Notes: New Year's Resolution: finish some fic things! Here's the next chapter and the big confrontation. Thanks to everyone who's still coming along. Let me know what you think!
Chapter Ten: Louder Than Ever
He's not in the mood for company.
Klaus has been pacing the halls of the compound for hours, flitting in and out of unoccupied rooms, his ears carefully trained to pick out the sounds of an approach. While it's a large residence, even ostentatious, or so he's been told, it's begun to feel cramped. He'd ordered everyone to stay indoors once enemies began to infiltrate The French Quarter, ensured that the windows stayed covered, knowing it was likely Tristan would attempt to get eyes on the building, if only to get an accounting of players to inform his strategy.
It would be easier if they were dealing with an idiot though perhaps less satisfying. Winning, watching the confidence in Tristan's eyes dim, shredding his sense of superiority, is going to be a treat.
One that Klaus would savor for weeks while Tristan enjoys the dubious comforts of the basement cells and he and Elijah dismantle everything Tristan has built.
The close quarters, the mounting stress, have led to both blowups and seething frostiness and Klaus isn't up to listen to more complaints or petty squabbles. Everyone has been instructed to gather in the ballroom promptly at seven (though he imagines his patience will be tested with lateness) to go over the plan for tomorrow night's confrontation. He's been organizing his thoughts while he's walked, going over what he knows of Tristan, the information Caroline, Lucien and Freya have offered about his habits in the last decade. Klaus is just as afflicted with restlessness as everyone else, has found himself longing to spend a few hours in wolf form, and the movement is the managing to help him focus.
The idea of tomorrow going badly is untenable; another endless stretch of days strapped to a table a fate he refuses to contemplate. He needs to be at his best. They've got Tristan nicely boxed in but Klaus wanted every contingency accounted for.
There's been some grumbling about his demand that they run through plans as a group, and Klaus' insistence that attendance was not optional, but his siblings and their assorted guests will all be there. He only hopes that gathering the house's occupants in one room doesn't end in disaster.
Priceless pieces of furniture, art, and the house itself, have paid the price for ill temperaments. When things calm Klaus will have to decide if he wants to fix the wall on the second floor or just take the opportunity the Lucien-sized hole offers and open up the space up entirely.
He's not particularly good at playing mediator, nor does he enjoy the task, but Klaus has been unable to avoid it. Taking some space, giving all the breathing occupants of his home a wide berth for a bit (thankfully saving him from having to listen to their issues) seems like a prudent course of action.
He's enjoying the peace and quiet. Until he hears the singing.
It's not a song he recognizes but he knows the voice. Klaus abandons his solitude without hesitation, doubling back towards the ballroom. Caroline's vocals become clearer as he gets closer. She sings absently, melodic and sweet, occasionally skipping words and dropping into a hum. The first doorway he comes to is ajar and he slips into the room. Caroline doesn't notice, the headphones in her ears obscuring the sound of his footsteps. She's intent on her task, sorting through a stack of the boxes delivered by the party vendors in front of her.
She's turned on every light the ballroom has, brightening the room despite the heavy velvet drapes that cover the windows and doors that lead outside. The room still smells faintly of chemicals, paint and cleaning supplies. The gold and crystal of the chandeliers glint and the wood floors are buffed to a high shine. It's a bit cluttered, tables and chairs stacked around the perimeter, and he's not surprised Caroline has taken it upon herself to impose some order.
Klaus takes a moment to observe her, smiles at the slight shimmy of her shoulders and the bobbing of her haphazard ponytail as she sings more enthusiastically. He's warmed by the knowledge that she feels safe enough in his home to let her guard down. She'd spent the first few days seeming hunted and, given the stories she's told about living with Tristan, he knows she'd never been comfortable in the man's homes.
Ten years was an awful long time to spend looking over your shoulder.
He doesn't want to risk sneaking up on her. Caroline might be relaxed but, given the tenseness of the situation they're in, he's sure she'd lash out if he startles her. Klaus could easily fend off an attack, of course, but he'd rather not have to. There would be plenty of violence tomorrow and the next time Caroline touches him he wants it to be for a very different reason. He steps back, reaches for the door and pushes with enough force so shut it with a bang. Caroline would feel the vibration even if her music is overly loud.
She goes rigid, whirling with bared fangs. Her grip on the box cutter shifts, making it a weapon, even as her free hand closes into a tight fist. She appears fierce, dangerous, and Klaus moves closer. Caroline's breath leaves her in a rush when she spots him, her posture going lax. She yanks the headphones from her ears, "Way to scare the crap out of me, Klaus." She takes a deep inhale and the black veins around her eyes recede.
Pity, because Klaus finds them fascinating.
He lifts his hands, making his way towards her, "Apologies. I haven't seen you around much today."
"Yeah, I've been trying to lay low. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire of a super old vampire brawl. I'm a little more delicate than most of the rest of you."
Klaus swallows a harsh noise along with the instinct to assure her that no one would harm a hair on her head without invoking his deep displeasure or suffering consequences. She'd not find acts of violence, particularly against allies, in her name endearing. He keeps his reply light, "Yes, I was just considering the redecorating I'll have to do."
She grimaces though he detects a twinge of amusement, "Yeah. Good thing that wasn't a load bearing wall. It's hard to host a fancy party in a pile of rubble."
