Chapter Twelve

I was born to do this

Rouen, English-controlled territory (France)

February 1431

Caroline's black velvet cloak rippled in the wind as she urged her stallion to gallop faster across the plain. She'd been leading a military campaign in the south when her friend had been arrested. The latest news was that there would be a trial - Jeanne was safe, for the moment. Caroline knew Jeanne would not approve of her dropping everything to make a daring rescue, but she couldn't let her remain in jail.

At last, the white turret came into view, barely visible through the ominous fog hovering over the quiet village. Caroline dismounted, tied the reins to a tree, and made her way towards the entrance. A pair of guards kept watch on either side of the great wooden doors. It would be easy to kill them, but she couldn't risk making a scene; she needed to get Jeanne out as quickly as possible. She compelled them to let her through.

The inner limestone walls reeked of despair and death; flickering torches cast shadows along the winding hallways. She grabbed one as she crept through the fortress. There was a lone soldier at the end of a hallway, guarding a small, locked door. He could not have been more than sixteen, with hair like straw and pale skin freckled with a boy's pimples.

When he saw her, his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout, but she was on him, her pupils dilating as she pulled his gaze into hers.

"Don't shout," she ordered.

She drank for only a few moments, then pulled back and drew his gaze once more.

"Where is Jeanne d'Arc? Where is your prisoner?"

He choked on his own spit as he stuttered out his reply, "The witch is-is in the du-dungeon at the top o-of-of the t-t-tower."

"Show me," hissed the vampire.

He unlocked the door and led her up the spiral staircase. She could smell rot and death everywhere, and so chose not to breathe. The boy was shivering with fear. She relished it. She could tell the exact moment he realized she was not breathing, because his own breath shortened, his heartbeat quickened, and he began sweating profusely. At last –

"Here, my lady," he muttered.

At the top of the turret was a heavy wooden door with a tiny window set with iron bars.

Caroline cast him a look full of disdain. "It's not going to open itself, idiot."

He frantically searched through a set of iron keys until he found the right one. She stopped him before he could open the dungeon door, leaning into his face, fangs bared and veins out. He jumped.

"You will stand guard below and make sure no one disturbs us. You will appear calm. You will not tell anyone I am up here. After you have done thus, I will drain you dry," she snarled. He nodded with a vague look in his eyes, then fumbled down the tower steps.

Caroline took a deep breath as she turned the key. She stepped into the dank cell, her enhanced vision allowing her to see through the darkness.

"Jeanne?" she whispered.

"Caroline?" a weak voice responded from the shadows.

Jeanne had been kneeling in prayer, but she turned to face the vampire.

"My Jeanne, I have come to take you away. I am sorry it has taken me so long," Caroline said.

"No, my friend, do not apologize - you needed to fight. I only wish I had been at your side."

"Have they tortured you?"

"My body, but not yet my soul. I fear that is coming. My greatest test."

"A test you won't be waiting around for. They are preparing for your trial. I'm getting you out of here tonight," Caroline promised.

The warrior called Jeanne d'Arc was nineteen. Even though she had always exuded wisdom and maturity far beyond her years, Caroline could not help but be painfully reminded of how young she was in that moment. The girl rose on frail, shaking legs. Though her narrow face was clean and her short hair knotted back, her clothes were filthy. Her body showed signs of having lost a lot of weight and muscle in a short amount of time. Yet, she gazed at Caroline determinedly, her unwavering blue eyes still lucid and calm.

"Did you know Saint Catherine only had four years to do her work?" she asked.

Caroline frowned, confused by the non sequitur. "She was martyred at 18."

"Indeed. And Saint Margaret was swallowed whole by Satan in the form of a dragon, but the cross she wore burned the beast from the inside out."

"Even you don't believe that one, Jeanne," Caroline smirked, wondering where this was going.

"Of course not. But the stories! The romance of it! Their sacrifice meant something. How many women lead such memorable lives? Men are glorified in battle, but we women are not so blessed. Protecting our precious virginity," Jeanne said, her voice growing agitated.

"That is the way of the world, dear one."

"But it mustn't remain that way! Meanwhile, Saint Michael the Archangel was given the honor to lead the armies of God against the armies of Satan!"

"That's why Saint Michael chose you, Jeanne," Caroline said carefully.

