I do not own TVD or TO.
Caroline huddled on the bench, hugging her knees to her chest. After months of cleanliness a small part of her brain shuddered to see the filth caked over her feet and legs, but the vast majority of her concentration lay in the middle of the house.
After a sleepless night filled with terrible yowls the beast who had tormented them retreated. Growling gave way to horrible shrieks; the sounds of pain and panic brought each of them out of the stables. And Caroline, who hated being told what to do, bristled when Kol instructed them to stay put; he couldn't grab her fast enough and she had run into the house in time to see.
And see she had. She saw the body of a wolf painfully contort, fur receding as it changed until all that remained was his unconscious form.
He lay prone by the hearth, naked but for the blanket Kol had covered him with. A layer of sweat and dirt clung to his otherwise healthy skin.
"We saw him change," Bonnie translated for the shaken Caroline.
Change… she hugged her knees tighter, listening to the sounds of Kol and Elena outside. People didn't change into animals; it was physically impossible. But hadn't she watched him change back?
Her sleep deprived mind struggled to make sense of everything - to equate the wolf with the man she knew and trusted.
Could he have known?
Kol had said he couldn't have, that nobody could have. Well… Bonnie had translated for him. They called it a curse, an affliction of the blood. And through Bonnie he relayed a story from before he was born, the tale of how their entire town packed up and moved to where they now resided because of men who transformed into beasts beneath the full moon. The journey had lasted long enough that Klaus was born during it, and Kol had entered the world days after his father's house was completed.
Elena kicked at the ground. The vicious motion disrupted a small number of paw prints. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She expected the full job would take the better part of the morning and her legs trembled, eager for a short break.
She kicked harder. A stone dislodged from the mud, dinging the bowed wall. The horses inside snorted and she stared at the tiny dent and jagged splinters.
Kol looked up, pausing from his own patch of dirt.
"Elena?"
Her hands lifted, curling tight around her elbows. The added pressure did nothing to ease the ache in her stomach; it twisted and churned, and for a moment she feared a sudden and violent return to morning sickness.
He hurried over and reached out. His hands turned her, pulling her into the circle of his arms.
"Just breathe, darling," he murmured, rubbing her shoulders.
Her forehead dropped to his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a shaking breath, exhaling slowly. When she found her voice it came out in a broken whisper.
"I don't understand." She let go of her arms and clung to his shirt. She had spent years surrounded by magic, feeling its energy pulse around her through the people she knew and loved, but this was new. "I… I… what happened?"
"You've heard the stories, Elena," he closed his eyes.
"I've heard tales of men who turn into beasts," she shook her head, desperation shone in her bright eyes. "How did this happen? How did nobody know? Why him?"
Before he could answer she heard the sound of hooves fast approaching. His arms stiffened around her even as his eyes darted frantically around the yard. Dozens of prints, overturned tables and displaced tools betrayed the chaos of the night.
His sudden fear surprised her. She found it contagious.
"Kol?" Her heart hammered in her chest. Near the house Bonnie stilled from stomping at her own patch of paw prints.
The horse galloped into the yard, coming to a sudden stop. Elena's heart stuttered and calmed as Elijah swung down from the saddle.
"What are you doing out here?" His eyes took in their mud caked shoes and hastily thrown on clothes. "I was worried sick when nobody was home."
"Morning, Elijah," Kol cleared his throat.
Elena's eyes darted from brother to brother. She attempted to keep her movements slow and casual as she scuffed her foot along the ground, but Elijah caught the motion and looked down and she knew the moment he saw what they had started to hide.
"We heard it in the village." His brows lowered. "Mother claimed the howling came from the wind."
"The wind was rather loud," Kol said, keeping one hand on the small of her back.
"Strong enough to take down trees," Bonnie supplied, pointing beyond the stables for evidence. An oak's branches hung low over the roof.
"And I suppose the wind was also responsible for wolf tracks?" Elijah arched an eyebrow. "Why are you trying to hide them?"
Elena chewed her bottom lip.
"You know how father would react to this mess," Kol shrugged.
"He would hunt the beast down, and for good reason."
Elena shivered.
"You've only heard the stories, but I remember the fear of being forced to hide. Freya still remembers the bodies of the dead, mutilated beyond recognition. They transform and they kill. And now they've followed us here. So tell me, why, after hearing every recounting, you would conceal that which could lead back to the wolf?"
