Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves,
and Immortality.
-Emily Dickinson
What did Caroline do when she learned that her father had promised her to the King of the Underworld without her consent? Pouted, sulked, and flat-out refused, that's what.
Okay, okay, so an unsolicited date with a god wasn't as bad as marriage, but this wasn't the freaking Old Ages. Fathers just didn't arrange their only daughter's love lives anymore, okay? It was insulting. And humiliating. And damn well rude.
"I don't want to go," Caroline retorted as she combed through her curls in the mirror.
Bill released a long, tired sigh, and plopped down on the corner of her bed. He wiped a hand over his face.
"Why not?" he asked.
It wasn't like this question hadn't been asked a dozen times already.
Whirling around, she looked obstinate and resolved as her hands flew to her hips, her eyes narrowed at her father.
"Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed. "He literally snuffs out the light in people and you think I—" she placed her hands over her heart "—your so-called precious princess, would be happy about a date you orchestrated without my knowledge?"
She tapped her foot and quirked her eyebrow questioningly, waiting for his answer.
"Think of it as an adventure, then, not a date," Bill offered with a meek smile.
Caroline gaped at her father. An adventure? With Klaus Mikaelson? Was he joking? This "adventure" wasn't a shopping trip to Paris or a weekend art excursion in Rome; this was a fiery descent into the seven layers of hell. And she hated saunas! What made him think she'd enjoy the sweltering, scorching heat of the Underworld?
"I thought it'd be a nice change of pace after that hero-haired, Stefan, ran off with what's-her-name to Mystic Olympus. Again."
He frowned and shifted uncomfortably, taking a moment to clear his throat.
Caroline had tried to explain many times that Stefan had never recovered from his epic love of Mystic Olympus—or of Elena Gilbert—and how his heart belonged to the purity of the heavens, not to the tainted earth. Or to Caroline. But Bill, a prosaic human of nature, couldn't understand it. He never would.
"I just wanted you to experience something new, honey," he elaborated, "something different." He shrugged and smiled cautiously, careful not to betray too much hopefulness. "Is that so wrong?"
After releasing an exasperated huff, Caroline relented.
"No," she admitted reluctantly, "I guess not." She sighed and sat next to her father on the bed, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder. "But isn't Klaus a monster? I mean—" she ran her fingers through her hair "—isn't he like the most violent, vicious creature in existence?"
"Was the devil not once an angel?" Bill replied softly.
Caroline pulled back at this, her brow furrowed and her forehead crinkled. Confused. Biblical mythology had described the devil as a "fallen" angel—whatever the hell that meant. She knew she should have paid closer attention in mythical history!
"Give him a chance, Caroline," Bill encouraged. He wrapped her left hand in his and squeezed. He placed a chaste kiss on her temple before retreating to the doorway. "Do that—" he paused "—and maybe he'll surprise you."
His voice echoed from the hallway.
"Sometimes people do."
Caroline collapsed back against her pillows with her mind reeling. Could she do it? Could she approach a known brutal beast with an open mind, with an open heart? As if in answer, the words take a chance, Caroline slammed hard against her heart at the same moment the door closed.
Klaus hadn't been too keen on Eljiah's suggestion that he meet new people. Why should he? What for? He met people all the time when they descended through the cracks from the earth above. When he blackened their souls with the choking arms of death. There couldn't possibly be anything more exquisite, more tragically poetic, than watching life vacate a human's body in gasping, wheezing breaths.
Humans.
They were a tiresome lot, truth be told. Always crying and complaining and caring about things that didn't matter. Like love. The elusive l-o-v-e…what a bloody joke. Didn't these imbeciles know it ravaged their hearts and polluted it with weakness? It infected their minds, their lives, hell—even their deaths—like cancer. It corroded their healthy strength.
The worst part? They let it! Over and over and over again, they let it. Humans allowed love to consume their healthy, rational hearts until nothing remained but the puncturing holes left by desolation.
Bloody fools. All of them.
Klaus couldn't remember how many times those poor, miserable wretches clung to him and wailed about some long, lost, unrequited love. Or worse, some soul mate—a fated One who still wandered the earth without them.
"Help me! Help me!" they'd weep, their fingernails digging into shins, into his skin. "My heart—" they'd stammer "—my heart is broken. What do I do?" they'd cry, lips quivering, eyes fierce with desperation "What do I do with all this empty love?"
