"Ella Fitzgerald- The Very Thought of You"

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
you'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you
I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
Its just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love

He had met her in Paris. It was 1948 and he a failing artist stumbled into a small café on the Champs-Élysées in desperate need of a hot beverage that would soothe the pounding in his head from a night spent buried in a bottle of scotch, drowning his lack of inspiration.

He remembers staring into the black liquid, willing an idea to take hold, pleading for a strike of lightning to capture his thoughts once again when he had heard it.

A soft melody, a sweet serenade forcing his gaze to study the enchanting woman two tables down from him, humming carelessly as her delicate fingers turned the page of the novel she was currently engrossed in.

He was beguiled to say the least, he couldn't help but gawk as she lifted the white cup next her up to her full lips exhaling a soft blow, cooling the hot drink before taking a small sip.

He never thought he'd be jealous of a cup, oh but how he longed to be the porcelain stained red by her lipstick.

Klaus never held much thought in a God or a higher power but he thanked whoever had brought him this divine specimen. For the first time in years he felt inspired to draw something, something that held meaning, something that beaconed hope, and here she was sitting in front of him, perfected for rough hands plying lead across a blank page.

So he sketched her, ravished her with his dark orbs and transferred Venus onto paper. He outlined the golden curls framing her face, spotted the light freckles, faded by a rouge powder and danced around the flowing summer dress that hid what he was sure would be a glorious body.

The only detail he could never get quite right was the eyes he mused as he scrutinised the sketch in front of him, so blue, so full of life and hardship, happiness and sorrow, stillness and fire.

The eyes required colour, he needed to set the bright cyan in the iris, yet mark that hint of darkness, where all the secrets and all the pain was burrowed underneath.

"You know if you're going to draw a lady without her permission the least you can do is notice when the lady has been standing in front of you for several minutes."

He jumped realising the girl in question had noticed his drawing and was now standing beside him, hand on hip and looking down at him in disapproval.

"My apologies" he broke out of his stupor and smiled at the beautiful woman "when the moment strikes I tend to get a little carried away."

"As I've observed Monsieur" she gave a teasing grin, with her sinful red lips.

"Klaus, please" he introduced himself standing up and taking her hand "and what may I call you madam?"

"Well Monsieur Klaus you may refer to me as…Carolina" she spoke after a moment's hesitation.

This struck him as odd but he took her answer none the less with a warm smile and laid a gentle kiss upon her tender skin.

"It's a pleasure" he smirked to which she gave a small giggle and looked down, a deep vermilion blush appearing on her face that he wanted to recreate.

"So" he broke a short silence between them "due to my very poor behaviour I think it's only right that I make it up to you Carolina."

"Hmm…well that would all depend on what you had in mind"

"Perhaps I could interest you in joining me for a drink?" he gestured to the table in front of him.

"And…how shall that benefit me Monsieur?"

"Well for a start you will get to enjoy my company which I can assure you is much better than what you have seen as your first impression"

"Oh really? Do go on…" she rolled her eyes at his boast.

"Well I'm afraid my next point is more to my own benefit than to yours."

"How do you figure?" she gave a gulp at his piercing gaze.

"Because it does me the honour of spending some time with the most captivating woman I've ever laid eyes upon" his words took a sensual tone as he apprised her, this astounding masterpiece.

He saw her breath stop short at his confession and watched her turn away.

He tried to will her back with his mind, finding a sadness take hold at not being able to adore her smile.

When she finally faced him once more all traces of her previous shock had disappeared, as if it never held place.

"I bet you say that to all the girls" her teasing tone was back as she took a seat gracefully on the other side of the table.

"Only the cheeky ones love." he snarked back, giving her his signature smirk.

"Very well Monsieur Klaus" she cleared her throat "why don't you tell me all about this terrible illness you have for drawing innocent dames in bistros."

He took in her hand pointing to his chair with a bright beam and sat down, his blood scorched hot and his mouth ran dry at this teasing vixen.

What surprised him more though was not the lust he felt for his new muse but the delight he felt in her presence, it unnerved him slightly but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to get to know Carolina, and he wanted to know everything, her hopes, her dreams, everything she wanted in life. He wanted to know it all.

Klaus and Carolina found themselves speaking for hours after that, topic after topic; undisturbed by the day passing around them, onlookers smiling at the young couple, sparks of new love happening in the city of romance; a bloom of fate as some would say.

Klaus was besotted with his muse, finding himself enthralled with everything she had to say, and while she didn't reveal much about herself he found himself fascinated with the little she did allow him a glimpse of.

