruits and death filling her lungs. Zeus’ words about eternity flashed through her mind, and she drowned them away with the deafening screams of crows.
She wanted eternity, but she also wanted every day and every night. She was greedy for not only the whispered endearments and the loving gaze, but the tiring, the cold shoulder, the dry spell, the tempers, the catastrophe of fights where every new leaf turned brown in the middle of April and every ghost screamed from the primroses growing out of their dead hearts, and the equal catastrophe of make-up sex where the roots of the trees from the upper world grew into new trees hanging upside down in their iron-grey sky.
She wanted it all, and no gods in all the realms could tell her otherwise.
She stepped onto the bridge of crows with the grace of a Queen that she had always been, their feathers tickling her feet and the flapping wings ruffling the fringe of her gown. But all that caught her attention was his imposing form on the other side of the bridge, approaching her with the pace and determination matching her own.
They met in the middle of the bridge and she crushed herself into his eager embrace. Their lips were fused together as soon as they touched, his fingers tangling into her hair and her hands reaching down his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. As their kiss deepened further she could feel an air-stream lifting them up a few inches till they were floating-the fruits were growing in a frenzy and the crows were flapping their wings so hard, hundreds dropped from sheer exhaustion and were instantly swallowed by the steely-cold water of River Styx.
But she paid no heed to any of that, her whole being satiated by his lips on hers, centuries of emptiness stuffed like frozen soil in her heart melting away from the warmth that he exuded. When they finally pulled back a little, landing back on the bridge and still basking in each other’s presence, they were both smiling like fools, their eyes drunken and skin flushed.
“Rumor has it that you never took even half a step out of the Underworld.” She teased him.
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his face weary yet tender, “my body may be bound to this land through my oath, but my heart used to flee to the land of the living every time spring made its entrance. While winter came to an end for the livings, it was only just the beginning of suffering for me.”
Her smile became watery as she cupped his cheek in her palm, “you may keep your heart this time around, almighty King of the Underworld.” She braced herself for the weights of her next words, “I will make sure of it.”
He instantly tightened his arms around her, his body speaking all the seriousness of vows and promises that were hidden from his teasing tone, “then who am I to question your decree, my Queen?” He slightly bowed his head, his voice now a dangerous burning whisper, “and I pity those who ever dares to.”
With a certainty as palpable as the endless time shared between the two of them, she believed her words to be the ultimate truth, now that he was by her side for however long eternity was.
obligatory harry potter au submission: kc + that one time dueling club got a little out of hand
i gave myself a maximum of 500 words for this and it’s only 503, so task semi completed? anyways, i asked for mini prompts forever ago, and i was trying to get motivated tonight so i decided to fire one or two out.
"Love-"
"Nope." Her lips popped.
"But, I just think-"
"I said no," she hisses.
He tries to catch her eyes as she glares at him, doing his best at the puppy dog eyes that he knows melts her inside, even if she never admits it.
She growls (literally, like a full on animal, and which one of them was the wolf again?) at him, and he straightens up slightly.
"I do not want to hear whatever dumb excuse is going to come out of your mouth right now."
"Yes, well, I understand that, love, but honestly, it was just a simple misunderstanding, you see," he gets the words out in a rush, for fear that she will shut him up again or lock him out the door. "Kol came over and you know what he's like, and he thought it would be a good idea to-"
"MISUNDERSTANDING?" Another glare. "Misunderstanding, he says. Klaus, you literally stabbed me! You're own so-called mate."
"Not supposedly, you are my mate," he says distractedly.
He can tell from her glare that she is not impressed, and is moments away from hexing him.
"It'll heal, love."
Even he cringes at the look she sends his way. Clearly the wrong thing to say.
"Seriously? I am going to maim you, Niklaus Mikaelson. Just you wait and see!"
He wisely chooses to stay quiet, pressing his lips together, in fear of angering her further.
"Get out."
"Sweetheart-"
"Oh, believe me. I'm far from being sweet right now, so I suggest you get your ass away from me before I decide hexing you is a good idea," she hisses.
"I'll come check on you in an hour," he says quietly, as he stands up to make his exist.
"Don't think you're sleeping in this bed tonight."
He turns around at that, face shocked.
"Come now, Caroline. You can't possibly be implying that-"
"I'm kicking you out of your own bed? You bet your ass I am. You're lucky if I ever sleep with again, frankly, and if you know what's good for you, you'll return with doughnuts when you next check up on me," she snaps.
His head is bowed down as he takes his leave, "Yes, love."
Kol is snickering to himself as he closes the door.
"Yes, dear," he mocks his older brother.
Klaus growls at him.
"Want me to get the blankets out for you, brother dear? Since sweet Caroline isn't going to let you in your own bed tonight," Kol sing songs.