The girl laughed harshly, startling the vampire.

"No one chose me! I chose them! You know that; don't patronize me. The voices I heard all those years ago… They weren't the voices of saints. The voices were the anger and the passion deep inside of me, crying out for France and for myself. I was a poor, uneducated peasant girl with no future, but as the uneducated wife of a dirty pig farmer in Domremy. It was a terrible fate, and every single day, I prayed for a better life. And I prayed for France. So when news of Charles came, I knew it was time to take action. The world is meant for those who are not afraid. And so I called upon my favorite saints to guide my way. Not the other way around."

"Jeanne…" Caroline murmured, shocked.

"No, no, do not mistake me; I love Saints Michael, Catherine, and Margaret. Their stories filled me with awe, giving me the courage to dare to be more than a pig farmer's wife. I have talked to them constantly even if the voices I heard were not theirs. Perhaps they spoke to me indirectly. It does not matter - I risked my father's fury and my mother's shame and my king's laughter for a life full of blood and gore. It has been a glorious three years and I have no regrets." Jeanne's eyes shone with feverish passion.

"Yes, it has been glorious, and I applaud you even more for acting on your own behalf and not on the commands of the angels. But now is the time to run. The English hate you, because they fear your power. They will kill you. Do you want to end up beheaded like Catherine?" the vampire argued.

"I cannot run now," Jeanne said solemnly.

Caroline's jaw dropped. "Of course, you can! You run now so you can live to see another day. You run now so you can keep fighting, and if you die in battle, it will be an honorable, glorious death. But don't let them torture you, body and soul, for who knows how long before they decide to kill you. You deserve a far better death than that. They might try you as a witch; do you know that? They burn witches."

Jeanne closed her eyes tightly and swallowed hard. "If I am to be executed, I would prefer they try me as a man and behead me. To burn would be a torture to the body and soul. But I don't plan on dying. My army has already tried to rescue me twice; they will do it again. The English may not have me yet."

"Why do you think I'm here, Jeanne? I'm rescuing you," Caroline said, confused that her friend did not seem to understand.

Jeanne shook her head sadly. "I am sorry my friend, but I cannot disappear like a thief in the night. It will be a daring rescue by the King's army, or none at all."

"You are talking madness, Jeanne d'Arc. Where is your sense of self-preservation?"

"I fought when they first captured me. When I was in the Duke of Burgundy's captivity, I jumped from the top of his tower and survived! And then he sold me to the English. Maybe that was God's way of showing me I wasn't meant to escape. I hope my men come for me again and succeed. I want them to be brave, and I do not want to die. But my time in here has shown me that even if I am not saved, I could still have a part to play in this war. I do not say this lightly or without sorrow. But my goal has always been to save France - if I must lay down my own life to do thus, then so be it."

A terrible feeling of dread cast over Caroline. "I will not let you do this, Jeanne! You are so young - too young!"

The maid smiled softly at her friend. "I know you are more than you appear - that even though you look younger than I, you are much, much older. I know you have the power to take me away and hide me forever, make me impossibly strong. You and your family have powers the Church would try to burn you for, but I doubt they'd ever catch you. I had noticed these things during our time together. But my future is not as one of your kind. I have seen your pain. You befriended me out of awe, then you began living through me. You must learn to find inspiration within yourself, Caroline. I know your family is in hiding, that your lives are driven by fear and listlessness and uncontrollable urges. That is not the fate I choose. My existence is fragile, but that gives my sacrifice meaning."

Caroline was shocked into silence. It was only when Jeanne stepped forward and laid a gentle, but calloused hand on her cheek did she realize she had started crying.

"I love you, my dear friend. Thank you so much for all you have done. But now I must ask you for a favor," said Jeanne, her features settling with resolve. "Take up my sword, Caroline. Find it, return to my troops, and lead them in battle. Prove I have not been taken in vain. Do not let them lose hope. You are a Frenchwoman; you know we cannot let an English king rule us. You must go now and finish what I have started," she said in a soft voice. "Perhaps someday, another little girl will find inspiration in our actions."

The first strains of the newly risen sun bathed Jeanne in a pinkish glow; Caroline swore she looked every part a god. She took in a ragged breath and turned away, because it hurt to look at her.

