A/N: Hello again! This is for Lynyrd Lionheart as a combination-ish birthday gift and for her donation to Klaroline Gives Back a bajillion years ago. This story is dark and will contain torture and slavery (not between Klaus and Caroline, but from others to them) and some angst on the way to the happy ending. If that will bother you, do not read it. This story is loosely inspired by a piece of lore from the Warcraft universe, but I've changed it a lot and pushed it at two people who both have no familiarity with it. They have both told me it's very easy to follow.

I hope you enjoy it!

"It is the fires within that burn the brightest."

70,000 years ago...

"I can assure you all that you're perfectly safe. We simply must reinforce the barriers earlier than we were anticipating..."

Klaus suppressed a frustrated sigh as he watched the elder drone on and on. He knew the entire flight was aware that they weren't safe at all, and everyone's determination to ignore it was infuriating enough that he'd nearly developed a muscle twitch in his jaw.

Despite the threat they were facing, the flight seemed to listen to the elders without question, and he found himself running out of patience. The elders had lived since the creation of the world, and most of the flight seemed to believe that their age brought enough wisdom to make them infallible. Klaus, however, found many of them to be closed-minded and stubborn, something that hindered the flight greatly when facing threats to their kind. If he were to try to find sympathy, he could say that they'd never had a threat like Mikael before, but he honestly wasn't all that interested in making excuses for the passive idiots that called themselves leaders.

According to the legends, Mikael had consumed a whelpling for insolence and found that the meat of the dragon made him stronger. He developed an insatiable hunger for the power granted by making meals of his fellow dragons, and with each that he consumed, he grew in size and strength. However, with each whelpling that he ate, his soul became twisted, and the corruption drove him insane.

Klaus had no need for legends to know that truth.

Mikael's own children were some of the first victims of his madness; Klaus was the only one who escaped. Eventually Mikael became insatiable enough that he'd simply consume anything in his path, and the entire population had been confined to the tower for the last century and a half because of it.

No one was allowed out alone; the dragons had lost too many whelplings already. The elders had found a way to place a barrier around the temple the flight lived in, protecting them from Mikael. However, that also meant that Mikael was hungry and constantly circling the edge between hunting other prey, waiting for someone foolhardy enough to tempt fate by leaving the safety of the tower walls. Because of the containment, there was very little room to transform, and without access to their dragon forms they couldn't produce eggs.

The flight spent their time confined, living in fear, staying in their human forms for safety. The elders seemed content to keep things as they were. By reinforcing the barrier every decade or so, Mikael was kept out, and as long as the population remained static, they didn't seem willing to risk losing lives to neutralize him as a threat.

Klaus was not satisfied with that outlook. He had lost his siblings to Mikael's appetite for power, and he'd vowed to himself that he would not rest until he avenged them. He spent most of his time in the Hall of Scrolls trying to gather knowledge that could help him, reading the tales of the titans who had created all that lived on Azeroth. Fascinated by their power, he hunted a way to create it for himself, knowing it would help him defeat his father.

Though he'd brought more than a few ideas to the elders, they'd all been shot down before he could finish his explanation. Since the last incident he'd decided to take a different view of the problem. The elders had to go.

The meeting finally ended, and he immediately made his way to the Hall of Scrolls to continue his research on how to neutralize Mikael, as well as ways to subdue the elders. There was no plan for succession, as no dragons had died of old age so far, so he'd either have to get enough of the flight on his side to convince them to step down or orchestrate an accident that left an elder in charge who was more receptive to his ideas.

He always felt even more frustrated and irritated after attending a meeting for a few hours watching the rest of the flight agree with the elders with nods or apathetic shrugs, seemingly unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation. All it ever did was motivate him more to get them out of the way in whatever way possible so that he could kill his father.

When he arrived, he was met with the familiar face of a girl he'd admired from afar for half a century now, resisting the urge to approach her out of the knowledge that he couldn't let anything distract him from his goal. He'd asked Stefan about her before, knowing he wasn't being at all subtle but unable to stifle his curiosity. Stefan had told him that she was just a fledgling, only having been been born a few years before the containment.

Her name was Caroline.

Caroline...

Through a few more probing questions and some observation, he'd grown more taken with her from listening to her talk, her quick wit and keen mind something that made him pause. He'd overheard her express an interest in fighting Mikael before, had been tempted to invite her to research with him, but knew that the temptation to take breaks to get to know her just a bit better would be too great.

Instead he often spent the meetings watching her, admiring how her hips swayed as she shifted her weight boredly from foot to foot, her full lips pulled in a slight pout. There was nothing more interesting to do, after all, though even if there had been, he wasn't sure he would have paid attention. This time she'd snuck out of the meeting halfway through, her dress hugging her figure enticingly, a frown marring her pretty face that he wanted to smooth. Now, here she was reading a scroll in his favorite chair.

