Note: It's 11.30pm-ish… in California. :)) So this fic is a bit late for the Wednesday update that I promised but I hope you guys still enjoy it.
-o-
that i give you not my hand but my heart
Your wife was the heart that beats beneath your chest. (Claudius Glaber, Spartacus)
She was already in the room when he entered the chambers.
She was seated on the bed, hands clutched loosely in her lap, her head tilted downward in a blank gaze at the room's cold marble floors. She must have been deep in thought because she appeared not to have heard his arrival, and even as he stood a mere few feet away from her she still did not seem to have noticed him at all.
For a few moments, he watched her quietly from his distance. He could not have asked for a more beautiful wife, the Legatus admitted to himself; in that delicate peignoir of pale blue, porcelain skin aglow with the soft radiance spilt into the chamber by the waxing moon smiling at them from her throne in the heavens, with her hair flowing like a golden river down her back, Caroline Mikaelson was Venus in the flesh. That any man who beheld this sight would desire her was no surprise.
But Klaus, Legatus Mikaelson - he was not merely 'any man'.
He was someone who scribed to memory his past mistakes so he could never commit them again. And once, not too long ago, he made the mistake of falling in love with a woman almost as, if not more, beautiful as his wife.
"Caroline."
He saw her flinch the moment she heard him speak, like a burning candlewick flickering upon the breath of the autumn draft. Her name rolled coldly off of his tongue, distant and impersonal, the way a liege might address his vassal. And perhaps, that was the best way to describe what the marriage meant to Klaus; he married his wife to fulfill the pact of living blood his father wrote, but he did not care for her. He would take her tonight to sire the child his father needed, but he did not want her.
The blonde's hands curled tighter in her lap. A ghostly shiver ran down her spine as she slowly turned her head to look at her husband, the man whose bed she would be warming tonight and every other night he pleased.
She met him once before, and she knew that he wanted no part of this marriage as well. He was a warrior whose commitment was solely to battle, a son who disdained the fact that he had to obey his father – she knew that he couldn't care less about her even if he tried.
Perhaps… if she lied to him with the excuse of being worn-out from the celebration… if she asked of him not to do this tonight… would her husband understand and allow her to remain chaste? And when Rome's war with Carthage and Damon's with Silas were both over, if she asked him for her freedom so she can be with the man she would come to truly love… would he grant her the permission to be Caroline Salvatore again?
She gazed at him with nervous hesitance, but Klaus' frigid blue orbs flitted back at her unaffectedly.
"Take your robe off."
Caroline closed her eyes, fighting the urge to spill the tears that suddenly blurred her vision.
There was the answer to her questions.
She lifted a trembling hand to undo the loose knot securing the flimsy garment that barely clothed her body. Her heart began to race, quivering fingers fumbling clumsily against the twined fabric that she struggled to untie, as if an indication of the fear she could not quell inside. Even thought she kept telling herself that this was for Father, for Stefan, for Damon - the broken mantra she recited over and over in her head was not enough to make her feel any trace of peace about giving herself to a man she felt nothing for.
This was the price she said she was prepared to pay for the sake of ten thousand soldiers, and now she had to stand by her name-sworn oath… but was this truly all that she was worth as a woman? A commodity to purchase, a virgin to claim, an indemnity for a pact?
And at the same time the peignoir finally slid gracefully down her body, forming a puddle of light blue on the floor around her feet, a lone tear slid down the former princess of Corsica's right eye. She was worth one hundred gold bars worth of soldiers, but standing bare inside that room, offering herself for the pleasure of the husband she felt nothing for - she had never felt more worthless her entire life.
"Lie on the bed."
She took a deep, labored breath and willed herself to stop crying as she obeyed her lord and slipped into the canopied bed, shuddering faintly as the soft cotton sheets ran smoothly against her bare skin. She heard the sound of metal bracers being taken off and rested on the cushioned chase, followed by the faint rustle of a tunic being unfastened and discarded roughly.
Caroline dared not look at her husband, not even as she heard his footsteps near, not even as she felt the weight of his unclothed form dip in their bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, breathing hushed and shallow; she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, just waiting for this man to take her, waiting for it to all be over.
Klaus' watchful eyes roamed all over the prone body laid out on the bed upon twisted sheets, like an innocent virgin offered to appease the fiery god Ares. She was beautiful before, stunning in her wedding chiton; and she was beautiful even now, utterly ravishing, naked in front of him.