She studied the dirty cell. There was a threadbare blanket neatly folded over a small cot. The chamber pot had not been cleaned out in several days, and there were mice droppings everywhere. She returned her gaze to her friend. Jeanne's face shone with a fierce determination, so severe and hopeful it nearly burnt through her. The warrior was right: this slip of a girl, who had sacrificed everything, who was nearly three hundred years younger than Caroline, had figured out why the vampire needed her so much and what she had been missing since she turned – with a world of eternity ahead of her, she had lost a part of herself. Lost a meaningful existence. Jeanne never had the luxury of finding herself; her life had been led by action; she had always known who she was and who she was meant to be.

Jeanne, ever observant, nodded in understanding. "I regret nothing. Please don't try to dissuade me anymore, my friend. You have to let me go."

Caroline stared hard at the prisoner. "You are the bravest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. I will do as you wish and lead your troops in battle. If they kill you, I will watch your death with vengeance in my heart."

Jeanne threw her arms around the vampire and wept then. "This is the hardest thing I've ever done. It would have been so much easier to leave with you. Thank you so much for your kindness and support and your love. You have been a great friend in this incredible and incredibly short life." Then Jeanne d'Arc murmured one last thing in the vampire's ear, "Imbue the girls with your fierceness."

Caroline frowned. "Which girls?"

"Your girls," said Jeanne seriously. "You will see."

Caroline nodded, knowing Jeanne would not elaborate. "I will. I love you. Thank you for...thank you for...just thank you," she choked out before disentangling from Jeanne and flashing out of the cell before she could stop herself. She closed the door and turned the key and looked through the bars into the eyes of the warrior. She could have sworn she saw flames in the blue of Jeanne's eyes. It hurt to turn away, but she did it knowing she had no choice.

She found Jeanne's famous sword easily in one of the keep's antechambers. She ran her fingers along the tiny crosses etched into the blade and sighed. Then, she was remounting her horse, and galloping away as fast as possible without bothering to undo any of her compulsions or following up on her promise to bleed the one dry. Tears blurred her vision as she fled.

Many hours later, her husband found her on the bank of the Seine, staring into the churning water.

"Where is Joan?" Niklaus asked.

She laughed bitterly. "She stayed in the prison."

He frowned at her. "Did you come across problems? Do you need me to retrieve her?"

Caroline sighed. "I had no troubles, Nik. She did not want to leave; she thinks she's in too deep. She is sacrificing herself for the future of France."

"I don't understand," he said slowly. "Why did you not take her out of there? They have been torturing her; clearly, she was not in her right mind."

"No," she argued. "Her mind has never been sharper, her hope for the future never stronger. This is what she has been waiting for; this is where her choices led her. She knows absolutely what she is doing and what she wants."

He was aghast. "What she wants is lunacy! Why would she choose to die when we can so easily save her?"

"My husband, I argued with her intensely to no avail. She is determined."

"I don't understand," he repeated.

"I did not either. But then she said something that made me start to understand. I am deeply upset about this, but I know I cannot force her hand. It wouldn't be right," she explained, forcing herself to stand. "We must leave this area. I will rally her troops and continue her fight, as I promised."

"If you are truly sure of this. I don't trust the English; they may forgo the trial and murder her in the night."

"The English don't even trust each other, Nik. But I believe they intend to make a statement - they will draw this out, demonize her, try to break her spirit. We need to win a war. That's what she wants us to do." She started to walk past him, and he took her hand in his, stopping her.

"What did she say to you, Caroline?" he asked quietly, his deep blue-green eyes probing her own, almost as if to compel her.

"She said she knows we are frozen in time and forced to hide from something. She does not wish to live such a life. And," Caroline swallowed, "she said I need to find my own life's purpose."

"Was she trying to hurt you?"

"No, just the opposite. She was trying to help me," Caroline explained softly.

Her husband pressed his forehead against hers and stroked her hair. After a long moment of them breathing each other in, he pulled away.

"We will do as Joan of Arc commands. Let's go kill some Englishmen," he grinned.

Caroline grabbed his hand and they flashed into the forest.

Three months later, Jeanne ascended. Caroline and Niklaus watched from afar as her body was burnt three times over. When they raked back the coals so the crowd could see the charred corpse, Caroline fell to the ground. The sky darkened to a deathly grey hue and the cloying smell of burnt flesh stung the air. A sense of dread settled over the crowd, causing them to disperse quickly. Even the executioner shifted uneasily. Niklaus lifted his wife to her feet and carried her away from the morbid scene.