Kol considered for a moment, remembering the many times Elijah had attempted to speak back, and the more numerous occasions of tending to the worst of the wounds. If anyone would keep the secret, aside from Rebekah, it would be him, so he took in a deep breath and made a leap.
"We are hiding the tracks for the same reason that you're about to help us," he nodded to Bonnie, a silent instruction to continue. He answered the derisive snort with a challenging eyebrow and a tight smirk - knowing his next words would seal Elijah's aid. "You're going to help us because it's Nik."
His shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths. The pained breaths were the only sign of actual life he emitted.
She unfolded her legs and rose from the bench, arching her spine as she did to ease the ache in her lower back. It persisted as she tiptoed closer. Along the short path she paused to right the stools around the hearth; she knelt when she did, falling to her knees on the packed dirt floor.
She reached with trembling fingers, gingerly touching the centre of a single print. Razor sharp fangs flashed in her mind as she traced the paw's indentation; she almost missed the sharp intake of breath, but it would have been impossible not to see the way he stretched or hear the way he groaned.
He came awake slowly, as he always did, blinking away the vestiges of sleep. And though he was no stranger to resting in other places aside from a bed, the hard floor definitely contributed to his swift return to awareness.
She knew what he saw when his eyes rolled around the room because she had seen it too. She had taken in the chaos that had once been her perfectly organized space. The remnants of paint stained the logs scattered across the floor. And she didn't know how she would work up the nerve to approach the shelf of shattered and splintered tableware; replacements were not a problem, especially with the way he carved nightly, but she couldn't wrap her mind around how he had broken them in the first place.
Then there was every piece of toppled furniture, and probably more tracks that she had yet to notice.
His eyes found her.
She held her breath, resisting the urge to reach up and pat down her hair. She held her breath and she watched him slowly sit up.
He looked her over slowly, taking in the dirt and sweat and fearful eyes.
And she tried not to do it. She really tried, but when his gravelly voice called her name she flinched. And then she felt terrible for it when a hurt confusion clouded his blue eyes.
He sat up, groaning as he did; the blanket slipped down around his hips.
Another image flashed behind her eyes; one of him contorted in agony as his body went through what she now knew to be a transformation. From what she had seen before racing for aid it was a painful process.
His muscles ached, spasms gripping him every time he attempted to move. He tried to remember what had happened and came up with Caroline's fear filled gaze before she ran from the house. He thought she might have said something, and he had a suspicion he had seen Kol at some point but everything was blurry, distorted.
The harder he thought about it the clearer the images became.
Caroline forced herself to stay still as he shifted into a sitting position, flattening her palm on the floor by the print. His eyes fell to her fingers and then the paw print.
Tentatively he reached out to touch it, fingers grazing her hand.
Realization dawned in his eyes, followed swiftly by fear, revulsion, and something she never wanted to see on his face again: self-loathing.
Her fingers curled, catching dirt under her nails. The addition of a tiny pebble grounded her in the room. It was real. It had happened.
For a brief moment the terror that had gripped her heart crossed her face.
"Caroline," he whispered, eyes wide. The broken sound pulled her from her revery and the memory of ravenous hunger in his lupine eyes.
She blinked slowly, taking in the wary expectation in the curve of his mouth. What was he waiting for? Did he expect her to run?
She was physically capable of it now. She hadn't been at first, and then she had been unwilling to after for fear of someone far worse catching her. Before being taken, before spending time with him, she would have bolted, screaming bloody murder, after the night she had experienced.
Was she going to run?
She didn't feel that itch in her feet urging her to flee. What she did feel was a strong desire to ease the obvious aches beneath his skin and smooth the crinkle from his brow.
What did that say about her?
She shifted on her knees and he hung his head. She cringed at the sight of her dirty hands but lifted them anyway, cupping his face to lift his chin.
She pulled him towards her, gently smoothing her fingers through his hair, and shifted to meet him halfway. With his head against her shoulder she stroked the back of his neck, and though her stomach trembled her voice was steady with a fierce conviction.
"I'm not going anywhere." The soothing repetition eventually broke through his subconscious and he wrapped his arms around her waist, clinging to her. She felt his desperation in the strong fingers that gripped her borrowed shirt.
A thousand insects crawled under his skin, giving still muscles the impression of being alive. She dug her fingers into a particularly busy swarm and massaged until his shoulder no longer rippled. Her hand roamed lower, working out the tense spots when she found them.
He was ready to break, she could feel it in the way he pressed closer to her chest, but before he could do anything the sun lit up the interior of the house.