Her blue eyes had the glazed look of defeated resignation, parched pink lips parted ever so slightly in evident anxiety. The soft curve of her milk-splashed breasts heaved with each shallow breath she took, rosy peaks pouting at the cold nighttime air, just begging to be laved and lapped. Klaus slowly closed his eyes, letting himself be tempted.
Oh, he'd run the span of his hand down her silken back before drawing those sweet nubs into his mouth, swirling and rolling them leisurely in his tongue, teasing them with his teeth and the gentlest of bites and nips until Caroline Mikaelson choked in the frenzied haze of pleasure. The warrior inhaled sharply as he allowed the fever-pitch heat of lust surge throughout his own sinewy frame, his hand reaching below to grasp his madly hardening cock.
He began to stroke himself, mind filled with thoughts of how he would take this woman, this beautiful woman who now bears his name. He'd sink into her in one hard thrust, split her apart like a sweet ripe summer peach. Or perhaps he could take her gently… grind his hips against hers maddeningly slow, surge into her with a cadent rhythm of tenderness that'll have her wanting him harder and deeper than that. He'd drill himself into her until she wrapped her long legs tight around him, until her supple body thrashed in the pleasure of meeting his every thrust, until the night resounded with her screams of his name.
He'd make her want this, godfuckingdammit. By the end of the night she'd be begging him to fuck her until kingdom come.
Caroline Mikaelson would know who owned her, and she would never forget who she belonged to.
The Legatus groaned low, beads of cold sweat forming on his furrowed brow. He needed to bring himself to the brink – and yet he still deigned to even touch his wife until he absolutely had to.
Yes, he would take her tonight if only to sire the grandchild his father demanded, but he did not care for pleasuring her, not even for pleasuring himself. He'd never forget that fucking was a job, a task, nothing more, nothing else. He would see it done, leave for Capua soonest as possible and let the gods decide when he would ever see his whore of a wife again.
To do that he had to let the heat of desire take over his rippling body, let the rush of lust take over his wary mind. That rush, which he hadn't allowed himself to feel since that day two years ago when his father 'bought' the first woman whom Klaus asked to be his wife.
Her name was Tatia Petrova. She was the most beautiful girl in her village in the province of Thrace, and Klaus had loved her the first time he laid his eyes on her. She was a peasant without name or wealth or political influence, and she would never have made a suitable wife for a Roman warlord, but Niklaus did not care. He loved her and she said she loved him. She gave herself to him, and he to her, and one night under the starry Thracian sky he asked her to marry him. She said yes.
But when Klaus took Tatia home to Rome, where he intended to wed her in the magistrate's court, Mikael called the woman a whore and in front of his son told her that he would pay her a silver coin for every guard in the household that she could please. Klaus roared at his father that Tatia didn't care for money, but by the end of the day coins were spilling from the Petrova's cupped hands.
Betrayed by the one woman he loved above anything else in the world, he swore to himself that he would never again fall for a woman who could be bought. And Caroline Mikaelson, no matter how beautiful she was, sold herself for ten thousand soldiers.
He pumped himself harder, almost cursing at his wife when he saw her squeeze her eyes shut. Oh the goddammned slut -
"Stay still," Klaus growled as she fidgeted, quickly shifting his body and lowering himself into her, the head of his pulsing cock poised impatiently over her dry entrance. He could feel that the boiling heat in the pit of his stomach, that feverish sensation that told him he was close to release.
Caroline swallowed frantically, trembling lips parting wider - she had never felt more afraid her entire life. She couldn't even think with reason; her mind was filled with the chaos of desperate thoughts and confusing emotions.
She had to do this – but she didn't want this – she didn't love him – but Corsica – and this heat, oh this choking heat that she felt that she couldn't even understand – she felt sick, lightheaded – she could hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears -
Klaus gripped her quivering form forcefully by the shoulder, pressing her to lay still. "Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be." He warned for the last time.
He took a deep breath, aligning his throbbing length to her center and slowly pushing himself in. He hissed in tainted pleasure as the tip of his cock nestled into the entrance of her folds, and he began to grind his hips to finally drive it all in when -
"No…"
He froze.
It was as if time stood still. He slowly raised his head to look into her eyes, blue gray against hazed topaz - faint and tear-stained, yet clearly reflecting that rare form of valiance, found only in having the courage to fight even when one felt teeming fear.
"…w-what…" he found himself in stammer.
She shook her head weakly, her eyes never leaving his. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face.
"You already have my home," She told him, her voice small and broken, barely a whisper; and yet it resonated deafeningly with the silent strength of resilience. Her eyes were blurry, still glazed, but they showed him an inexplicable clarity that suddenly made his heart skip a muted beat.