"Shut up, Kol," it's yelled out in unison by the two other people in the house, followed by the slam of a door, as Klaus storms out of the house (probably for the doughnuts Caroline had demanded, Kol knows his brother won't dare walk in the room without them), and his lips twitch.
Kol shrugs to himself as he plops himself down on the sofa.
Prompt: TO 5X01, Klaus sees Caroline for the first time in almost 20 years
A/N: It’s been a looong time since I’ve written for the KC fandom, but I’m finally in a happy writing place. Taking drabble requests, so hit up my ask loves! x
At My Door
He had prophesised it, once. Passing words, as his hand had gently splayed against her waist, the other intertwined with hers, guiding their decade sway. It hadn’t been as soon as a year, and thankfully, not a century ... but it had been nearly two decades.
Like a blind man seeing for the first time, the sight of her sent him into a trance of disbelief and awe. There was something about her that made the world still, yet simultaneously grow in vibrancy. Her blonde hair – swept away from her face in gentle waves – caught the rays of sunlight in its tresses, giving the illusion of an aureole. Though she was ageless, her dress had become more refined: pale cream blazer, beige blouse, black pants and suede nude ankle boots.
Hearing the floorboards shift as he entered, her eyes lifted from the canvas paper in her hand and rested on him: striking blue and full of life, but now imbued with a sense of grace and wisdom. He knew she had been through hell times over, and now here she was: having been an immortal longer than she had lived life as a human – and what a woman she was.
How many times had he imagined this moment, when Caroline Forbes would turn up at his door? He wasn’t so bold as to think that she had come for him alone, though – he knew better. But for briefest of moments, he allowed himself to rejoice in her standing before him, flesh and blood.
“Klaus,” she greeted softly, setting down his sketch.
A smile whispered against his lips, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.
Five years ago today the Original Hybrid promised our favorite baby vampire he would be her last love, however long it takes, sparking the Klaroline endgame we have all been waiting for. In honor of this momentous day, share your endgame headcanons or hopes and anonymously c&p this message to 5 Klaroliners #klarolinecountdown #5yearanniversary
Sorry it took me a while (as is, sadly, usually the case with me) but believe me I’m as excited as the next person for our fast (not fast enough but I’ll die waiting) approaching endgame! So…I’ve managed to come up with this little something as my headcanon for the end of this season. Hope you enjoy!
Dust to Dust
She didn’tmean to finish the wine.
One of herpersonal traits that Caroline took the most pride in was her remarkableself-control. Half a glass of red to relax and warm up her body after a longday? Sure, why not. Finding the whole bottle gone and herself a bitlight-headed before she even knew it? Not exactly her thing.
Quietlysighing, Caroline twirled the empty glass between her fingers. She could almostpick up the tiny hum of the air gliding along the delicate curve, if not forthe incessant nagging of the rain outside the windows of her hotel suite. Noteto self: it does rain in Rome, no matter how hot and sunny her romance-maniackind of a mind pictured the ancient city.
She alsodidn’t mean to forget about checking the weather before she came here.
A call came aweek ago about a newly-manifested young werewolf roaming the area and causingtroubles. She hopped on a plane shortly after, telling herself that it was anurgent, code-orange issue that required her immediate attention, although therewas rarely an item on her schedule that wasn’t planned at least one monthbeforehand.
It was a merecoincidence that one of her informants happened to find a lead to a certainhybrid on the same day.
A lead whichwas now crossed off from the note-pad sitting right before her on the coffeetable, along with the countless other dead-ends scribbled inside.
No one hadcaught wind of him since the final battleas they’d come to call it. Cliché, and not in the least bit accurate for therewas no way this could be the end of all supernatural commotion, but somehowstill fitting in all its brutal glory and ominous implications.
Caroline hadonly heard of what happened in bits and pieces. Some of them lined up, some ofthem didn’t, but all of them led up to the biggest news of centuries in theentire supernatural community. For months it was all everyone talked about-beit a hushed whisper in the back alley, a vengeful rant fumed by booze andrecklessness, excited but clueless gossip among kids in the boarding school, orcryptic-wording posts from daring paranormal social accounts.
He was KlausMikaelson after all. If he was not imposing on your physical being, you betyour ass he would be an intruding thought in your spiritual one. There was justno going around-Caroline should know.
Still therumor was never confirmed. Not according to Caroline anyway, even if she’d seenthe look of utter desolation on Hope’s face after she’d performed the mostcomplex form of the locater spell for the hundredth time; even if Rebekah’slast message to her was lying in her inbox like a vervain bomb, to the pointwhere she felt burned whenever she touched her phone.
Nik’s gone. Just thought you should know.
But toCaroline those were just two other puzzle pieces that she held in her hand.Seemingly crucial ones, yes, but single and misplaced all the same. And shewould not stop until she got the full picture.