She let him go to shield her eyes and turned, squinting at the figure that towered in the door frame.
"Fanken." Elijah breathed a word Caroline didn't recognize.
He took in the disarray, made infinitely worse in the light, with wide eyes and repeated himself with a level of horrified awe in his tone, lending a degree of understanding. He snapped out of whatever shock had taken hold of him then, jumping forward to action.
"Get up," he curled his hand around her elbow. A low growl made them both jump and turn their gazes to Klaus who appeared as equally surprised as them.
Elijah tightened his hold, making Caroline wince. The next thing she knew Klaus stood beside her and she found herself caught between the brothers, watching a strangely possessive light flare behind his blue eyes. It took her a moment to recognize it and place a similar experience, but she called up the memory of the man who had pushed her and nearly suffered Klaus' wrath.
"Control yourself," Elijah placed a hand on Klaus' bare chest, refusing to be intimidated by his little brother. He noticed that Klaus' glower was not directed at the restraint, but at the fingers curled around her slim arm. He let go and spoke with deliberate slowness to her.
"Caroline, go outside and get cleaned up while I speak with my brother."
She understood enough of the directive and felt filthy enough to warrant a full bath, but she hesitated to leave so soon after swearing she would stay. Her trepidation must have shown on her features because when Elijah turned to find out why he could still feel her presence his expression softened and he sighed.
Underlying urgency strained his voice, belaying the importance of his words. She recognized 'Bonnie' and 'explain', having heard them often enough when she failed to understand something.
She glanced at Elijah and then fixed her gaze on Klaus before murmuring that she would be right outside. As she retreated she stole glances over her shoulder, watching the conversation she could no longer hear.
Outside the autumn sun warmed her body, but a chill still lingered deep in her bones. She closed her eyes and turned her head up in the hopes that she could soak in what little heat hung in the air.
"Caroline," a small hand curled around her wrist, "come on. You have to clean up."
"Why?" She cracked open an eye. Just because she wanted to be clean didn't mean she had to bathe at that moment in time.
"Because we don't have much time."
From the corner of her eye she saw Kol's head bent close to Elena; he whispered fast and she felt herself leaning towards them.
"I'll explain at the river."
Caroline allowed herself to be pulled away, catching a glimpse of a quick kiss between the couple; Kol disappeared into the house while Elena jogged to catch up. The brunette had to be exhausted; she suspected it was the most she had done since recovering from her wounds.
They didn't stop moving until Caroline's bare feet plunged into the water and needles stabbed at her skin, making her toes burn. She pulled up short, yanking her wrist from Bonnie's grasp with a mumbled curse. Elena's strong hands at her back put a stop to the hasty retreat she had half planned.
"What was wrong with the hot springs?" She whimpered, hating the whine in her voice, but damn it if she hadn't had a long night. Was it too much to ask for a hot bath?
"You can make the trip later," Bonnie pulled her forwards, shivering as the water swirled higher around her own legs. "Right now we don't have time. You need to be clean, and everything must appear normal before Mikael gets here."
"Mikael's coming?" Caroline shifted from foot to foot. The mere thought of plunging her hands into the river made her shiver. How was she meant to appear normal if her fingers turned blue? "Why is Mikael coming?"
"They heard a wolf howling last night," Bonnie crouched, "he's coming to investigate. And if he learns what happened here Elijah and Kol say it will be very bad."
"But why?" Caroline winced as Bonnie set to scrubbing at her legs, but it was Elena who answered; she tore a strip from her shift and dipped it into the water.
"Because," Elena used the cloth to wipe the dirt streaks from her face, "Mikael will…" She chewed her bottom lip, struggling to find the right word in a language she was still learning. When she couldn't she used her own words accompanied by a jabbing motion towards her own chest. "Mikael will bana him."
"Bana?" Caroline repeated rather numbly, turning her head from one woman to the other for explanation. The cold water made her feel lethargic.
Bonnie's fingers worked a streak of mud from her kneecap and Caroline wondered if it was really necessary. It wasn't like Mikael was going to see her bare legs. But she supposed feeling normal would help her act normal.
"Bana means kill," Bonnie looked up through her lashes.
"Kill?" Her voice rose to a shriek. She forced her tone to lower and directed her questions to Bonnie. "Why would he do that? Why would Mikael want to kill his own son?"
"Because of what he is," Bonnie tore a strip of cloth from her skirt, rising up to work away at Caroline's arms and hands. "Because of what he turned into last night."