He inclines his head, turning his attention to the open boxes of party paraphernalia scattered about. He'd checked in on the delivery, wanting to compel the humans who entered the premises himself, but it seems as if Caroline's spent a great deal of time unpacking and sorting. "Did you do all this?"
"I wanted to keep busy. Distract myself."
He does not like the knowledge that she'd felt the need, the underlying anxiety it hinted at. "Caroline, if you're afraid of…"
She cuts him off, shaking her head and turning to face him fully, "No, please. Not another pep talk. I really don't need it, I promise. I'm sick of thinking about tomorrow, about Tristan."
That he can't blame her for. "Do you want me to go? I can leave you to your private dance party," he teases.
Her eyes squeeze shut, an embarrassment painting her cheeks pink. When they open they immediately narrow, her chin lifting proudly. The bravado is familiar. "Don't knock a private dance party until you've tried it. Maybe it would be good for you. Make you a little less murder-y, hmm?"
"Somehow," he shoots back, "I don't think that would work." Quite the opposite, Klaus assumes. If his siblings ever got wind of him trying such a thing, and they would, nosy lot that they were, his tendency to murderousness would only be heightened. "Your voice is lovely."
A small smile tugs at her lips, "Thanks. I'm a little out of practice. Too used to trying to melt into the walls."
That remark ensures he'll have to plot something extra painful for Tristan to endure. She's said she didn't want to think about him though so Klaus does his best to help, "I didn't know you sang."
She shrugs, "Not surprising. As… intense as things have been we didn't spend much time chit-chatting."
A fair point. Klaus knows the broad strokes of Caroline Forbes – her loyalty to those that she loves, her singlemindedness in pursuit of a goal, her struggles with the shades of grey that one can't avoid as a being a vampire. It's the minutia that he's missing, the hidden quirks and nearly forgotten memories, and he's eager to collect them.
"Do you play any instruments?"
"Not well," Caroline admits ruefully. "I tried when I was young. I had the determination but not the ability to sit still for long periods of time to practice. My parents steered me towards more energy burning activities pretty quick."
"Like?" Klaus prompts. She'd wanted a distraction and he's happy to provide one. He's not about to turn down the opportunity to hoard every bit of her she'll allow herself to reveal. Not when he's sure she'll leave when she's safe to go out into the world.
He is hoping she'll keep in touch this time, planning on making the idea attractive. Caroline had sought him out a decade ago, had indicated a willingness to renew their friendship, so he's optimistic about his chances for success.
"Dance," Caroline answers. "Gymnastics before I got too tall. I tried rhythmic for a couple months but the appeal of twirling pretty ribbons only held for so long. I was actually pretty good at basketball. Being tall, plus a willingness to throw some elbows, is helpful there. I stopped in middle school, decided to focus on cheerleading."
He's not the least bit surprised to hear that her ruthless streak extended to sports. "Because you liked it more?"
Her nose wrinkles, "Honestly? I think it was the dubious influence of teen movies. The most popular girl in school is always head cheerleader, you know? And that's all I wanted back then."
"A lot has changed for you," Klaus notes.
"For the better. Excepting the whole brainwashing thing."
It seems he's failing at his chosen mission, her thoughts stubbornly circling back to Tristan and the life he'd forced her into. "Ten years is a large stretch of your life, love. Now. In a century it won't be."
Caroline's hands knot together and she shifts her weight, "Do you ever really leave the bad behind? I was getting ready this morning and I was considering one of the dresses in the closet. My first thought was, 'Huh, pretty but too much cleavage for breakfast.' All because of Tristan's stupid dress code. I want him out of my head."
He's not sure how to offer comfort. Letting go of the past, moving beyond slights and grudges, was fairly foreign to him. "I can't tell you that it'll be easy. But there are still great things ahead for you, centuries of them. I'm confident that, someday, Tristan will just be a vague unpleasant memory."
She's quiet for a long moment, arms crossed protectively in front of her body. Finally she sighs, shakes her head in exasperation, "Ugh, I can't believe I ended up needing a pep talk. Again."
Klaus takes the cue, leaning in and offering her a smirk, "Should I have instead mentioned that you should feel free to wear anything you wish to breakfast? Be scandalous if you'd like. There are no rules at my table."
It coaxes a smile from her and her arms fall, "Yeah, I think I'll keep it PG. No need to invite Kol's perving."
A fair point though they both knew that Kol's commentary was largely meant to bait.
Caroline's head tips and she studies him for a long moment, her expression growing curious. "Now, I think it's only fair if you tell me something I didn't know about you since you just got a whole info dump about me."
He's delighted by the interest, decides to offer up a piece of his own youth. "I was a decent swordsman but a better archer. Mikael disapproved, citing it as proof of my inherent weakness."
Caroline scoffs, "That's kinda dumb, isn't it? Any moron can stab someone with a pointy piece of metal. Skills are skills."
"Brute strength, aggression. Both were highly prized."
He braces himself for pity but Caroline doesn't offer it. He sees a spark of anger in her eyes and the smile she offers is sharp. "Well, he's dead so I guess you got the last laugh, huh?"
Klaus grins, rocking back on his heels, "I suppose I did."
She softens slightly, swaying closer until her shoulder brushes his. She focuses on the task she'd abandoned when he entered, unearthing a champagne glass from a pile of folded cotton. "Seems like he was a real dick, by the way."
That startles a laugh from him, "No one's ever quite phrased it that way, love."
