Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.
Also don't own any characters or the like associated with ASOIAF, no matter how much I wish that I did.
THE DRAGON WILL RISE AGAIN
He stares thoughtfully at the words daubed on the wall, smeared across the stone with something that looks suspiciously like blood.
Kol masks his displeasure with a sniff.
Fire and Blood.
The words of the Targaryen house come to him in that moment, and it's morbidly appropriate despite the situation. He rubs thoughtfully at the three day old stubble on his chin as Elijah makes a soft noise of alarm from next to him.
"One of the men found it early this morning and came to me straight away." Kol supplies a little wearily, raking a hand through his hair, helm tucked neatly underneath his arm. "He didn't seem to think anything of it, but naturally I was alarmed. Sorry for rousing you earlier than usual."
He waves a dismissive hand. He would rather Kol overreact than misjudge a situation entirely and write it off.
"Were there any witnesses?" He asks of Kol, who lifts his shoulder into something akin to a shrug before glancing around the small courtyard in Fleas Bottom.
"Someone reported seeing a figure, hooded and cloaked in the early hours of the morning. But they couldn't distinguish if it was a man or a woman."
"Of course they couldn't." He mumbles under his breath as Elijah shoots him a reproachful look.
"I thought the Targaryen line ended with Daenery's." Elijah leans towards him, dark Baratheon eyes carefully picking out their surroundings.
It's still far too early for the city to be up, but he knows if they don't sort this out quickly, that this will be hard to contain. While the sentiment in Kings Landing towards the Targaryens was generally quite negative, word did have a tendency to travel fast in these situations. And this was not something that he wanted getting out.
"It did." He answers Elijah, raising his voice for Kol's benefit. "But there are probably still people that remain in Westeros that can lay claim to the bloodline, even if it is diluted by countless generations."
"But it wouldn't be enough to lay claim to the throne would it?" Kol asks as he motions for two of his soldiers to begin covering up the writing with paint.
"This is not a conversation that we should be having out in the open." Elijah cuts across him before he can answer Kol's question.
Elijah did have a point. Although the sentiment towards the Targaryen's wasn't exactly the most positive with the vast majority of Westeros, there were still die hard loyalists in certain parts of the kingdom who would kill to see a Targaryen sit the Iron Throne once more, the kingdom of Dorne being the biggest of those interested parties.
"Later." He tells Kol, who nods once in confirmation and dons his helm.
"I'll try and do some digging, find out what the word on the ground is. Let's meet later to discuss this further. Do try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone?" Kol phrases it like a question, like it's a given that he's going to ride off and do something foolish.
In retrospect, Kol does have cause for concern, because that's exactly what he's planning to do.
He mounts his horse, turning to glance down at Elijah, who's patting the neck of his own mount, staring thoughtfully at the now paint covered wall.
"I'm leaving you to hear petitions today Elijah." He begins sharply, pulling his brother back into the present. "I need to pay a visit to the Dothraki. Perhaps they may be able to provide some insight into this… incident." He adds delicately.
Elijah's eyes widen at his words, but his brother refrains from commenting on his choice of activity for the day. Elijah had never enjoyed their visits to the Dothraki, found them to be far too savage for his liking.
One of his first acts upon ascending the Iron Throne had been to iron out a settlement with the Dothraki. His grandfather had been occupied with other tasks and priorities, and as such the Khalasar that had settled permanently in Westeros had been left to roam around the Six Kingdoms as they saw fit.
Although it had been the cause of some tension, he had given them permanent lands of their own to farm and toil and to establish a settlement on just outside of Kings Landing. For the most part, they remained governed by their own laws and customs, although they still did have to answer directly to him. Oftentimes he'd been called to their lands to pass judgement on a particularly trying case, and his word was the final authority.
He had a good relationship with the current Khal, and the level of trust between them was so great that he usually visited them without a guard.
All the same, he made his way out of the city with a peace banner, hooded and cloaked as he took the road that wound its way towards the Dothraki encampment.
