Part 11

The princess wore a brocade of gold to her coronation, and she had never seemed so spectacular and less of a human being than she did walking down the aisle of the abbey, sparkling and splendid as sunlight streamed down from the stained glass windows. Caroline swore she would keep her eye on the princess. She served the princess, only needed to think of her interest. She would pretend to, at least, until she could be freed from captivity and the prince would allow her to return to Calais.

Caroline refused to look towards the prince. The night of his return, it had been apparent that something had changed while he was in France. At her approach, the princess Rebekah had at once cut into her path and asked that she take her part in the preparations for the coronation. She had been hustled and bustled back into the Tower as ladies and lords of the court brought the regalia to the abbey. She had not once encountered the prince after his arrival, when he had walked past her and paid heed only to the princess.

Yet she could not help that the Black Prince was a sight as he entered the abbey in the procession, holding on to his wife's hand as if his kingdom depended on her. Caroline watched closely the prince as the archbishop walked around the abbey. And that was when she saw him, that unfamiliar man who sat close to the pulpit. She leaned close to Lady Serena, whispered so softly for her fear of disrupting the coronation.

"That man-the dark-haired one-standing by the princess Rebekah. Who is that man?"

Serena said softly, "That is the prince Elijah-the man who would have been king, save for his brother's reputation and his father's preference." Caroline looked up at Serena in confusion. Serena expounded to her, "The king's eldest son, who had renounced his claim to the throne."

For Caroline, the concept was suspect. "Who on earth refuses the crown?" she exclaimed.

"Elijah Mikaelson," Serena offered.

Caroline watched in rapt attention, and the movement was slow, the gesture was perhaps even meaningless, but she was in such captive attention that she noticed the very moment that princess Blair took her eyes off of the archbishop and very slightly turned her head to the side, then nod towards Elijah as he stood on the sidelines. And then, much to her constern, the prince Elijah gave a curt nod to his brother's wife. It was such brief moment, and Caroline told herself it meant nothing save for her own paranoia being a prisoner here.

Prince Klaus and Princess Blair paused at the foot of the archbishop, then knelt at the administration of the oath. Then, as Klaus sat on the large wooden chair of King Edward with the princess sitting to his right, the archishop annointed both with the holy oil.

The regalia of the kingdom one by one was placed upon Klaus' hand. Even in the distance Caroline could see the lock of the prince's jaw tighten as he held the items handed to him. First the spurs, and then placed on his outstretched hands was the sword that had last been held by his father. Of all the things that Klaus would hold, Caroline knew that there was nothing that the prince deserved more than the sword. He had wielded the might of the kingdom long before he was crowned.

And then, as the archbishop turned, a hush fell over those gathered to observe the coronation, when the princess placed a hand atop the sword and bid her husband lower his arms. The dean stepped forward to take the sword and set it aside. And then, Klaus was presented with the golden orb of the sovereign, barely in his hands for a minute before it too was returned to the altar.

When the scepters were handed to the prince, the archbishop returned to place upon the Black Prince's head the Crow of St Edward. Caroline swore there were chills on her arms as she watched the crown being placed on the prince's head. The cheery call erupted around her, "Long live the King," and Caroline realized the abdication of the old king meant just that-Klaus was no longer prince, but a sovereign with one goal made more powerful by the office.

The archbishop then placed the crown on the princess' head, and from the periphery of her vision she knew that Prince Elijah stood straighter at his post as Blair was proclaimed queen regent.

The newly crowned King and Queen rose from the thrones, and Caroline watched then as the two turn to each other. Klaus lifted Blair's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. In turn, Blair placed a hand on the king's face, her eyes growing brilliant. And then, Queen Blair laughed genuinely and drew Klaus down with her, rushing down the aisle as her ladies hurriedly sought to catch the train of the golden robes.

~o~o~

Everything was new, from the way he caught her eye across the hall and broke into a grin, to the way he paused when he she would speak and show her that he was listening to her. To Blair, every one of the changes that she noticed in him told her that for once she was at the right place, at the right time, and not some strange guest in his life.

She sat before her mirror the night of the coronation, looking at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers threading through locks of hair that her ladies would soon brush through. From behind her, Blair could see, Dorota emerged with a goblet of her steeping drink. Tendrils of smoke rose over the container. Blair took a deep breath, her chest swelling in anticipation.

Hurry, princess. We are almost at the end.

Blair turned on her seat and reached towards the brew. Her fingers hovered over the drink, with a tremble so slight yet still noticeable.

"My lady, here we are," Dorota said calmly to her, with eyes glimmering with hope and barely suppressed excitement.

"Here we are," Blair agreed. With two hands she reached for the brew and inhaled the scent of the potion, laced she had not a doubt, by the very sacred powdered oak she held dear to her heart. She closed her eyes and muttered the blessing, even as she knew full well that Dorota had already chanted over the drink.

For all the years she had failed, finally she would have him.

If he loved- if we well and truly loved her- she knew, so fervently, that the ancients would be saved. She would change the history of the world, and bring back to light the true ancient powers remembered.

And as the empire told and retold their stories, they would breathe life back into the Tuatha.

