Author's note: This is a sequel to Chapter 141: Fright Wedding. The alliance with the Mikaelson kingdom failed when they declared war, but Caroline was certain Klaus would be an excellent ally. Or hostage. Or possibly something more?
Warning: Some Klaroline sexytimes!
"Now, now my good man, this is no time to be making enemies."
— Voltaire
No one was beheaded when Caroline's longship arrived back in her homelands. Given the volatile nature of her people, it was the best one could expect. Especially considering her mother met them in the shallows of the Arcadius River in full battle armor and painted symbols. With a scowl and a commanding gesture, the chieftain indicated that Klaus should be taken to the Great Hall.
Her mother still hadn't said a word — but that scowl had deepened the longer she glared at Klaus. To his credit, Klaus hardly squirmed while sitting on their most uncomfortable wooden bench, the one typically reserved for the villagers who irritated the chieftain with petty grievances.
With an irritated grunt, she flicked her gaze to Caroline and said in their native tongue, "We should kill this Mikaelson spawn outright and send this vicious hár back to his kinsmen."
Caroline held her tongue at the rudeness, not wishing to shame her chieftain before another. She needed to speak carefully, but steadfast if she intended to keep her word to Klaus...so that he could keep his head. "Klaus spoke against his kinsmen in my favor and he pledged his loyalty to our people while aiding in our escape."
"He had to rescue you?"
The disbelief and teasing tone of her mother was grating. "No," Caroline said, crossing her arms defensively over her embroidered shift. "I'd marked my steps through the Mikaelson stronghold — I was moments away from discovering the best escape route. Klaus was...useful."
"Hmm." Her mother eyed Klaus once more, a hint of respect growing in that calculating gaze as he managed to appear unshaken by his surroundings. "He's well-formed, so I'm certain you can attest to his usefulness in time." The chieftain paused at the heavy oak doors, an impish smile touching her lips as she told Caroline, "Remember, daughter, a sturdy tongue shouldn't stay your hand from spilling blood."
Cheeks flushed, Caroline was relieved her mother had kept to their native tongue. While the tone revealed her mother had mocked her, at least Klaus wouldn't have a full understanding of what was said. With a sigh, she leaned against the table, pleased to see he seemed more at ease now.
"I'm curious about something," he began in the regional dialect they'd spoken together ever since they met in the Mikaelson kingdom. Gray eyes twinkled as he unexpectedly switched to the native tongue of the Mystic kingdom to ask, "Is hár a type of stallion? Because your mother seems to think me quite virile."
He could speak her people's tongue?! Face flaming, Caroline struggled to compose herself. She was a celebrated warrior of her kinsmen, fated to one day lead the kingdom's armies. Her blades cut bloody swaths across their enemies' lands. And yet she couldn't calm her thundering heart whenever Klaus stole glances in her direction. Shaking herself when she realized she'd been staring far too long, Caroline hastily replied, "It means 'little shark'. And your flirtations are misplaced considering my mother still ponders whether your life is forfeit."
"She mused my tongue is sturdy — before I'm put to death, perhaps I may demonstrate its virtues to you firsthand."
That dimpled smirk set her teeth on edge, and Caroline stomped away, grumbling at his boldness. She would not suffer a fool. Even one with dimples.
However, when his hand suddenly touched hers, she was startled by his serious tone. "I spoke no falsehoods in my homeland that day. I choose you, Caroline. I fight at your side. You rescued me from that pit of vipers and I won't forget such kindness you've shown to an enemy."
Was Klaus her enemy? The thought turned her stomach and her mouth tasted of copper. Why did he affect her in this manner? Such foolish whims should be left to maidens who did not carry the weight of a warrior's heart. He helped her escape. Then, he followed her back to her people. His people's enemies. Klaus was quite brave. Or dim-witted. "Choosing me means choosing my people. Even now, your wretched family plots against mine and soon, they'll invade these lands and we will be at war," she challenged, the threat clear in her tone.
There was a fire in his gaze that captivated her, a ferocity in his blood she almost could taste. Klaus growled, "My kinsmen are pitiless; their greed knows no bounds and despite a prosperous kingdom that boasts bountiful crops and full bellies, they still crave more. Their methods are...depraved. I will run them through with a song in my heart."
