Part III: Witches
Chapter Twenty-Two
I did not do it on purpose
Paris, French Republic
October 1793
Place de la Révolution threatened to burst from the onslaught of frenzied citizens. The hordes sang, wept, and screamed in bloodthirsty anticipation. Not all demanded a head, but the ones who did were loudest - a recurring theme during times of political unrest. The cacophony was almost too much for the vampire who stood quietly in the fringes, observing.
The focus of the crowd's attention was not a scaffold, but a stage, a stage featuring a terrifying set piece. The guillotine's blade gleamed in the midday sun, filled with both menace and promise. Children pointed to it and gestured to show their friends how it worked. Their parents called for the death of the Austrian princess.
Finally, the sound of wheels creaking against cobblestone quieted the mob temporarily before their voices rose again in wrathful crescendo as the fated prisoner was driven through the square. She was in an open cart, which allowed, or more so encouraged, the throngs to spit and jeer at her. When the cart reached the scaffold, she was led up the stairs and Caroline got her first good look at the forsaken queen.
She looked wan and skinny, world-weary and shattered. She was the girl who had been forced to marry a stranger at fourteen. She was the politically unsavvy consort; the ruler who had failed to connect with her people. She was a mother who would never see her children again – children who were about to become orphans with very uncertain futures. She was born a princess of a powerful dynasty and she would die a queen of a deposed monarchy.
They had shorn her hair and dressed her in a plain white widow's dress, a far cry from the elaborate costumes she had popularized throughout the western world. She was so painfully human, it hurt to look at her. But her fate was set in stone. Caroline was here to bear witness to history, not alter it. If this was what her fellow countrymen wanted, then so be it. She may not like it, but she understood it. She understood anger.
That did not make it easy to watch. As the queen crossed the platform to the guillotine, she must have accidentally trod on her executioner's foot, for Caroline's advanced hearing picked up her whispered apology.
"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur. Je ne l'ai pas fait exprès." Pardon me, sir. I did not do it on purpose.
Her face was stoic and calm as she approached the guillotine; this was not like English beheadings in the 16thcentury – she was not allowed the dignity of having her head covered. This was a very public execution and she was to face her accusers to the last breath.
They led her into position. The executioner grabbed the lever. The sun shone brightly on the square. The cries of the mob became even more discordant and vicious.
The blade fell. All noises stopped. Everyone waited with bated breath as the silver sliver sliced down with a resounding clang and the head rolled across the scaffold. It took only a moment for someone to grab it by the hair and hoist it high, proving they had done it. They had guillotined Marie Antoinette.
Caroline had seen enough. She forced her way through the oncoming masses who were trying to get a closer look. They had not been sated; they were hungry for more. She reached the end of the street and turned down an alleyway. Niklaus appeared in front of her as she raised the veil from her face.
"Caroline," he said in a low voice.
Her eyes were dry as she stared at him. "Did you see it?" she asked bleakly.
He nodded. "I watched from a rooftop."
She glanced back towards the street, which was quickly becoming clogged with rioters eager to catch a glimpse of the former queen's head.
"It's only the beginning," she noted, turning back to face her husband.
He set his jaw. "I know."
"I'm going back to the apartment," she told him.
He nodded. "I'm going to stay out a little longer. I can hunt easily in the chaos, maybe turn some promising rioters."
She wanted to tell him this was not the time to take advantage of the violence. She wanted to demand he come back to the apartment and hold her. She wanted to forget this day ever happened. She wanted to scream at him for being so distant until he confessed what was bothering him.
She didn't do any of those things. Instead, she nodded curtly and walked away.
Ni'ihau Island, Kingdom of Hawaii
1795
Pacari had been on the small island for a day when he found them. Their settlement was a series of caves and lagoons on the opposite end of the island from the human village, protected by various spells and curses. But he was able to get through the first barrier using his magic. As he stepped through, a witch appeared at the mouth of the cave. She wore a long skirt, shell necklace, and a foreboding scowl.
"How did you get through those warding spells, vampire?" she asked suspiciously.
"I come in peace to study with your coven," he told her.
She looked him over through narrowed black eyes. "How did you get through?" This time, she sounded more curious than threatening.
He took a small step towards the cave. "I am not a true vampire, but a vampire-witch hybrid."
Her eyes widened imperceptibly. She turned on her heel, waving her hand behind her. Pacari noticed a slight shimmer over the mouth of the cave; she was opening the last wards to let him in. He flashed into the cave to follow her as she led the way into the dark.
"You're not surprised such a species exists," he observed as they walked.
She shook her head. "Luckily for you, we have another visitor with a similar goal. She already told us such hybrids exist."
"Who?" he asked, wondering if his sire was on this island.
