AN: Yes, that's right, I'm starting another multi-chapter story. Seeing as 'You want be to be yours' is almost finished (update coming soon!), I think I can get on with this one with clear conscience, haha.

This is ACOMAF Klaroline AU and I hope you'll like it, I'm really excited about this one! Of course, it won't be entirely the same as the books - that's not how writing fusion works for me :) For all the folks who haven't read this series (A Court of Thorns and Roses + A Court of Mist and Fury) - things might be a little vague for you in the beginning, but if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask :) And these books are awesome and full of klaroline feels so you should totally read them if you're up for it, you won't regret it (they will ruin your life but in a GOOD way)!

The biggest thank you goes to garglyswoof who beta'd this thing. As well as to lynyrdwrites for her help with brainstorming who should be who in this story.

For acomaf folks, this starts right after Caroline's second trial when she's devastated after almost losing. The story will go forward from there but there will be some flashbacks as well.

For Jo aka fanfantasticworld - an extremely talented lady and a great friend. Happy Birthday!

Chapter 1

"Some things you let go in order to live."

(Florence + The Machine, 'Various Storms & Saints')

When Caroline was little, she would often sneak her way into feasts her father organized at their estate. A seven-year-old sitting at the stairs by the door and listening to the old bard who would sing of tragic star-crossed lovers and the beauty of sacrifice, a gift of selfless death, of passion and light and sin. She would memorize the lyrics by heart, wandering around the household and the grounds singing to herself and letting her imagination run wild. She would be a princess and there would be a prince, valiantly swaying his sword to make his way to her, through all the monsters and curses and hardships.

With the tang of her own vomit filling her nostrils and sticking to her skin, the moldy walls of the dungeon closing in around her, Caroline knew - she had been a silly little girl. And people? People were fools with those fucking skewed notions of theirs. Life in Prythian was nothing like a fairy tale. You either lived like a pig or scrambled your way like a cockroach and you died like them as well - led to slaughter or squashed by a High Fae's boot. A prince wouldn't pick a sword to fight for you - he wouldn't even lift his finger, just watch you break every little piece of yourself as you battled for everything you thought he held dear.

There was no dignity in suffering, in the way she lay in her cell, battered and beaten, the reek of blood and piss polluting the air that she needed to breathe. There was no dignity in how it had made her want to hurl,but after a while, it had become just another smell. There was no beauty in her broken limbs or the dirt eating into her skin, in the dried-up tears on her face.

In the overwhelming darkness, there was neither light nor sin, its shadows clouding the lines as she stepped among them. She had stopped seeing the monsters in the dark long ago, no, night offered solace and kept her company as she stayed awake, dreamless and alone. It was light that monsters roamed under, rays of sunshine peering into throne rooms they sat in, candlelight dancing in their slit eyes while they snuffed the last flickers of life with their will.

There was one thing the bard was right about.

Death was a gift.

And yet, she had bargained with Klaus for life.

She had been desperate and weak, fever and pain plundering her body as the Night Lord's lilted words coaxed her into living, tricked her into taking a deal that would last a lifetime, apparently. Agony crushed her mind with renewed force when she remembered the disdain etched on Stefan's face after he'd noticed the Night Court's markings covering her arm, the tattoo sealing her agreement. With Tatia sitting beside him, there was no chance for her to explain everything. All she could do was assure him of her unyielding love and loyalty with each look she cast his way. It killed her to think that the High Lord of the Spring Court might hate her forever for this, for having tied her life to that of the Night Lord's. To see the love Stefan had held for her now marred with anger and disappointment was as much of a torture as being locked in this filthy dungeon.

But she had survived to fight Tatia for another day, to relish this tiny smudge of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to free the courts of Prythian from her spell and get to spend the rest of her life with the man she loved. And yet, when she had faced her second trial earlier tonight, she had almost wasted her chance.

Because she was an illiterate fool. No matter how much she had tried, how hard she squinted at the instructions, the wall of text laid before her had remained a mystery to her while the precious seconds ticked away the rest of hers and Lucien's life. If it hadn't been for that little prickling in her skin, leading her to the right lever to push so that she could stop a deadly trap, they would both be dead right now, torn apart by one of Tatia's beasts.