It was a pleasant morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the hills, the sun setting fire to the millions of dewdrops blanketed across the grass around him. Even now, 70 or so years later it was still possible to see signs of the war that tore the seven kingdoms apart.
He's greeted by two outriders as he approaches the camp, and he lets the hood slip from his head as they draw nearer, taking note of the peace banner before circling around him, one flanking him on either side. They nod respectfully, greeting him in the guttural language that usually terrifies most of the citizenry.
It's thanks to his grandfather that he's fluent in Dothraki, Tyrion having the foresight to see that the Dothraki weren't likely to go anywhere, and would probably settle in Westeros with very little warning. He'd enjoyed learning the strange language, trying to wrap his tongue around a particular turn of phrase that seemed entirely unnatural at the time.
They clear a path right to the centre of the camp, and the Khal, Khal Rago greets him with a delighted roar. He barely has time to dismount before he's being pulled into a crushing hug, Rago slapping him on the back.
"Little Lion it has been too long since you have visited us." Rago's Common Tongue is broken and hesitant, but he has an admirable grasp of the language used throughout the six kingdoms.
Little Lion was the name coined for him by Rago way back when he was a young lad visiting the Dothraki encampment while his father was King. Rago was about ten years older than him, and never let him forget it.
"I apologise." He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "I was hoping to talk to you privately. There's been an incident and I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight."
Rago picks up on the urgency of his tone straight away, barking out something in Dothraki to his blood riders. Immediately they move to clear away the curious crowd as Rago leads him into the tent.
"I wish you well my friend. I hear you are to be wed." Rago begins, pouring them both a cup of wine before settling cross legged on a mountain of pillows.
He sinks down opposite his friend and accepts the cup gratefully.
"Thankyou. She is beautiful, but that's not why I came. Although we're having a feast tonight to celebrate our betrothal, so you must come."
"Of course." Rago agrees lightly.
The silence stretches on between them as Rago displays an incredible amount of patience and waits for him to speak.
"I saw something this morning that… troubled me." He begins delicately. "Kol roused me before the sun had risen to show me something that was written in the streets."
"The dragon will rise again." Rago supplies with a twisted smile.
"How did you know?"
"It is not the first time I've heard this phrase, but it has only ever been outside of the city walls. I take this to mean that this is the first time you've encountered this?"
He nods as Rago drains his cup and sets it aside.
"It is a common phrase among Targaryen loyalists. I do not believe it is a cause for concern as of yet, but it is something you should- how do you put it? Keep an eye out for." Rago taps his fingers against his knee thoughtfully.
He leans forward, balancing his own cup on his knee as he gazes at Rago curiously.
"Actually I was wondering if it wasn't something that might have originated with your people."
Rago smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"We have short memories little lion. Only the oldest of our people even remember the Targaryen's. If there were loyalists in our camp looking to stamp out the current monarchy, I would bring them to you."
He nods towards Rago, reassured by the other man's words.
"Thankyou." He clasps hands with Rago before climbing to his feet.
His horse is waiting for him, a Dothraki blood rider holding the reins patiently while he says his farewells to Rago, promising to share a drink with him at the feast later tonight.
"Be wary little lion. I will keep watch for you outside of the city, but I can't promise the same for inside the walls."
He bursts through the door of the Small Council Chamber, holding back his snort as William Forbes shoots to his feet, sketching him an awkward if not exaggerated bow.
He ignores Elijah's glare and seats himself at the head of the table, planting his boots firmly on the ground as he smiles apologetically.
"Forgive my tardiness my lord. There was a situation outside of the city that required my attention." He begins, pulling off his gloves and fixing his gaze on William Forbes.
He could always measure the true mettle of a man by whether or not they chose to meet his eyes. Some chose to stare at a spot just below his face, not willing to make eye contact. Others chose to meet his gaze head on. They were the truly brave.