Board was setup in her office, turned to the back whenever anyone entered; importantevidences were pinned, lines drawn, leads and inference written in variedcolors. She remembered another board not unlike this from a lifetime ago, whenher then best friend was trying to track down the epic love of her life whiskedaway by the villain out of nowhere.
And now, afterall this time…the kidnapper went missing. The chaser became the chased.
Talk aboutkarma.
Once or twice,or more like a thousand times in the past eight months she’d thought about thepossibility of going back in time and changing it all. Of actually beingpresent at the crime scene instead of being stuck on this cold trail like therenegade cop on some outdated TV show.
But then she’dremember his face when she’d seen him last, such tenderness and vulnerabilityshining through his eyes with sheer passion like molten steel, pulling her inand swallowing her whole, and his low voice all but a whiff of smoke hauntingin his wake, “some battles are destinedto be fought alone, sweetheart.”
And fighttheir own battles they did. Only that his had already been finished, and herswas just beginning.
Or…not.
Caroline’shead snapped up the second she caught the reflection on the wall of her wineglass, the vague outlines of the figure sending a violent jolt through her deadheart, leaving her entire chest paralyzed and aching. Putting down the glasswith a shaky hand, she slowly trod to her glass balcony door, her eyesfixated on the dark shadow of a man on the opposite side.
She hated somuch to admit that with unkempt hair and eight-month worth of beard, drenchedto the bones in rain and weariness, Klaus Mikaelson was still the hottest manshe’d ever seen.
But Klaus’hotness had never saved him from her sharp tongue.
“When Ipictured our possible Rome encounter, I was thinking more along the lines of Roman Holiday with a supernaturalhappy-ending twist, not Pretty Woman.”She stopped two steps from the door, crossing her arms.
Klaus eyed herwith a half-smile, “one of these days I’ll be sure to get to the bottom of allyour lovely little references, Caroline.”
Carolinesnorted, gesturing towards him with her index finger, “this is a little toocreepy, even for you.”
“I’m afraidyou’ll have to be more specific, love.” Klaus repaid her with a cheeky grin.
“Fine, let mespell it out for you. You appear on my balcony at night, in the rain, without asound, after having gone missing for eight whole months.” She tilted her headslightly to the side, silently taking in the rigidness of his body, “like Isaid, creepy.”
“Missing?” Klaus croaked out as iftasting the word on his tongue, a bitterness creeping into his smirk, “that iscertainly an interesting euphemism.”
“So you didfake your own death.” Her eyes sharply bore into his, and the subtle flick ofhis eyelashes was all the confirmation she needed.
Klaus held hergaze almost defiantly for a while before sighing, shaking his head, “and Iwould have stayed dead, if not for your persistent pursuit almost blowing mycover.” He licked his lips, his eyes once again meeting hers, “you’ve been mostdevoted to your students, Headmistress Forbes.”
Even hismasked hesitancy was scorching, the inconspicuous pauses smoldering withunspoken desire and despair.
“Last Ichecked you didn’t exactly fit into the criteria of young and gifted, you know. More like old and temperamental,” Caroline’sface softened at the slight widening of Klaus’ eyes as he registered the truemeaning behind her words, “and impossible to get rid of.”
“You almostmade it sound like a bad thing.”
“Well Icouldn’t decide until I knew for sure, now could I?” Caroline shrugged, “it waslike, Schrodinger’s Hybrid, orwhatever.” She pointed a finger at his raised eyebrows, “don’t say a word. Youcan’t even begin to imagine what you can pick up among a bunch of modern-ageteenagers.”
Klaus clampedhis lips shut with an amused look on his face like he normally did in thesesituations, but Caroline found that she couldn’t even bring herself to getannoyed this time. Even with the glass door between them she could sense thetension pulling at his muscles, the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his brain,the hopelessly unquenched thirst withering away in every fiber of his being,all while they continued with their light-hearted banter as if nothing hadhappened.
But something did happen.
Something thatput invisible lines at the corner his eyes and unnoticeable wrinkles on hisforehead. Something that dragged him and slowed him down even when he stoodtall and still. Something that managed to further age this ageless being-ifthat was at all possible.
Overpowered bya sudden urge to get closer to him, Caroline slid the door open in one swiftmove.
A whirlwind ofsensations instantly hit her vampire senses like she just stepped under awaterfall, and for a moment there she couldn’t breathe, drowned in those keyelements that tingled her skin, infiltrated her lungs and echoed on her tastebuds: Rain. Rome. Klaus.
“And it seemsthat my persistent pursuit paid off.”She carefully kept her voice leveled and her breaths even-one word louder thannecessary and one intake deeper, and she knew she would be done for.
Klaus had thatmuch of an effect on her. Caroline had long since made peace with that fact.
