A/N: Thank you so much for your support for this story, guys. It's amazing. Please leave some of your thoughts after reading.
And while you read, I strongly recommend listening to "Swan's Death" by impact Music and "Devil's Waltz" (both from NBC Dracula OST) and Wojciech Kilar's (he died today - may he rest in peace, he was a great composer) "The Brides" (Coppola's Dracula OST).
.
Chapter 3
a tangled web we weave
Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.
—Edgar Allan Poe
.
.
.
When the engaged couple is done with the congratulations and best wishes, Klaus approaches Tyler. Caroline watches him cross the room in long confident strides manoeuvring between people with almost inhuman grace. Or maybe it's the crowd that instinctively draws aside like a curtain as he walks.
"Please accept my heartfelt congratulations." With the palm of his hand placed on his chest, Klaus bows to them.
"I know I should have told you—" Tyler shakes his head apologetically, but Klaus waves his hand to stop his guest. Caroline stares at her fiancé with her lips parted. The look on Lord Niklaus' face in the moment of the announcement was far from surprised.
"Nonsense, my friend. A true gentleman would do anything to impress the lady of his heart." A barely perceptible smirk forms on Klaus' lips. "You've certainly achieved the intended effect."
Caroline holds her breath under his gaze. So intense. She's afraid he might see through her. The thought of this man seeing all her most secret hopes, dreams, fears—it strikes terror in her heart. It's so irrational yet, to her own astonishment, so believable.
He's a snake in the grass. Under his mask of perfect manners danger's billowing. But there are moments she lets herself believe she has some strange power over him. Her gut tells her it's probably foolish and naive, and might get her hurt.
"If you don't mind, Caroline, I would like to have a word with Tyler. On the side."
"Of course." She musters a smile.
They walk away. Caroline fixes her eyes on the back of Klaus's neck, unable to take her eyes off him. Then she realizes he's discreetly turned his head to the left and is watching her out of the corner of his eye as he leads Tyler outside. The blonde's cheeks flush. She spins around catching a flute of champagne from the passing waiter.
Just an hour ago Lord Niklaus seemed a saviour. But now... She'd be damned if she knew.
.
.
.
"Have you fed today?" Suddenly Klaus sounds irritated. He stands in front of Tyler with his hands clasped behind his back waiting for an answer he already knows.
"No." Tyler hangs his head. They've set a daily routine to make the transition as trolerable as possible, but today Tyler's been distracted.
"It's showing." The Lord hisses. "Go and feed before you go on a rampage at my party."
Tyler nods, showing Klaus his obedience. Klaus has scolded him many times during their stay in the Carpathians. Becoming a hybrid, controlling the blood lust—it was a feat of endurance. Klaus himself often ventured into the woods to hunt and came back covered in fresh blood, while Tyler was rarely allowed to go. As Klaus said, one needed to learn to control the urges to be able to let go when the time comes.
Klaus' anger fades as quickly as it rose. He smiles and pats Tyler on the back. "Be careful. I'll keep Caroline occupied so she doesn't see you."
Before they part, Tyler reaches out to Klaus. "Thank you. For being my friend, for protecting me." Klaus gives Tyler's hand a firm shake.
"How could I not?"
.
.
.
Galen Vaughn's blurry vision slowly clears up. Candles have chased the darkness away. The leather straps still keep him down, but the paralysis is gradually subsiding. He moves his right foot, left foot, makes a few circles with his wrists and stretches out his fingers. He's receiving doses adequate for an average human being. Thankfully, he is not one. His tolerance is growing every day, so it's only a matter of days till he regains his powers and is able to run away.
"I see the pretty boy is up." He hears a woman's voice—a sweet one, but with a deadly tinge—coming from the corner of the cell.
"Who's here?" He rasps, his throat dry from the hours of drug-induced sleep.
The figure creeps out of the shadows. Her long blonde hair falls freely on her shoulders instead of being pulled into a fashionable braid young socialites wear. She's strikingly beautiful with her big bright eyes and full lips. In the candlelight she looks like an angel, but his hunter senses keep him on guard.
She comes closer taking slow steps toward him, her eyes darken roaming over his form. When she finally stands over his bed, Vaughn's body is set alight with every muscle fighting to break free. Even drugged, he recognizes the feeling. It's his instinct telling him to grab a stake and drive it right through her dead, black heart. The girl only chuckles seeing him writhe in agony of his calling.
"I'm your companion for the evening since doctor Donovan's gone to some newcomer's fancy party." Her hand gently brushes over his cheek and then down his chest. The hunter shakes with anger under her touch. "You hunters always come as a piece of art."