"You already have my name… you already have my word..."
The room was all quiet. Moonlight poured in through the open glass windows, forming speechless dappled shadows upon the silent marble floors. Outside, even Diana seemed to smile at the two mortals whose fates were entwined by the gods, though they did not yet know it.
Caroline Salvatore's voice broke the silence.
"…don't take what you don't need from me…"
It was all that she could say before she felt her eyes close and darkness swallowed what remained of her mind.
-o-
She awoke to the sound of birds singing their morning songs and the sight of gentle sunlight filtering throughout the room.
She slowly rubbed her misted eyes as she began to sit up on the bed, sluggishly running a hand down her face. She looked around her; she was alone in bed, no one else with her in the spacious room… and glancing down she noticed that the peignoir she took off last night sheathed her tired body once again.
What happened… Caroline thought, trying to recollect her memories of the past night. All she could remember was the suffocating feeling of almost choking in her fears as she looked at her husband, before her vision crumbled into a pit of tar black… did she faint? What happened after -
The low creak of the metal latch against wood and stone made her turn to the doorway.
Niklaus Mikaelson quietly entered the chamber, already clad in the traditional second day robes of green and silver. The warrior's face remained bereft of emotion, the way he had always been around his wife… but there was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her as he made his way to her side by the bed. Caroline could not put in into words but there was something different about him.
"M-my lord," she said faintly. She lowered her eyes and drew the white cotton sheets closer to her body, shielding her barely clothed form from his sight.
She was surprised when she saw him sit by the edge of the bed, almost next to her.
"My lady."
Did he just call her...
"Father will expect us to be present in the morning meal," he told her, both his gaze and his voice softer than she ever saw or heard from him before. He never smiled, but she could feel the warmth of a newfound kindness in his eyes as he slowly looked into her own blue orbs, lifted her gaze from her lap into his own eyes. "I've had a bath prepared for you. Davina will see to anything else you might need, I'll come for you here in an hour so we can head for the dining chambers."
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Dare she ask him what happened the past night, or why he was extending her the favour of kindness now?
Klaus let out a silent breath before pursing his lips in an almost sheepish manner. "And though I regret that I even have to tell you these words… you must understand why I must ask that you act as though our marriage was consummated last night."
Caroline's eyes widened. "I-I…"
He did not take her last night.
"You know the reason why my father had you married to me, don't you?"
"… to hold my brother bound to him…"
"And as long as he needs your brother's word, he needs you bound to him through this house." The Legatus said. "His orders were for this marriage to be consummated. He wants you to bear him a grandchild, so you might stay here in Rome for as long as he needs the ports of Sinuessa."
The blonde tilted her head in confusion. "You did not…"
"I did not." Klaus admitted. "But he must think that I did, for your sake and for mine. And in light of what we speak of, I'm afraid I have no choice but to make this decision. You are coming with me to Capua."
"Capua?"
"If I leave in the next week and you remain here in Rome, my father will find out that you are not with child. And trust me, if that happens he will ascertain you will bear the grandchild he requires, be it by my own brother or any other willing man with the last name 'Mikaelson'."
Caroline bit her lip, uncertain. Capua was a small city in the province of Campagnia, southeast of Rome; she'd been there once, a few years before Silas' rebellion, and though she remembered the city to be peacefully beautiful she heard that its borders to the north were now besieged by a rebellion led by the escaped Thracian gladiators. The heart of Capua itself should be fairly safe, yet…
"Why are you doing this?" she suddenly asked, speaking before she could even think about what she would say and if she should truly say it.
"And by 'this' you mean?"
"Disobeying your father, keeping me safe from him…"
Niklaus Mikaelson closed his eyes. Why, indeed, was he doing this.
"Because I married a lady, not a whore. As her husband, I will protect her. As a man, I will respect her."
He slowly rose from his seat, standing still for a moment as he beheld the blue beauty of the tranquil Thyrennian Sea from the chamber's open windows. He turned back to his wife to afford her a final nod of courtesy before the warrior began to walk away and out of the room, his chest finally devoid of the weight Tatia's memories had burdened him with for the first time in the last three years.
One day when all of this was over, he knew that the woman he married would ask him for her freedom, and when that time came he would give her his consent to allow her to leave and return to her people, bearing only her father's name. And she would be Caroline Salvatore again.
But for now, while she was Caroline, Lady Mikaelson, he would see to it that she was treated the way Legatus Niklaus Mikaelson's wife was to be treated. Not as a collateral to secure a pact, nor as a womb whose sole purpose was to bear a child - but as a woman who was worth more than a hundred bars of gold, worth more than ten thousand soldiers.