And ever sinceshe stopped blocking out whatever connection sparkling between the two of them,some other details that she once overlooked on purpose became painfully clear.Like how Klaus’ whole being tilted towards her without taking a single stepwhenever she was in the vicinity. A shift in his weight, a tiny turn of hisjaw, an extra layer of allure in his already sinful voice-she didn’t even thinkit was intentional.
“I always knewyou were as stubborn as you were smart, sweetheart.” There was an unusual glintdeep in his eyes, kind of like the one she spotted in the young werewolf’s eyeswhen she left him with a regional pack that was willing to take him in. Partrelieved, part wistful. The kind when you knew you were done roaming alone.
Sensing hisunease, she changed into a lighter tone, “it takes more than some supernaturalgossip to make me fall for your little ruse, you know.”
“Wouldn’tdream of it, love.” Klaus chuckled softly, hanging his head, a curl of hisunruly hair falling into his left eye.
BeforeCaroline realized it, her hand had already reached out on its own accord,gently smoothing the lock to the side. His skin was still wet from the rain,yet so hot to the touch she wondered why there wasn’t any steam forming underher fingers.
As if notrealizing it himself, Klaus leaned into her touch until his temple was restingin the half-hold of her palm. The joint sigh from the unexpected wave ofcomfort charging through startled them both.
Klaus startedto pull away, albeit agonizingly slow, and the emptiness accumulating inCaroline’s palm felt just as palpable as his warm flesh. Acting on pureinstinct, she let her fingers follow his movement attentively, sliding down hisstubbled cheek until they hovered over his jaw line, the friction propelling aninaudible purr from the back of her throat.
“I see the oldsaying still has some merit in it-” Klaus whispered, his breath tickling thetender skin between her fingers, and shivers went through her like an eveningbreeze saturated with the drizzle, making her insides incredibly soft andmellow, “distance does makes the heart grow fonder.”
Apparentlythat inaudible purr was not soinaudible to vampire hearing after all.
Carolinehuffed a little, but her thumb rubbing circles against his jaw was gentle asever, “smug, aren’t we? Never heard of the saying about alleged death makingthe ego grow bigger though.”
Klaus widenedhis eyes, feigning innocence, “why love, I was actually talking about myself.But it’s always flattering to learn that the feeling is mutual.” His lipscurled into a devilish smirk, “though I shouldn’t really be surprised, given thatyou’ve traveled across the ocean for an allegedlydead person.”
“Alleged being the key word.” Carolinewiggled her eyebrows at him, “and if you’ve ever been a mean girl in highschool, you know not to take anything at face value.”
“Can’t saythat I have.” Klaus softly snorted, a playful shimmer dancing in his eyes, “butI guess being an evil villain for athousand years would somewhat suffice.”
“More orless.” Caroline nodded haughtily, biting her lips to keep a straight face, butfailed miserably as a string of laughter rippled out of her. Shaking, her handfell off from his cheek, only to be secured back to its previous place by his.
Carolinecleared her throat, “I’m getting the hang of it anyway.” There was a puzzledlook in Klaus’ eyes, but he didn’t push her, content with just letting hervoice flow around him, while feeling her skin under his callused fingers.
“Imean…there’s always all this rumor about the original hybrid surrounding me.A massacre here, a bit of a torture there, some vicious scheming once in awhile. You know, the usual.” She rolled her eyes a little out of habit, and hemerely hummed, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and Caroline was suddenlymade hyper aware of their proximity.
She loweredher voice accordingly, her eyes stumbling straight into the blue-grey tempestof his, and she weathered it like someone set on chasing the storm, “andthen…there’s you.”
His eyes burnther like a hellfire and Caroline could swear his irises were flashing amber fora split second, the beast in him bursting from the barely-held seams. But adeep inhale later he settled for a dark smirk, his eyes now downcast, “do Ilive up to the rumors?”
Carolinesighed, “give yourself some more credit, Klaus.”
“Now don’t goall soft on me, love.” He shook his head a little, humorless chuckle boominginside, faintly like the hauling from a ghost house, “I’m much too jaded foryour pity.”
Damn him for his sorrow-filled dimples.
Caroline couldsee the dark shadows struggling on his face, violent and rampant like some wildcarnivorous vines, or a deadly spell that she once saw a coven of witchesperform in her travels which created a dreadful mark that grew from thevictim’s extremities right to their heart. She didn’t know if she knew him sowell that she could see through his usually airtight façade or if what’d beeneating him inside was just powerful enough to tear that façade apart.
Whatever itwas, she would not leave it alone ashe was probably wishing with all his will power.
Instead sheput a little more pressure under his jaw, gently but firmly forcing him to lookinto her eyes, “do you really think that low of me? Or yourself?”