He'd pat their despondent, drooping heads and stoop to catch their stinging tears with cupped hands, blinking at their distressed faces like a curious child.
"Just pretend it doesn't exist," he'd reply, that callous look in his eye, "Just pretend love doesn't exist."
Then, he'd leave them there alone. All alone. Helpless and afflicted with the kind of loneliness he'd known all his life.
What the hell did these dejected humans want him to do about it, anyway? Silence had blanketed their hope; his words had enriched their despair. Who cared? Not him. He'd told the truth; he'd been honest. Didn't that count for something? Anything?
The god without a heart, people called him. The King of Darkness. Rip him open, slice a knife across the pink tissue beneath, stab him in the pulsating veins of his chest cavity, because it was all the same. It all felt the same to him: hollow and black.
To Klaus, blackness incarnate, love didn't exist. It never did. It never would.
Breathless at first sight, love at first word.
Klaus saw her for the first time collecting flowers on a lily pad at a duck pond near the edge of her property. Bill said he'd find her here waiting. And waiting she was. But for what? A valiant prince? A knight on a white steed? An archangel with an almighty sword?
A crown of daisies, slightly askew, rested atop her blonde head while her fingers rippled across the water's surface, her sweet, soprano voice echoing through the mossy recess as she hummed, her hands mindlessly plucking daisies petal-by-petal and casting them away like cherished wishes on the wind.
Lightness. Warm sunshine. It pervaded her with such potency that it cast an almost-fragrance in the air around her. Encircling her in a honey-scented aura and illuminating her into a blonde hologram shimmering against the shadowed woodland.
Cowering behind a tree nearby, Klaus breathed in. And out. His chest tingled; it streamed with pumping fervor at the sight of her cheerful smile.
Who was this woman?
"You know," Caroline said, her sassy tone bursting through his silent awe, "this would be a lot less awkward if you came out and introduced yourself. Or said hello."
An enchantress.
That one sentence was all it took—Klaus had been ensnared.
"Sorry, love." He emerged from his hiding place with his hands slung casually behind his back, his feet squishing against the damp grass. "I didn't wish to disturb you," he explained.
"So you thought stalking was a better option?" she scoffed in reply.
Klaus lifted his lips at this, amused. Humans often bit their tongues around him, not wiggled them at him in defiance. Apparently, she didn't fear him which was oddly…refreshing? This woman, this Caroline, she'd be a challenge. And he loved nothing better than a good challenge.
"I was just waiting for a proper moment to interrupt," he countered.
Stooping to the ground, he retrieved the flowers she'd plucked and handed them back to her, pausing only to procure a solitary yellow daisy just out of her reach.
"Shall we get this over with then, Caroline?" he asked, offering it to her with a gallant smile.
She scrutinized him as he extended the flower, trepidation drumming in his fingertips. Why was he anxious? Over a young woman? Over a trifling human?
Oh, but what a lovely human she was! So innocent with those blazing blue eyes full of wonderment. So free and full vivacity, the blood of the explorer coursing through her veins. So strong-willed, so spirited, so feisty! It was here that Klaus realized something: he was in trouble. Big trouble.
Caroline's face betrayed subtle softness as their hands touched along the flower's stem—his lingering just a second too long—a weak smile brushing across her pink lips. She recovered from it quickly, "The sooner, the better, Klaus," she replied.
Stuffing the daisy behind her ear, she gestured for him to lead the way. "I just hope you believe in electricity..." She peered at him hopefully. "...Night lights?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.
Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. Surely Caroline didn't expect him to need electrical lights or lanterns? Only fire. He needed only fire at his disposal—the kind that singed and seared with destruction, the kind that promised dirt, dust, and decay. Only black ashes beneath his feet crunched with the comforts of home sweet home.
"Afraid of the darkness, are we, sweetheart?" Klaus taunted.
Stomping his foot with earthquaking force onto the wooded forest floor, he delighted in Caroline's terrified gasp as a chasm, fiery and boiling, cracked the earth into two severed halves. The smell of charred tar, magma, and fried something filled his nostrils. Ah, how marvelous was that bitter, sweaty aroma of the Underworld?
Caroline recoiled from the edge, her shoes kicking loose pebbles and blades of grass into the gaping abyss...down, down, down it went. Bottomless. Black. Blistering with hear.