He found out that she had been a nurse stationed here during the war, and when it ended she stayed and made Paris her home, now working as a singer at a lounge as a way to make ends meet.

He spoke of his desire to hear her sing to which she had given him a coquettish look and replied with a small maybe.

He learned of her own passion for creativity, in the form of literature. She had told him of the novel she had been reading, the one he had crafted into his sketch. It was a tale of adventure, romance and tragedy she had said.

When he had asked her why she held so much faith and promise in words of fiction he found himself memorised with her reply.

"The same reason you draw I imagine. Freedom. My cover is your canvas, the words inside are your paintbrush, they come to life and tell stories of worlds unknown where restrictions and rules cease to exist; they are the only places our thoughts cannot harm us but soar beyond depths of small minds."

He had showed her his work eagerly after that, found himself humbled as she complimented the way he had portrayed her, and reprimanded her when she said he had made her far more beautiful than she was in reality.

He told her of the trouble he had with his work, that ever since the war had ended and he returned home a young soldier things had changed for him, his outlook on life was not as carefree and magical as it once was.

Told her that he found truth and all the harshness he had seen to be a block to his muse; he could never truly find the beauty in this place any more…well until now.

Finally their conversation came to a close when he expressed his desire to see her form shine brightly in a portrait.

How he wanted to use his best paints and mix the most marvellous colours in order to truly capture her essence, like a phoenix caught in the madness of a burning wing.

"Could you immortalise me?"

He had found himself speechless at her ask. Could he do it? Could he freeze time for her? Eternalise her?

He decided then and there it would be his best work; the only painting he would look back at in fifty years' time and find no faults.

It would just be her. Forever frozen for his eyes alone.

So he looked at the blonde with the curious smile and gave a small nod, anxiously preparing for a great deal of time spent with his new muse, his Carolina he called her.

They had met at his apartment for weeks on end after that, his back room stripped bare said for an easel and copious amounts of velvet cushions and silk blankets of royal purple and ivory fit for a queen laid out on the floor as he directed his Carolina in different positions, never quite finding the right one.

He would spend each afternoon starting his painting, only to stop finding something to criticize so he could start all over again. Today it was that the lighting in the room had not been quite right, yesterday he said the dress she wore clashed with the colours around her and last week it had been that his lines weren't as magnificent as he hoped them to be.

While his excuses irritated them both, he had found them a pleasant reason to bring he and his Carolina closer together.

He would pick her up in the morning and they would have breakfast at their first place of meeting. He of course would always insist on paying even when she denied him, his time served and family inheritance had more than compensated him to live a comfortable life and if he was going to blow his money away he would rather it be spent on Carolina, anything else would just seem trivial now.

After Breakfast they would make way back to his apartment to attempt the portrait that always ended up going wrong, which would inevitably leave them to occupy their time in other ways.

They would either spend long evenings talking about mindless subjects on his couch or give into eventual hunger and go out to dinner along the Riviera.

They would dance in the streets after consuming too much wine or pull out a deck of cards and gamble the night away under the stars.

They laughed, they argued, they screamed in happiness and annoyance but overall they enjoyed their time spent with one another, neither wanting it to end when that eventual time came and he would walk Carolina back to her apartment to get ready for work.

Even then he would sneak into the smoky lounge and watch her sing, mesmerised by the hypnotising notes of Ella Fitzgerald and Helen Ward coming from her sweet mouth, as the crystals on her tight gown blinded him when she twirled on the stage, the star of the show.

To say he was falling hard would be an understatement, he found his every thought consumed by her, taken by her, and every hour spent away from her was filled by madness trying to complete his painting. It frustrated him to no end.

He was completely and utterly possessed by her.

While their relationship had evolved he had yet to make a bold move, of course there were lingering touches as he tugged at her waist when they danced under pale moonlight and heated looks passed as she stole the cigarette from his lips and placed it in her own, claiming it for herself; but other than that he hadn't pushed.

Carolina was a free spirit you see, always steps ahead of him, he could never determine what her reaction would be and wouldn't risk her leaving if he was to misinterpret something.

Well it seems as though he didn't have anything to worry about, for one evening while he stood trying to recreate the image of the blonde in the white dress sprawled on the floor under soft light, he felt a presence approach him from behind.

Smelling the lavender he sighed appealingly, feeling her chest brush against his shoulder as he shakily moved the paintbrush, a shadow cast over him, watching him.