Vaughn's lip curls up in contempt. "What do you want, leech?"
A glass of water comes out of nowhere and the liquid splashes all over his face.
"How to treat a lady: lesson one. Do not offend her. " The vampire recites. Water seems to have awakened him a little. "If you behave, you may get a drink."
The hunter's fists clench and unclench, pacifying his urge to kill the girl. She watches him calm down, content with the way a simple glass of water can have on men.
"You can't kill me," Vaughn reasons, "so why are you here?"
"Imagine the curiosity of a psychiatry student when she discovers there's a man in the asylum claiming he's a vampire hunter." She raises her eyebrows faking a shocked tone. "My task for tonight is to take the patient's medical history."
Vaughn shakes his head at the irony of the situation.
"I might ask you some off-protocol questions as well." She narrows her eyes at him, any sign of amusement vanishes from her face. "Interview with a hunter. This sounds like a book title, don't you think?"
.
.
.
After two glasses of champagne Caroline's mood lightens up. All she hears are compliments, and for the first time she outshines Elena. Her friend, slightly upset at first, finally relaxes as well. Caroline forgets about Tyler's strange behaviour while Elena stops complaining about how Matt never dances. The band graces them with lively folk tunes, and so they laugh and dance, changing dance partners as they please. The party's different from the typical society gatherings in London. The atmosphere's much lighter, the drinks have a foreign but delicious taste. Lord Niklaus must have brought some secret recipes with him. Or some dark magic, even.
Elena's worn Sir Arthur Hillsworth out. The poor man can barely catch a breath. Still having energy to dance, the brunette beauty looks around searching for her next victim. But when her eyes meet a pair of bright, almost unnaturally blue eyes, her heart skips a beat. Without a word, she struts through the crowd leaving her friend alone. Caroline calls her name, but Elena disappears in the sea of suits and dresses.
"There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour." At the sound of Klaus' voice shivers run down Caroline's spine. Her shoulders get tense. She turns around feeling a sudden tightness in her chest.
"Not my words, of course." Klaus chuckles. "They belong to my dear friend, Charles Dickens."
"I've heard he was a dark man." Caroline remarks. She's doing everything not to lose her composure.
"The more reasons to like him."
Caroline brings the champagne flute to her lips to keep her hands and mouth busy. Klaus observes her sensing her discomfort. Her heartbeat has quickened significantly. He can hear the blood thunder in her veins.
As if on cue, the music slows down to a waltz. He extends his hand to her.
"One dance?" Seeing her hesitation, he tilts his head to a side with a charming smile on his face. "I won't bite."
She involuntarily wets her lips with her tongue, a gesture that captures his whole attention. He stares at her wondering how she would taste now, not in a dream but in the real world. Just when she nods and her curls dance around her face just like they did in Tyler's dream, Klaus regains clarity of thought.
The reality is even more amazing than the dream. When he puts his hand on the small of her back, Caroline takes a sharp breath. The spark that his touch elicits in her renders them both speechless. They sway but not to the music—they find a rhythm of their own.
She's a vision. A rose, delicate in her beauty, but with thorns of her mind so sharp that can leave you bleeding to death.
"You know," he whispers to her ear, "you're quite a dancer."
"I'm practicing before the..." The words get stuck in her throat.
"The wedding?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am told I'm a good dance partner. In case you want more practice." He spins her around. Caroline falls back into his arms, and the collision makes her realize where she is and what she's doing.
"I guess you're many things." She throws him a challenging look. She might be dancing with the devil himself right now. The devil that has Tyler in his grip. Feeling her courage surging up, Caroline raises her chin. "But the question is, who's Tyler now?"
The change of subject obviously irks Klaus whose steps become longer and faster.
"I'm sure he'll explain it to you when the time is right."
Caroline doesn't slow down either.
"I'm not blind. I see he's changed."
"He did say you're very perceptive."
"What happened in the Carpathians?" She inquires.
Klaus turns her around again, this time not so gently. She grabs him by the arm, holding tight onto him to maintain her balance. His eyes light up at the contact. If he could, he would take her back to his castle in the wildest, forgotten part of Europe and keep her there until she surrendered to him. Until her thoughts were totally and irreversibly wrapped around him, until she went mad.
The music fades.
They stop dancing.
"All in its due time." He says with an unreadable expression on his face and kisses the top of her hand. "Thank you for your company, love, but I must go now."
.
.
.
The sharp scent of blood penetrates Klaus' nostrils.