"I've never been a fan, no," she said as she stepped backwards, curling into herself. "I'm more sunshine, rainbows, and fresh flowers, thank you very much."
It may be cruel, but Klaus quite relished in observing the trembling young girl petrified and panicked as she stood on the brink of this new ledge. Of this new discovery. Of this new world. The Underworld was a place of genuine beauty, of power, of agelessness...and he got to show it to her. He got to witness Caroline's dark awakening.
Klaus considered her for a moment and then approached. Slowly. "That may be true," he declared in a low voice, head inclined to the side, eyes intent, "but there's an allure to darkness, Caroline. What if your heart is drawn to it?"
A derisive laugh escaped Caroline's throat at this. Chiding him with crossed arms, she said, "There is no allure to darkness, okay? Not one tiny bit." Her demeanor radiated with indignation. "Not for me, anyway."
Klaus stepped before her. Meeting her eyes, which blinked with fear and audacity, he extended his hand to her.
"I guess there's only one way to find out, then," he said, challenge echoing in his voice.
Caroline gulped.
Puzzled? Hesitant? Uncertain? Whatever she was, Klaus couldn't decipher her emotions.
She stared at his fingers for a long moment as if they were hissing rattlers primed with the poison to kill. Lifting her nose in the air, she suddenly placed her soft, warm hand in his. Her grip, firm yet grasping, helped to highlight the resoluteness of her decision as she yanked Klaus closer to her side.
Whether it was out of terror or challenge, he wasn't sure. But either way, he didn't mind.
"I guess so," she answered, her gaze brimming with opposition. With her head ticked to one side, she swung their arms back and forth like a ticking pendulum and smiled full of readiness. "Let's do it."
With that, with one leaping jump, Klaus and Caroline bounded into the boiling mouth of the Underworld. The darkness swallowed them whole—together.
A nightmare wasn't always as obscure the next morning, Caroline thought, just like the Underworld wasn't as menacing as her imagination fancied it to be.
Steep, rocky caves caste the terrain in murky shadows and dusty ash; the sky brooded in a stormy, thundering red, and the stark expanse of the ridges with their sleek lines and razor edges gave the place a daunting splendor. A whispered echo of delicacy lingered about this ancient land with all of its hidden history, with all of its secrets veiled behind the doom and gloom. It was much like Klaus himself: perception shrouded in legend. Subjective in appearance, atmosphere, and most of all...in acceptance.
What was this place? Caroline wondered. Who was this man?
Before they met, Caroline hadn't a clue of what to expect from Klaus Hades Mikaelson, ruler and taker of the dead. But it wasn't this. It wasn't him. With all the ugliness that surrounded his history, she'd predicted a face more…grotesque. More…hideous. But it wasn't; he wasn't.
In fact, objectively speaking…he was freaking hot!
Not that dark-haired-bulging-muscle-brute-force kind of hot, though. Klaus' features were light, and in a way—angelic—with blond waves that swooped across his forehead, lips that pursed with plumpness and words that somersaulted from his tongue in understated intellect, a wiry frame that swayed with an erect grace when he moved, and eyes.
Oh, those eyes! Sea-blue with crashing tumultuousness, his eyes were the kind a girl could drown in while she investigated their depths.
Moody. Attentive. Manipulative. Passionate. All these traits and more flashed back at her through his irises, splashing around in varying degrees. Demanding to be seen. Explored. How deep could she swim in them, she wondered? How deep?
Aesthetically, Klaus was beautiful, not monstrous. There was no denying that. Caroline realized that his menace came not from appearance, but from demeanor. He carried himself in a devious-diabolical-machine kind of way, warning in silent growls for no one to mess with him. No one did. Correction: no one dared.
The man—the god of the dead—was a living, breathing, feeling paradox. And Caroline couldn't stop marveling at his fierce attractiveness. She more or less drooled, to be honest. Who could blame her?
Much to her embarrassment, Klaus seemed to notice her gaping, awestruck stares because he cracked a smile. A smug one.
Caroline looked away abruptly, only a little more than flustered, and fanned herself with her free hand. The other one clutched his bicep in flying support as they continued to decline into the lightless tunnel.
"How much longer?" she asked, wiping beads of sweat from her brow.
The lower they descended, the more humid it became. (Or so she told herself.)