Klaus felt her soft hand lay on top of his gently, silently asking him to guide her. He obliged moving the strokes over the canvas, leading her in his path.

They both carried on in a comfortable silence when he felt her hand subtlety move from his own and slide up his arm, her nails scraping against his white shirt, he shivered at the sensation, the air now thick with tension.

She moved her hand around his biceps, gently caressing the area before moving onto her destination, from the stubble of his chin, to the hollow of his cheeks, her delicate palm soothed the tender spot, making his eyes shut in pleasure.

He felt her nudge him to face her, and when he opened his eyes he found her own staring at him in a want that made his body react in thick desire.

He took a shallow breath as her face began to move towards his own, her eyes now focussed on his lips.

The movement was slow and while he had spent all this time waiting he couldn't take it any more, being so close to her, feeling her hot breath brush against him.

He quickly buried his hands in her golden tresses and brought her lips against his, they both sighed loudly into the kiss, feeling home.

Klaus moved his lips against hers desperately like a man starved as she wrapped her arms around his neck yanking at his short hair in retaliation, this wasn't a sweet or gentle kiss you see, it was passionate and forceful as the two young lovers felt the unbridled need to be wrapped up in one other.

He felt his own desire grow at her moan of pleasure when his tongue entered her mouth, tangling with her own before nibbling at her juicy lips with his teeth.

He tried to pull her closer only to huff in dissatisfaction as his seated position made it hard to envelope her fully, amazingly as always she read his mind and positioned herself on his lap, curling around him as their tongues moved against one another. He locked his arms around her hips and smiled heavenly into the kiss.

After several moments passed he felt her lower body move and grind unknowingly against his lap making his pants strain tight. He reluctantly broke their union, and laughed as he heard her groan of protest.

It's not like he wanted to stop worshipping those succulent lips. Ever. But he had to restrain himself before he threw her on the first hard surface and ravished her like a wild beast.

She seemed to understand his silent frustration and rested her forehead against his contently; he pulled her closer in silent thanks, embracing her.

"When will we ever finish this painting" she giggled breaking him out of his trance like state.

"I don't know love" he chuckled back "why does my company not please you?"

"I think we both know that's not true" she raised her brow, gesturing to their current position.

"There is just something…something missing, a tranquillity…a genuine moment, something astonishingly honest that it needs…" he shook his head at his own puzzling rambles.

"I may have an idea" she beamed at him after a moment's silence.

He gazed at her in curiosity as she stood from his lap and moved towards the blankets on the floor, facing him in complete seriousness.

He gave a silent gasp as he watched her reach behind and pull at the zipper of her dress, releasing her from its restraints, falling swiftly at her feet.

His gaze turned dark as he hungrily swept her body, now only covered in a silk negligée and sheer stockings, that she relieved herself of one by one, leaving her bare for his eyes only.

Her perfectly rounded breasts, rosy nubs that grew hard at the cold air and as his gaze travelled lower he could see the curve to her toned hips and milky thighs, leading to a stub of short golden hairs that hid a place he longed to have his head in between.

He took a deep breath moving his gaze back reluctantly to her face that peered at him unbashful, her own desires reflected in those blue orbs at his adoration.

"So do you approve Monsieur? Capturing a moment that has been permitted to your eyes only?"

He gulped at her confession and found himself suddenly nervous at her choosing of him, her bearing of the soul and the heart.

It was what the painting needed though, she was right, he could not think of anything more beautiful, more sentimental to paint, freezing an image that she had given to him, that would always belong only to him.

"Lie down" he commanded softly his eyes dark, watching her situate herself in the silk and velvet, leaning on one arm while the other was strung across her stomach lazily, her lipstick still smudged from his kisses.

His own silent mark as the artist of this painting.

He painted for hours, stroking every detail with his fine brush, honing every curve and slope of her body, and capturing every ounce of life in her irises as he always wanted too.

As night turned into dawn he watched her eyes droop sleepily beneath her lashes.

Marking the final curve in his name with black paint, he dropped the brush into the jar of water beside him and wiped his hands strewn with different acrylics and pastels.

"It's done my love" he called out to her.

"Hmm…can I see it?" she asked wearily, removing herself from the cramped position and lying down on her stomach allowing him to glance at her perfectly rounded bottom as he tidied the area around him, trying to distract himself from baser thoughts that had consumed him all night.

"Of course for what would the painting be without its model" he grinned turning the canvas towards her so that she could set loving eyes upon his masterpiece. No. Their masterpiece.