"I call it like I see it."
A trait Klaus is very familiar with, one that he's enjoyed in Caroline from their earliest acquaintance. He takes the glass when she hands it off absently, having inspected it for chips. He sets it safely on a nearby table before returning to her side. "Wherever is Rebekah? I thought you two had reached a truce. Don't tell me she's pawned off the heavy lifting."
Caroline suddenly finds her task incredibly absorbing, ducking her head and avoiding his gaze. "Uh, no. Not exactly. Last time I saw Rebekah she was a little busy but she was technically taking care of party business. Sort of."
"Oh? And what was she doing?"
"Consulting with the chef the event planner hired."
He waits, certain there must be more. Caroline's answer and her sudden bout of shiftiness were at odds. Her head twists slightly, and she realizes he's watching her. She lets out an aggravated groan, "The chef's name is Sven. He's a super-hot giant of a man from Sweden. Last I saw Rebekah she was licking various sauces from her fingers and giving him serious sex eyes. I just hope she doesn't break him before he can make the appetizers we planned."
Klaus hides a smile. Trust Rebekah to make the most of an opportunity for entertainment. She's been getting awfully snippy about their limited company. "I understand why you took your leave."
Caroline shudders exaggeratedly, "Yeah, if they're going to be having sex where food gets made I do not want to know about it."
"I'll make sure Rebekah's compelled the kitchen staff to mind the sanitary concerns."
"On the bright side, maybe she'll be less cranky. I saw the sketches. You have her and Kol working together as a murder team, right? They've been… disagreeing kind of a lot. Violently."
Several rugs and some original woodwork had been ruined by blood pools and spatter. "I do. They are a rather effective duo. As long as they don't need to talk to each other."
"Hopefully they don't need to talk to get through the dress rehearsal then."
"Dress rehearsal?" Klaus repeats, amused.
Caroline throws him an unimpressed look, a hand lifting and gesturing at the surrounding grandeur. "Please. I know full well that you're going for dramatic effect. The fancy party wasn't really necessary. You're basically just burning stacks of money so Tristan goes down in the way he'll find most humiliating."
Caroline is correct about his motives. He doesn't care about the expense, money had been easily amassed in the days before computers and security cameras and Klaus had compelled fortunes upon fortunes. He wants to leave Tristan without a scrap of his haughty pride, to die knowing there's not a soul alive to who would pronounce his name with respect. "When we first met Tristan we were on the run. Brand new, still figuring out what we could do."
"With no help."
"Exactly. We spent a lot of time terrified, unsure. Tristan's home was a haven."
"With a pile of strings attached?" Caroline asks knowingly.
"Mmm. In the end, yes. We stayed at his father's castle, enjoyed his family's hospitality. He was snobbish even back then, fond of snide remarks. He values appearances. I'm simply using that against him."
"Where was this?"
"France."
A flash of surprise lights her eyes. "Huh. So they went back home."
"As soon as they could. Tristan's primary residence has always been in the same area; save the years he thought he was Elijah."
"Bo-ring," Caroline declares. "But not surprising."
"They were royalty, a thousand years ago. I think Tristan liked to think that they still were."
She makes a derisive noise, low in her throat, stilling her hands above the box of crystal. They tremble slightly, and she curls her fingers into her palms. "He definitely did. The maids had to curtsey. Guests were announced. Teas were a big thing. I hated that house. Oh, excuse me, manor."
"We can burn it down, if you'd like," Klaus offers.
He's perfectly serious but Caroline laughs, more tension draining from her frame. "I don't even like to pump my own gas so arson's probably not for me. But thanks for the offer. And for trying to distract me."
"Perhaps that can be one of our things."
She doesn't throw it back in his face like she once had a similar statement. Her smile grows bright, "Deal," Caroline agrees.
It's a small victory but he relishes it all the same.
She awakes to gifts. A whole pile of them sitting directly in her line of sight.
Her first thought, warm and sleepy, was to marvel what a pleasant way to begin the day it is. Especially considering some of her recent experiences.
A large white box, a beige shoe box and two black velvet jewelry boxes make up the neat stack on her nightstand. Caroline, after luxuriating in a satisfying stretch, sits up slowly, eyeing the pile. There's a confusing mixture of nervousness and anticipation twisting her stomach into knots.
Tonight is the night, her costume tucked into the packages. Tristan's coming and everything would end, she realizes. One way or another Caroline will finally be free.
Sliding out of the bed, Caroline takes a moment to consider where to start. She reaches for the longer of the two black cases, and when she flips it open she's almost disappointed. The bracelet she'd revealed is beautiful, of course, but it's not the one she'd been expecting. It's gold, a floral motif, sprinkled with diamonds, both clear and pink.
She gets it once she tears through the rest of the packages.
The bracelet Klaus had gifted her for her birthday, all those years ago, really wouldn't have gone with the outfit he'd selected for her. This dress is definitely more grown up, black and sultrier than either of the fairytale dresses he'd provided her with back in Mystic Falls. There's a slit up one side, and when she tries it on she notes that it will make movement easier. The shoes have no straps, simply slip on, and can be kicked off without trouble should she have to fight.
Leave it to Klaus to think of something like that.