They buried their grief in the cause. A week later, they were back with the French army planning their next move. Caroline was in her tent, poring over maps when her husband's voice called to her from outside.

"You have a visitor, love," he said.

"Who is it?" she asked wearily.

"A very old friend," came the reply. Kol Mikaelson walked into the tent, gathering her in his arms as she stumbled into him, weeping. He had been defending the far north when the news of Joan's death had reached him. He knew what she meant to Caroline.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, stroking her hair.

"She was luminous and bold and gentle and fierce. She was everything," cried Caroline.

"What do you need me to do?" Kol asked.

The blond shuddered into him for a few more moments before pulling herself together and looking her brother-in-law dead in the eye. "I need you to track down every clergyman and Englishman and traitorous Frenchman who had a hand in Jeanne's death and burn them all. Slowly. I want them to feel it. Make the world pay for this."

Kol nodded. "It's done."

He took his leave shortly after, vowing to avenge Joan's death.

Nik sat next to his wife as she examined the maps. "How are you doing, my love?"

Caroline closed her eyes tightly and leaned into his side. "Barely holding myself together."

"Allow me to hold you for a while," he whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. He lifted her easily, then carried her bridal-style to the bed and laid her down gently. He lay down beside her. She grabbed his hand as she leaned against him.

"When I allow myself to stop, all I keep thinking is - What was it all for? What is the purpose of any of it, Nik?" she said lowly into his chest.

He caressed her back. "Whatever we make of it, my love."

Caroline was silent for a long time. Finally -

"Ever since her death, I've been thinking about what I want to do next. What I need to do. When the war's over, I'm going to create a special school. Supporting Jeanne brought me inspiration, it made me feel needed."

"Don't I make you feel needed?" Nik teased.

Caroline slid her leg against his purposefully and laid her hand on his upper thigh. "You make me feel wanted."

He grinned at her. "Always." Then he sobered, "I think you should do it. Help all the girls."

She froze and he reached down and lifted her chin gently.

"What?"

She shook her head slowly. "Something Jeanne said to me the last time I saw her. She told me to imbue the girls with my fierceness. I asked what girls, but she did not explain. She must have known I would think to do something like this. But…how?"

"Not all magic is as loud as the magic within us. I truly believe Jeanne had her own special kind of magic that we may never understand."

They were silent again for a long time. Niklaus thought his wife might have fallen asleep, but then she lifted her head and gave him a look he knew quite well.

"Help me fall asleep?" she asked quietly.

He removed her clothes slowly, kissing her shoulders as the skin was revealed to him. Kissing her neck. Kissing and licking her breasts and nipples and ribs and stomach and sex. He bit the inside of her thighs teasingly and she yelped and clutched his hair. He fastened his mouth to her sex and devoured her ecstasy, swirling his tongue around her bud and teasing her slit with his fingers. He knew she needed a release as fast as possible and had her quivering into him within minutes. He removed his clothes with a vampire's agility and leaned over her.

Caroline gazed up at him, her pure porcelain skin flushed rose from her orgasm. She admired the smooth planes of his chest and wiry muscles of his lean, but toned body. His skin glowed in the moonlight. He was beautiful.

As if reading her thoughts, he kissed her forehead. "You are incandescent."

"You're perfect," she shot back.

He flashed her a wide smile and grasped his length. He pressed gently against her wetness, soaking his cock and getting her excited again. In one quick move, he was inside her fully and her entire back arced off the bed. Her red lips parted as he made purposeful circular motions. She slid her hands down his back and grabbed his backside. He leaned down and sucked her ear, her weak spot. The sucking sound and sensation was mind-numbing. When she could barely take another second of it, she took hold of his shoulders, flipped them around, and sank down onto him. He would have smirked at her if he weren't so turned on. His eyes shut as his member shuddered. She thrust down deeply, with a small rotate at the end of each motion. He bucked into her and gripped her arms hard. Her fangs popped out and he opened his eyes in awe.

"I crave you," she panted as her thrusts became wild and frantic, pressing them both towards bliss. He dropped his own fangs.