"Damn you, Tyler Lockwood." He mutters as he hurries down the hallway towards his enormous garden, following the instinct. If Tyler lost control, he might expose them. Having to compel a half of London would be a major impediment to his plan. He needs to test the waters first, know enemies from friends. There will be enough time for drinking through the neighbourhoods.
When he reaches the garden, however, he finds something even more disturbing than just young Lockwood sucking a lady dry. Two men are fighting over a numb body of Elena Donovan. From what Klaus can discern, neither of them is human.
"I warned you, Stefan. Leave. Her. Alone!" The dark-haired one takes another swing and delivers a punch to the other's jaw. Stefan's eyes are dark like the sky above them, thin veins spread over his pale face. He's panting and growling like a rabid animal. Klaus knows too well what state the man's in. It's emotionless void a vampire falls into after suffering too much. The wild vampire lounges forward clawing at Elena's defender, his fangs bared. Before he reaches his target, Klaus flashes in front of him and grabs him by the collar of his shirt. Stefan's body is thrown into one of the ornamented fountains present among grass and rose beds. The impact's so strong a sculpture of cupid falls down. The beaten one quickly weighs his chances. The host is a vampire too, apparently, but no vampire can even hold a candle to the strength he possesses. He must be centuries old, or maybe even older than God himself.
The attacker growls, a threat that surely will be fulfilled, and then he's gone.
Both Klaus and the dark-haired one rush to Elena's side. The stranger bites at his wrist, but Klaus is already feeding Elena with his blood and watching the wound on her neck fade away.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Klaus growls at the intruder.
The man's pale blue eyes widen. "What are you?"
.
.
.
"If you don't want to be yet another pauper lunatic here, you better cooperate." Rebekah groans. For hours now she's been trying to investigate the hunter's history, medical and personal. The man remains stubbornly silent, his persistence driving Rebekah mad but earning him her respect at the same time. She's not accustomed to defiance. She has been always the untamed, bold one. Of course men stood up to her all the time. Usually, after a confrontation they just didn't have legs to stand on.
"You know, just because I can't kill you it doesn't mean I can't tear you apart." Rebekah hovers over his bed, leaning against the metal rails. "Piece by piece, nerve by nerve, till the pain is so severe your brain shuts it off to give you just one tiny moment of blessed relief. Then I'll heal you and I'll do it again and again. Those rugged good looks won't save you, hunter."
The hunter stares at her with his blue eyes that aren't stained by fear at all. He mocks her with a knowing smirk. Maybe he's really bonkers, Rebekah muses.
"I'll be back tomorrow, in a less merciful mood."
Just when she turns to leave, she hears him clear his throat.
"Why don't we play a game? My answer for your answer."
Rebekah laughs him off. "You are in no position to ask questions."
"My current position doesn't allow me for much, I admit," he snorts tugging at the leather straps that bind him to the bed, "so you could at least indulge a madman with a chat."
.
.
.
Matt Donovan's having a conversation with his colleagues when Klaus Mikaelson appears by his side holding Elena. She can barely stand, her knees weak—from a shock rather than injury. All she remembers is that she's fainted in the empty garden. She remembers feeling sick, and then everything went black. The memory is vague, though, dreamlike.
"Doctor Donovan, I'm afraid your wife isn't feeling well."
The doctor's face twist in horror at the sight of pale, trembling Elena. "God, what happened?"
"I found her in the garden. She must have fainted."
Elena remains silent, her gaze absent. Her husband wraps his arms around her, supporting her so she doesn't fall again.
"Thank you so much Mr— I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced."
"Klaus Mikaelson. I'm the host of this manor."
"Oh. Right! It's a pleasure." Matt frantically shakes Klaus' hand. "Thank you so much. I think we should go home now. My wife needs some rest."
"Certainly."
Klaus sees them to the door of the main hall. When his guests put on their coats, he gestures at a maid to call the coachman. Elena still looks like in a daze.
"Before you go, I would like to make you a business offer, doctor Donovan."
"A business offer?" Matt seems genuinely surprised. "I'm not sure if you know, but I am in charge of an asylum. It's hardly a place to make business."
"I'm extremely interested in medical progress. I've lived in places where a simple toothache could kill a man. I know that psychiatry is the least developed branch of medicine. And I've heard about your aspirations to reform the asylums."
The doctor nods humbly. "Patients are treated like vermin just because of their mental condition. I wish I could change the status quo. I invested my personal savings in the hospital, but unfortunately, it's not enough."