The invites they'd sent (on tissue thin gold paper, with flawless calligraphy) had stated 7 PM. Caroline has some serious butterflies as she leaves her room at half past six. Thankfully, she runs into Bonnie and Enzo. Bonnie looks lovely, her black dress fitted, lacy and long sleeved. Enzo's in a tux, and while Caroline wouldn't have ever pictured it, he pulls it off nicely.
Bonnie's eyes widen, "Wow, Care. You look hot. Didn't see that one when I was given my options." She grabs Caroline's arm, brows shooting up, "Nice bling, too."
Caroline fiddles with her skirt, "You had options? I wasn't given options."
"Klaus?" Bonnie asks knowingly. "Should have guessed. Don't ever tell him that I said so but he has good taste."
Caroline laughs, amused by the face Bonnie makes while delivering even the mildest of compliments to Klaus. It's equal parts pained and revolted. Caroline can't imagine such an admission, tiny and grudging though it is, coming years ago, so it is progress. "Your secret's safe with me, Bon. Should we go? You need to help with the spell, right?"
"Yeah. You guys have to come too. If your blood's not in the bowl when we do it you're not leaving this house until Klaus dies. Which will be never, unfortunately."
Caroline throws Bonnie a quelling look, but doesn't bother to scold her. She'd hated being guilt tripped on to Team Damon, just because of Elena's feelings for him. She's not going to do the same thing to Bonnie, especially considering that Caroline's feelings for Klaus remain complicated and messy and unnamable.
That she wanted him was fine, understandable. He's attractive, confident and charismatic, would appeal to just about anyone with a pulse and an interest in men. That she thought him interesting also made sense given just how old and accomplished and knowledgeable he is. The fact that she likes him, more and more as she gets deeper glimpses of how he ticks, has always been the sticking point. She used to tell herself that she couldn't, refused to acknowledge that she already kind of did.
Doing so now is pointless. Caroline's a decade removed from her friends and Mystic Falls and while she plans to renew certain acquaintances, shore up some friendships, she can't see herself allowing anyone else's opinions to inform her choices. About Klaus or any other aspect of her life.
Bonnie didn't have to like Klaus, or even endure his company. As long as she doesn't try to shame Caroline for her feelings, didn't insist that they're wrong or stupid or traitorous, Caroline's fine with her feeling however she pleases about Klaus. He can handle it and Caroline thinks he prefers playing the antagonist to all but a select few.
"Shall we?" Enzo asks, wrapping an arm around Bonnie. "The faster you work your magic genius the sooner we can get on to the fun part of the evening. When things get bloody."
He's grinning, practically bouncing at the idea, and Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Don't do anything stupid, Enzo. Pick on vampires your own age, okay?"
"Well that's boring," Enzo complains, even as he crowds closer, offering physical assurance. "Can't a man enjoy a challenge?"
Caroline trails after them, listening to them bicker and hiding a smile. They hadn't been together when she'd left Mystic Falls. She'd been a little shocked that Bonnie would date, let alone fall in love with, a vampire. But, Caroline had changed, evolved, while she was gone, even just in the short year she'd spent travelling. On her own it had been easy to leave some of her old habits and ideas behind. It probably would have been more surprising if Bonnie hadn't done her own growing up in all the years Caroline had been stuck under Tristan's thumb.
She's too lost in her own thoughts, absently following her friends, that she startles when Klaus says her name, jumps a little at finding him at her side. He smirks, and hands her a glass of champagne. "Are you alright, Caroline? You seemed quite far away just now."
"I'm fine. Just… thinking."
She hides a wince at how lame that had sounded, taking a sip of champagne to cover, but Klaus lets it go. His eyes drift over her, from her bare shoulders down to her feet, and Caroline swallows hard at the appreciation she sees reflected in his gaze. She'd been left breathless, once upon a time, by the stunned look he'd worn when she'd walked into his mother's ball. This is different, hotter. It leaves her skin tingling, as if he'd touched her and not simply looked. Klaus licks his lower lip, "You're…"
"Ravishing?" Caroline interrupts, needing a little levity. Mostly so she would stop wishing she'd been the one to do the licking. "Don't I get a new line?"
"I was going to go with striking," Klaus murmurs. He leans in closer, and she can feel his breath on her neck when he speaks again, "And unbelievably tempting."
She shivers, and looks away, pretending like she hadn't reacted. Her pulse picks up, and she knows he can hear it, if he's paying attention. Stupid hybrid senses. They made it awfully hard to keep a secret, and her reaction to his proximity was anything but mild. Her own senses quickly tune to him and he smells kind of amazing, she can't help but notice.
Looking for a distraction, Caroline glances around the ballroom. She's momentarily surprised, by the sea of people in the room, having been too focused on Klaus to notice before. All of Klaus' siblings are in attendance, spaced throughout the room in a way she recognizes as strategic. She spies Marcel, and the contingent of vampires who'd accompanied them from Chile. Dozens upon dozens of others in pairs and clumps. All dressed to the nines, everyone in black. There are a handful of waiters, the crisp white of their shirts making them obvious, weaving in and out of the guests with gleaming silver trays. "Wow," Caroline breathes. "Quite the turnout."
Klaus hasn't moved, still standing far too close to her, his lips the barest inch from brushing her skin. He laughs softly, his nose skimming her throat. "Are you surprised? That people would prefer my slightly more laissez faire style of management to Tristan's iron fist?"
Caroline looks at him incredulously, widening the distance between them so she can breathe properly. "You? Laissez faire? Really?"