"Oh Klaus" she gasped "It's marvellous, beautiful, spectacular…I'm afraid there are not enough words in the world to describe it, it's above the universe itself."

"As are you Carolina" he knelt besides her caressing a hot cheek and watched as she blushed flustered by his compliment.

"Come now where is my brave vixen gone?"

"She is not used to such kind words" her voice was laced with insecurity as she shook her head at him.

"Then the people around her are foolish cads who are unworthy of her mere presence" he laid a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I know of one who is more than worthy" at ghost smile appeared across her lips.

He smiled and leaned forward capturing those lips with his own once again and moaned as she ran her tongue across his, forcing him to chase after her.

He pouted as she broke away, but his face quickly became still when he saw the great passion in her eyes that warmed his own beating heart.

"Well you have immortalised me as I asked" she touched his lips with her fingers, smiling as he laid small butterfly kisses upon the tips "I now wish for you to make me yours, and you mine"

Her dark gaze made his own blacken, a deep possessiveness rising inside him. That part that wanted nothing more than to claim her as his own, watch his muse succumb under his own hands. But he had to be sure, had to know that this was what she really wanted.

"Carolina I…" he was cut off by her mouth pressing against his own.

"Shh" she broke away from him trailing her mouth to his ear, leaving hot kisses in her wake that made him harden.

"Belong to me" she whispered tugging at his shirt.

That's all it took before he lost control, pressing his lips to the crook in her neck and pushing her back against the cold sheets below, beginning his journey of her body that lasted until the sun shined high in the blue abyss and cast a light in their circle of obsession.

He'll never forget the moment he broke into her after spending a great deal of time on his knees, his tongue deep inside her core before she had tugged him by the hair and asked him to make her his.

He hated seeing the brief pain that flashed in her eyes when he filled her, but it was soon replaced by loving kisses and deep thrusts, making them both moan for all of Paris to hear as they came to their climax.

They lost themselves in bliss as they became each other's, forgetting time and their surroundings, only needing the save haven of their bodies joined together; feeling more complete than they ever had before.

Only two words were uttered between glistening bodies that day…

"Mine"

"Always"

Days passed by blissfully after that, no matter time spent or his mood Carolina never failed to take his breath away and have him falling at her knees, more than willing to bring her happiness.

He told her he would give her the world if he could, from Paris to Berlin and everything in between, it would all be hers. His heart soared when she told him it would all be worthless without him.

His inspiration never failed him any more, after finishing his prized piece that he hung proudly in his studio he found himself with a bundle of new ideas, his muse always eager to help him out.

He painted her bare, he painted her with clothes, he painted her eating breakfast in the kitchen, hair mussed wearing his crinkled white shirt, and he painted her outside, dancing in the rain, a soaked dress clinging to her form…well that one didn't last long before he had thrown her over his shoulder and took her in a warm bath that he'd drawn, the water thrashing out of the tub as she bounced above him, her face etched in utter pleasure as she came to her climax, making him follow only moments after.

Sometimes they spent all day in bed only leaving when another form of hunger got to them.

On other days they spent time in the city enjoying the summer months before subtle touches and feather light kisses on her neck and his ear became too much resulting in a sprint back to his apartment, where he would hike up her skirt passed her hips, rip away the blouse that covered her glorious breasts and pound into her against the nearest wall.

They knew that they were playing a risky game, being so reckless, but the truth was they just didn't care, what would come was fates decision and they were too caught up in each other for anything else to matter.

He was completely in love with her, that he would admit, he couldn't imagine even looking at another woman again, she was everything, the total embodiment of his existence and without her, he was sure he would crumble.

The only thing he could remotely complain about was her refusal to talk about her past with him; any time he'd bring it up she'd sweep the subject under the rug or distract him with wandering hands.

"Who are you Carolina?" he had asked her one day as he lay in bed watching with hungry eyes as she clipped her black stockings to lace undergarments, readying herself for work after a lazy afternoon spent in tangled sheets, soaked by sweat covered skin.

"What?" came her puzzled response as she stood from the chaise she had previously sat upon and appeared in front of him.

"Who are you?" he repeated smirking "I don't even know your last name."

"It's boring" she huffed.

"I don't think anything about you could ever be boring love."

"Well what are you looking for? A label?" she grinned teasingly "adventure seeker, grieving widow, perhaps a jewel thief wanted on five continents."

"Carolina" he scolded her giggling form lightly "this isn't one of your books, I want to know more about you…I want to know everything"

He spoke from the heart and exposed a vulnerability that only she was allowed to witness.