The witch did not answer. They had reached the shore of a vast underground lake; sunlight poured down through an oculus at the top of the cavern. Members of the coven were performing their daily chores and sending Pacari guarded looks. The witch gestured for him to follow her around the perimeter of the lake to the edge of a jetty. A lithe-figured woman with gleaming black hair sat lotus-style with her back to them.
"Who broke through our barriers, Kai?" she murmured.
Kai glanced at Pacari before answering. "He says he is a vampire-witch hybrid."
There was a pause, then the woman rose to her feet in one fluid motion.
"Please leave us," she said without turning around.
Kai walked back to shore. Pacari raised an eyebrow.
"Are you their leader?" he asked.
The woman let out a musical laugh. "No. They just have a lot of respect for me."
She turned. Pacari started; never before had he seen someone with eyes the color of amethyst and with eyelashes so naturally thick. She was beautiful, with almond-colored skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. She wasn't Hawaiian – if he had to hazard a guess, he'd say she was Japanese. Her intense eyes blinked at him without any wariness or timidity. In fact, she looked fascinated.
"You're Pacari, aren't you?" she said.
His head tilted back in surprise. "How could you possibly know that?"
"I recognize my strain." She gestured to his tattoos, "And there is only one Inca hybrid to my knowledge."
"Your strain?" he gasped, realizing what she meant. "You're the witch who performed the ritual on Caroline. You created the Carolinian Strain."
"Guilty." She grinned. "I go by many names: The Undying Witch, Riko d'Ebanne, Kurosawa Mariko..."
"Stop." Pacari shook his head in denial. "That is impossible. Caroline killed Mariko Kurosawa as vengeance against Kol. He saw her dead body," he said flatly.
"I faked my death with a special potion. It was a ruse," she admitted with perhaps a hint of shame. "My allegiance switched from him to Caroline."
He winced.
"Do you think me cruel?"
He did not break eye contact. "Despite his flaws, I consider Kol a friend."
"So did I, once," she countered.
"I assume your disillusioning had something to do with the Paris Massacre."
She inclined her head in the affirmative.
"I can't fault you there." Realization dawned. "That's why he disappeared in New Orleans. He discovered you."
"And asked Nik to dagger him."
Pacari took a moment to absorb her revelatory statements. He could only imagine Kol's reaction to Mariko's betrayal and Caroline's manipulation, and yet, he understood their motivations. Rebekah had once described the traumatic experience of returning to the school and seeing all those little girls completely ripped apart. It was one of her worst memories.
His mind churned. What Bekah had failed to share were any details about the witch who had turned his sire; he attributed this to her anger over the severing of the bond with her best friend and progeny, even though it was long in the past.
"Kol met you in the mid-15th century..." he said slowly.
She raised a single, sardonic brow. "I look good for 356, don't I?"
"How?" he demanded. "You're not a vampire."
The witch stepped towards him. She was petite but did not seem so. She carried herself with distinct aplomb, which had to be an accumulation of her aristocratic upbringing and coming into her own as a woman and a witch. Her aura was potent, enthralling. Like a vampire, her beauty revealed her threat; she was too perfect to be innocuous, and it only added to her allure. "I made myself immortal by other means."
He nodded; there was no other explanation. "That's incredibly advanced magic, but I'm not surprised. You're the witch who broke the rules."
"All the rules."
"I've love to know how you did it – how you did all of it. I came to this coven in the hopes of finding a master who would help me develop my powers."
"Not to brag, but I'm an excellent teacher. I've taught at Des Cendres for centuries."
"Pretty serendipitous I stumbled upon you here."
She smirked. "We're both humble craftsmen looking to hone our skills. The world is shrinking, Pacari. Serendipity had nothing to do with our meeting here."
He laughed. "I'll warn you: I'm not a very good witch. I had to train myself after my mother died."
"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit: you broke through my first barrier. I'm sure you'll make a fine pupil."
She conjured a flame and whipped it at him; he caught it reflexively.
"Your training starts now."
New Orleans, Spanish Louisiana
December 1799
The party was already raging by the time Elijah arrived. The mansion was packed with supernatural revelers, and he had to weave his way through the drunken and sated crowd. The hosts were the richest human couple in New Orleans, and everyone was dressed to impress. As he searched each room, he had to shrug off sycophants seeking to impress him and court favor. It wasn't until he entered a darkened, quiet parlor in the back of mansion that he spotted his sister.
Rebekah was sitting at a poker table surrounded by several young men. An untouched champagne flute waited at her elbow and a very impressive hand was in her grasp. Elijah paused behind her.
"Have you decided to join the celebrations or are you here to scold me for gambling away our fortune?" she asked in a bored drawl as she lazily pushed another stack of chips towards the center of the table. "It'd take an awful lot of poker to put a dent in that."
He hesitated long enough for her to tilt her head in his direction.
"Niklaus and Caroline are coming home," he admitted.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to her game. "I thought you were going to say something of actual importance, brother."
"Are you – you're fine with that?"