He staredmotionlessly at her, his face perfectly blank save for the flash ofregistration of his own words thrown back at him. The rain poured down harderin that long drawn-out moment, the wind picking up, stumbling through branchesand buildings and everything in between, but all the noises in the world couldnot have drowned out the deafening silence between them.
Klaus’s hairwas soon all soaked again from the rain blown towards her balcony, drips ofwater gathering on his eyelashes until it finally got overload, and he blinked,heavy and disoriented, the raindrop sliding down his face like a tear, but hiseyes were dry as a lifeless wilderness, cracking into bottomless gorges.
Caroline heardhis whisper in the raging storm, followed by the breaking of her own heart, asshe watched his face crumble in front of her into ruins, and an irrationalvindictive thought filled her heart that the ancient city below their feetshould instantly collapse from the tempest around them, that he should not be the only one fallingapart.
Not alone.
“Then don’t.”She heard herself whisper back, still holding his gaze as her trembling lipsapproached his.
The secondtheir lips touched Caroline knew her senses from earlier were correct-he didtaste like rain. And Rome. And mostly,Klaus. In contrast to his skin, his lips were cold, so Caroline didn’t holdanything back as she licked and sucked and swallowed down anything that stolehis temperature. The raindrops resting on the corner of his mouth, the windcutting through, the initial wince and freezing from Klaus himself, theloneliness, fear and defeat slithering down the surface.
She took them all.
Soon they wereall tangled up without a way out-eager tongues, hot breaths, clinging limbs,incoherent moans. His hand was holding the back of her head to him with so muchforce while his tongue plunged through her mouth, as if he didn’t know whichcould get him closer to her faster.
Carolinereached up to lose her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, addingjust the right amount of pressure while her pinky gently brushed his pulsepoint. The gesture seemed to ground him, as Klaus’ motions became less frantic.He retreated his tongue a little to more thoroughly ravage her already swollenlips, his body slowly relaxing only to envelop her in a steaming cocoon asevery curve of them fit seamlessly into each other.
The onlynon-Klaus sensation floating in the peripheral of her consciousness was theraindrops sizzling at the back of her exposed hand.
When theyfinally pulled back, both breathing hard, Caroline cupped Klaus’ cheek againwith her hand that was caressing his chest just seconds ago, “I’m glad. That youare alive.”
They werestill so close she could almost feel the shape of his smile with her own.
“You don’tseem too surprised.”
She shrugged alittle, “I’ve only once truly believed in your demise, and that was a long timeago.”
And sheliterally danced on his grave that time. How things have changed.
“Not even whenyou came to New Orleans for the first time?” His tone was so casual it took agood two seconds before his question sank in.
“What…? Howdid you…?” Her own inquiries died on her tongue before they fully made out ofher lips. Of course he knew. And it suddenly dawned on Caroline that one of thereasons she could be so…her aroundhim was because deep down, she always assumed that he knew.
So she justshook her head, “not even then.”
He lowered hiseyes, a ghost of a smile donning the corner of his lips, “it warms my heartthat you would seek my help in times of need, Caroline,” even through hishooded eyelashes the intensity of his gaze still penetrated her like lightening, electric flames roaring through her veins, “but it alsopains me that I was not there to lessen your woes.”
Caroline couldhear his tiny gasp when she pressed her lips to his cheek, “then it’s a goodthing I’m here for yours.”
He stared ather for a long minute, an amazed look softening every line on his face, as ifhe couldn’t quite believe she was real, “in these past months I’ve wondered ifthis was what it felt like on the other side. Watching on the sideline, alllinks to the living severed…as far as the rest of the world’s concerned, I nolonger exist.”
He was tryinghard to contain the tremor in his voice, but his tightening grip aroundCaroline’s waist gave him away, “and yet now, looking at you…” he blinked a fewtimes, searching her face for something that Caroline suspected even he himselfwasn’t sure was there. But he clearly found it, as he let out a quiet sigh, theblue in his eyes stilling to a mirror in which Caroline could see her ownsearching ones, “I think I’ve found my anchor.”
Caroline couldpractically feel his gaze brushing every inch of her, drinking her in like shewas the only color in a world of endless grey.
She knew itwas a skewered perception. And she would show it to him, starting tomorrow-Romehad the richest colors you could dream of, the murals, the architecture, thefruits and wine, the sun…she would show him all. But today she would just focuson getting him dry and clean. That was enough for now.
So she tookhis hand and wordlessly led him into the secluded light and warmth of her room.