Taking her hand and caressing the soft skin he brought her down on the bed beside him, trying to gauge her reaction.

She sighed at his touch and moved towards him, warming him with gentle eyes.

"What I am Klaus Mikaelson is a woman very much in love with an extraordinary man."

Her words conjured a large smile of his own that stretched his dimples she loved to poke; he laughed and wiped a single tear that had fallen to her rosy cheek.

Her confession of love was enough to distract him from any previous thoughts as he grazed his lips against hers and rolled her underneath him, pinning her to the soft mattress and ignoring comments about being late.

He licked his lips preparing to mark every inch of her skin with his love so that the world would know she belonged to him and only him.

They made love that night in a way they hadn't before, loving each other sweetly, then loving each other hard, loving each other with their words, then loving each other with their hands and their mouths.

It was a glorious night and ended with bodies entwined, no space between the young lovers as they dreamed of only each other, lives spent together in different worlds and different times.

It was a letter that ultimately broke them apart, a simple letter, stained by a coffee cup and written in dull black ink that he found sitting on her vanity one night while he waited in her dressing room as she greeted her fans after the show.

"Klaus you'll never believe what this wretched old man said to me tonight, he….what's wrong?" she had asked him watching his back tense at her presence.

"What is this?" he gritted and turned around, watching her face become one of worry as she took in the letter his fists clenched around, crinkling the paper.

"You weren't supposed to see that" she muttered softly looking away from his angry eyes.

"Well I can see why you would want to hide it from me Carolina or should I call you Caroline hmm?" he walked towards her, his tone laced with venom.

"A Miss Caroline Forbes who your dear mother writes too all the way from Virginia, begging her reckless daughter to come home, back to her fiancée who is just lost without your presence apparently."

"Klaus it's not what you think" she shook her head reaching out for him only to be rejected when he yanked his arm away from her touch in distaste.

"Not what I think?" he roared "Well why don't I tell you what I think" she winced as he came close to her, standing tall, forcing her to peer into his cold eyes that once held such warmth for her.

"I think you in all your notions of romance got sick of your boring picket fence life in a one pony town with an equally boring boy" he sneered at the thought "so you decided to run away and find something a little more dangerous."

"How am I doing so far hmm?"

"You're wrong" she spat at him, tears forming in her eyes. He was too far gone in her betrayal to notice.

"Oh I don't think I am" he shook his head "I think you got a little too caught up in your tales of adventure and decided to have your own."

"Stop" she snarled at him.

"So what am I too you sweetheart?" he raised his brow mockingly "Just one last fling before you settle down, back to your perfect life, with a perfect husband and have your perfect children!" his voice raised into a yell as he finished his speech.

"Stop!" she screamed back to him, finally snapping "You have no idea what you are talking about so just stop right now" the tears were practically streaming down her face.

"Then how do you explain this?" he waved the letter in her face.

"You can't can you?" he spat seeing her guilty look "You're nothing but a liar and a foolish girl, certainly not the woman I had thought you to be."

"Klaus please I…" she begged him.

"No I won't hear anymore lies" he shook his head in disgust and walked around her "Goodbye Caroline."

He didn't give himself a chance to hear her desperate call before he had slammed the dressing room door shut behind him and stormed out into the hustle and throngs of people, hiding himself.

He felt betrayed, how could she do this to him? He asked particularly no one.

Of course she had a different life, someone else who loved her, who was waiting for her.

Everything had been going too well for him after all, the world was far too corrupted to allow him to be happy, and now his Carolina was gone, this girl he didn't know in her place.

He had felt his heart shatter into a million pieces, a hard knife in his gut reading that letter knowing that she had a life to get back to, a life that didn't include him, and a stable world that he could probably never offer her.

So here he was, just like on the night before he had met his Carolina, standing in a dark apartment, drowning away his sorrows into a bitter bottle of scotch, and then another one, and then another one.

He tore her face out of his sketch book and lit it on fire, throwing it out onto the streets of Paris for everyone to see that she was gone.

He took his masterpiece, his most prized possession and held a match up to that too but found himself unable to move, screaming in his blazing torment at not being able to let go.

He grabbed the painting and locked it his old army trunk, a trunk where all his past regrets were kept, so that they would not dare to haunt him at night.

And so there it stayed as the rest of her burned; he cleansed his surroundings knowing full well that he would never be able to completely cleanse himself…

To be continued? Should I do a second part or are you all for the angst? ;)