Klaus shrugs, gestures around him. "I did say slightly. My rules were simple, and I did expect them to be followed. I simply didn't have the patience to police things as tightly as Tristan."
Having lived with Tristan, Caroline can see Klaus' point. He'd never slept much, and had seemed to spend every waking moment doing something. Reading reports, directing his people. She can't see Klaus bothering, knew her was fond of his leisure activities.
"Thank you for the dress," she says primly. "It's beautiful."
"You're very welcome," he tells her. Klaus withdraws to a more polite distance, but stays near, at her side as they face the room. She can feel the heat of him, and peeks out of the corner of her eye. His black suit fits perfectly, and he wears it as easily as he does the henleys and jeans. And honestly, how was that even fair? He's smirking, and Caroline realizes that her checking him out is maybe not as stealthy as she'd meant it to be. She's saved from having to actually say anything, by the tapping of metal against glass in the center of the room. Freya smiles, somewhat nervously, flanked by Bonnie and Davina. "It's time to begin," she says. "We need a few drops of blood, from everyone, to complete the spell."
There's a ripple of unease, throughout the room, and Caroline understands. Blood means something to vampires. Surrendering some, even a few drops, would make anyone wary. They only do it to heal, or to heighten pleasure, and both instances require a certain amount of trust. It's Marcel who steps forward first, confident smile in place. He doesn't falter, his hand steady as he holds his palm out to Davina. She winces, as she makes the cut. Mouths an apology while Marcel squeezes a few drops out. Others trickle forward after that. Caroline waits until the line thins, squares her shoulders and makes her way over. Bonnie smiles reassuringly as she wields the blade, holds Caroline's hand gently with hers. A quick slash, brief pain, and it's done.
Caroline grabs a towel from the table provided, careful not to get blood on her dress. She's just begun to wonder if maybe that's the reason for the all black dress code (because she kind of imagines this party, should things go well, will spill out onto the streets of New Orleans. No need to alarm the tourists with obvious blood stains). She stops short, taken aback. Once again Klaus is just there. Her breath comes out in a rush at the look in his eyes. She doesn't even think to stop him when he dips his head though she knows his intent. The rasp of his tongue across her palm, collecting her spilled blood, leaves Caroline biting the inside of her lip and uncomfortably turned on. His hum of satisfaction makes it worse and her thighs clench together. Her fingers twitch, the urge to touch him surging through her, as he presses a lingering kiss to her wrist.
Music kicks in, from the band in the corner, interrupting the moment. Klaus' smile is a slow invitation, a seduction, dangerous. There in a room full of people, couples sweep past them as a waltz begins, low snippets of conversation drift past her. Yet, Caroline can't focus on anything but him, the awareness sparking between them.
Klaus asks her to dance. She doesn't even consider saying no.
He'd caught Elijah's eye several minutes ago. His brother's signal, a pointed straightening of his already perfect bowtie, letting Klaus know that the rest of their guests, and the guest of honor himself, were about to arrive. Klaus had nodded back and watched as Elijah had immediately sent Kol and Rebekah to fetch Aurora.
She was the bait, after all. They did need to dangle her.
If Aurora had been bothering to ingest vervain regularly it would have long since left her system. Kol and Rebekah had been instructed to compel her, make certain that she wouldn't be a problem. It was possible that they would take it upon themselves to do some other less pleasant things, but Klaus hadn't forbidden it. Aurora's usefulness was just about done. He saw no point in restricting his sibling's fun. Not when they so seldom managed to work together harmoniously.
Caroline's managed to relax, her outer calm back in place. She still trembles slightly, when he brushes his fingers across her back, presses just a bit too close to be considered proper. They've danced for several songs, their conversation sporadic and laden with flirtation.
Klaus suspects the evening will end spectacularly for him, in more than one fashion.
He's bared his teeth, subtly of course, at any one who'd gotten too close, and looked to have intentions of cutting in. Caroline had been reluctant to speak at first, but Klaus had prodded, and managed to draw her out. Has even coaxed a laugh or two from her. Her eyes remain alert, occasionally scanning the room, more evidence that she's so much more than just a pretty face.
Perhaps he shouldn't have pushed her earlier, laid his desires bare, but he doesn't regret it. The scent of her blood, the arousal she wore on her skin, had been far too much of an enticement, and he hadn't been able to resist. Hadn't cared who'd seen, or about the fact that this evening was set to be a battle, hopefully the end of a war. He'd just needed a taste to see him through.
There would be time for more later, once the pressing matters at hand were dealt with.
Klaus glances around the ballroom one last time, ensuring that everyone is where he needs them to be. He can hear footsteps outside, guesses Tristan's forces to number about fifty. Far less than he'd brought with him last time but, from what he's gleaned from Caroline, and from a number of others of the vampires in attendance, Tristan hadn't been very good at maintaining ties with those who'd been loyal to him. Some had died for dissenting; others became disillusioned and went into hiding. Either way many of Tristan's former allies weren't willing or available to support him this time.
Not an advantage Klaus thought he had needed, but one he was willing to exploit. Klaus would need to look into the situation later, examine the reasons behind certain individual's changes of heart, and decide if they'd pose a threat down the line. It would be tedious work but necessary. He'd ensure that no one else thought to duplicate Tristan's momentary success in seizing power. For now, Klaus is inordinately pleased at the small showing of enemies and eagerly anticipating Tristan's fall.