With a smilethat for the first time tinted his eyes that night, he wordlessly let her.
this is my entry from the klaroline valentines day. for angie. kinda late in posting it here oops.
ff. ao3.
summary: klaus gets worried when james doesn't check in with a report on caroline, so when he calls, he's surprised when it's caroline who answers. worried about his vampire whose been apparently bitten, caroline demands he flies to new york to fix him. what will he find when he gets there? hint: caroline's changed a lot from the vampire he knew 10 years ago.
follows events past 5x11, but basically ignores TO canon (as per usual). no magical unicorn babies just because I can. NSFW because of smut reasons obviously. there may be a second part in the future. MAYY.
anyways, hope you all enjoy this one, and let me know what you think.
- shauna xo
He thinks about her everyone once in a while, truth be told. It could be something as simple as a piece of art he'd think she'd like, or a blonde girl in the street wearing one of those summer dresses she seemed to be so fond of. But his mind inevitably drifts back to her, back to them in the end.
He thinks about what she must be doing now, with her life. If she'd stayed in Mystic Falls, like she'd wanted once upon a time. Or if she'd left. She was born to see the world, to be a Queen. And honestly, what he'd do to be the one to show it to her. Perhaps. Perhaps one day. Maybe, just maybe, she'd let him.
But he'd promised to leave her alone. And he had, mostly.
He still had some tabs on her. Just enough to know she was safe. He didn't know what she was up to, however, or even where she was. His vampires were only required to report back to him if she'd managed to get herself in danger, and James tended to keep him updated monthly, to tell him she was fine. Which was why he found it weird when James didn't report back that day.
He sighed.
He promised Elijah he wouldn't get murdery whilst he was creating this meaning, something about keeping the city at peace. So, he settled on a text instead.
James, you know what happens when you disappoint me.
I do hope you haven't been lacking on your duties.
His phone vibrates not five minutes later, and he's unsurprised to find it's James. He doesn't even pretend to look at his stiffy, older brother with an apology, merely excuses himself.
He clears his throat as he answers, "James, I certainly hope-"
But he's interrupted by a voice he's all too familiar with, and one he hasn't heard in nigh on a decade.
"Klaus? I've been waiting hours for you to call! Hours! What do you have to say for yourself?"
He blinks.
"Caroline?"
"Duh," is the answer he gets and his lips twist up involuntary, "Now, would you care to explain why there's a compelled vampire following my every move?"
He sighs, his head tipping back against the wall.
"It sounds like you already know the answer to that, love," he says slowly. "And my apologies," he smirked, "about not calling sooner. Had I known you wanted to hear my voice earlier, I would have called you immediately." A pause, and then, "You could have called me yourself, you know, Caroline."
"Don't be cute." He knows she's glaring, even through the phone call. "Now, I suggest you get your ass to New York."
He doesn't quite know how to take that, but he smiles nonetheless.
"So that's where you are," he hums, "And you've missed me so badly that you need to see me immediately, I presume?"
"James was bitten," she hisses at him. "Trying to take down some wolf that was attacking me."
He growls at that knowledge. No one should even touch her.
But he shakes his head.
"He was just doing his job then," he summarises.
This time, she growls at him, and his fingers curl more tightly around his phone, unwilling for her to know how much that little noise turns him on.
"Come to New York. Now, Klaus," she demands. "It's the least you owe me for having me followed since who knows how long. And I've grown fond of James."
He deliberately avoids answering that, knowing that his reply won't make her any happier with him.
"Very well, love," he sighs. "I'll be on the first flight out."
"Good."
He's smirking, even as she hangs up on him. Seems he had a blonde vampire he needed to see.
Perhaps she'd be interested in visiting him in New Orleans soon enough. He suspects he'll have time to convince her, and healing James will sway her to him, won't it? (She'd said she'd been fond of him, but he chooses not to think about that part.)
He leaves Elijah a voicemail, knowing he'll be busy with the meeting for quite a while longer, but pays it no mention, other than for his brother to know he needs to look after the city while he's gone, however long that may be. He's in New York in less than a five hours, after having to track Rebekah down for the private jet, and he's at the address that Caroline had given him in not much longer, choosing to run there.
He senses her, before he hears her, and that's quite the feet for a vampire not two decades old. He hears rustling as she goes to open to door, and though he knew he were come to see her, his Caroline, at last, he still isn't quite ready for the sight of her after a decade of nothing.
Her eyes are somehow brighter than he remembers them, but perhaps that's because she's angry with him. If the expression wasn't a dead giveaway, with the way her lips are pressed tightly together and her eyes narrowed at him, the way her leg pops with her hands on her hips is a definite one.
"Caroline," he breathes, because all he wants to do now is gather her in his arms, and protect her at all costs.
It's overwhelming what he feels for this girl right now, because it never used to be like this before. It was never this intense.
She cocks her head at him, her eyes assessing him, even as he does feel a familiar heat in them, and he knows this can't all be one sided.
"Come in," she tells him, voice softer somehow. "Please."
