Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson were the most notorious Viking warlords the world had ever seen. They sacked, pillaged and plundered where they pleased, leaving behind little identifying structures of the cities that once were. Though England had rebuked them many times, the Vikings were a powerful force to be reckoned with, and as an army, often had little regard for wellbeing that was not their own. Katerina saw that first-hand. As she had been pulled from the keep, alternating between kicking and screaming and simply going limp from shock, she stared at every single lifeless body in front of her as she was carted by. She knew these people, had lived with them, played with them as a child. She tried not to picture her parents in a similar state, lifeless eyes staring up into the oblivion as their hearts quickened in their final moments, begging to pump blood beyond the stab wounds. Shutting her eyes tight, she saw them clearly, lying on the floor, their hair and clothing stained from the pools of their own blood. And yet, perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps they were alive, hidden in the keep. The small ray of hope was soon crushed as she remembered how Niklaus had stood in the threshold of the house, the likewise guards standing outside the gate as though nothing had happened. They'd all but sealed her parents' fate, and now she could never be certain of it. Even if news of their deaths had eventually reached her, she would never feel the true pain she needed to grieve because her mind would forever play tricks on her.
In this way, Niklaus cursed her, just as he'd cursed her land. The blood stained the green grass, making the blades sticky and dark. The man's grip on her wrist was rough, and he kept yanking her along if she began to dig her heels in. As they walked through the fields, Katerina's mind in a frenzy as she battled between the visions of her parents and possible escape routes, she realized that she did not know why she was still alive. There was no sense in killing everybody on the land, including its lord and lady, yet leave the daughter alive. Panic rose up inside her. What could they possibly want of her? She feared the worst, and yet, as she ceased fighting back, she gained a sense of firm calmness. Her tears were silent, and she kept her gaze defiant. No Dane would take her dignity from her, not if she could help it.
The group escorting Katerina was made up of six men. Evidently, they'd decided that they would need up to four extra reinforcements should she resume her kicking spree, which gave Katerina some self-satisfaction. The man holding her was a tall, bearded blonde man and his eyes were flat with disdain, as though the entire event had been a childish waste of time. The others she could not see, as they walked in front of her, but they were all huge, brutish men. Katerina suddenly felt very aware of her own size, though she did comfort herself with the idea that she had her spare dagger tucked into her skirts. It wouldn't be much help, certainly not against the axes and longswords these men wielded, but even slitting one's man neck would be a triumph.
As they trod on through the fields, practically forcing Katerina to examine the wide-spread massacre they'd induced, she realized she could see a camp not a few miles away. How had they been so close, and yet nobody had brought word? They'd been walking for the better part of a few hours, but it would've taken a quarter of that by horseback; the farmers in these parts, loyal to her family had had no excuse. Katerina ground her teeth. More people to blame.
"Where are you taking me?" She gave a yank on the man's grip on her, now replaced by a makeshift rope that one of the men had supplied, to punctuate her question. The man's answering gesture was that of a tug so sudden and so strong that Katerina tripped and nearly fell. The men laughed. "Cattle don't speak."
She huffed, feeling anger and humiliation burn up inside of her. One of the men glanced back at her, his gaze falling appreciatively down to the neckline and bodice of her dress. "Cute cattle, though." Another of the men shoved the one who spoke. "You want her? Don't come crying to me after Lord cuts your manhood off." The men jeered at each other, and Katerina felt disgusted. What did these brutes want by attacking her family land? They were wealthy, and well-to-do, but they had nothing of significance to an entire Viking band. Perhaps it was just a routine practice run, she thought dismally.
Wait. He said Lord.
Did that mean she was going to see Niklaus? Katerina felt herself shudder at the thought. Though both brothers were cold and cruel, Niklaus was known for being particularly unstable. She'd heard stories of the unimaginable ways the lord executed traitors and disobedient soldiers. His brother, Elijah, was Niklaus's lap dog and general of his armies. Though Niklaus was the one who gave the order, it was Elijah who made it happen. It was arguable that Elijah was the cruelest of either, seeing to and witnessing the death of thousands of men. What would such men want with her?
"Don't look so worried," The man holding her rope gave a laugh, tugging it as though he wanted to see her trip again. She looked down at her satin slippers, muddied and dirtied from the walking. She saw the stitching begin to fall apart from the uneven terrain and rough rocks they'd passed over. The group hadn't even been given a horse. Perhaps they were in no rush at all to return to camp. "He'll use you for a fortnight or two, then tire of you. There's only two reasons that you're alive at all: your pretty face, and your pretty sheath. Keep him happy, and you won't end up a pretty corpse." Katerina bristled at the comments, hardening her stare and forcing her feet to walk one after the other despite the aching pain. "Though I bet this one would still fuck a corpse." One of the men was punched in the shoulder and laughter rang out among the group. "You'll see." She whispered, curling her bound hands into fists. "Better you die than I."
It was clear which tent belonged to the commanders of the army, as it was the largest she'd ever seen. Towering far into the sky, and almost as wide as the keep, she couldn't help but tilt her head back in awe. The camp was otherwise modest, with a few tents circling the main one, the grass trodden down and browned from where the soldiers walked. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized she could no longer see the keep, nor really distinguishing marks. For all she knew, the attack was a random one, and she wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. Stepping into the camp was far worse than she could've ever expected, with groups of beast-like men shouting, fighting and, well… fucking. Katerina averted her eyes as she spotted a couple sprawled out onto the mud and looked back towards the tent they were heading for. The Vikings were obviously primeval, barbaric savages and there she was, a slip of a girl in a dark green silk dress.
