She dreamt of war.
She had never witnessed it herself, but she had heard tales from maids and the elderly knights that had fought under her father's command before she had even been born. The stories of bloodshed and bravery had left a great impression on her as a child. Her wild imagination had painted pictures in her head while she told herself made-up stories of heroism and camaraderie. She had been foolish enough to dream of herself as a knight, but the idea quickly lost its appeal when her father scolded her harshly. A woman was not supposed to fight, much less one of royalty.
And as much as she had enjoyed the idea of being a hero, she was quite content with being a princess. She loved the dresses, the way she'd spend her days sewing and helping her mother organize the court, the gossip of the maids and the prospect of a future as queen.
She was to be married to Prince Tyler of Lockwood, and for half a year now she had been living at the Lockwood court. Granted, she hated the queen and the king and she wasn't too fond of superficial and bossy Tyler, but he had been kind to her and a vicious mother-in-law was nothing she couldn't put up with.
Now that she was an adult, the pictures that her head created to illustrate her idea of war had lost their glory and told stories of tragedy and horror instead. War was not a good thing and had to be evaded at any cost, her father had taught her.
So this night, when she dreamt of war for the first time in years, she dreamt of bloodshed, screams of agony, the cluttering noises of swords crashing up against each other and the smell of smoke.
She was scared, deeply genuinely scared, but she knew she had to be brave.
And despite herself, once more, she was a knight, fighting a merciless powerful enemy. She stood no chance.
She felt the metal slide through her stomach and the next thing she knew the world was drowning in red. The feeling was more than she could bear, filling her with dread and agony, ripping apart her soul.
She awoke with a gasp, tears filling her wide eyes as she shot up.
It took a moment for her to realize that the noises hadn't faded. The smell of smoke was still hanging in the air. She jumped out of bed, rushing towards the window and saw the castle covered in flames, women screaming and men fighting in the yard right beneath it.
It was war and she was still shaking from the violence of her dream, as she realized that reality might hold an even worse fate than her imagination had painted for her.
She was no knight, she was a woman.
She took a few deep breaths, frozen in some sort of shock.
This was not the time to be afraid. This was the time to be brave, at least if she wanted to survive.
Her eyes raced through the room, looking for something she could possibly use as a weapon. The candle post would do.
She mentally went through her options.
Should she barricade herself inside until someone found her or should she try to flee, facing the prospect of being raped or murdered? She gulped, closing her eyes for a moment.
She grabbed her chair and rushed towards the door, effectively blocking it.
Then she moved to the very back of the room, clutching to the lamp post for her dear life, her eyes fixed on the door.
Who was attacking them? Why were they attacking them? Was there any chance of winning if the attackers were already here, on the yard. Maybe they had already seized the Lockwoods, maybe her fiancé was already dead, his dreadful mother, his cruel father, her maids Anna and Vicki, the gentle stall boy Matt. Images rushed through her head and she had to fight the nausea rising up in her stomach.
The screaming outside was unbearable and she desperately tried not to listen. She didn't want to recognize the voices.
She shook her head. No. She couldn't stay inside and wait for her doom like this, she had to do something.
All of a sudden, she felt that her fear was gone, as if it had been drained out of her. She stopped thinking. She rushed towards the door and removed the chair, as silently as possible.
Slowly, she opened the door a few inches, peeking outside.
Nothing.
Quickly, she slipped into the hallway, the candle post clutched tightly in her hands and decided to head left to a secret staircase that led downstairs.
She ran.
She heard a noise and halted abruptly. Screaming. She could hear somebody screaming from one of the rooms. If she was careful she could sneak by without being noticed.
Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the voice.
This was Vicki.
She could hear Vicki screaming.
She took another shaky breath, the nausea and the fear returning as quickly as they had faded and she closed her eyes, leaning against the wall to gather herself.
No, she couldn't leave her like this.
Carefully, she tiptoed towards the open door.
There was a man inside, ripping Vicki's gown, about to-
She rushed inside and without hesitation she rammed the candle post into the back of the black-haired man. Her eyes widened and for a moment she couldn't conceive of the fact that she had actually done this. She heard him cry out in pain. The steel of the candle post was piercing through the armor, penetrating his flesh. He fell to the side, revealing a hysterically crying Vicki.
Blood spilled on the floor and the man groaned in agony.
Quickly, she grabbed Vicki's hand, pulling her off the bed and out of the room. There was no time for sentimentalities.
She turned around, ready to run, but stopped as she beheld of the figure blocking her way.
Her eyes widened as she saw that it was another knight, his armor drenched in blood.
She froze. She had no weapon.
He had beautiful features but his gaze was calculating and cruel. One look in his eyes told her all she needed to know.
She pushed the still sobbing Vicki behind her protectively, taking a defensive stance.
From the room she heard groans and cursing by the man she had stabbed.
She had no weapon.