"Soon," he replied. "We're nearly there."
"Will we reach our destination before I age a billion years?" she recovered with her characteristic sass. Finally.
"Patience," he hummed in whisper against her hair.
Caroline shrieked as she suddenly came to a jerking halt. Her entire body lurched forward, plunging her head-first into weightlessness, her hands swatting and swiping through the formless air. Why almost die before screaming bloody murder, she thought? Why wait?
It felt like someone had yanked the lever of a roller coaster and propelled her backwards—sideways—downwards. Falling, falling, falling. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. Diving, diving, diving. Her body wasn't hers to control anymore, yet she was still alive and wanted to control it. It felt like someone had shifted her car from drive to neutral and all she could do was fall, tumble, and dive, the steering wheel locking against the desperate turning of her wrists. Stuck in gear. Dragging her like a magnet, no longer free, along some unknown road.
She let terror, instead of oxygen, fill her lungs and escape in elevated decibels.
"Shh," a voice purred nearby, sturdy arms cradling her the moment she quit plummeting through the blackness.
It took a moment before Caroline could open her eyes. To stop her limbs from trembling. To look at her savior.
"I've got you," Klaus whispered. He rocked her soothingly on a rocking chair carved out of stone. "I've got you—" he repeated, a possessive edge taking over his tone "—I promise I won't let you fall. I won't let you go."
Shifting in his lap, Caroline shivered as she met his wild eyes. They glinted with a not-so-hidden threat. What if he never did let her go?
Herein lies the concise history surrounding Klaus Hades Mikaelson:
Dismal in beginning. Dreary in end. And above all, despicable throughout.
Tales of the god's vindictive tactics passed from human-lips-to-human-lips from a young age, causing many to refer to him as the Fiend Who Shall Not Be Named. Stefan himself, who met Klaus abroad many years ago, referred to the god's unforgiving heart as the blackest of black. The deadest of dead.
Legend said that he sprung from the womb of an adulterous mother named Esther and that the step-father, Mikael, leader of the Titans, abandoned him to the isolated alps of the Underworld for the rest of eternity. Klaus never forgot; and he never forgave the neglect.
One day, after spending many millennia honing his powers in secret, he retaliated. Fracturing the earth above with the fist of rage, he deprived his parents of the one thing they had, but he did not—his half-siblings. Klaus kidnapped all four of them from beneath Mikael's pleading eyes and shredded the life from their bones, dragging them deep into the void of death. Now in possession of their souls, he forbade them to leave. Klaus continued to collect his army of the dead ever since.
No one who entered the Underworld, left. No one who left, escaped.
"Am I what you anticipated?" he asked. Curiosity lined his jaw and influenced his body language, causing his shoulders to tilt downwards—into her. "Did the face live up to the fame?"
The two of them ambled through the different levels of his world, side-by-side, the sound of volcanic rock crunching beneath their feet. Caroline marveled at the blistering rivers of lava, at the geyser showers in fire-bathing areas, at the detailed rock sculptures clustered around sidewalks, exhibits, and treacherous cliffs. How could a place so callous and dense feel so wondrous at the same time?
"You're arrogant as hell, if that's what you mean," she stated matter-of-factly. "But I'd expect no less from a masquerading devil."
Klaus scratched the scruff on his chin in contemplation.
"Who says I'm pretending, love?"
Caroline's bouncy steps halted abruptly. She bent at the waist to inspect a painting of a wolf, howling amid dripping blood, into the moonless night. The paint clung to the canvas in harried, erratic strokes. Some thick, some thin, the detailed clumps of color fused a muted blur of black, red, and grey around the pitiful animal. A chaotic hurricane of pain swirling around animal and canvas.
There was something expressive about the piece, about this forsaken wolf, that tugged at Caroline's heart. Filling her with sympathy. And sadness.
"I wasn't implying that you were," she said tenderly, clutching Klaus by the wrist.
The action was light and gentle, though a little probing. She turned him to face her. Penetrating his blue-green eyes with a look of frankness, she said,
"You're kind of like this painting. Secure in your strength and independence—" she pointed at the black portions with her fingers "—but aching with loneliness." She traced the thick, red swipes with her pinky. "You hide it behind the armor of brutality because you don't want anyone to see it. Because you don't want anyone to acknowledge or perceive a weakness, your weakness," she explained.