How could she delude herself into believing she was capable of saving the Spring Court and Stefan? Of defeating Tatia at her game? She was nothing but a mere human, breakable and pathetic among the swarm of immortal High Fae. She couldn't even read to save her life. How could she be so dull to carry this ridiculous notion that anyone would ever love her and put her first, let alone the High Lord of the Spring Court?

She was never the one.

Sneaking a glance at her ink-stained arm, Caroline drew a sharp intake of breath when she noted the eye tattooed on her palm glaring back at her, as if it knew the gloomy haze plaguing her mind.

"Your thoughts could bring the court jester to the brink of depression, Caroline, love." She heard Klaus' voice seeping from the shadows,his form materializing out of the darkness moments later.

"Stop reading my mind, you prick."

He cocked his brow at the insult, a ghost of smirk curling his lips as he shot back, "Then don't leave it wide open for me to read, sweetheart."

Sure, like that could've stopped him.

"It could, providing you train hard enough. As it is now, you're practically screaming your thoughts at me. Not that I mind - they're mostly so delightful, after all. Especially the ones about me," Klaus drawled, lazily inspecting his fingernails.

"Oh, go fuck yourself," she scoffed in response, causing his eyes to shoot up and bore into hers, mouth stretched in a sly grin.

"But how can I when I'd prefer you to do the honours?" he goaded her, expression of feigned innocence spread over his face.

"Ugh, you're not even worth the calories I burn talking to you."

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Klaus mused, "Humans. Such ungrateful little things. You should be nicer to me, you know. I've helped you tonight, after all. Yet again."

Silence filled the dungeon as Caroline mulled over his words, teeth sinking into her chapped lower lip. That strange tingling she had felt in her skin during the trial returned and she could hear the faint chime of Klaus' laughter in her ear even though no sound left his mouth. The haziness in her mind subsided momentarily and she finally saw the answer that had been right in front of her - the Night Lord had been the one to save her and Lucien from certain death during her trial, per a bond that apparently existed because of their deal. And as much as Caroline loathed the connection between them, Klaus had indeed seemed set on helping her, for whatever reason.

But it was his reasons that perturbed her, if she were honest. Before Caroline could stop herself, the question passed her lips. "Why?" she croaked out, clarifying when she was met with his blank stare, "why help me? What's the price?"

That mysterious little smile appeared on his face, a genuine one, and it highlighted those offensively handsome features of his, causing breath to catch in her throat. Klaus had heard it, naturally, if his expression turning smug was anything to go by. He said nothing for a while, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. "I have my reasons," he finally responded, irritatingly vague, and then added when she glared at him, "as for the price, you already know it. One week of my choice spent with me each month, 'till the end of your life."

It was on the tip of Caroline's tongue to ask why again but she knew very well there was no coaxing out the answer from Klaus unless he wanted to provide it, and evidently, he wanted to keep it to himself. In the end, it didn't really matter. It was entirely possible she wouldn't live long enough to fulfill the terms of their deal anyway and if she did, Stefan probably wanted nothing to do with her.

After all, he had barely spared her a glance in all the weeks she had spent as Tatia's captive, imprisoned in the cell beneath her Court.

Klaus must have sensed the turn her thoughts had taken again, his knuckles paling as he clenched his hands. He swallowed, as if battling the words that were about to come out of his mouth, "All he does and does not do its to keep you as safe as he can, under the circumstances. Regardless of your deal, Tatia would eat you alive if Stefan showed a glint of affection towards you in her presence."

His considerate tone accompanied a warm breeze of comfort that wrapped around her like a cocoon and to her utter disbelief, Caroline felt a smidgen of gratitude at Klaus' attempt to act decently. "Thank you," she said.

For a second, Klaus seemed taken aback by the honesty ringing in her voice. But he composed himself so quickly that Caroline wondered whether she had imagined the vulnerability lingering in the depths of his eyes. "No need to thank me, sweetheart. I simply need you alive. And that little self-loathing act you have going on isn't helping matters."