"Drink from me, Caroline. I want you to," he demanded.

She bit into his neck and sucked deeply, not bothering to be neat, His blood dripped down his throat and she lapped it up. He groaned and flipped her over so he could latch his fangs into her neck and took her from behind as she cried out. It only took a few short thrusts and she shuddered around him, her vision going blank and all control and thought gone. Her tightening and shuddering brought him to his climax and his seed spilled into her and down her creamy thighs. He breathed into her back before pulling her against him and holding her sweaty body to his.

"I really thought that was going to be much gentler," Caroline laughed.

"Don't look at me! That was all your fault," he said laughingly.

She huffed and snuggled into him. "I won't apologize for it."

He kissed the hollow behind her ear and stroked her hair. "Never."

Paris, Kingdom of France

April 1440

The pulse strained against the man's neck like a beating drum. Sweat rolled from his scalp, down his hairline, and disappeared into his collar. The vampire watched from across the barge with darkened eyes as the man steered down the river. The physical exertion made the blood smell sweeter. But the vampire did not feed. He was not a newborn; he must master his baser instincts. Besides, Elijah had implored him to keep a low profile - now that they were all about to be living under the same roof again, they had to be wary of Mikael.

A dank mist wafted up from the river as they drifted through the city. It stunk, as all European cities did in late spring, of rotten food, feces, urine, death, and plague. He was thankful vampires did not have to breathe. But even with the stench, Kol Mikaelson was glad to be back. Paris had changed much in the nine years he'd been away.

And it'd been too long since he'd seen his family. He hoped their presence would help him refocus; soothe his weary soul. He'd been a little overzealous when dealing out vengeance on behalf of Jeanne d'Arc, let the bloodlust take over.

Finally, they reached their destination. Kol tipped his hat to the man, who nodded back, unsmiling.

"God speed, sir," he muttered, keeping his head down.

Kol considered draining him dry just for the hell of it, but knew that would contradict everything he was trying to work against. He couldn't help flashing his fangs at the man before stepping off the barge and slowly making his way towards Caroline's school.

Swords clanged together in the courtyard as the girls trained under Elijah's watchful gaze. His students all adored him; he was observant, encouraging, and patient. Caroline watched them work from a third-story window.

Her eyes roved over each girl carefully. The school had grown exponentially in the past five years, surpassing all her expectations. After the Treaty of Arras was signed and Paris restored to French rule, she and Nik had left the army. They'd traveled the world for a few years, searching for girls who needed them most before returning home. She currently had trusted friends out recruiting around the world while they focused on building the school from the ground up.

She watched as Fiona and Gita sparred aggressively; a well-matched pair. Desde and Sarah were receiving instruction from her brother-in-law about footwork. Astrid did not love combat and much preferred brewing potions and creating spells, but even she watched from across the courtyard when Elijah called Gita over to explain a certain step. The girls were focused on their personal goals, but still deeply supportive of each other. It was beautiful.

The student population was constantly growing as her recruiters brought more girls to Paris. Abambe had brought an 8-year-old girl from Constantinople only a week earlier. She was very shy and had not told them her name yet, but Caroline knew she would blow them all away. She could feel it.

It would be summer soon. They would return to Caroline's southern homeland for the season. She had kept an alliance with Sophia's descendants over the centuries - they would be welcomed back to Auxor with open arms. She wanted her students to roam the countryside without having to hide their magic, even though the dukedom wasn't quite as big as it'd been when her mother was duchesse. Parisians were paranoid and fearful, but her people could be trusted. She couldn't wait to see Kol again - he was due back from England any day now. The whole family would be together again at Auxor Castle.

"Master Caroline?" a voice called from the door, taking Caroline out of her thoughts.

The vampire turned to see little Nee-Ming in the doorway wearing her training gear.

"Yes, Nee-Ming?"

"Master Elijah sent me to tell you Master Klaus heard there was a raging coven of newborns in Montmartre and went to investigate with Master Rebekah. They won't be home for several hours," the little girl delivered dutifully as Abambe came up behind her.

"I thank you. What lesson did you have today?" Caroline asked kindly.

"I had arithmetic with Master Mary," she squeaked out.

"Very good. You may go, sweetheart," Caroline instructed.

Nee-Ming bowed and left, passing Abambe, who entered and shut the door behind her.