Caroline lifted the corners of her mouth as he stared at her, wide-eyed. Bewildered. His words evaporated into silence.
"But it's there," she clucked, strumming her hands against his shirt and strolling away from him toward a busy street, "and I see it."
Klaus had never felt as buoyant as he did today, trolling after this blonde human goddess. He had encountered many beautiful women during his tenure as King of the Underworld, but none like her. Not one of them compared.
How could they? Caroline wasn't weak like the other millions of moaning humans whom he encountered every day. Like so many of her ancestors, she, too, had experienced the trials of lost happiness; but unlike them, she didn't avoid the once-good memories. She didn't armor herself in cynicism or cruelty. She refused to let the bad break her into un-mendable pieces, deciding instead to infuse herself with the positivity of a silver lining. Klaus admired the strength in that.
"My parents don't live together anymore," she confided in him later.
They sat on a bench at the corner of a bustling shopping center. They'd stopped in the fashion boutique behind them earlier because Caroline had caught sight of a sleek, red satin dress in the window. Which she then insisted she try on—among a dozen others of various styles. Klaus purchased the lot of them for her while she changed, dubbing them Caroline's Underworld trifles.
"I'm sorry," he replied.
Elijah had informed him of Bill and Liz's separation before he met her. Surprisingly, however, Klaus had meant what he'd said. He was sorry—sorry for her pain.
Thump.
"Don't be," she said, waving her hand at him in no-big-deal.
Thump. His dead heart thumped again, pattering away in a rhythmic drum beat. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Observing their mutual unhappiness for ten years was punishment enough."
Jumping up, Caroline slurped hot apple cider from a straw and walked away from the crowds. Out of the clogged activity. Away from the food, fashion, and chatter.
Seeing a cluster of black horses galloping in the distance, she headed toward the ashen desert where they flocked and galloped, neighing inside a contained corral.
"Besides," Caroline added, shooting him a coy wink, "their collective guilt scored me double the birthday presents."
Klaus laughed good-humoredly at this, shaking his head. He couldn't help himself.
What has she done to me?
There was just something so refreshing about her Miss Be Positive attitude. He started to wonder if perhaps her brightness wasn't contagious? His heart breathed, it strummed, it simpered her name. Rolling those three separate syllables into the fragrant petals of that one, precious word...
...Caroline.
His heart alighted with wings with each utterance. Each thought. Fluttering to and fro like a hummingbird in pursuit of the sweetest nectar this world could conjure. It hadn't done such a thing in millennia. Or ever.
Klaus had forgotten the lovely formidableness of the Underworld, his abode of all abodes, until he saw it again through Caroline's fresh eyes. Every taste of cuisine was explosive. Every sight—artistic or unfamiliar—was gasping, rapturous with unrepressed admiration. Every sound awakened curiosity and sent questions tumbling forth from the tongue in an endless stream of want-to-knows. There weren't fingers enough to touch everything or senses enough to capture, to savor, the daunting majesty around him. Not only of the Underworld, but of Caroline.
He found his heart conquered by her in the same way he had once conquered his home—by fortunate accident.
The girl had no inkling of her profound effect on his soul, how she'd infused it full of tenderness like a glucagon shot and had sent the addictive sugar of love squirting through his veins. All it took was that sunshiny aura and brazen tongue. She clawed into his emotions with iron as strong as steel, but with kindness as soft as silk.
Quick as a snap, Klaus was long gone. A goner. A Mr. Darcy who was in the middle before [he] knew he had begun.
G-O-N-E-R became the new spelling of his name. A new tattoo carved in heart tissue. Permanent and unlikely to be removed.
How pathetic was he?
Caroline caressed the animal through the links of the fence, her fingers gliding along the silky black mane with soothing strokes, her giggles tinkling the air like wind chimes each time the horse brayed.
"Would you like to ride her?" Klaus asked from her left. "She won't mind."
Rummaging through his pockets, he fished an apple from beneath his cloak and fed it to the horse, patting her on the nose.
"She's got quite the gentle temperament, truth be told."
Denoting his fond smile and tone, Caroline appraised him from beneath a crinkled forehead.
"You like horses?"
Klaus continued to scratch the animal's nose and nodded, evading her gaze.
"They're loyal animals," he responded. "Always."
