Blood.
Its sickening smell wafts through the air. She snarls as it hits her nose, bringing unlikable images to her mind.
His blood.
Any other day, it would not have been as gruesome as her mind conjures this instant. On the days where it fills her mouth, trickles down her throat, bring her to heights of pleasure while he holds her, it is anything but disgusting. It is sweet and smooth and satisfying. It is an elixir that she has been looking for since as long as a thousand years. It's her safe haven, her sweet escape. It smells of him. It smells of home.
Not today.
She runs faster, dead heart beating erratically in her chest.
Run. Run. Run.
It's the only thought that lingers in her head. She hears twigs snapping beneath her feet, feels the bushes scratching against her skin, sees them clawing and shredding her clothing, but she does not care.
She runs.
She runs faster than ever before. Her breath hitching, her heart trembling, every fiber of her being soaked with fear, she runs. There is no time to look back. There is no time to think. There is only time to run.
Screams.
She hears them carried by the winds. She hears the agony of his shriek. She sees his pained face behind her eyelids. She feels tears in her eyes as he cries.
She can do nothing but run.
She runs towards him, towards her beacon of hope, towards the safe haven that is being ripped away, and God, oh God, please let her get to him in time. She will give them anything they want, anything they need. She will let them manipulate her. She will let them hurt her. She will do anything they want from her, if she can have him back.
Focus.
She drowns out the sound of his cries, focusing on the scrunches of the leaves below her.
Focus, Caroline, focus, She chants in her head.
Her efforts are vile. Another scream rips through the night. She can hear the distinct sound of wood protruding flesh, sending chills down her spine.
She is so close.
Hang on.
She halts.
Far too close, she's become. She cannot lose her posture as she steps into the cellar. She cannot show weakness. A thousand years can never stop her from feeling anger, pain, fear and paralyzing shock at the sight before her, but a thousand years taught her how to hide those sentiments -the ones that have always been her futile weakness.
She shows not a hint of emotion as she steps into the cell, descends the stairs towards hell to find herself staring back at the capturers of her love. Her face is blank despite the revolting stench of blood and burnt flesh filling the air in a sickening mixture. Her stare is cold as she takes in the sight of him chained. She sees the Vervain burning his wrists from where the iron gripped him to the ceiling, leaving him wide opened for his abductors to torment. The bloodied torso provokes nothing but a slight clench of her jaw despite the ragged skin that seems to be torn in every direction with blood gushing everywhere around him that its source could no longer be known. The sight of the blood dripping from the luscious lips that she's become far too addicted to kissing entices nothing but an invisible fisting of her hand.
But his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, the drooping of the lids, the agony in them, the exhaustion mixed with the weariness and relief at her presence is what breaks her. She recalls that day she first noticed how beautiful they are. They convey his emotions, betraying him when he wants them to stay cold, betraying him when he wants them indifferent. So intensely they gaze into hers, their ocean-deep look boring into her soul. She loves the way he looks at her. Such adoration, such love fills them as soon as they see her. She loves the way they burn into her, how she feels them lingering on her when her back is turned to him. And most of all, she loves how when he gently, sometimes playfully, spreads kisses over her face, the long blond lashes tickle her cheek so intimately, so tenderly that her breath catches in her throat and her heart swells with love.
Seeing them anguished now breaks her heart, and a flicker of pain crosses her face.
She moves a step further to tear apart everyone who hurt him. They are merely ten men and she can take them down before any of them blinks but something halts her movements. She bumps into an invisible wall that delays her approach, her growl of frustration all but giving away how apprehensive she is to get to him.
The leader of this forsaken group, Marcel, grins. Closer to Niklaus, he steps. He lifts an iron bar soaked with Vervain and drags it across the disheveled torso of her beloved Nik. It burns his skin and a whimper of pain escapes him. He's too tired to scream, she realizes with a sinking heart.
"What kind of a show are you running, Marcel?" She demands, crossing her arms over her chest. Whether it is to establish authority, indifference, or merely to protect herself from the stinging pain raging throw her she does not know.
"I was bored" Marcel shrugs with the same grin still plastered on his face. It's so friendly, so welcoming that one would not think that he would be wiping blood off of his hands as he utters his words "Figured I would have some fun".
"Don't you have other ways of entertainment than torturing someone who directly relates to me?" she asks coolly, her stance relaxed.
"Well, none of them would be as useful as this fellow over here" Marcel says, his grin slipping into a smirk.
"Useful for what?" Caroline huffs, appearing almost bored by the whole ordeal.
"Useful as a leverage against you" Marcel's tone drops into a dangerous threat, his smirk fading to show a defying mask.
Caroline scoffs, stuttering out a contained laughter "You think that he" she points casually towards her love "Can be a leverage against me? Please, he's just a puppy to keep me entertained"
"Is that so?" Marcel's eyebrows shoot up "then I guess you wouldn't care if I do this"
Before Caroline can register his words, Marcel flashes behind Niklaus with a wooden stake in his hand as he drives it into Nik's chest. The latter can only gasp, his eyes widening in terror and while the process takes nothing but mere seconds, the pain stretches on for an eternity. Marcel, however, does not get a chance to finish what he started, interrupted by the growl that resounds from Caroline's throat. Her fangs are apparent and her eyes flash yellow as she moves towards him only to be blocked by the invisible wall repeatedly.