"But he couldn't help that," she shook her head. "Kol said it was a curse."
"It is a curse," Bonnie nodded.
"Then it's not his fault," her shoulders pushed back, raising her up to her full height. "He was cursed. That can be undone."
"You're forgetting the blood affliction," Bonnie translated for Elena.
Caroline turned her eyes on the warrior woman, noticing for the first time how her sharp edges had softened; Elena returned her gaze and spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.
"It's not that he's feikinstafi … cursed… it's what that curse tells Mikael. It tells him that Niklaus is oskilgetinn."
"Oskilgetinn?" Caroline's eyes narrowed. She wracked her brain but couldn't recall ever having come across the term. She looked to Bonnie, but the young witch appeared just as surprised as she did.
"Born out of wedlock?" Bonnie tilted her head and scrunched up her nose. "But he wasn't."
"No, not out of wedlock," Elena sighed, closing her eyes.
Caroline found the strength to take the rag and scrub at her shaking hands.
"Oskilgetinn," Elena repeated, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. "Esther is his mother, but it means that Mikael is not his father. A man with the same curse was, and Mikael will kill him because he never cared for Niklaus and because he is oskilgetinn."
A bastard? Caroline exhaled in a rush. The world around them slowed to the space between heartbeats and she barely heard Elena's dark mutter about it not being considered murder since Mikael would be killing the beast. But how could he do such a thing? There was no possible way Mikael could have known before hand, and until he did know Klaus was still the son he had raised. How could one little fact undo two decades of familial development? Whether Mikael had ever liked him or not, Klaus was still his son; even if he wasn't. Right?
She was so lost in her own thoughts she didn't fight them when they directed her from the water.
Normal. Everything had to be normal, but what even was normal?
He didn't think he knew anymore.
How could he?
He had thought everything in his life to be perfectly ordinary, as ordinary as a life could be, and then every bone in his body broke and reformed, and he spent a night running around on all fours.
What was normal?
Air filled his lungs and left his body again.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The give and take centred him in the house. He righted a stool.
Inhale; he stacked the logs by the hearth.
Exhale; his eyes sought Caroline.
Inhale; she wiped down sturdy jars and replaced them on the shelf.
Exhale.
Her spine stiffened, head turning sharply towards the door.
Inhale.
The air left him in a rush. Slowly he became aware of more noises outside of his own body. In the distance, from the rutted road, came the thundering sound of hooves fast approaching.
Caroline patted down damp edges of her hair and twisted the heavy strands until they were hidden. Her hands fell to her belt and fidgeted, tugging and straightening. The way she fussed and fretted brought a fond smile to his lips; a tired chuckle accompanied it.
"Don't laugh at me," she scolded. "We're supposed to be normal." Her hands settled on her hips.
"Being amused by your neurotic tendencies is the only thing that feels normal," he reached for her waist, wondering how much she understood. She was right though; they had to be normal. He had no interest in losing his head, or in leaving her alone to raise their child alone.
"Niklaus?" His father's shout broke through the walls.
Should he even be thinking of him as his such? He was the only father he had ever known, but he also knew beyond any doubts that his brothers' fears were well founded and that the only father he had ever known would end his existence in the blink of an eye if he found out.
That made him feel strangely light and heavy at the same time.
"Niklaus?"
The second shout came on the heels of a crash, signalling that the door had been knocked off its hinges. He mentally added the repair to the list of things to do, already feeling the strain in his arms.
Any concern that might have laced Mikael's tone melted the moment he stormed inside and found Klaus with Caroline. His narrow eyes flicked between the young couple.
"Did you not hear me shouting, boy?" Disdain coloured his tone.
A dozen scars throbbed with an echo of childhood wounds. Involuntarily his hands tightened on her hips.
"We heard you, father," he swallowed the bitter taste on his tongue.
"And after the events of last night you thought not to answer." Mikael's eyes flashed. His feet kicked up dirt as he crossed the room.
Caroline fidgeted and he resisted his urge to pull her closer, allowing her instead to step away. His eyes followed her as she cut a path out of Mikael's way towards the hearth and busied her hands by adding a second log to the fire and stirring the stew pot*, but he saw the way her foot rubbed at the ground beneath her skirt.
"Events, father?" His brows lowered in what he hoped was a truly quizzical expression. "What events transpired last night?"
"You didn't hear the howling?" Mikael glanced towards Caroline as she perched on the raised hearth and started grinding corn for flour.
"Do you refer to the wind?" He cocked an eyebrow.
