The dreams came back that night. Dreams filled with self-loathing and fear. Dreams filled with Damon.
Klaus and his men had searched through the night but there was no sign of the escapee. They didn't have any idea where to find him, yet Damon knew everything about them, from where they ate to where they slept.
Damon was the reason for so much of Caroline's grief. It was he who had gotten in the way of her freedom; he who had squandered her chance at happiness. Just from the few moments she'd had in his presence, Caroline knew that Damon had lost every part of himself. Any sense of the brother Stefan once loved was now gone, in Damon's eyes there was nothing. No evil or good, just an empty void, null of any humanity whatsoever. Whatever it was that caused this change in him didn't matter. He was out for blood and Caroline was sure hers would do just fine.
As she paced around the camp no man dared to comment on Caroline's pale face or the dark circles that underlined her eyes. She was the ghost of their mistake—a haunting reminder that the man they were supposed to keep locked away was now free.
"It had to be an inside job," one viking whispered to another as they watched Caroline pick at her breakfast.
His companion shook his head, "anyone who knows Klaus knows that betrayal is death."
When they heard their leader making his way over, everyone scattered in a dozen direction. His odd attachment to Caroline and her current negative emotional state left him in the most hostile of moods.
"Caroline, love, come. There's something I wish to show you." he said softly, trying to revive the woman in front of him.
A bit startled from the sudden company, Caroline shook her head, not even bothering to look up at Klaus. Her days were numbered. She didn't know or have faith in the people around her. Stefan would never kill his own brother and until Damon was dead Caroline wouldn't feel safe. He'd get to her eventually and that anxiety was slowly destroying what little sanity she had left.
"It will help," Klaus said taking her arm, "just trust me."
She mentally scoffed, doesn't every kidnapper want their victim to trust them at some point?
Walking through the forest, Klaus watched with a heavy heart as Caroline's eyes dashed behind every tree, as she winced at every gust of wind. He knew all too well the kind of tales her mind was spinning; he too had once feared who was waiting for him in the dark.
When Mikael's suspicions about Klaus's paternity first arose, anything and everything unique that the boy did became a crime. Somehow spilling a child's blood was the only way to punish his wife for her infidelity. It was not Niklaus's fault that he was not the man his father wanted; still, Klaus tried harder than any of his siblings to gain Mikael's approval.
For years he yearned for his father's good word. Fought for it at every turn. He became the most skilled hunter in the village and for that he suffered his father disdain: Mikael told him that gluttony was a sin, and only a glutton would need such a plentiful bounty. So, instead Klaus grew vegetables in their field, working harder than any man in the village, but gardening should be women's' work and for that he was punished yet again. Everything he did right was wrong, and when Klaus tried the last skill he thought would be able to impress his father, when he picked up a sword for the first time—that was when the biggest beating came.
An abuser doesn't want their victim to be armed.
That night he'd begged the gods to give him purpose. He begged for his father's love. That was when his mother broke. She told him the truth.
Ester changed Klaus's whole view of the man he'd thought to be his father. Mikael was not his blood. His real father had never rejected him. For a while this alone helped keep Klaus's head high. Mikael could not hurt him, because Klaus no longer needed his love—or at least that's what he thought.
When dreaming of what life would've been was no longer enough, Klaus went in search of his mother, in search of more answers.
She told him his birth-father was a viking. A warrior.
"He doesn't even know you exist." Ester told him softly one day, when she caught him practicing his swordsmanship in the fields.
"Matters not," Klaus huffed.
Ester shook her head, "Mikael is your father, Niklaus." she said sternly. Her family would not be torn apart by her mistakes. Klaus would not leave. Life may not be easy for Niklaus, but as long as he never looked beyond their village, he would stay and Ester would have all her children together as one. She and her husband were Klaus's parents, that was the only thing anyone needed to know.
"No, he's not." Klaus said not paying her any thought. He had his own truth, he didn't need anyone else's.
"He raised you." Ester exclaimed, offended.
"He destroyed me!" Klaus roared and in his fit of rage lost track of where his mother had wandered to. When he turned around, sword in hand, he accidentally slashed her leg open.
Her cries of pain brought on the unwelcome presence of Mikael.
"Look what you've done boy," Mikael screeched as he came running towards the scene. Looking back, Klaus knew it was unlikely the man had seen the mess he'd made—but everything that went wrong was always his fault.
"I'm sorry mother." Klaus whispered, before he turned to leave. To flee.
"Niklaus, where are you going?" Ester called after him.
Klaus didn't look back, he didn't elaborate, he just said: "to make my father proud."
And that was what led him to where he was now. His real father may never know his own flesh and blood, but he would know of Klaus, the most powerful viking to ever pillage the land. Klaus spent years collecting treasures, searching for the next great adventure. He was certain there wasn't a single man alive who could best him, he was the most experienced of his kind—nothing could surprise him. That was until he found Caroline.
Something about her was rare. She was to be cherished, coveted. Klaus had rarely been gentle in his life, but with her he was willing to try.
"Here we are," he said bringing them to a halt in the middle of nowhere.
Caroline gave him a puzzled look, before it turned to fear when he pulled out a sword.
"Shh, love. I already told you I would never harm you." Despite his words, Caroline shook like a leaf. She should have known better than to follow him out into the woods.
"This sword is for you." He elaborated, saddened by the reaction he was receiving. He'd been hoping for gratitude, not fear.
Caroline just shook her head, Damon had tried to make her harm herself once. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't, not again.