"Another coven of newborns? Why is the population so out of control?" Abambe exclaimed, plopping into a chaise. As the first vampire Caroline had ever turned, they shared a special connection. They had been reunited a few years earlier, when Caroline and Niklaus were traveling to search for teachers and students for the school. She was recently returned from many months recruiting in the Byzantine Empire.

"Paris is expanding too fast; more people equals more illness. Many are attempting to save their families, without understanding the consequences and work involved. Then there's the ones who want to live forever," Caroline explained. "They're breeding like cockroaches. And they're getting smarter. It took Nik and I all night to track down all the members of the last one that gave us trouble."

"You don't have enough witches here to rein them in. The supernatural hierarchy of Constantinople is well-established," said Abambe. "There, the witches run the show. They encourage the werewolves to bite anyone who's out of control, and they keep the hunters supplied with weapons and information."

"I wish," her sire said gloomily. "All the witch covens have fled Paris in fear; they're in hiding in the countryside. Many are leaving France altogether, as it's fast becoming too dangerous to stay."

"The Church is full of simple-minded fools," Abambe scoffed. "Those men decrying 'Witch' are women-hating idiots who want someone to blame for the plague."

Caroline sighed, deeply troubled. "Yes, they're fearful, they're ignorant - but they also have all the power. That's why I'm taking the girls down south - I can't risk anything happening to them."

They continued talking into early evening, when they joined the rest of the teachers and the students in the great hall for dinner. Elijah sat beside Caroline. The conversation returned to the rogue covens popping up all over Paris.

"The Parisian vampires don't understand yet that there is a royal family they must bow to. We leave one or two alive from each coven so they can relay the message to other newborns," Elijah explained to Abambe as they sipped from their goblets of blood-infused wine. "If we're feeling generous, we may keep most of the coven alive if they swear allegiance to us. It's not necessarily a bad thing to have several covens in the city - we wouldn't want the human population growing out of control."

Abambe grinned. "Ah, Elijah. Ever the politician."

Caroline was talking to Mary, one of her teachers.

"Start by tracking down some of the covens that fled Paris," Caroline suggested. "They may see our school as the best hope for their young ones."

Mary frowned. "They won't trust a vampire with their children."

Caroline gestured to Eva, a Scandinavian witch who'd been teaching at the school for a year. "Eva will join you."

Eva looked up when she heard her name. "Join her where?"

"Finding the Parisian covens in hiding and offering their youth a place at the school," Mary told her.

Elijah emptied his glass and stood. "Caroline, I take my leave now."

Caroline glanced up at him. "Off to demand fealty?" she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. "One does not demand fealty, sister. Royalty is innate; it is all about your...bloodline."

She rolled her eyes. "Tell Nik I want him home before sunrise."

Elijah popped his fangs out and flashed off.

"It's only going to get worse when Kol gets here," Caroline sighed.

"What is Kol like?" Eva asked in curiosity.

Mary responded before Caroline could. "My sire is a troublemaker."

Caroline inclined her head. "Sure he is. But he's also incredibly loyal and protective. He's my best friend."

Abambe took a sip of wine. "Don't let Rebekah hear you say that."

Mary gazed into the distance, lost in her memories. "He found me living in a hovel outside Budapest in the 1390s. I would have died that very night if not for him."

"I first met him at Auxor," Caroline said. "Right before Bekah turned me."

"Will he teach?" Eva asked. "Or is he just passing through?"

Caroline suddenly snapped around to face the doors to the great hall. A moment later, they banged open.

"I don't know if I'm the scholarly type," a voice called out, ringing through the hall, "but I'm here to stay."

A pale man with dark, messy hair stood in the doorway, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he gazed up at Caroline, who was smiling widely.

"Kol," she murmured.

"Hello, Caroline."

"You've all made a bloody mess of Paris in my absence. I'm impressed."

Kol sat beside Caroline on a divan in her private chambers. The only source of light was the fire that crackled in the stone fireplace. It was after midnight; the two old friends were catching up.

"We'll have it under control soon enough," Caroline argued. "I'm more concerned with the witch covens than the vampire ones. But never mind that right now - tell me about England."

A shadow darkened Kol's features. "I can assure you, I killed and tortured and maimed many, especially priests. I bled them dry, I burnt them, I played cat and mouse with them until they begged for mercy. Joan is avenged."