His words shouldn't have delighted her as they did. He was a bitter, snarling wind who didn't recoil from Caroline's prickly ways. Her mother always teased that her stubborn, exacting ways would mean a bóndi, a husband, would only come to her in chains. Actually, it was leather straps she bound him in for the journey back.
"A new warrior to train — our chieftain will be pleased," came Greta's gleeful voice at the door that she'd clearly cracked open to spy on them.
Caroline sighed in irritation at the intrusion. Greta was part of her people's Lögretta, a law-council that settled disputes. And a bothersome scandalmonger. Already she'd flitted away, dark eyes dancing with mirth to drop whispers in their chieftain's ear. At Klaus' questioning brow, Caroline explained, "Greta is a pest. Let's join the feast before her tales become too tall."
She led him to the longhouse, where the uproarious sounds of the feast could be heard throughout the valley. The chieftain always held celebratory feasts before battles — that way they tasted victory twice. She'd also commissioned the poet Galen to recite the famed saga of the Brotherhood of the Five, and already he was merrily regaling the crowd with a description of the fabled hunter's mark that would appear on only the worthiest of warriors.
Dancers and drunken revelers moved in between the long trestle tables overflowing with food, and she spied her mother holding court at one end, deep in the throes of an arm wrestling match. "Daughter! It seems you've brought us a warrior," the chieftain mocked, tipping a wink in her direction.
Caroline glared at the mischievous Greta who seemed to be taking wagers from the boisterous group watching nearby. In between platters of roasted meats and vegetables, Caroline saw her mother easily best one of her most valued warriors, who strained under the force of her grip until he yielded.
Loud, crowing laughter and jeers echoed throughout, but most were stricken silent when Klaus unexpectedly stepped forward to boldly ask the chieftain in her mother tongue, "Is this the skill I must master to be counted as a warrior?"
He tipped his hand — revealing that he spoke their language as a way to foster their trust. Clever, insufferable man. Caroline normally didn't suffer braggarts, but she was intrigued by Klaus' challenge. As were more than a few of the maidens gathered, who kept tossing back their long plaits so the carved beads would clatter. She sniffed in annoyance, hating how her cheeks colored when she caught Klaus' gaze once more.
Her mother grinned as she replied dryly, "It's one of them."
"Best get on with it then."
The chieftain threw back her head, laughing heartily along with the onlookers, pounding a fist to the rough surface of the table as she proclaimed, "I like this one — the vicious hár has teeth!"
Favoring Caroline with a smirk, Klaus sat on the bench across from the chieftain, clasping her hand firmly. With a start, Caroline realized Klaus still wore the iron cuff she'd forged as a gift for his ungrateful brother. Klaus had admired her craft, and she wondered how those well-formed muscles would serve him at a forge.
She'd watched her mother take down men twice Klaus' size; while the chieftain was slight of stature, she fought with fire and bite and few could match her vigor. Caroline found herself uncharacteristically on edge; she did not wish to see Klaus harmed.
The sporting glint in her mother's eye was enough to show her mirth, but her spine was still iron. Not to mention how she'd chosen to unsettle Klaus by appearing in full war regalia when she met their longboat that day. The merriment of the feast hadn't dampened the fierce lines of the chieftain's battle symbols — the black band of charcoal and rendered fat was painted across her gaze, while the Helm of Silas was traced in blood from the oxen sacrifice along her cheek and arms.
Klaus leaned forward, the fabric of his tunic brushing against the side of the table. Clever man. By placing the belly close to the table, he could bring his shoulder inward to better access those muscles. Clearly, he knew that this was a game of both strength and technique. Caroline's gaze kept straying to the fit of his fine garments, how his careful movements outlined the firmness of his chest. There was a tangle of leather cords about his neck that intrigued her — she spied what looked like a carved starling, a wolf fang and the symbol of his people forged with iron. She wanted to...touch them. Just to see if the wolf fang was as sharp as it looked.
Her mother played the game as she always did, sitting at an angle with her dominant foot forward, barely straining as she pushed Klaus' arm. To his credit, he seemed to take his inevitable loss in stride, a mild smile on his handsome face as he put up enough resistance to keep the game lively. His gray eyes flickered to her momentarily, and that's when Caroline saw it — he was purposely waiting for her mother to tire herself.
When Klaus struck, it was instantaneous, a slight flex of his wrist to mimic growing weak before curling his palm inward to increase his grip. A snap of his forearm and the chieftain's arm slammed to the table, knocking over cups of mead as uproarious cheers resounded throughout the longhouse.