Well, there went that moment of gratitude.

She scowled at him, "Ugh, get lost, will you? Because that will make me feel better."

"You wound me, Caroline, love," the High Lord chortled quietly, his laugh echoing across the cell before he dematerialized into shadows in front of her.

It wasn't until much later that she realized the knot in her stomach had loosened a bit and that dull ache of despair had eased slightly after Klaus' visit.

Caroline had always been one to act. Whether it was planning a childish mischief or picking up a knife and a bow to feed her family, she was a doer.

Perhaps Tatia had found that out about her somehow. Because through all the reek and blood and pain, feelings of idleness and hopelessness had been her worst enemies. Days went by in darkness and silence, a relentless tension stretching every muscle in her body, wearing her down as she awaited her third and final trial. The torture of not knowing what the next day, even the next hour would bring had brought her to the point of mental exhaustion, dimming her senses. Her lips were two scraps of bloody flesh from her teeth biting into them in frustration, a habit born out of need to pacify overwhelming weakness and sense of failure.

Throughout all this soundless madness, there was only one thing helping her keep a semblance of sanity. Something to hold on to in the darkest pit of the never-ending night.

Starlight.

Each night - or perhaps each day, for she couldn't tell them apart anymore - little faint stars would find their way to her cell. Shyly emerging out of the shadows, they caressed her aching skin, sneaking through all the filth and dried-up blood to her weary soul. As the minutes passed, the stars would start beaming at her, flickering with dim specks of colour, turning bright, bright, brighter the more she gazed at them. Like little flecks of paint on black canvas, they danced amidst the air's stench, forming shapes of foreign lands, aligning themselves in a mirage of images, like distant memories of something familiar and warm. It was the most peculiar feeling, given they couldn't have been her own.

Each of them was like a note against her fingertips as she reached out to touch them, drumming a delicate melody that resonated in her head, only for her, safe from everyone else. And her chest would swell with music, with a song unsung that threatened to burst out but she couldn't free it, wouldn't let it play outside in all the horribleness of this world.

It was safer here, in the confines of this little nook in her mind where the last miserable scraps of hope lingered, fed by the starlight. Hope that was extinguished the moment the stars disappeared, leaving her cold and alone again.

Caroline wasn't sure whether she had actually gone insane and it was her own mind playing tricks on her or if it was someone else interfering. All she knew was that she didn't want to lose these few precious moments of reprieve.

The starlight felt like home.

The loud crack of doors being ripped open tore Caroline out of her restless slumber. Blinking, she swiftly covered her eyes with her hands, even the dim light creeping from the corridor too bright after weeks of darkness. Seconds later, she felt sharp talons digging into her skin as Tatia's beasts dragged her out of her cell, their touch bruising her any chance they got.

The old Caroline in her, the huntress and feeder, was screaming to come out. She wanted to hold on to the remains of her dignity, to dig the heels of her feet into the concrete and stop their manhandling, to insist on walking the distance to the throne room on her own. But the cold reality was, she had no energy left to do that, not much strength left to will her legs to move. And she needed it all to face whatever it was Tatia would throw her way this time.

So Caroline let the beasts lead her to her fate till they reached the grand doorway of the throne room, the sea of High Fae and lesser faeries ebbing away before her. Glancing up slightly, she could see the silk fabric of Tatia's white dress outlining her legs as she sat on her throne, Stefan by her side. Drawing her eyes higher, a paralyzing chill went down her spine as she noted the malevolent smile the Fae Queen sent her way. It seemed serene but to Caroline it resembled a promise, much like the one already written in all the bruises splotched along her skin. Of screams and broken bones and all-consuming pain.

With straining effort and gritting teeth, she flexed her muscles and force herself to stand tall.

Her final task awaited her.

AN: So what are your feelings about this one so far? Intrigued? Bored? What did you like/didn't like? Does the way I matched the characters from TVD to the ones from Acomaf work for you so far? Please share your thoughts with me :)

Till next time,

Kate