"I'm not going to use that." Caroline said taking a step back, wondering if she'd survive longer if she made a run for it.
Klaus shook his head, he probably should have explained himself more thoroughly, but he'd been aiming for a more dramatic reveal.
"It's for you to protect yourself." Caroline tensed, that was the last answer she would have expected from him.
"I'm your prisoner, and you're giving me a weapon?" She asked in complete disbelief.
Looking a gift horse in the mouth is apparently one of her many talents, Klaus thought.
"If you can protect yourself then you don't have to worry about Damon attacking you when you're unguarded." She looked him over, skeptical of his proposal. Caroline knew how to use a sword, be it not nearly as well as Klaus and his men—or Damon.
"I wouldn't stand a chance." She sighed, defeated.
"I'll teach you," he offered sounding oddly excited. Caroline found his affinity for spending time with her unsettling.
Stepping forward Klaus placed the sword in her hands, "If you can fight for yourself, he'll never hurt you." he whispered.
When Caroline met his gaze she was greeted with a rare sight: a glimpse of his humanity. Such tragedy was hiding in the depths of his eyes, it broke her heart to think of the evils he must have seen to become the man he was today. Somehow the look of sadness that etched his features was comforting, it reminded her that she was not alone. She knew Klaus would never want to speak about his past, but knowing that he may have suffered an ordeal similar to her own, brought to her heart a greater understanding. They were similar in more ways than she originally thought.
"Okay" she agreed and his face lit up. "I do have one request." she added.
Klaus was giving her a peace of mind she never thought he would bestow upon her, but her heart was aching—she needed the truth. After the day she experienced yesterday, she needed certainty.
"That depends, love." He searched her face for any sign of mutiny.
"I want to see Elena." She said, keeping her head high.
Klaus stiffened, and Caroline's sure demeanor quickly turned to begging.
"Please, Stefan told me she's not far from here. I need to know she's okay." Klaus gave her an appraising glance, he was about to refuse when Caroline added in a heartbroken voice, "she was my friend, too."
He knew he would regret this decision, but alas when it came to her he had no choice.
Letting out an exasperated sigh to let her know how unwilling he was, Klaus promised: "we will go in the morning."
Overcome with an intense joy, Caroline acted beyond her own sense of reason and kissed Klaus on the cheek in gratitude.
The gesture was so foreign to the two of them, they froze waiting for the other's reaction.
"Thank you." She whispered, evading her eyes as a crimson blush crept up her cheeks.
Never had Caroline been so open in Klaus's presence. This change in her behavior was more than enough to supplement the hassle her request would cause.
As the two walked back, they were so consumed in their own thoughts, they didn't notice the man lurking in the trees above him.
There was guilt heavy on Damon's soul, but he'd perked up at the sound of Elena's name. Though he was certain of her death—as certain as he'd be if he'd done it himself—there was still a silent glimmer of hope that kept his heart beating.
That night Damon followed Klaus out of the camp, the Viking rarely left and to do so with his blonde toy in such a good mood, well it seemed almost sacrilegious. Slowly Klaus trekked to a small village, where he went straight to the door of the most ragged shack in sight.
When the door opened, Damon lost his breath.
"What do you want Niklaus?" The girl asked, tired and beaten.
"I need your assistance, again."
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Life had not been favorable to her, given the chance she'd be strong; unfortunately that opportunity had not ever been awarded to her in the short life she'd lived.
"You said you'd find Nadia." She reminded him of his promise, keeping her head high. She'd tricked that nice man and so far it was for nothing.
"I've had far more pressing issues," he growled, "your daughter is not my highest priority, however you help me once more and her importance will increase."
Damon didn't listen to their words, though perhaps he should have. It would have confirmed his suspicions.
"I'm not going to lie to that man again." she said, he didn't deserve that. There was goodness in him, his heart was trusting—and who would she be to poison an innocent man with her deceit?
Klaus shook his head, "there's someone else."
With a defeated sigh she shook her head. Their web of lies was growing, one of them would go down for this. She was a survivor. She couldn't risk her life, not even for her own daughter.
"Please Katherine," Klaus growled.
Looking up Damon saw the weathered look in her eyes and he knew. Though he'd processed none of their conversation, there was no way this lookalike was the woman he loved. Elena wasn't experienced, she was innocent, sheltered, naïve. They may look the same but these two women have lived very different lives.
Disappointment shook him. For days he'd been greeted with nothing but the image of his deceased love being buried by a monster. Alaric described the scene of her death mercilessly, from the state of her attire to the blood that stained the ground. Damon knew every detail.
There was nothing left for him in this village, he left Klaus and the impostor with nothing but disgust and contempt in his heart. While he made his way back to the makeshift camp that he and Alaric shared, Damon shoved his hands into his pockets—his hand came into contact with something cold and round. Pulling it out he saw what had been haunting his dreams for days. When nightmares become reality, people were known to lose themselves. It's strange how something so simple could cut down a man so mighty; a mere silver button discovered and all Damon's fears were confirmed. He'd killed his own beloved.
Author's Note:
I apologize for the long wait, but I have now completed Sent Away and am making Treasured my main focus. I've been really inspire lately and I have started writing a new fanfic which I will publish once this one is done. I'm really excited about it, and forcing myself to wait until Treasured is complete has definitely given me some extra motivation.
Thank you so much for sticking with this story. A special thanks to AnnaTom23 whose kind words helped me to complete this update.
-ShakespearianNerd