Blair lifted the bowl to her lips and tipped the contents into her mouth. The brew was scorching hot, blanketing her tongue and coating her mouth. She closed her eyes and swallowed deeply, her throat working to down every last drop. Despite the heat her mouth did not burn and the liquid settled into her stomach. She felt Dorota's hand rest on her cheek, and Blair looked up at her maid.

"Soon, child," Dorota told her, "you will swell with his babe."

Blair nodded, and returned, "And he will love me."

With a smile, Dorota told her, "How could he not? You will, after all, give to him what is most important to the prince."

And when he loved her, there was no turning back. She would have him, and he would never turn his back on her-not even when she told him the truth.

"France," Blair offered.

~o~

For all the women he had seen, not one compared to the sight that he beheld the moment he walked into the marriage chambers. The dozen candlelights about the room bathed her in their incandescence, and she appeared glowing and ethereal before him. It was as if a vise gripped his heart, and he could not believe this was the beauty he denied himself all these past years, lying alone so near to him.

"Klaus," she said quietly, breathlessly, at the sight of him.

He held up a hand in a move to silence her, then said, "Allow me time to admonish myself. You are incomparable, and I could have had this many times before." And then he shook his head and allowed himself the sweet pleasure of watching the slow smile curve her lips, lending her a much more desirable air if it were ever possible. "I am the greatest of fools, princesse, to have missed this all."

Even as he said the words, Blair knew she would always be princess to him, and it did not matter. Somehow, in his lips, the name was an endearment.

And she ran over to him, meeting him where he stood by the open doorway. She peered over his shoulder at the many prying eyes, the knights and ladies both. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. When he wrapped his arms around her and kicked back to shut the door, she looked up at his face askance.

"Proof of consummation?" he said back to her. Klaus grinned. "There is no man or woman out there, princesse, who would doubt that I will take you from the way you look tonight."

Never had he said such kind words, never had he made her feel so wanted. At those words she ose on the tips of her toes and locked her lips with him. Her body thrummed with the potion, and his words moved her even more. It was as if a warm palm pressed against her belly, making her curl and moan, growing her bosom and womb heavier and her limbs languid.

Her fingers entwined at the nape of his neck, and Blair stared deep into the eyes that were a deep blue to her. She hoped her child would have his eyes, that the he would always remember that she had borne his heir.

"I am ready for you, my lord," she told him.

And yet he shook his head. His arm went beneath her knees, bare that they were she felt the warmth of his skin beneath her at once. She sucked in her breath as he swept her high up against him. He carried her towards the empty bed and their bodies parted the sheer curtains. He lay her back in it and crawled up on the bed after her. When he did the curtains fell behind him, enveloping the two once more, as if entrapping them in their own small world.

A world where there were only she and he-a world where there were no kingdoms or ancestors or siblings or strangers from the another land. A world where this, she thought, her head falling back and baring her neck to his avid kiss, pleasure was only because she was his wife and he was her husband.

He parted her thighs and her nightrail fell from her raised knees to settle around her hips. She wore nothing underneath, and his movement bared the cleft between her legs, hidden by the dark brown curls. Her buttocks pressed back against the cool sheets, and she was so hot and liquid both from the sensations of his heated lips working its way over her shift and towards her breast.

"Klaus," she breathed.

His hands, calloused and rough as she expected, ran about her arms and then deftly his fingers interlaced with hers, raising her arms above her head, pressing her wrists on the cushion on either side of her.

And then a moan erupted from her throat when she felt the hot, wet mouth close over the peak of her breast, and his tongue wrapped around her nipple. It was fast and urgent, and the senses came to her one after another, making her heady, trapping her in their midst, overwhelming her with the feeling all around her.

She moved her hips beneath his, and idly she thought of how utterly unfair it was to lie so naked and exposed beneath her husband still wearing his trousers. Blair freed one hand and then reached between her legs for his pants, but he caught her wrist quickly and returned it pressed against the bed. He lifted his head from his breast, and she would have been brokenhearted at the abandonment but for the frigid air over her nipple, as her breast rose to rigid sensation underneath the wet and transparent nightraid. His hot mouth traveled to her ear and his wicked tongue dipped.

"In time, princesse," he promised to her, sending a warm pool of fluid to her core.

And then he released her wrists, and without him pressing her arms down it was easy to grab at his shoulders to push away his tunic. Blair sat up on the bed, watching bit by bit as he revealed himself to her. This was the body of her husband, long denied to her, finally hers to fulfill a promise long they made to one another. The tunic fell to the side of the bed, and next came the trousers. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. There was nothing to compare, but she drank in the sight and swallowed as she imagined how it would feel to have him buried inside of her to get with babe.

Her breathing became labored, but she knew her task and reached forward to skim her fingers down the length of it. Klaus took her hand and raised it to his lips, then placed a gentle kiss on her wrist. And then he climbed back on the bed and settled between her legs.