William Forbes was one of the former.
"Of course, we await your pleasure your grace." William Forbes returns a little stiffly.
"I'm assuming that Elijah has taken you through the betrothal document? I trust that there were no issues with it?" He asks politely as William frowns at him.
Time had not been kind to the Tyrell patriarch. Bill Forbes had been far too young to fight in The War for the Dawn, and had done little to prove himself ever since. He'd commanded the Tyrell fortune from a very young age, and although the family had flourished since the War had ended, in the eyes of the rest of the kingdom they'd all but faded into obscurity, and their reputation had improved little under his care.
Even now, grey hair curled at his temples, extra weight hung from his bones and there was a wearied set to his features that hadn't been there a few days ago. Being at Court clearly did not agree with William Forbes.
He himself had taken the time to read the entire document last night before dinner. He wasn't a fool, he wanted to know what he was getting himself into.
"You wish for me to pay reparations to the crown along with providing a sizeable dowry and yearly income for my daughter?" William Forbes glances at him and Elijah incredulously.
Elijah leans forward, a serene smile in place.
"What we are asking you to pay is no more than what any other great family has paid to help rebuild the six kingdoms. You may ask the Tully's of Riverrun or the Arryn's of the Vale if you don't believe me."
"It seems a little exorbitant." William replies with another unpleasant, twisted smile.
"Given that your family has not paid their reparations yet, and from all reports is sitting on quite a vast sum of money, it seems fair that you contribute towards some of the rebuilding of the kingdoms since your army backed one of the kings that tore it apart." He remarks a little sharply as William meets his gaze for the first time.
"Ah. So you're marrying my daughter for her fortune. Is the Iron Bank unwilling to trade with you?" William arches an eyebrow incredulously as Elijah glares at the other man.
"I think you'll find it's the other way around. We would rather not bring the Iron Bank into this considering we only just finished paying back a loan that Cersei Lannister had taken out around seventy years ago." Elijah points out smoothly, diplomatic smile in place.
He falls silent, willing to let Elijah smooth this one over. He had no time for flattery or for William Forbes.
"It's a sizeable dent in your coffers I'm sure, but there's still enough for you and your family to live comfortably. It would do a great deal to mend your family's reputation, if the people knew that you were helping to rebuild." He cuts over Elijah, tenting his fingers together and fixing his gaze once more upon the older man sitting before him.
He reaches for the quill next to Elijah's elbow, holding William's stare as he scrawls his signature across the bottom of the document.
"Sign that, and your daughter becomes the next Queen of Westeros. And I promise I will do everything in my power to treat her well and keep her happy. I know our families have not always had the most auspicious of relationships, but I'm weary of the bad blood."
Elijah lets out a long suffering sigh from next to him, but the tension in the room prevails over anything else.
There's a long pause before he leans forward over the table, offering the quill to William Forbes.
The older man accepts it.
"You're such a woman. Why do you always take so long to get ready?" Kol asks with a grin as his man servant helps him pull a tunic over his head, black with Lannister red trimmings.
He rolls his eyes in the direction of his sibling, choosing not to reply in favour of settling his crown on his curls and strapping his dagger to his waist.
"I'm the King. Everyone else waits for me. Have you seen the Lady Caroline this evening?"
Kol shrugs.
"I'm sure Elijah has tracked her down so the two of you can make your entrance, if she hasn't already made a daring escape on the mare that you gifted her."
He freezes, eyes flicking towards Kol, who just lets out a chuckle.
"Relax. I'm sure she's with Elijah. He seems to have more of an idea of what's happening than anyone else in this bloody Keep."
"True that." He replies, dismissing his man servant with a curt nod. He closes the distance between himself and Kol, clapping his brother once on the shoulder.
"Shall we be off then?"
They wind their way through the many halls and corridors of the Keep, Kol taking the lead as they cross the courtyard and head towards the Great Hall for the betrothal feast.