She looked up when he entered, holding eye contact for a few moments longer than was socially acceptable for strangers, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before it cleared and she looked back down, beginning to read again.

He was tempted to tell her to find a different chair because it was his, but something made him pause before he could get the words out. It was strangely satisfying to see her resting in what he thought of as his space. He would have told any other person to move, but he wanted to keep her, wanted to hoard her in his clutches until she was too comfortable there to leave.

He decided that he could have two favorite chairs.

XXX

Caroline had always been curious about Niklaus the Scholar. She knew only what the rest of the flight told her, most of which she suspected was just hearsay. He was notoriously short-tempered, and from what she'd gathered from snippets of gossip the name was a bit of a misnomer.

He was one of the oldest dragons, but not old enough to be an elder, and the only surviving child of Mikael. According to Hayley, he had devoted every spare moment since the death of his siblings seeking revenge, researching ways to kill his father. It wasn't a hunger for knowledge, but for battle. For power.

Still, their goals aligned. She wanted to be able to leave the tower and explore the world, to see the forests of Sholazar that stretched for as far as she could see. She'd only seen the trees in pictures, but she desperately wanted to know if they were as beautiful as she'd been told. She wanted to feel wind and rain and see what warmth from the sun would feel like.

And she wanted to fly.

The only way she'd be able to leave the tower was to kill Mikael, and if she had to ally with a man that she knew everyone was wary of crossing, she would. From what she'd gathered so far, he didn't seem to mind her presence, either. The first day she'd come, when she sat down in the comfortable chair by the shelves, he'd given her a look that briefly made fear creep in her stomach before he'd relaxed, something seeming to click into place behind his eyes. Something like satisfaction.

And she could always feel him watching her.

He snuck glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking, but when she did occasionally make eye contact in return he didn't look away, holding her gaze with greedy eyes that made her cheeks heat. Before too long she found herself seeking those moments out.

He was always silent, but every movement he made screamed power, the way he sat, the way he walked...something drew her to him in a way that she found difficult to articulate when she was twisted in her sheets at night, frustrated with herself for being so attracted to a man she'd never even spoken to.

A spur of the moment decision made her decide to change that, the visual of his tongue skating over his lips as he chanced a glance at her before turning back to his scroll.

"Can I see what you're reading?" she asked.

His eyes flicked up from the scroll to meet hers, and he didn't speak for a few seconds. Her heart was pounding, a flush creeping up her cheeks, and she wondered whether she'd misinterpreted his signals. And then he spoke, his voice rough and laced with the light accent that seemed to come with the Old Ones.

"Of course, love."

She stood, unable to fight off the feeling that she was walking into some sort of trap. Her fingers brushed his as she took the scroll from his hand, the warmth of his hand shocking her for a moment before she pulled back with the scroll, and she swallowed audibly as she looked down at the runes. They were stark against the parchment, jagged and clear, and they had cramped handwriting beside them that was clearly his half-complete translation.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm translating a scroll from Titanic Runes. I believe that it's a common version of a myth regarding Eonar."

"The Queen of the Pantheon?"

"Yes," he said easily, leaning back in his seat in a casual display of the predatory nature she'd been warned about. "The stories are fascinating, really. Quite a lot of information about the ancient magic they employ, as well as some vague references to how to harness the natural power wells present in the area."

It was so unfair that his voice was so calm when she felt so shaken, and it was only when she looked up to meet his eyes and saw the flash of gold pass through them that she realized he was just as affected by her proximity as she was by his.

He wanted her, and it sent a sort of thrilling shiver up her spine.

"That sounds interesting. Will you tell me about it?"

"I've been working on this translation for more than a decade now, and unfortunately the information remains incomplete enough that it's almost impossible to get a thorough picture. However, I can tell you of what I've gathered from it so far. It does seem promising in terms of the power it speaks of."

"Maybe I can help," she suggested impulsively. "I could learn to translate too."

The skeptical look he shot her made her frown, though he cleared his expression quickly, seeming to realize that she'd noticed. "It's quite a project to learn titanic runes," he said slowly. "It takes a lot of practice."

She drew herself to her full height, handing back the scroll. "I think I can handle it," she said coldly, and he grinned, dimples cutting into his cheeks.

"I have no doubt of that, Caroline. It's simply a lengthy endeavor."

"I think I can handle it," she repeated.

"Well then, far be it from me to stop you. Let me know if you require assistance."

"Doubtful," she said, and it only made him smile more.

It seemed that Niklaus was as irritating as he was attractive.