Blair rested her elbows on the bed, on either side of her waist, and raised her upper body up to prepare. Her nightrail fell down one shoulder, baring the breast he had suckled earlier. And then her lips parted when her husband moved down on the bed until his shoulders were by her parted knees, then dipped his head slowly. His fingers locked onto the hem of her nightrail and then his head was there, under her gown, his thumbs she felt parting her, and her arms were useless now. Blair fell onto her back as she back arched up from the bed. Her fingers buried into his ash brown hair and she squeezed her eyes shut that tears fell from their corners and coursed down her temple.

And then the next she felt she was spinning, out of control, and a guttural scream was ripped from her throat. It was as if she flew, and it was impossible. The stars burst beneath her eyelids and he was there with her, holding her grounded and against him as she thrashed about underneath him.

And then her hammering heart slowed, and Blair caught her breath slowly and opened her eyes. She saw him above her, smiling down at her, whispering to her with his glistening mouth, "Now, princess, you are ready for me."

It was so painfully easy and life changing, the way he caught her sprawled legs over his arms and settled them between his hips. He pressed his mouth on hers, deeply that the taste of her own body pierced through her consciousness.

And then, for a split second, he caught her eye as he hovered above her. Her warm brown eyes took him in, and he swore tonight she was more beautiful than ever he saw her before. Blair noticed the change in his gaze, but before she could think long of it, Klaus' body was stretching her so full, filling her ears with tears of pain and he buried himself to the hilt. He paused, feeling the liquid warmth engulfing him, knew it was both from her pleasure and the blood of the hymen he had just torn. She was heated and smooth and so tight that even as he tried to keep himself still longer he could not help when his hips thrust, small, jerky motions, until he had enough of her sleekness on him that he could move easily and completely in and out of the tightness of her.

He watched her, saw her parted lips, a peek of her glistening tongue, as she labored under him. He cupped her cheek and turned her to face him, looking into her dilated eyes. His thumb brushed her cheekbone and he drank in the flush of pleasure over her face. Encouraged, Klaus gripped her hips and thrust faster, harder, the regular motions becoming more erratic as he neared his peak.

She buried her nails into his shoulders and twisted underneath him, pressed back her head into the bed and came underneath him squeezing him so tight he could not last, and he spent himself inside her. Her legs trembled around his hips, and soon they fell open and splayed under him. He stilled on top of her, still buried in her, telling himself he did so as long as he could that he would take root inside her. Yet he could not answer why it was that when finally he pulled out of her and fell back on the bed, he pulled her to him and raised her leg so she would rest one over his thigh, or why he in her sleep arranged her so she could use his chest as a pillow.

In the middle of the night, when the candles had already sputtered out and engulfed them in darkness, Blair stirred in her husband's embrace. Very gingerly she pulled out of his arms and padded barefoot across the cold floor until she stood on top of the pelt. She buried her cold toes in the fur and then pulled from the chest her robe.

Had she not risen from the bed she would still be huddled in Klaus' warmth. Blair lit one of the candles and walked towards the dresser by her mirror, where she knew Dorota had left a cooling bowl of her potion. Blair took the bowl in her hand and drank the cold, bitter brew until all that was left were remnants of the ash.

And then from behind her arms wrapped around her waist, and the shadowed figure of her husband figured in the dim reflection in the mirror. Blair smiled and bit her lip at the sensation of his hardness jutting onto her back. "Your highness," she whispered, leaning forward to press her buttocks against him, "I am at your service."

And then he turned her in his arms, and the bowl clattered to the floor. He kissed her ravenously, and when he lifted his mouth he licked tentatively his lips. "What foul drink did you down, princesse? Surely we have wine or ale in these chambers."

Blair shook her head, then rested her arms around his neck. She pulled him to her while he was pressed right by her womb. "It is a potion by my maid to help me swell with your child."

His lids lowered halfway over his eyes at her answer. "There is nothing I want more than to have my babe in you. But there is something more we can do than simply take some witch's concoction."

And this time, the term could not offend her, not when he looked and felt the way he did. "Pray tell, your highness, what else do we do?"

And then she squealed when he carried her back to the bed in his arms.

~o~o~

It was in the morning that finally, reluctantly, Blair and Klaus parted. Klaus left his bride curled in bed, and he bid her recover so she would be at peak strength when he returned from hunting with his men. She lounged atop the sheets, playing with the string of pearls that he had awoken her with by running the cold round pieces over her bare stomach.

"Blair."

At the sound of the voice, Blair started on the bed. She quickly sat up and drew up the blanket over herself. Her eyes widened at the sight. "Elijah," she greeted. Blair turned to the doorway leading to her ladies' chambers. "You cannot be here."

"No one knows I am here," he assured her, but the assurance only left Blair more ill at ease. "I have been roaming this palace since I was a child. I know every hidden passageway here."

"Elijah, brother," she said softly, "perhaps we shall chat over breakfast."

"And we shall," he answered. And then, he looked down at the mussed sheets and settled on a point on the bed. He reached towards it and placed his fingers there. "I would ask you if it is done, but there is the answer I need."

Blair's eyes widened, and she pushed Elijah's hand away from the bloodstain on the sheets.

"Once we are certain that you carry his child, we prepare," Elijah stated. Blair's hands fisted at her side. "You are queen, and soon you will bear the next King of England, Blair. That is all that we will ever need."

tbc