"Gorgeous, too," Caroline replied with a sigh. She fed the horse some sugar cubes that he had procured from his pocket earlier, and added, "What's her name?"
"Black Beauty," he replied as he scaled the fence.
Plopping down next to the horse, Klaus inspected its hooves before standing to help Caroline over.
Her boot, the heel of which became caught on the highest rung, caused her to lose balance on her way over the fence. She toppled into Klaus' waiting arms. (A lucky coincidence he wouldn't disparage for anything.) Falling with shaky uncertainty, she clutched at his neck, clinging to him for support and steadiness—which he was more than happy to provide.
"I've got you, love," he said reassuringly, "I won't let go; no need to worry."
Caroline stiffened in his arms as he said this and quickly regained her feet, straightening her white leather jacket with a compulsive jerk.
"You named her Black Beauty?" she sneered. She backed away, seemingly keen on maintaining her distance now. "Like the book? Seriously?"
The few feet of space that separated them, the short distance that existed between their bodies, felt heavy and infinite. Interminable. She was his magnet, and Klaus drew nearer again. Reaching out. He just couldn't help himself, could he?
His fingers throbbed with want of contact. Proximity. Exclusivity. He felt the fire of longing threatening to suffocate him in smoke. Couldn't Caroline see that he wanted her near him? Next to him? Tethered to the throne by his side? Always and forever?
"No," he replied, quirking a playful smile, "like the horse in the book."
Caroline rolled her eyes at his remark and moved further away. Behind the animal. Boot footprints lined the ashy sand as she walked down the length of the horse's body, rubbing her hand through its mane, across its back, down its lean, muscular legs. Again, she took the time to admire the intricate splendor of what stood before her. Marking it with eyes, hands, and memory.
Because of this, once again, Klaus found himself awestruck. Mesmerized. What kind of sorcery made him liable to such palpitations from an innocent woman, anyway? It seemed unfair somehow. And damn bloody cruel, too, since she seemed wholly unaffected.
"I'm kind of jealous," Caroline admitted with a hollow laugh. She patted Black Beauty's rump affectionately. "I miss having a horse."
"I had to give mine away—" she sighed and tapped her finger on her chin, a faraway look glazing over her eyes as her mind traveled through the past "—you know, after my parents split and everything," she explained.
"That doesn't seem fair. Sacrificing a beloved horse for a failed marriage you never sanctioned?" Klaus replied. "That's not an amicable trade, is it? Your parents could have at least provided you with that one, last parting gift, surely."
Caroline shrugged in oh-well measure.
"That's life, Klaus. We don't always get what we want," she said. "Not even if we deserve it."
He meditated on that for a moment.
"I suppose."
Sweeping her arm out to hug the horse, Caroline left a kiss against her mane before bounding back over to him all jubilance and enthusiasm. The girl flitted in-and-out of seriousness as easily as a spring jacket. It was infuriating (adorable)!
"Where to next, tour guide?" she beamed, nudging Klaus with her elbow. "What Underworld attractions still await us?"
Klaus considered her for a moment. Though perkiness characterized her tone, sorrow-a pervasive nostalgia for human trifles-flickered in her eyes, if only for a moment. He read it clear as day: Caroline missed home. Longed for it, even.
"I think we've done enough touring for today," he heard himself say.
Flashing to a shed a few paces away, Klaus returned in a moment carrying a bunch of supplies bundled in a storage container. Belts, bridles, and buckles flew every which way. Unfastening the last buckle, pulling tight, he untangled a pair black leather reins that hung around stirrups and turned to face a confused Caroline.
"Why don't you take Black Beauty?" he suggested. "Ride her home tonight?"
Stepping forward, he drooped the riding supplies over his shoulder and approached her.
"You keep her—she's yours," Klaus insisted hoarsely, squeezing the reins into her open palms. "I want you to have her."
"That way—" her blue eyes gaped at him unblinkingly, almost as they were trying to reconcile something deep inside of him "—that way, I'll know she's in good hands—" he cleared his throat "—that she'll be in the care of someone who values her strengths and forgives her weaknesses," he said, "someone other than me."
"She needs more than I can provide here," Klaus continued, waving distractedly at their surroundings, at his Underworld home, "and she can bring you back—she can bring you back if you'd ever want to visit here again, or to—"
Klaus looked away, not brave enough to maintain eye contact. To witness her reaction. He stammered as he fought to get the last few words out,
"—or to see me," he finished. "Whenever you want."