She's different, somehow, he decides, as he crosses the threshold. He's not sure how, but she is. Maybe he is too. Because the pull he feels towards her now, the way he wants to make her his is something he never felt before. Not like this. He always wanted her, he knows that. He wanted her forever, but now? Now it's like he needs her forever, and he's not sure why it's changed.
He has his answer, as he tears into his own wrist, his blood pouring out into a cup, as he passes it to James, because her eyes bleed. But not into the searing red he was so used to seeing on her. This time they're amber. Like his.
She looks just as shocked as he does. Maybe it's the fact that her face is out, and she didn't expect it to be, he doesn't know. But she's magnificent. He's also aware of the way his fangs are out, unwilling to retract just yet, as he stares at her, hungrily, and yet in shock.
"You're a hybrid," he chokes.
.
She expected to see him eventually, to have to explain, but she didn't think it'd be so soon. And she most definitely wasn't prepared for the cluster of emotions she'd feel when she saw him. She used to love the way he looked at her, used to reveal in it, that the oldest being on this earth wanted her. But something's change, it's more intense if anything. And she knows that she's looking at him the same way.
It's lust.
Primal and hot.
And she feels her eyes darken, feels the veins pop out as she watches him tear into his wrist to feed poor James, and when his eyes flicker, she barely surpasses a gasp when she seems him in a similar state. And it most definitely doesn't do anything for her that he hisses at James to leave before he turns back to her.
She can't say she even pays it any mention.
"Caroline-"
"Shut up," she tells him, and she's up against him before he can blink, hands running through his curls. "Just shut up."
And she presses her mouth to his.
He groans against her, and his hands drop to her waist almost immediately, clearly on board with her plan.
(He feels this too right? He has to.)
His fingers curl around her, first around her tank top, and then bunching it up in his fingers, as his palms come into contact with soft skin of her back. The sounds he makes against her and rough and desperate as his mouth catches up, his teeth biting her bottom lip. His hands turn rougher, when his tongue snares its way into her mouth, pushing against hers.
This time, it's her whose makes a highly desperate noise.
He has her against a wall (who knows which one), with her legs clenched around his hips before she knows much of what is going on, and her top is in flutters around her waist.
Damn him, because she liked that one.
"I'll buy you a new one," he's muttering, as he sets to work, his lips following a trail down her neck.
His left hand wraps around one side of her neck, as he sucks. Hard. And she lets out a long stream of moans, as he grinds against her.
"Klaus," she groans, deep and throaty, as her head flings back against the wall.
He gives her a dirty grind in response, his cock pressing against her with such accuracy that he hits her clit with every thrust.
"Klaus-" she tries again, but she's cut off again when he suddenly has his tongue swirling around her nipple, her bra pulled down just bellow her chest, and her straps ruined.
"Mm?
"There's a perfectly good- oh!"
She feels his lips twist up, as his hand manages to slip down the front of her jeans, right into her panties, feeling the wet, heat of her. And she really wants to knock that smug look off of his face. God, he's annoying.
But, then he has two fingers curled inside her, and his eyes are back on her face, intent and watching her every move.
Nope.
So not happening tonight.
So as much as it pains her, she pushes him away from her, his surprise allowing her to shove him until he plops down on the black sofa with a humph. She doesn't stop until he tears his shirt off, and she kneels between his thighs, her hands undoing his belt buckle, and pulling his jeans down to his ankles.
Her eyes sparkle as she stares up at him, her hand just beginning to curve around his cock.
"Sweethear-"
"Shut up."
"Bossy," he gives her a throaty chuckle, but the rest is lost as she wraps her lips around him, and his head tips backwards, his mouth open on a groan.
His hand instinctively drops down to bury itself in her hair, as she moves at a steady pace, her hand moving at the base of him.
"That's it, sweetheart," he breathes, and she's surprised to find him looking down at her like that. "Suck my cock."
She won't admit that turns her on.
So, she sucks harder, her hand closing around him and stroking more firmly, and his hand tightens in her hair in response.
"I'll bet you like this, hm?"
Her eyes are staring up at him, wild and wide.
She hums against him, sending vibrations up his cock and he groans. He sees her rubbing her thighs together and he smirks.
"How wet are you for me right now, Caroline?"
She glares in response, but she pulls her mouth off him, and she traces a vein up his cock, as her hand moves around to fondle his balls, and he's far too close for a man who should have centuries off practise.
He hears, rather than sees the click that signals her fangs are out, and then he feels them, digging into his thigh, but not breaking skin.
"Very," she mumbles.
He knows his own eyes must be amber as he peers down at her.
"Take off your skirt, love," he demands, "And touch yourself for me."
It doesn't take much of her fluttering eyes, the way he sees her fingers move in and out of herself, as well as her mouth around him, that he's gripping her hair in his tight grip, and hauling her onto his lap, until he can pull her down on his cock, and the moan she lets out is positively sinful.