Caroline's watching him carefully when he looks back. "He's here, isn't he?"
"Just outside," Klaus confirms. "Will be along any minute now."
She swallows and nods sharply, her features smoothing into steely determination. "Okay. Let's do this."
Klaus squeezes her hand just before he lets her go. Watches as she joins Enzo, Marcel hovering nearby as planned. There are several sets of doors lining the side of the room that leads out onto the grounds. The glass panes in each of them shatter simultaneously. Several of the vampires nearby let out yells of pain as the shards hit them and the metallic scent of blood fills the air.
Klaus is entirely unsurprised that Tristan's brought witches, his inquiries with several covens having been reported back. It's also typical of him to have gone for a dramatic entrance. Klaus steps forward, eyes alert. Tristan walks in first, shoes crunching loudly on the broken glass. He's dressed to perfection, fussy pocket square perfectly coordinated with his tie. Elijah will be so very proud.
Vampires follow him in, but Klaus pays them little mind. He has one target and they're unimportant. They won't be leaving, not with the borders of the estate spelled. Klaus can wait until tomorrow, when they're dead, to ascertain their identities, figure out whom he still needs to kill.
He does glance at the witch to Tristan's left when her hand flies up. He feels a stab of pain, brief and annoying, before it's abruptly cut off. Klaus blinks, favors her with a mild glare. The witch looks confused, and tries again. She trembles with the effort and yet nothing happens. Klaus rocks back on his heels, shrugging out of his jacket. "Nice try, witch. You might have power but mine have more."
She looks offended, "Don't speak to me."
Klaus laughs, genuinely amused, letting the jacket fall away carelessly. He's leisurely about unbuttoning his cuffs, folding back his shirtsleeves. "I can see why he picked you. You're every bit as uppity as he is. Thinking you can come into my home and dictate to me." Her expression remains sour, but her eyes fall shut, and she looks to be attempting to gather another burst of magic. Klaus makes a chiding noise, "I'd leave, if I were you. While you still can. I'll find you, of course. But you might as well say goodbye to your loved ones."
"Such posturing," Tristan says. "Your sister is just one witch. I brought a coven."
"Yes, they seem to be doing an excellent job. What with all the breaking glass. Very intimidating." Klaus spots several witches, dotted amongst Tristan's ranks, varying degrees of frustration marring their faces. He assumes that he and most of the older vampires are meant to be on the floor writhing in pain right about now. Unfortunately for Tristan, that wouldn't be happening. "Besides, whoever said I only had one witch?" Klaus wonders aloud. "Freya is exceptional, but I like to stack the deck." He gestures behind him, and if it's a bit dramatic Klaus thinks he's entitled. "I believe you know Davina Claire? Oh yes, and the elusive Ms. Bonnie Bennett. I hear you were quite eager to recruit her."
Neither women crack a smile, regarding Tristan with barely concealed disdain.
Witches. So humorless.
A muscle in Tristan's jaw ticks, the only sign of his discomfiture. He draws himself up, his shoulders stiff. "Where is my sister?" he clips out, his cool blue eyes darting around the room.
"With my sister," Klaus offers genially. "Should be along shortly. I do hope she doesn't lose that other hand. The first one has yet to grow back completely. Alas, you know how temperamental Bekah can be so who knows? Sadly, Aurora's not one for minding her tongue when she ought to."
"She is not a part of this," Tristan hisses. He's begun to quiver the slightest bit, his obvious rage barely controlled. It's exactly the reaction Klaus had hoped to inspire and maintaining an air of boredom grows more and more difficult.
"Oh? She seemed a part of it when she was nattering on in my cell."
"That you've taken such low measures is despicable," Tristan sniffs disdainfully. "A thousand years and still no honor?"
Klaus steps forward, knows his incredulity is easy to read. "Honor? Really? Tell me, is that some backward notion of chivalry? Spare the women? That's highly hypocritical as Rebekah was every bit as imprisoned as my brothers. And, had you found Freya, what would you have done to her? I imagine you would have conveniently forgotten your commitment to honor. Or is it that you perceive Aurora as an innocent, too soft for your schemes? She's not, I assure you."
"It was my plan," Tristan insists.
"I'm sure though I do believe our mutual friend Caroline would have something to say about Aurora's participation in your plans."
Tristan's eyes widen, mouth going slack, the biggest falter in his righteousness that Klaus has managed to illicit thus far. He does a more thorough sweep of the room, obviously recalculating. Tristan sneers briefly before his attention snaps back to Klaus. "I'd hardly classify that one as innocent. She got very dirty while she worked for me."
There's nothing but malice underneath the words, and he greedily looks for a response. Klaus rolls his eyes heavenward, seriously considers flashing forward and ripping Tristan's heart out. A thousand years old and still locked into such mind numbing conventions. Klaus wonders how it's even possible, though it likely contributes to how Aurora behaves.
Sadly, Klaus can't kill him just yet. Taking apart what Tristan's empire would be easier once they could compel the pertinent information from him. It was the compromise he and Elijah had agreed upon, a way to satisfy Klaus' desire for vengeance while minimizing the risks, and he's stick to it. A few weeks of torture, weeks that Klaus would make count. A little information gathering as they did it. Then they would kill him.