He would see to it that she was treated as a woman deserving of respect.
"Klaus?"
He paused, and an inexplicable warmth spread in his chests at the sound of her voice calling him by his name.
He turned around to look back at her.
"Thank you," she said, smiling at him with the softness of the morning sun.
And maybe today was not the time fated for it to happen… but one day, the gods above knew, Caroline Mikaelson would smile at her husband, and Niklaus Mikaelson would smile back.
-o-
She stood in front of the great wooden gates of her father-in-law's manor a week onward, two servant girls by her side and three other soldiers carrying luggage and accoutrements for the fortnight journey to Capua.
Mikael Mikaelson was enraged when first his son told him that he was going to take his wife with him to Campaignia, but Klaus would not relent to threats of dispatronage and even disinheritance. He would renounce his Roman birth and go to Capua as a wayfaring horseman if he had to, he told his father; but Caroline Mikaelson was bearing his son and he would not be satisfied with anyone else looking after his heir but himself. Roman law averred that the husband held power over his wife, and so long as he lived Klaus was the only person whose will was to be obeyed when it came to Caroline Mikaelson unless Mikael could move the Senate to rescript the law before they left.
And so there they were, preparing to leave for Capua, the Senator continuing to muttering words of disdain about the fact that he was forced to purchase the services of a hundred more soldiers if only to ascertain that his daughter-in-law remained in Capua under the safekeeping of her husband.
"Mark my words, boy. I will not forget this." Mikael warned, glaring coldly at his son as Klaus secured the reigns of his horse in front of the cavalcade.
"You wouldn't be my father if you did." Klaus simply replied, letting the ghost of a smile form upon his lips. For all of his diabolical schemes, Mikael Mikaelson was a man whose utmost objective was to bring honor to his family's house, regardless what road he had to take – or how many roads he had to pave or make himself – to get there. So long as Finn won Carthagia and Klaus quelled the rebellion of Thrace, everything would be fine.
He stood back up just in time to see Marcel making his way towards them, his hand leading the reigns of a beautiful white horse with deep brown eyes.
"Legatus," Marcel hailed. The tribune acknowledged his superior's wife with a curt bow before handing the reigns of the horse to Klaus.
Caroline watched as her husband stroked the elegant equine's neck gently, admiring the powerful yet grace-filled animal much like the first time she saw one when she was a little child whose hand had to be held by her brothers as she walked. She could tell that Klaus had a way with the animals, something she had always wanted but was unable to learn… what was it that Stefan always said? You can trust always trust a man who has earned the trust of a horse.
Klaus turned to his wife, who observed the mare with evident wonder in her eyes.
"Her name is Briseis."
He bought her a few days ago, knowing that Caroline, now that she was going with him to Capua, needed a horse to ride; one of calm temperament, unlike the guarded stallions he and his solders rode to war. When he found the mare he bought her immediately, learning only later that by fate or by chance, the name that the horse's breeder chose for her was Briseis – while Klaus' own warhorse was named Achilles.
"She's beautiful," Caroline replied in all honesty.
"Do you know how to ride?"
The blonde's lips curled into a faint grin, remembering all those times she asked Damon and Stefan to teach her horseback, only to be met with a teasing answer.
"The Salvatores tamed dragons, my lord, not horses."
He almost laughed at himself at her answer. Of course.
"Then you will learn how to do so today."
He reached out to her with an open hand, meaning to help her up her new mount. It did not escape his notice how she looked at his palm for a few moments before gazing up at his waiting blue orbs.
And finally, Caroline Mikaelson gave him her hand.
-o-
A/N:
1. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter of That I Give You Not My Hand But My Heart! :) After I wrote this story I really didn't know what to think of it, and the positive feedback is very heart-warming. I love you guys and I owe you a reply this weekend. :)
2. I have decided that this is gonna be a three-shot, but it will take more than three days for the last part (because I am prioritizing the update for Only Red Flames). The last chapter will be how Caroline gives Klaus her heart… and how Mikael finally gets the grandkid he wants. (You guys know what that means, wink!)
3. So our magic word is 'No'… which I read is what Drogo said to Dany when she tried to talk him out of taking her after their wedding. All you lovely readers who guessed it right, send me a message here on FFN or on tumblr about what you want your gif to be. :)
4. As always I am erica-dreams-in-colour at tumblr for gifs, rants and other attempts at social relevance. My multi-chapter fics are posted here in FFN in my she. dreams. in. colour account, feel free to check them out, links are in my profile page. :)