"Move, Caroline," he grits out, even as his hands reach around to grab a handful of her ass and pull her against him.
Her back is arched, as she grinds against, pulling and falling him and it's good, so good, great even, as he pulls her even tighter to him, his thrusts getting rougher as he gets closer, but she's so far gone that she can't quite fathom what else she needs.
Suddenly, she's upright, her thighs clenched around his waist, as Klaus pushes her roughly against the wall. One of his hands is on the wall behind her, the other coming around her hips to pull her more roughly into him.
"Yes," she groans, her lips pressing into his neck. "Right there."
He grins, his own lips trailing across her chest.
"Are you close, love?"
The noise she lets out is indication enough, and he leads back slightly, as he watches himself move in and out of her. She feels herself clench down at the sight. His eyes flicker up to hers curiously, before they flicker back down.
"Touch yourself for me," he breathes.
And yes, that's exactly what she needs, as his thrusts get rougher.
She feels her fangs come out as she stares down at him, biting her lip, as she wills them to go away. Klaus merely smirks, his head tips to the side. She doesn't ask for permission, the invitation more than clear as she tears into his neck, and she gives him her wrist, knowing it's what he wants, and it's what she needs too.
Not a moment later, he's tearing into her wrist. He's softer than she was, and less messy, but she doesn't care, as her hips chase his. Because this is exactly what she needed, to feel him.
He comes first, but it's a close thing, as she clenches around him not a moment later.
They're both breathing heavy, and Klaus drops them unceremoniously to the floor. He's pressing kisses against her throat as she comes back around.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
It's quiet, the words pressed against her.
"I wish I could," her words are just as quiet. "There's not much I know."
"Hm?"
"I was actually on my way to you."
His head snaps backwards, his eyes wide, as he searches her face.
"What?"
She smiles slightly, and shrugs.
"I was hoping you'd have some ideas, maybe a witch or two under your thumb in New Orleans? I didn't want to bother Bonnie. She's been busy raising two kids lately, they didn't need to be brought into this if it turned out ugly and-"
"Caroline?"
"Yes?"
"You're rambling, sweetheart," he dimples.
She gives him a pointed look, "Well, are you going to help me?"
"Depends."
"On?" she trails.
"How long were you planning on staying?" he asks instead.
"I don't know. Someone did once promise to show me around New Orleans. Music, culture, beauty, and all that. Any ideas?"
"Hm," he hums. "I don't know. I suppose he might still be interested."
He steals a kiss.
She gives him a look, and he bites back a smile.
"And I suppose I did miss him. Maybe even a tiny bit."
Another kiss that's far more heated that the last.
"Then who would he be to disappoint?"
She hums, as he leans forward on his knees, pressing his lips against hers that feels new. Like it's the start of something, rather than the end for once.
"So, does that mean you're coming home with me?"
"Depends."
"On?" He raises an eyebrow.
"If you're actually taking me bed tonight or if you expect me to sleep on the floor like this all night, because let me tell you, buddy-"
He rolls his eyes, as he swallows the rest of her sentence with a kiss, even as she throws her legs around him, as he begins up the stairs, dropping her down on the bed thereafter.
"Better, sweetheart?"
She smirks up at him.
"There's room for approvement."
And then she grips his neck and hauls him forward, planting a dirty kiss on his lips, and he groans against her.
This is part seven to the collaborative fic, written by the lovelies @garglyswoof, @lclrgsl, @austennerdita2533, @accidental-rambler, @purestheartslove, @supremeuppityone
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
He thinks about that fear he saw in her eyes in the following days. Thinks about what it may mean. What did she have to be fearful of? He wasn't sure, and he wasn't certain he wanted to either. He loses track of the days he isn't graced with her presence. Was it a week? Two? He had no way of knowing. All up until she shows up one evening, her eyes very dull, but bright all the same. She's shaking, her skin too pale for him to be comfortable.
Her fingers are curling in on themselves, though her hands are shaking, and there's something in her palm as she reaches for him.
The moonstone, he quickly deducts, though his attention is directed elsewhere.
"Le-ave."
The word comes out as two syllables, her voice breaking. Her lips quivering, as their colour turns to a blue.
He debates running. Taking off, far away from her, and all the danger she clearly represents.
But, in the end, his mind is made up before he's even thought about it. He bends down, quickly, and she's in his arms. Her skin seems heated, but she feels cold nontheless. He takes no time to reveal in the feel of her pressed against him, all her beauty much closer than he's seen. The worry he feels eats at him, and it isn't long before he's off, as far as he can carry himself, and her.
He did promise to take her away, for her to see the world, after all. But, most of all, he needs her to be safe, to live. She has to live.
It isn’t until he’s gotten sufficiently far away that he notices the difference in her form.