She often joined him in the Hall of Scrolls in the evenings after that, sometimes staying with him until the early hours of the morning. She would sit on the armchair across from him and ignore his attempts to engage her in conversation as she devoured everything he gave her. She could always feel him watching her as she studied, responding with chuckles when she snapped at him to please concentrate on his own work, though he never seemed to be the least bit offended. The rest of the year came and went, and she eventually did come across a passage where she couldn't figure it out. After two weeks of working on it she finally caved and asked Klaus for help.

It turned out he was a patient teacher, good at pushing her in the right direction so that it didn't feel like he was talking down to her. He often baited her into haughtily explaining something that she knew very well he already understood, but she felt like she had to because just hearing the wrong information come out of his mouth made her skin crawl. She still wasn't nearly at his level of proficiency in the language, but she was far enough that she could understand the gist of most of the things she picked up. So, when Klaus sat on the chaise looking at what seemed to be the same string of runes for over an hour, she was curious.

"What are you working on?"

"The final scroll in the tale explaining the battle against the Old Gods," he said quietly, his eyes flicking up and filling with warmth when he drank her in.

"Can I see?" she asked, holding out her hand, but he didn't hand it to her, instead nodding and moving so that there was space on the chaise for her to sit with him.

"So that you can look on as I translate," he said simply.

She looked at the spot next to him, barely large enough for her to sit without touching him, considering whether she wanted to join him. She knew the Old Ways of courting that those looking for mates adhered to, despite having lived only a century. This wasn't simply an invitation to share his knowledge, it was one to share his space. He was asking whether she was willing to give him the opportunity to hunt her, to convince her that he was the one who should hoard her heart.

She tried to remember whether she'd heard anything of Niklaus looking for a mate before. As far as she knew he'd mostly kept to himself. Some of the others had tried to catch his eye, but he'd been more interested in the scrolls and what they could bring him than any sort of courting. She knew he thought her attractive from the way he watched her with heated eyes, how his tongue occasionally darted over his lips when she looked up, his eyes flashing gold. But him actually asking to court her? What could she possibly offer him?

He was still watching her as she fought with herself, and his eyes were focused on her lips as she worried the bottom one between her teeth, thinking it over. His gaze moved up to her face, and where she expected lust and greed she also found what she could only describe as fascination. Want. Longing.

She felt it too, she realized, warmth building underneath her skin as they stared at each other, both unwilling to break the connection they'd walked into, and she knew that there was only one answer she wanted to give.

She sat.

XXX

"It must have been fascinating to be alive before the containment," she said, looking wistfully out of the window.

The Hall of Scrolls was on the highest floor of the tower the flight occupied, and it gave a beautiful view of the lands below them, the ones he knew Caroline had never set foot on due to Mikael. He had, though, when he had been a whelpling. It was odd, how spending time with her had made him want more than just revenge. He wanted to give her everything she craved, to keep the treasures of every one of her smiles just for himself.

He often snuck out of the temple at night to get plants to crush for ink just to keep those smiles. It was dangerous, but he couldn't bear to go more than a week without drawing the outline of Caroline's face.

"It was," he said softly, admiring her profile, the late afternoon sun shedding light across her face through the window. "You would have loved it."

"Do you think?" she asked, giving him a brilliant smile.

"Yes."

"What would you be doing right now? If we could leave?"

"Be anywhere but here."

"Away from your scrolls?" she asked teasingly.

"You can't get all of your information from scrolls, sweetheart. Experience brings knowledge."

She'd stiffened at the petname, nibbling on her lower lip before tearing her eyes away, her hand reaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

They'd been dancing around each other for awhile now. She'd sat by him that afternoon as the sun set, her thigh pressing against his as she bent over him, the mouthwatering scent goldclover and sungrass wafting from her hair into his lungs. Since then she'd kept a careful distance, though she threw him inviting glances through long lashes, had gathered that he wanted her and let him slowly pull her in. It was a long and torturous game, one that left him aching for her whenever she left to bed, but he knew that when she gave herself to him, when she let herself be caught, it would all be worth it.

"Where did you go? Before the containment, I mean," she asked, her chin resting on her palm as she gazed out the window.

"Our flight explored all of Northrend."

"Which flight were you in?"

An odd pang of sympathy hit him when he realized that Caroline most likely didn't know the color of her scales, as she'd never had the opportunity to transform. He often was reminded of memories he took for granted that she didn't have, and it made him all the more determined to defeat Mikael so that she could be free.

"The Red Dragonflight."

"I wish I knew my flight," she said wistfully.

"Fiery, full of light and life? I wouldn't be surprised if you were red as well."

She scoffed at his blatant attempt at flattery, not that he expected any less. "You simply wish for me to be in your flight."