Caroline's mother laughed heartily, gripping her pendant that bore the horns of Alaric, jerking it from her neck and tossing it over to Klaus. "Perhaps we'll make a warrior of you yet." Nodding to the silver in his hand she explained, "Etched with the visage of a drunken fool from our tales; he serves as a reminder that even the most useless of imps can serve a purpose."
"You honor me with your generosity."
With a quirk of her lips, the chieftain winked at Caroline, telling her, "Best fetch your chains, daughter. Perhaps this one could be your bóndi."
Cheeks coloring, Caroline rolled her eyes at her mother's vexing ways. But then she noticed Greta's covetous gaze admiring Klaus' well-formed frame. And realized she was enraged by those coy glances from that squawking goose. Caroline grabbed Klaus' hand, her heart fluttering in a most inconvenient manner when he seemed to look down at their clasped fingers in awe.
As they walked out of the longhouse together, Caroline's mother asked knowingly, "Where are you going?"
"To find my chains."
The pine forest rustled with the scurrying activity of night creatures, and Caroline breathed deeply of the familiar soil. She played here as a child, trained here as a warrior...and often found release here. When she dared to lift her gaze to Klaus, she found the intensity of his gaze overwhelming...thrilling. His words were rough, nearly a growl as he stepped closer. "You believe me then. That I stand with you against my people."
"Yes." Close. Too close. Caroline could count every eyelash; see every twitch of his tense jawline.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips, a lusty smirk appearing as he whispered, "That my sword is yours."
The blatant invitation was not lost on her, and she forcefully pushed him against the nearest pine, the crackle of bark breaking against his strong form filling her with a sense of urgency. He returned the frantic energy in kind, his mouth taking hers with a sensual dominance that made her chest ache. Her fingers toyed with the cords about his neck, pleased to see her chieftain's pendant already around his neck, honoring her people's ways. She stroked the wolf fang that had caught her eye earlier, hissing when its point pierced her flesh. At his amused look, she blushed slightly, explaining, "I — I wanted to touch. I had to know what it felt like."
Klaus hummed, his tone coaxing as he suddenly fell to his knees before her. "I understand the impulse to touch. To feel. I'd very much like to do the same." Pushing up the hem of her embroidered shift, he traced the outline of her sex with his rough fingers until she bucked her hips impatiently. His fingers were a slow, delicious slide into her channel, and he pressed open-mouth kisses to her thigh as he commanded, "Spread."
It shouldn't have thrilled her as much as it did, but the rasp of his voice against her flesh just felt so right. Caroline eagerly opened for him, savoring the warmth of his hand as it caressed her intimately. He sped up his movements, thrusting in time to her hips as she could feel herself building toward that sweet release. He suddenly whipped his fingers away, tongue pushing inside as she gasped, "Klaus!"
The sensation was overwhelming, and she cried out, shuddering and straining against him. Klaus gripped her arms, tossing her against the tree with a possessive growl. Caroline could feel his need outlined beneath his trousers, hard and desperate against the press of her fingers. She fumbled with the knots of his leather belt, cursing under her breath as she impatiently ripped it free.
Caroline could feel Klaus' smug grin as she gripped him, the way he swelled in her palm filling her with pleasure. He desired her. "I want to feel that fire in you," he gasped, breath hot against her cheek. He grabbed her about the waist, molding her legs around him as he pushed inside. He was everywhere, flooding her senses with how he smelled. How he felt. How he tasted. Every thrust left her a moaning wreck, and she urged him to push further, past the confines of this forest and the night creatures' sounds until they could touch the moon.
Its light shone silver on the beautiful lines of his face, a tenderness just below the surface that she felt as though he'd saved just for her. Blunt nails scraped along his back, bloodying his sumptuous tunic. Good. She growled pleasurably at the thought that he would bear her marks.
Klaus hissed at the sensation, biting down on her ear as he surged inside. "Yes, tear at my flesh as I take you."
"Take me."
Bucking his hips, he did as she commanded, sweat-slicked bodies locked together in a fiery exchange. Soon came the exquisite shudders, tumbling them both into that glistening, gleaming moment that left them clinging to each other.
Tomorrow they would prepare for war.
Tonight...well, there was still time for those chains.