A calmness settled over Caroline.

"If I did not have to keep fighting, I would have done it myself. Now that the war is basically over, we can start rebuilding the country. We have our work cut out for us," she said. "But the school has already exceeded my wildest dreams."

"It is lovely, Care. I applaud you," he complimented. "Have you decided on a name?"

She smiled. "Des Cendres."

Kol looked at her blankly. "Er - yes, quite lovely. Never heard of an institution being named for ashes before, but there's a first for everything. Very atypical."

She rose to her feet and crossed to the fireplace, watching the flames. "The idea for this school was born out of Jeanne d'Arc's ashes."

He gave her a moment. Sure enough, within a minute she was turning back around and rejoining him on the divan. She grasped his hands.

"I hope you decide to teach, but either way, I'm happy you're back. I've missed you."

He smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes. "As I've missed you."

She squeezed his hands and tilted her head to one side. "What is it?"

He sighed. "I was more than relieved when you asked me to return. I've been a bit...volatile."

"You? Volatile? Who would have guessed?" Caroline teased, but Kol did not laugh and she sobered.

"What do you need? Is it my fault? Should I not have asked you to take revenge?"

He shook his head. "No, no. It wasn't so much the carnage. I..."

She frowned in confusion. "What?"

He stared into her blue-green eyes, attempting to find the words - the strength to confess.

The noisy sound of the front gate creaking open reached their ears and he felt his opportunity slip away. He rose to his feet, figuring it was for the best.

"That'll be Nik, Bekah, and 'Lijah," he said, looking anywhere but at her. She got up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Kol, you can tell me anything. You know that."

Do I? he thought sadly.

He did not respond. Instead, he led her out of the room to greet their family.

A week later, Rebekah, Elijah, Niklaus, and Caroline were hunting down another rogue coven. They would be leaving for Auxor the following month, so there was limited time to assert their dominance and ensure their lessers understood who ruled the city.

The rest of the teachers settled the girls in for the night, then went their separate ways. Abambe headed for the library to write Caroline's recruiters; they needed to know to bring any new students to Auxor and not Paris. Eva was trying to track down the witches who had fled Paris. She left the premises to meet with an old friend who might be of assistance. Mary and Kol went to one of the inner courtyards.

"Why aren't you with your family tonight?" Mary asked her sire once they were alone.

He was leaning against a tree, carving the skin off an apple with a sharp dagger. His motions were very precise; the blood-red coil was perfectly even.

He shrugged. "Do you like teaching, Mary?"

"Immensely," she gushed. "The girls are amazing. As a vampire, you forget how beautiful change and growth can be. No one on earth is as adaptable as these girls."

Kol finished peeling the apple. The tight spiral fell to the dirt floor of the courtyard, forgotten, as he settled down beside her flamboyantly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You sound very proud," he said.

She smiled at him. "I am proud. Hasn't Caroline asked you to teach, too? Will you?"

Kol scoffed. "Me? Teach?"

She shoved him playfully. "Don't be like that - you'd be great with the students."

The little Byzantine girl suddenly appeared across from them. She was clutching her arm. She was hurt - they could both smell her blood. Kol stiffened beside the younger vampire.

"What happened, honey?" Mary asked, standing up and approaching her slowly so she didn't scare her off.

But the girl gasped in terror and ran back inside. Tiny droplets of blood trailed behind her.

Kol had come to stand beside Mary.

"I'd better go after her," she started, glancing up at him. She froze.

His eyes were pitch black and his darkened veins had webbed across his pale skin. His fangs had lowered down in thirst. The little girl must have been understandably terrified by his face.

"Kol," Mary said cautiously. "You have to calm-"

With one swift motion, he reached out and snapped her neck. She collapsed to the ground.

"So young, so fresh, so sweet," he murmured under his breath, strolling across the courtyard, following the trail of blood.

On the other side of Paris, Rebekah and her family had finally entrapped the coven they'd been hunting all night. The newborns trembled at the sight of the four powerful, ancient vampires caging them in. Caroline and Rebekah liked to add some theatricality and dressed in pure white whenever hunting newborns; they liked how blood looked when splattered across the color of virginity and holiness.