"Perhaps," he acknowledged, and a faint smile pulled at her lips, her cheeks going slightly pink as she glanced away at the window again.

"When you got to fly, did you have a favorite place to go?"

"Yes," he said, and she sat next to him, her thigh only inches away from his. He held her gaze for much too long to be casual, making him wonder, not for the first time, whether tonight would be the night she decided she'd had enough of the chase. That she was ready.

"Where?"

"Sholazar. My siblings and I used to fly there," he said. She often managed to coax out little details about his life before the containment, and the way the stories fell so easily from his lips surprised him every time. He hardly ever talked about his family, not wanting to relive the pain of their screams as their bones broke, the guilt he felt from being the only one to escape.

She didn't press, though, always seeming to know when he wasn't comfortable, instead nodding and asking a slightly related question about the legends associated with the waterfall in the center of the forest, and he all too happily changed the subject.

Over time her questions slowed down, her eyelids drooping, but she was quick to assure him that she was wide awake, asking him another question to keep him talking, despite her clear tiredness.

He noticed she'd fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, her lashes brushing against her cheeks as her chest rose and fell, the rough fabric of the couch making an indent on her skin. He moved slowly as he got up, not wanting to wake her, and when he was certain she hadn't stirred he left to collect ink from his quarters.

An hour later he was still lounging on the chair beside Caroline as she slept, trying to recall every line and curve of her smile when he'd teased her earlier as his pen moved carefully across the paper, dragging the ink to outline her features.

He scrambled to close the scroll when Caroline woke, and she frowned, walking to him. "What's that?"

"Just a drawing," he said, and she ignored his attempts to hide it, snatching it out of his grasp, her eyes widening as she looked at what was on the paper.

"This is me," she said, her voice almost reverent. "You're drawing me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He'd never seen her look so shy, so uncertain. Her face was normally expressive, her laugh offered to him freely and often, her hands waving in the air as she talked, or studying him with perceptive, interested eyes as she listened, but she looked guarded now. Nervous. He wondered if it was possible that despite all of the signals he gave her, the complete focus on courting her and winning her over, that the reason that she didn't give in when she clearly wanted to was because she still didn't quite believe him.

She inhaled sharply when he reached to stroke her cheek, but she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a moment before opening to stare at him. He'd never noticed the light dusting of freckles on her nose, had never had the opportunity to really feel her soft skin under his fingertips, to trace the line of her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Because I want to remember every smile you give me, every laugh. I want to memorize every inch of your skin, the furrow of your brow when you're irritated, the way your eyes spit fire when you throw yourself into debates. I don't want to lose those moments, so I keep them. Hoard them. I've given every signal I can that I want you to be mine. My mate. I'm simply waiting for you to let your fear wash away and give yourself to me."

As he watched her tongue dart over her lips he wondered for what felt like the millionth time how her skin would taste against his tongue, how her lips would part as he pressed kisses along her neck, what small noises of pleasure he could coax from her. He leaned closer until his nose brushed against hers, the sweetness of her scent in the air around him, and he felt his heart pound with anticipation as he hovered for a moment just a hair's breadth away. Waiting.

He heard her breath catch before she closed the gap between them to catch his lips with hers.

He matched her tenderness, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her close, and she responded immediately, sighing into the kiss, falling pliant in his arms. His sketch fell with a thump to the ground as her hands reached to tangle in his hair, a satisfied hum escaping her, and he watched as she pulled back, her lips slightly swollen, taking a few ragged breaths. He let his hand rest against her hip, tugging her to rest in his lap, and she gave him a radiant smile, her fingers fiddling with his hair. She kissed him again, tracing his collarbone with a finger, her movements tender and slow, before pulling back after a few more seconds, eyes dark.

"That's a yes, by the way," she said in what he suspected she meant to be a matter-of-fact tone, though the effect was slightly ruined by the breathy quality of her voice, the flush of her cheeks.

"I hadn't gathered. Perhaps you should have been a bit more clear."

She huffed, poking him lightly in the shoulder. "Careful or I might change my mind."

"I don't think I can allow that," he said with a grin, tracing her cheekbone with the tip of a finger before catching her lips again, dragging his teeth along her lower lip as he pulled away, delighting in the small shudder that ran through her. "Mine. My mate."

She glowered at him, though he saw the twitch of her lips as though she was fighting down a giggle. He couldn't help but revel in her touch, her taste. Everything about this moment was so much better than he'd imagined. He never wanted it to end.

But all stories have an ending, and nothing becomes legend without tragedy.

I hope you guys liked this and I can't wait to hear your thoughts! Was it easy to follow? Do you like the premise? Do you like Klaus and Caroline's relationship? Any favorite lines or parts? Please let me know what you think. Reviews keep me motivated and help me get better! :D