Klaus groaned inwardly as he concluded his speech.
Listen to him! Blithering on and on like some helpless moron who doesn't know when to shut up! Worse, he'd just handed Caroline, the one human soul he wants most in this universe, the reins of escape. He just set them in her hands. Freely!
Was he a fucking chump or what? In general? No. For her? Absolutely. Undeniably. COMPLETELY.
What has she done to me? Klaus wondered. What has she bloody done?
After many minutes of painful, suspenseful silence, Caroline responded. And when she did, her voice sounded hollow and thick with something—tears.
"You—you want to give me a horse? Your horse?" she asked, scratching her head in confusion.
Klaus trained his gaze on his shoes, clunking his toes together and apart. Together and apart.
"Yes."
"You're giving me Black Beauty?" she asked again, her voice tremulous and skeptical.
He nodded.
"Why?"
Klaus somehow mustered the courage to lift his head from the ground and look at her face. Into her eyes.
Caroline peered back at him—half confusion, half curiosity, 100% surprise. A tornado of emotion contorted her features. Forehead crinkled, she nibbled her bottom lip between her two front teeth, gnawing away at her questions, at her doubts, like a chipmunk munching on a twig. Mulling over the possibilities in methodical speed. She disappeared deep into concentration. Analysis.
He swore he perceived a check-mark flash in her eyes each time she eliminated a potential reason, discarding it as improbable.
"I don't—I don't think I understand why you would want—"
"—You said you missed have one," Klaus interrupted. "Now you no longer will."
As he shrugged, placing his hands into his pockets, Caroline's face slowly beamed into disbelief that was fully blonde and smiley and bright.
"I own plenty of horses, Caroline. Hundreds, in fact, so you'd be doing me a favor by departing with just one. What do you say?" Klaus prodded.
After securing the saddle on the horse's back, he chanced a look over his shoulder, Caroline still dumbstruck, and said,
"Would you allow me to make this small gift to you?"
At this, Caroline seemed to resurrect from stone-like shock back into liquid delight. An expression so beautiful and radiant overtook her features at that precise moment, that had Klaus possessed a human heart that still beat; it would have coded at the sight of her. And if her happy demeanor wasn't enough to resuscitate his dead, blackest of black heart back into adoration mode, this was: she kissed him!
"Thank you. Truly," she said as her arms wrapped around his neck. "I am without better words at the moment—just, thank you. I wasn't anticipating this," she added in a choked laugh, "or you for that matter."
Pulling back, swiping at a few stray tears, a smile enshrining her mouth in the gold of unexpected pleasure, Caroline tilted his chin down and leaned in—placing a sweet, kiss of genuine gratitude on his left cheek.
(A kiss—on the cheek or lips—was still a kiss in Klaus' estimation. It counted.)
After embracing him one last time, she climbed onto Black Beauty's back and flicked the spurs into the horse's side, levitating them both off the ground and into the air with a flapping whoosh, whoosh. Wings, black and feathery, stirred warm wind against the ground, rustling the ashen sand around his feet. Burying his shoes in much the same way he buried the emotion in his throat—quickly.
With one last parting wave, with one last glowing smile, woman and horse galloped away into the rumbling red sky. But Caroline's eyes? They remained trained over her shoulder on Klaus, the man she was leaving behind.
"I promise I won't forget your kindness." Her voice echoed from the distant darkness. "But I'll do my best not to spoil your despicable reputation too much," she laughed, her amusement ringing in the resounding caves, "if I can help it."
"You don't strike me as the type who keeps secrets all that well," Klaus bellowed after her.
"I guess you'll just have to trust me, then, won't you?" she countered.
And so, with that, Caroline's voice lightened the dead air no more. Klaus let her go. He set her free from the Underworld—not only with his favorite horse, but with his stolen heart.
After all, what good would it do to claim her dead soul by force if he could win her living one by choice? No good at all.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This transpired from a drabble prompt on Tumblr and quickly snowballed into a beast of Hades/Persephone-inspired mythology. I'm thinking of developing it into a three-to-five shot? Yes? No? Anyway, I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading! :)
P.S. Reviews would be lovely!
xx Ashlee Bree xx