"Move it!" She felt the jut of a man's palm on her back as she was pushed forward, and managed to restrain herself from speaking out. These men wouldn't blink twice about killing a man, why would they care about her?
Two guards stood posted at the entrance of the tent; these two men looked much more authoritative than her own guards, but the fear was unmistakable. Niklaus apparently had an enormously threatening reach. That did not bode well for her. Step after step in the mud, her shoes were nearly completely disintegrated at this point. Satin slippers were not meant for treks across the countryside that was for certain. The edges of her dress were likewise stained and even ragged in one spot where she'd caught it on a shrub and had no choice but to rip it free. The constricting corset hugging her ribs was also doing her no favors after the expedition she'd just had. Pushing her curls back from her face, she attempted to regain a sense of control, one that was immediately tarnished as the man behind her gave her another push through the door.
She fell this time, letting out an involuntary yelp as she trod on her dress and landed on her knees. A dull ache flowed through her muddied knee after having landed on such hard, packed earth. Lifting her head to assess the scene, she quickly found that the tent was emptier than she'd expected, save for perhaps fifteen men. That was her first instinct. Her second was that the tent was much more divided, as opposed to it being one giant room. The main area, acting as a foyer, she supposed – though she doubted Vikings had such civilities – she could see that there were other entrances, even hallways around the tent. Plenty of places to run. Gathering herself to her feet, she hissed in frustration as she wrapped the edge of her skirts around her fist and pulled them to the side, allowing her to walk somewhat freely. Modesty be damned.
"Lord," The man behind her bowed. "The Lady Petrova." Katerina looked up, but she couldn't have prepared herself to see the man again. Wearing the same smug, self-satisfied smile that she decided was consistent with the reports of his madness, he offered a fluid half-bow that she interpreted as more mocking than respectful. Giving an ironic half-curtsey herself, she dropped her stained skirts to the floor as Niklaus came closer. Eyes never wavering from her own, he stepped forward until he was nearly touching noses with her. She narrowed her eyes, though it seemed that only amused him more. He was a handsome man, that she couldn't deny, but whenever she looked at him, she saw bloodshed and death, and no amount of beauty could hide it. "I see the rumours of your beauty were not falsehoods, though I daresay you outshine them greatly." Katerina dropped her eyes, unable to control the discomfort that began to curl up in her throat. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she cleared her throat and lifted her eyes once more. "Thank you, my lord. I came here voluntarily upon your gracious request," If he is mad, then flattery will surely do some good. "But I should like to know why I am here."
"We have plenty of time to discuss such matters. Come." Niklaus gestured towards yet another doorway to his left. Pausing for a moment, she stepped forward and slipped through the canvas-like flaps to reveal a second, smaller room. A sitting room. Large chairs and tables were set up, with trays of alcohol perched on nearly every flat surface. Despite the drudgery outside, the room seemed clean and comfortable. Katerina couldn't help but feel more at ease. Which is exactly what he wants, she decided, unable but to notice the cot in the corner of the room. As Niklaus entered the room as well, he busied himself with uncorking one of the bottles, and Katerina took the opportunity to reach down and brush the edge of the blade tucked into her skirts against the material, sewn into a hidden pocket. If she did die then, she would not die without a fight.
"Please." Niklaus gestured to one of the simply made chairs, and Katerina sat, feeling immediate relief as her weight was taken off her feet. The skirts were beginning to drag her down.
"What do you want, Lord? What about my parents?" The man was intimidating, to say the least, yet she couldn't help but demand answers. Once again pegging her with a dark stare, he seemed to chuckle low in his throat, an unsettling noise. "I want a great many things, Lady. Beauty, wealth… immortality." Katerina frowned. "My lord?"
"Yes, Lady, I wish to possess that which no man has ever achieved. I wish to live beyond my time, beyond my kin's time… for eternity." He's completely lost it now, Katerina thought, I'm in the clutches of a madman!
He must've seen her confusion, despite her attempts to mask it as best she could. If he wanted something, perhaps she could bargain for it and somehow leave this place alive. The thought of where she would even go was another matter, the first was leaving with all pieces intact. Holding a goblet, he took a drink from it and sighed, as though the wine itself were causing these moral dilemmas. Immortality? What could that ever have to do with her?
Only a few feet away from her, he set the goblet down and began to walk towards her. Her mother's teachings, as well as the primal instinct of fear, began to kick in as she smoothed down her skirt unconsciously, as though she were trying to look smaller. But Katerina's back straightened, and she watched the man stalk forward with the elegant moves of a wolf. She could only brace herself as he'd lean back on his haunches before pouncing with his great teeth. She swallowed, feeling the dryness in her throat.
His hand reached to touch her neck, warm fingertips tracing along the fine blue veins hidden underneath olive skin, starting at her collarbone and moving up to the gentle line of her jaw. Katerina held her breath as Niklaus stared down at her, his eyes still hard, yet his touch as light as a feather. The man was wholly unpredictable.
"Give it to me." He whispered. Katerina turned her head to look at him. "What?"
In an instant, his touch became savage. Grabbing her jaw with his fingers, nails digging in her skin, he pulled her closer, blue eyes blazing and pink lips trembling before he spoke again.
"The moonstone, Katerina… I know you have it."