His gaze was still piercing her, making her blood freeze in her veins.
He took a threatening step forward and it shook her out of her state of shock.
Quickly, she turned around and grabbed Vicki by the upper arms. "Vicki, run," she said, but the girl just stared back at her. "RUN!" she shouted and Vicki flinched, then nodded. Caroline let go of her and Vicki did what she was told.
She could hear her frantic footsteps as she turned to face the man again.
He hadn't moved.
He frowned at her as if he couldn't decide what to make of her actions, his head tilted to the side.
Time froze again and she could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.
"I can't decide whether you're brave or foolish," he said, still eyeing her with interest, but she could feel an air of danger coming off him, as clear as the stench of death filling the air.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, since I'm going to be dead soon," she answered, glaring at him with all the hatred she could find in herself.
He raised his eyebrows and from one moment to the next she suddenly found herself pinned against the wall, his sword at her throat.
A shaky breath escaped her as her wide eyes met his, only inches away. He looked at her as if she was a riddle he tried to solve. Not a person, but rather a thing he tried to figure out.
"Well," he snarled and the viciousness in his voice and features caused another wave of panic to swell up in her chest. "Who says I'm going to kill you yet? I might have other plans for you, love."
Her eyes widened even more, as she realized what he was implying. She scoffed.
"I'd rather die," she spat, her upper lip curled up in disgust as she glared back at him.
He smirked in amusement, raising his eyebrows.
"What's your name, girl?"
"What does it matter?" she snarled, overwhelmed by intense hatred. It was too late, anyway.
He surged forward, pressing the sword tighter against her neck, violent rage blaring up in his features.
"I am not a patient man, love. I've got quite the temper. ANSWER ME!" he yelled in her face and she flinched.
"Caroline," she quickly blurted out. "Princess Caroline of Forbes."
He frowned in surprise as he loosened his grip on the sword.
Her breathing was ragged as she waited for what was to happen next.
He took a step back, a smug grin appearing on his face.
"Now, love," he said as she stayed frozen, with her back to the wall, fear shaking her body. "That certainly changes things."
She frowned at him, not sure whether that was a good or bad thing.
"That bitch tried to kill me!" When she turned her head she could see the man she had stabbed, stumbling out of the room, an expression of pure rage on his face.
She flinched.
The other man raised his eyebrows then eyed the wounds of his fellow soldier, an appreciative expression on his face as he turned his head back to her.
"You'll live, Damon. Get downstairs, I killed the king and his heir, we are done here."
She felt a pulling sensation in her stomach and she nearly doubled over as she processed what he had just said, her fists clinging to the fabric of her dress as tears rose in her eyes.
Tyler was dead.
They had lost.
Damon grunted in protest, but one look from the other man made him change his mind so he turned to hobble down the hallway towards the stairs, giving Caroline one last murderous look that made her blood freeze.
This man wanted her dead.
When he was gone she felt her legs give out underneath her and she let herself slide to the floor, her back against the wall as she tried to get her breathing and her tears under control.
She could feel the man's gaze on her skin but she didn't care.
It was all too late anyway.
They had lost. She was doomed.
He kneeled down before her, eyeing her intently.
"Now, tell me, love. What does a Caroline of Forbes do at the Lockwood court?"
She tried to answer him, but her words got stuck in her throat as her breathing became more erratic. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.
She felt his hand on her shoulder and her head shot up in fear. But despite her expectations she saw that his expression had softened.
"No one is going to harm you, I promise," he said, his voice soothing and she saw a mixture of wonder and… regret? in his eyes.
She shook her head, unwilling to hear his lies.
Almost gently he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"I am sorry for scaring you. It's going to be okay, you're under my protection now."
She frowned up at him, her breathing finally halfway under control again.
"Why?" she asked him, her voice hollow, tears still running down her face.
He frowned at her, licking his lips as he raised his thumb to wipe away a tear. She could feel a tingling sensation where he had touched her skin and her heartbeat sped up again.
She froze, now absolutely confused by his actions.
The shaking and the crying stopped.
"Why are you here, Caroline?" he asked, his voice calm and friendly.
"I am… was to be married to Tyler," she answered, remembering her loss.
A smile spread on his face.
He got up on his feet, holding a hand out to her to help her up.
She didn't take it, but instead got up on her own, her legs still shaky, but she could handle herself. Strangely enough, the fear had receded to a bearable level.
He smirked, raising his eyebrows.
He snuck his hand around her waist, leading her towards the stairs.
"Can't have you trying to escape, can I?" he chimed.
Then, suddenly, he halted in his steps, the smirk growing on his face and turned to look at her.
"Oh, how rude of me," he started. "I haven't introduced myself yet."
She frowned up at him.
He grinned down at her, as if he was genuinely enjoying himself.
"I am Prince Niklaus of Mikaelson. Call me Klaus."