"Don't you dare!" she snarls at Marcel who still has the stake plunged in Niklaus's chest, only a few inches away from his heart.
"I guess you lied then, didn't you, Caroline?" Marcel smirks again, a glint of triumph in his eyes.
"What kind of game are you playing, Marcel?" Caroline spits his name out like an insult "What do you want?" she hisses through her fangs "Do you want to get yourself killed?"
"No" Marcel shakes his head with a chuckle, removing the stake gradually from Niklaus's chest. She does not know what infuriates her more, his amusement at the situation or the weakness that he found out how to exploit her with "my demands are pretty simple actually".
"And what are they, might I ask?" she urges, watching as Niklaus seems to slowly slip into unconsciousness.
"You leave New Orleans and never come back if you want him to live" Marcel says simply.
"Right" she scoffs.
Marcel says nothing, shoving his hand into Nik's chest, wrapping his fingers around his heart. All he has to do is pull.
"NO DON'T!" she screams, panic obvious in her voice before she can cover it up "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want".
When Nik looks back at her, he sees that her fangs have retracted and her eyes are wide in fear.
"Caro-" Niklaus begins to say but Marcel's grip tightens around his heart, drawing a faint cry from him.
"You're not allowed to talk" Marcel growls.
"Stop!" Caroline yells, angrily this time and back to her dominating manner "I said I'll do what you want so stop hurting him!" she bellows, a flash of yellow emerging in her eyes again.
"Wonderful!" Marcel exclaims. He retracts his bloodied hand and clasps it with his other hand in front of him theatrically. The blood trickles to his wrist at that moment, causing a fresh wave of anger to course through Caroline "Now, we'll go about this my way" he begins "This place is owned by this nice guy over here" Marcel gestures to his left where a young man was standing looking confused. Caroline immediately realized that he was a human from the glint of compulsion in his eyes, something that in her fury and anxiety she had not realized "That's why you can't step in. So here's what's gonna happen. My guys and I will leave through the back door" he gestures behind him "then you'll be invited in to take back your Niklaus. You'll leave New Orleans by tomorrow. " he pauses "I've linked your lover with a vampire who broke one of my rules. I wouldn't mind to kill him, and if I catch a hint of news that you haven't left, or if you come after one of my people, or if you hurt one of my friends, I will kill that vampire quicker than I planned and you will cause the death of your ... one and only. But if you leave I will severe that link"
"What's to guarantee that you will severe the link?" Caroline inquires with an arched eyebrow.
"You're just gonna have to trust me on this one" Marcel says simply "Just like I'm trusting that you will not make an entrance here for the next fifty years."
"And why is that?" Caroline asks, placing a hand on her hip.
"Because as long as you have him" Marcel gestures to a barely conscious Niklaus with his head "you'll always have a weakness. You'll come back here once you get bored of him and looking for a way to get rid of him".
Which will never happen, Caroline sneers internally.
"Fine" she snaps "You have a deal." You will pay for this, one way or another.
"Good" Marcel grins again "Let's get out of here guys" he orders the rest of his crew.
Marcel is the last one, besides the compelled human who is still frozen in his place, to leave. But before he disappears, he turns around to deliver his last taunt.
"It's a good thing you found him early otherwise he would have been dead. I injected him with werewolf venom."
Then he disappears.
The human robotically invites Caroline in as soon as Marcel is out of sight. She flashes immediately to Niklaus, unaware of the fearful look the young man is giving her. She tears apart the chains, ignoring the slight sting of Vervain on her fingers. He collapses to the floor immediately with a pained grunt. Hurriedly, she kneels next to him, cradling his head in her lap. His eyes are shut, his body is limp in her arms. Her panic rises as she focuses on the wide-opened wounds obnoxiously decorating his torso
"Nik, look at me" she says urgently, cupping his face gently. His eyes flutter opened, tiredly looking at her. The brokenness of his look tears at the walls of her heart. She isn't used to seeing him without his confident stride or the charming smirk gracing his presence. "You need my blood, take my blood" she tells him softly.
She bites into her wrist and places it over his mouth. A few seconds later, he snaps out of his delirious state to suckle the sweet blood into his mouth. He feels it chasing away the burning acid of the werewolf venom, soothing the ache that the Vervain and the bloody wounds left in his body. Of course her blood is the answer. It is only appropriate for his angel's blood to give him back life.
She sighs ruefully at the feeling of him taking in her blood, stroking his hair gently with her free hand. She pulls him closer to her, needing to know that she did not lose him. The thought of living without him for a fraction of a second hurt beyond belief. She never wants to experience such panic again.
"Caroline," he begins once he has taken enough of her blood "your kingdom, your home-"
She shakes her head, a tear slipping from her eyes "It doesn't matter" she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead "I have you. You're my home, Nik"