"Well," Klaus says, drawing out the word mockingly. "As fascinating as that immovable stick up your arse is, we really must be getting on with it. Here are my terms. You surrender, and everyone who has accompanied you dies quickly. If you chose to reject my terms well, some of you will still die quickly. Space in the dungeons isn't exactly unlimited. You understand. But, if you fight, the survivors will be treated to something a bit more drawn out and unpleasant."
"That's hardly an attractive offer."
Klaus grins, rocking back on his heels and watching the vampires behind Tristan. They look angry, and some still wear cocky smirks. He wants to see them fall as the reality of just how outclassed they are dawns. "Oh, but I wasn't finished. If you choose to fight, and somehow miraculously win, you'll still die."
The silence that follows the proclamation is all encompassing, and makes the harried muttering that swells afterwards seem deafening.
He hadn't promised death like a threat, because it isn't, it's a certainty
Tristan's eyes narrow. He's striving for confidence, but a touch of dread has leaked in at Klaus' easy delivery. Tristan isn't stupid, and he's obviously finally sensing an angle he'd not considered. "And how," he blusters, "are you going to make that happen, should you be defeated?"
Klaus takes another few steps forward, reaches out and tugs Tristan's bowtie askew. "It's a bit extreme, I will admit. Took an awful lot of effort. There's a spell on the grounds, anchored to me. Since you were rudely late to my little party, you missed the magic that kicked it off. You see, everyone on my side can leave. But no one on yours can. Unless I'm dead and since I don't believe you ever found that white oak you went traipsing through the Canadian wilderness for…"
Tristan's teeth grind together, and Klaus knows his own glee is palpable. The fact that Tristan had not yet worked out that his trip up north had been nothing but a diversion was immensely gratifying. "Well, isn't that is unfortunate?" Klaus adds, finishing his thought. "With no white oak I suppose I won't be dying, will I? While I've not yet done the calculations, I assume it won't take long for most of your little friends and underlings to desiccate from a lack of blood given the limited supply available. Oh, and then there's the fact that the house will blow up. Eventually. A nightmare to arrange, but it would kill the stragglers neatly, don't you think?"
He watches Tristan's vampires shift uneasily, the furtive exchanging of looks between them, the twitching of limbs as certainty is shaken. It takes less than a minute for one of them to break, whirling and flashing away. They all hear the short shout of frustration, followed by inventive cursing, as the barrier holds.
"I can just kill the witches," Tristan says. He remains steady, but it's more bravado than anything.
"You could try," Klaus corrects. "But it wouldn't do any good. You should know how magic works by now, Tristan. If the spell's anchored it endures after the witch that cast it is gone. Now, tell me. Are we going to do this all civilized like? That is the way you profess to operate, is it not? Unlike me."
He watches Tristan carefully, sees him sift through options, grope for a solution that is in any way favorable to him.
He won't find one.
Klaus has very carefully crafted the hole Tristan's in. There will be no escape. Tristan's calculations are interrupted, head snapping to the side, when Aurora's brought into the room. "Tristan!" she cries, and makes to rush to her brother. Rebekah and Kol have a firm grip on each of her arms, so she doesn't manage to get far. Really, he'll have to remember to compliment them on their flawless timing.
Tristan's expression darkens, grows murderous, taking in Aurora's disheveled appearance. His fists clench, and Klaus watches avidly, pinpoints the moment where Tristan's control snaps. The veneer of civility was all well and good, but Klaus knew what Tristan was, even if the other vampire liked to think himself better than a monster.
That's where they differed. Klaus knew what he was, embraced it. It's why he'd won.
The spreading of veins and the drop of fangs is quick, Tristan's lunge swift and precise. It would likely have been lethal to any other opponent. He goes right for the kill, aims for Klaus' heart, and manages to rip into Klaus' shirt, before his wrist is snapped with a brutal crack.
Klaus lashes out, a closed fist sending to Tristan's face leaving bone fractured and his opponent staggering. He gains his footing quickly, tugs his wrist back into place with a grimace before he begins to circle Klaus.
Tristan's attack seems to have been the signal everyone was waiting for, because the room erupts into chaos. He sees Rebekah act quickly, out of the corner of his eye, snapping Aurora's neck so she crumples into a heap on the dance floor. Bekah and Kol exchange giddy smiles before flashing towards a clump of Tristan's people.
In his peripheral vision Klaus sees a great deal of blood, and hears all sorts of interesting pained noises from that corner of the room, so he knows they have the situation well in hand. He notes that Elijah and Lucien and a few others have circled to block off the exits, neatly taking care of any who think to try their luck with the magical barrier.
Caroline's fine, with Enzo and Marcel. She's drawn blood, efficiently killed the first vampire who went after her. Red speckles her arms, and her stance is focused, ready for another attack. Enzo fights well, Klaus can see. It's evident that he likes it, his bright eyes and occasional snarky comment giving the impression that he's having a great deal of fun. Klaus had taught Marcel himself, knows what he can do in battle. He's measured and smart, dispatches opponents without fanfare. His skills are why he'd been instructed to stick close to Caroline, to ensure that she had assistance if necessary.