"You know I do not," he seethed. "The beast was outside this house," his hand gestured towards the door. "There are tracks around the door and stables."
He saw Caroline's face pale from the corner of his eye, but Mikael was too preoccupied with his tirade to notice.
"How could you not have heard it?" His pale eyes finally cut to Caroline when the grinding slowed. "You," he crossed the space and grabbed her arm.
"You must have heard it." He yanked her to her feet. The shallow bowl she used to grind flour fell from her hand, spilling half ground corn over the dirt.
Caroline's drawn face lacked her usual defiance when she looked up into Mikael's angry features and he didn't know if the fight had finally gone out of her or if she was simply exhausted, but the fear she usually kept buried deep manifested in a trembling lip. A pained whimper drew his eyes to the tight grip Mikael held on her upper arm and he saw red.
"Leave her be," he snapped, breaking his father hold and placing his body between them. His hand came up, gently cupping her arm.
"As soon as she answers the question," Mikael sneered, reaching for Klaus' arm.
"Facere non," Caroline gripped his shirt, letting her nails scratch the skin underneath. Fear shone through her eyes and he caught the barest reflection of gold in the green depths.
He took a deep breath and the gold vanished. How often had that happened? How many times had she seen it and thought nothing of it, or shaken it off?
"She doesn't speak our language father," he rubbed her arm with his thumb, silently willing her to remain quiet. Though, he suspected the encouragement to be unnecessary since she could have told him not to turn around in his own tongue.
"Then perhaps Kol's slave girl can explain," Mikael's gravelly voice moved backwards. "His household and yours will rejoin us in the village until this mess is sorted out."
"Is that necessary?" His heart stuttered.
"The beast was outside this house last night and by some miracle you are both unscathed." He held the couple in a cool stare when Klaus finally turned back around. "Such good fortune will not last. Pack your things and prepare to move. I shall expect you both by sundown tomorrow."
His tone brokered no argument, and he didn't stick around long enough to give them a chance.
"Klaus," Caroline stared after his retreat and breathed slowly, willing strength into her weak legs. A blinding pain gripped her stomach and she held tighter to his arm, breathing through it. "We move?"
"Yes, love," he reached for her hand, squeezing gently. How was he meant to maintain normality under Mikael's watchful gaze?
Mid-afternoon found Caroline packing preserves in baskets and bags and doing her best to ignore the constant ache in her back. The basket of apples was already by the door. When she was finished with the preserves she moved into the bedroom and started folding linens and furs, keeping one ear on the distant sounds of animals outside.
She didn't fully understand the words Mikael had said or their true implication until Klaus started bringing the animals out of the stable. There weren't many, just a couple of cows and a very pregnant pig who's mate had disappeared during the storm.
She was trying really hard not to think about that.
With an armful of folded furs she crossed back into the main part of the house with the intention of loading the burden into the cart. Three feet from the door a cramp gripped her stomach so strong that she fell to her knees, dropping the basket of cloths.
She bit her lip, but a cry still got out. Her body curled in on itself as she dropped the rest of the way to the ground and fumbled with her skirts. She managed to left the material and poked her hand between her legs.
Her fingers came away red.
She choked on her sob and stared at the thick blood.
Outside he looked up from tying the horse to the cart and turned towards the house, listening for a sound he hoped he had misinterpreted but the quiet cries reached him. He abandoned the animals and ran into the house, tripping over a basket inside the door. His eyes took a moment to readjust to the dark and see her curled on her side.
At first he didn't know what to make of the scene, but he immediately fell to his knees behind her and pulled her up into his arms. When she buried her tear stained face in his chest he finally added up the signs: her clutched stomach and heart wrenching sobs, the hiked skirt and the blood on her fingers.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached down, took the hem of her skirt in his hand and carefully dragged the material up. Blood clung to her thighs and seeped through the material beneath her body.
His stomach dropped to somewhere around his feet.
She gasped for breath, crying harder when she couldn't catch it and he rubbed her hair, murmuring nonsense that somehow managed to calm her; in no small part because she couldn't see the hot tears on his own face.
He knew what he should have done. He should have moved her somewhere more comfortable and gone for his brother, or his mother, or Bonnie, but he couldn't leave her. Not while she was crying. Not while they were losing something so precious.
So he held her tight through the pain and the tears.
*Okay, so Vikings often left the stew from a previous day boiling over the dying embers of the fire and just added to the base again and again until eventually it was thrown out and they started again from scratch.