The family closed in and began the bloodbath. Elijah cut cleanly through necks; his method was the most foolproof. Caroline went straight for the heart with her bare hands. Rebekah preferred using a nice stake, while Niklaus tackled from behind and ripped their veins out with his teeth. He was a bit overdramatic, in Rebekah's opinion, but she wasn't one to judge. Much.

Eventually only one was left.

"Do you care to do the honors, sweetheart?" Klaus asked his beloved wife, gore dripping down his front.

Caroline grinned at him. She flashed across the courtyard and ripped the vampire's heart out with one swift movement. As his cries pierced the night, another cry, much more distant, reached her ears. She dropped the heart in confusion.

"What is it?" Nik asked.

Caroline frowned. "Something is wrong."

And without another word, she flashed out of the courtyard and headed back to the school. Rebekah, Nik, and Elijah stared at each other in bewilderment.

"Where is she going?" Elijah asked.

"Home, I suppose," Rebekah guessed. They built a pyre quickly, then followed her back to the school.

Caroline's heart pounded in her chest the entire way back to Des Cendres. She couldn't explain the awful feeling of dread deep in her bones.

When she finally did reach the school, there was a curious silence. She couldn't hear the girls rustling in their sleep, or Eva stirring potions in the kitchen, or Abambe studying in the library. She glanced around the great hall and frowned.

There was no sign of movement. Her footsteps echoed against the cobblestones as she made her way slowly down a hallway. She froze when she saw Abambe with a book in front of her, her head twisted around.

Her heart was raging as she left the library. What had happened? Had a newborn coven found a way inside? That seemed unlikely - not many could overpower Abambe, who was over a hundred years old.

When she reached the door to the inner courtyard, she found Mary leaning against the doorway. She was just beginning to rouse.

"Mary, what happened?" she demanded anxiously.

Mary's eyes were wide as she looked at Caroline in horror. "Oh, Caroline. He - he lost control. The girls! Check on the girls!"

The older vampire clenched her jaw, stood, flashed upstairs, and wrenched open the door to the dormitory.

The metallic odor of fresh blood hit her nostrils, darkening her countenance. It was total carnage. The absolute unthinkable had happened.

All of her beautiful girls had been massacred. They were strewn around the room in their white nightgowns, blood dripping from their ravaged necks.

Fiona was still grasping a dagger as if she had tried to fight him off. Desde had clearly been reaching for her bow. Sarah was slumped against the wall with her sword at her side. Astrid had been ripped apart.

Gita was still choking on her own blood. Caroline ran to her, biting her wrist open as she did. She let the blood pour down the ten-year-old's throat. Gita had been one of her first students. Nik had found her when she was four, living in the streets of Calcutta.

Mary ran in after her. She sank down do the floor, sobbing.

"It was Kol, wasn't it?" Caroline said in a too-calm voice, settling Gita on a blanket when her heartbeat returned to normal.

Mary was beyond words. She could only nod jerkily as tears poured down her face.

"Caroline!" Klaus, Rebekah, and Elijah burst into the room. They stared at the carnage in abject horror. Klaus started to cross to his wife, but paused when she shot him a look of warning to stay away. She cradled Nee-Ming's tiny body in her arms. She'd been the youngest student at barely five years old.

Rebekah fell to her knees as she dry heaved. Elijah raced through the halls searching for any other girls who might have survived. Within seconds, he returned with deadened eyes, carrying the little girl from Constantinople.

"I recognize this violence. This is our brother's hand; I can smell him," he said, his mouth twisted in anger and disgust.

Niklaus punched the door so hard it fell off its frame.

"We will find Kol. He will pay for this," he promised his wife desperately. He could tell she was hanging on by a thread, but he had no words of comfort for her. He could only promise more bloodshed.

"No," said Caroline with surprising firmness. "He's mine. I will take my own revenge."

Rebekah watched as the woman she had known as an innocent child rose to her feet steadily. The girl she had introduced to this world, made a part of her family, made immortal, was gone. Her hands were bloody and shaking from holding the dead child. Her broken expression was filled with a wild savagery. Her progeny had not turned it off, but there was barely anything left to turn off… The hope was gone. The kindness was gone. The light inside Caroline that made her so different from all other vampires was as dead as her heart. Rebekah mourned the loss of her light nearly as heavily as she mourned the girls.

How will she ever recover?