With the important parties accounted for, Klaus lets his full attention rest on Tristan once more. He's got the injured arm held close, the limb weak while healing is not yet complete. Klaus can use that. Flashing forward he stays on Tristan's bad side, and he pivots awkwardly to compensate, his balance off. Tristan lashes out, a desperate move. Klaus smiles, blocks the blow that comes his way and kicks out. He hears a bone break, a large one from the sound of it. Pain flashes across Tristan's face and he staggers, weight leaning heavily on one leg. Klaus shakes his head, makes a show of looking around, as if he knows he's already won. Tristan takes the opening, his fury overcoming reason, just as Klaus had wanted. It's an amateur move. He sinks his hand into Tristan's chest, forcing his way past muscle and bone, finds the heart and wraps his fingers around it. It quickens, and Tristan freezes, the slick muscle working overtime in Klaus' grasp.
Klaus forces Tristan down, enjoys the pained yelp he emits when he hits the ground on his knees. "My my," Klaus murmurs. "Isn't this familiar? This exact room, this same pose. I must say, I much prefer being on this end."
He assumes Tristan would have liked to reply, but a quick harsh squeeze leaves him gasping and gurgling, the words unintelligible. Tristan grits his teeth, pale and pinched looking, "Do it," he forces out, pain lacing the syllables. "End it. Isn't that what you want, Klaus?"
Klaus smiles, hums like he's considering the words. "The suggestion is appreciated, but I'm afraid that's not in the cards. Not today. It'll be a cell for you. I'll even be generous, set you up next to your darling sister. Let you two chat away your final days. Although honestly, mate, perhaps that's a torture all in itself. I know I'd go mad, listening to her prattle on."
Tristan's only response is a vicious glare, his eyes drifting over to where Aurora lays. Klaus glances up, applying pressure to Tristan's heart once more to ensure he won't be able to make any sudden moves. The room has calmed considerably, bodies littering the floor.
A shame, because they'd already replaced it once this week in preparation for this event.
He spies Caroline heading in their direction, her head held high. There's blood smeared across her throat, her eyes remain red, delicate black veins spreading across her skin. The single shoulder strap of her dress is torn, barely hanging on and her hair's tumbled down from its sleek style. She's missing her shoes, but she looks triumphant.
She's never looked quite so lethal, like the loveliest of predators, and Klaus has never wanted her more.
She meets his gaze steadily, unashamed of her dishevelment, her obvious blood lust, and her eyes raking over him in a way that tells Klaus he's not alone in his base desires. She spares Tristan a glance, loathing narrowing her eyes. "Tristan," she greets evenly. "Can't say I'm happy to see you. I do have one little question. A curiosity to satisfy before I put you far behind me."
Tristan makes a noise, undeniably derisive. Klaus tuts, "You'll indulge the lady if you know what's good for you." Klaus relaxes his hand, enough to allow Tristan to draw breath. Necessary for speaking, after all.
She smiles her thanks, expression darkening when she eyes Tristan. "What was your final goal? The point in keeping me around? I mean, you could have taunted Klaus, told him I was working for you, but you never did because he had no idea."
Tristan's swallow is audible, his voice raspy when he replies. Still, there's a hint of laughter in it, "Isn't it obvious? Come now, pet. Don't tell me that clever little brain of yours has failed you."
Klaus digs in with nails, perforating one of the heart's chambers, and Tristan coughs wetly. "I believe she asked a specific question," Klaus says mildly.
Tristan gasps, blood spilling out of his mouth. "I was going to have you kill him. Watch his face as someone he cared for pressed white oak to his chest and drove it home. Make sure he knew, before you did it, that you'd follow right after."
Caroline's eyes snap to his, pain and guilt clouding them briefly before she pushes her reaction aside, unwilling to let it show in front of their audience. She manages it admirably, cold as she raises her eyebrow in derision, no trace of her horror remaining. "Such a drama queen," she mutters dismissively. Tristan stiffens at the insult, more so when Caroline circles behind him. She reaches out, her hands hovering near his shoulders. "Do you mind?" she asks Klaus, tilting her head to the side, a spark of mischief in the curl of her lips.
He grins, pleased, "Have at it, sweetheart."
Caroline returns the smile, and reaches out. "Night, pet," she spits snidely. She's quick about it, wrenching Tristan's neck with a satisfying crack. Klaus lets his hand slip away, and Tristan's body slumps between them. Caroline steps over it, barely glancing down, eyes never leaving his. One of her hands lands on his chest, the other circling his wrist. Klaus watches her avidly, as she brings his bloody hand to her mouth. His breath stutters out, shock and arousal tightening his muscles. Caroline probably deserves a little payback, after his stunt earlier, and she's taking it. The sight of her pink tongue darting out, swirling around his thumb, leaves his temperature rising and his cock just beginning to ache. She molds her body to his, the press of her curves heightening his arousal. She lets out a soft little moan, and takes another taste, sucking his thumb into her mouth before her teeth nip at the pad. Klaus grits his teeth together, barely managing to resist slamming her against a wall, spectators be damned.
Caroline's voice is low, throaty and inviting, when she speaks. "I'm going to go clean up." She holds his gaze for another long moment, licking away another smear of blood.
If she'd just left, Klaus might have been able to let her. But Caroline leans into him, rocking her hips subtly against his, another of those sinfully tempting noises spilling from her parted lips as she presses a kiss to his throat. When she leaves, shooting one last fiery challenge of a glance over her shoulder, Klaus doesn't even consider not following.
He makes eye contact with Elijah once more and though his brother looks exasperated Klaus knows he's got the situation well in hand. The bodies will be disposed of, Tristan and Aurora and any survivors tucked neatly into cells for Klaus to deal with.
Which he will. Tomorrow.