Elijah had officially announced their engagement after the signing of the document, sending ravens out to all six kingdoms, and Winterfell in the North. He'd been so wrapped up in his duties that he hadn't had time to see if Caroline was comfortable with everything that was rapidly unfolding.
In fact, they'd not spoken since he'd gifted her the horse.
Elijah is waiting for them when they reach the entrance to the hall, his Hand looking surprisingly anxious despite everything.
"Oh good you're here Niklaus. The Lady Caroline has not yet arrived, although I anticipate that she is still probably dressing. It shouldn't be too long I hope." He says above the loud conversation from the Hall beyond, where members of the Court would already be seated, waiting for him and Caroline.
Elijah is right; they don't have to wait for long. It's Kol that elbows him in the ribs, jerking his head to the left as he turns, following the line of his brother's gaze.
His throat goes dry when he catches sight of Caroline.
Dresses in the South had always been more flimsy than their Northern companions. The Northern garb was built for the winter, just as Southron dresses were designed to provide some relief from the constant heat bearing down on the city.
The gown Caroline was wearing was sleeveless, bodice dipping lower than what was usually worn around Court, but not low enough to cause a scandal. The gown nipped in at her waist wonderfully, ruffled silks tumbling to the ground. She wore no extra adornments, her beauty and radiance was clear enough to see. It was a gown designed to make her look powerful, like a woman rather than a girl. It worked.
Perhaps the most striking thing about the gown was its colour.
Lannister red.
His feet carry him forward before he can stop himself, and before he knows it he's crossed the distance between them, ignoring Kol's glance of amusement as he bows over her hand.
"Lady Caroline." He begins hesitantly, and surely he's not nervous?
Caroline returns his smile a little shyly all things considered, bobbing into a graceful curtsey.
"Your grace." She returns quietly, allowing him to take her hand between his.
"You're shaking." He remarks as he squeezes her hand gently. "Are you nervous?"
It's a tender moment as she swallows audibly, confirming his suspicions with a nod but not daring to say anything out loud. And it strikes him then just how young she is, from memory not having yet reached her twentieth name day.
It's far older than most women who had married advantageously to further their families in the past, but since the war things had been done a little differently. It was not unusual for women to be married until they had reached a suitable age.
"I wish I could reassure you that people will treat you with the respect you deserve as my betrothed." He begins in a low voice as she looks at him curiously. "However you may find this is not always the case. I want you to tell me if someone makes you feel uneasy. I will personally deal with it."
"Thankyou Niklaus. Your grace." She corrects herself with a blush.
He smiles softly at her, noting the rosy flush to her cheek as her eyes drop to the floor.
So young.
"Call me Klaus." He reprimands her gently, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and turning towards the entrance to the great hall. Her dress whispers against the stone floor as they walk, the heat from her body seeping into his.
The transformation in her is clearly visible. The smile fixed on her face is convincing enough, but doesn't quite reach her eyes, lest it betray just how frightened she is. Her back straightens, her shoulders pull back, and her chin takes on a defiant tint.
Tonight will be written in the pages of history, the young woman, the little flower, becoming the Queen of Westeros.
He walks beside her as she steps forward to meet her fate.
AN:
Hi guys. I'm so sorry; I know it's been awhile since I've updated this. Forgive me?
To be honest I sort of had a bit of writers block with this story, but I seem to have gotten my mojo back. I couldn't tell you when the next chapter is coming, because I honestly have no idea myself.
Thanks to everyone who nominated this for the Klaroline Awards. It's my first year being nominated, so I've got fairly low expectations, but thanks in advance to everyone that may have voted for this!
I know you guys have been waiting for this for awhile, so I hope it's worth it. Not much in the way of Klaroline, but I start to introduce threads of the overarching plot.
We'll find out more about Caroline and her past in the next chapter or two.
Until next time! In the meantime I'm going to work on Chapter 1 of my Spies AU. Keep an eye out in the next few days!
Katie xx