"That's where I and my means come to the rescue. I would like to make a considerable donation to your cause." Klaus announces. The closer he gets to the Donovans, the better. He'll worm his way into their life unnoticed. He'll gain access to Elena's blood, he'll steer her life in the right direction, he'll be in charge of the doppelganger line. He didn't think it would be so simple. Fortune favours him. At last.
"Changing the status quo is exactly what I have in mind."
.
.
.
"Tyler?" Caroline's wandering around the labyrinth of hallways and doors. Her fiancé has been missing for half of the evening now. Klaus is back in the ballroom, but there's no sight of Tyler. This doesn't bode well.
The mansion is both breathtaking and frightening. The portraits on the walls watch her every step as she strays from one room to another. Music and laughter, so loud in the ballroom, are absent here. If it wasn't for her dress rustling over the floor, the silence would become unbearable. How can one man live in such a castle?
She walks into an enormous bedroom, all mahogany and gold. A four-poster bed big enough for more than two reigns supreme in the centre. When she ventures further, she notices a painting above the door. Two men and a woman, all young and insanely beautiful. The taller of the men exudes royalty, the way he stands straight and looks proudly at the painter. The shorter one looks younger, but the same square jaw and narrow eyes are an irrefutable proof the men are related. And there's the girl. A blonde jewel with a long neck and rosy cheeks. By the way she stands between them holding each one's arma suggests she's their sister. None of them appears happy, though.
Caroline's distracted by a suspicious murmur coming from the hallway. She cautiously peeps out from behind the heavy door. The murmur's approaching and turning into heavy panting. Her heart's racing while her eyes follow the shadow coming closer and closer. It's getting longer with every step. Footsteps are echoing in her ears, cutting the silence. When the man passes by the door, she gasps.
"Tyler?"
But the demonic yellow eyes aren't Tyler's anymore. Nor are the sharp fangs. The elegant clothes he's wearing are stained, not with single drops—the whole shirt that used to be pearl white is now crimson. Blood trickles down his chin.
She's staring at a beast.
Tyler prowls closer. With every step he takes forward Caroline takes one back till she hits the bedroom window. She's trapped. And he doesn't recognize her.
"Tyler, please."
But he doesn't hear her. His pupils dilate and focus on her neck. The predator inside him has taken over. She's begging him no to do this. He's better than that. He loves her, he must remember that somewhere deep down he still cares about her. Moving with supernatural speed he's at her throat in a flash. Caroline's scream is cut off when his fangs effortlessly cut her skin. Agonizing pain shoots down her neck and spine. Unable to move, unable to scream, Caroline thinks of her impending death. Her eyes haze over.
She doesn't want to die.
And then it's gone. Pain's gone.
When she opens her eyes a second later Tyler is pinned by the neck to the opposite wall by Klaus. Her fiancé struggles, but he's powerless against his opponent's grip. If Tyler's strength is supernatural, what does it make Klaus?
"Wake up!" He growls, and Tyler's eyes turn brown again. Puzzled, he looks around and freezes seeing Caroline coiled on the wooden floor. With a trembling hand he touches his lips.
"Look what have you done." Klaus is seething. "What did I say about control?"
"I just couldn't stop. I couldn't stop!" Tyler hides his face in his hands. His voice breaks. "I'm so sorry, Caroline. Please forgive me."
Caroline watches them with her lower lip trembling. Her body is stiff with fear. Droplets of blood now decorate her dress along with the diamonds.
"Go, Tyler." Klaus orders. "Wait for us in the drawing room."
When they are alone, Klaus walks to Caroline. Her horror-struck eyes bore into his. She glares at him with disgust. She's shaken to the core by the atrocity she's just witnessed. For the first time in centuries Klaus is touched by someone else's pain.
As he picks her rigid form from the ground he whispers, "Shh. It's okay. It's me. You're safe." Caroline swallows a whimper. There's still blood on her neck.
He holds her in his arms stroking her head and rocking back and forth. He holds her like he did in Tyler's dream. But this time it's real, tangible. He can touch her and feel the warmth she emanates. His hand brushes over her bare back while the other still fondles her hair. Again, for a fraction of a second the world means nothing.
"My apologies, love. You're just a collateral damage."
Tears are welling up in Caroline's eyes, but it's not sadness that's driving her now. It's fury.
A hand strikes him across the face. He doesn't even know where it came from, but the stinging sensation it leaves shocks him.
Caroline's hand hurts like burnt by hellfire. "You monster." She mutters through the gritted teeth, standing in front of him, swaying on her legs.
"What did you do to him?! What did you do?!"
.
.
.
TBC