Rebekah did not answer right away. The last round was over; everyone was showing their hands. Once she laid down her royal flush, a collective groan traveled around the circle.
"Better luck next time, gentlemen," she told them with a smirk.
As the suitors got up to stretch and empty their pockets, she turned to face him.
"They left nearly nine years ago. Were you expecting me to throw a temper tantrum? This is my town, my city. I have no one to fear here, least of all Caroline d'Ebanne. I don't care about her."
"The war has shaken her," he murmured.
"Oh, has it now?" Her admirers placed coins and checks in front of her with their compliments. "You," she said pointedly to one of the young men, "stay."
Elijah sat down in the vacated seat beside her. "I have reason to suspect their relationship is wavering."
"And you as well," she snapped at another man. "She has no one to blame for that but herself," she told Elijah as she rose to her feet, smoothed her hands over her gold satin skirt, and turned towards her appointed lovers. She took both of their proffered arms. "Don't wait up."
He watched as the trio left the room. Rebekah's fake giggle echoed down the hallway. He downed her forgotten champagne as a loud cry rang throughout the house.
"Happy New Year!"
Normandy, French Republic
April 1800
Klaus quietly watched his wife on the journey from Paris to the port city of Le Havre. Her expression was blank as she stared out the window and worried her rings. A growing melancholia had taken hold of her over the past few months, ever since they had decided to return home. He assumed she was anxious about facing his sister again.
"If you're nervous about Bekah, don't be," he told her as they neared the port. "She may pretend to be upset with you at first, but she'll forgive you as soon as she needs a companion to the opera."
She sent him a sharp look. "I don't share your confidence. I deserve her anger."
He couldn't disagree. In the aftermath of his fateful conversation with Kol, he had come so close to confronting her, yet he never went through with it. He couldn't bring himself to do so - he feared the truth too much.
The war had provided ample distraction. They'd split their time between Paris and Auxor. As the revolutionaries stripped all former nobles of their estates, Caroline had had to exert a formidable amount of threat, bribery, compulsion, and witchcraft to protect her homeland. Even still, the Ebanne territory was much diminished. Auxor Castle and the several hundred acres immediately surrounding it were all that remained of what had once been one of the largest duchies in Europe.
When not assisting Caroline or embroiling himself in political affairs, Klaus had spent his spare time creating vampires and compelling them to search for Katerina. He now had many spies spread throughout the world – a world that was rapidly shrinking. He felt confident he would find her soon.
Whenever they were in Paris, they'd observed and attended political meetings, wartime councils, and parties thrown by the newly risen powers. They had witnessed the marriage of Napoleon Bonaparte, an upstart general, to a widow named Rose de Beauharnais. Klaus couldn't deny the grudging respect he had for the tyrant. As spectators of the violence, they agreed it was the bloodiest war either had seen.
The war had virtually ended the previous autumn with a coup, and it was time to go home. Instead of looking inwards to repair the cracks in their marriage, both of them had spent the remaining months in France avoiding each other – and themselves.
"It's not just Bekah. I don't want to see that place again," Caroline said, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"That place has been our home for nearly a century. We've been gone far too long," he reprimanded.
"We're leaving the country on a precipice; its position fragile. I fear my kinsmen missed their opportunity to make meaningful change," she noted dully. "The aftermath of war, of a coup d'état…"
"Your people massacred each other for a decade, Caroline. We watched their total descent into barbarism and chaos. They're probably worse off than they were before this all started, but what's done is done. France is in the hands of Bonaparte now."
She shuddered in disgust. "I should've killed him when I had the chance."
"You were the one who insisted we not interfere. We must not alter history, you said. It is the will of the people, you said," he reminded her. "And look at what the bloody people did – created a monster ten times worse than any Bourbon king. Washington was right to stay out of it."
"You could have left at any time!" she snapped.
He fixed her with a steely gaze. "Is that what you would have preferred?"
She paled. "No, no. That's not what I meant. I'm grateful you came. I know you've been upset with me. But I don't know how I would have endured this war without you."
He ignored the first half of her speech. "Of course, Caroline," he said, meaning it.
When she smiled at him, he felt connected to her for the first time in a long time. They clasped hands. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, then raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. She stared into his eyes, her expression tentative but determined.
"Nik, I," she started.
"Shh," he soothed, unable to face what came next. "Let's talk about it when we get home."
The carriage shuddered to a halt and the driver opened the door. They broke apart.
"The ship leaves within the hour, s'long as the winds are in your favor," he informed them.
Niklaus gave his wife a pleading look before exiting the carriage and offering her his hand. She held it tightly as she stepped down. The carriages holding their luggage came up behind them and the crew started loading the ship.
"This conversation can't wait any longer, Nik," Caroline said.
He grimaced.
"You've put up a wall. I don't blame you for being distant - you have every right to be angry."
"I'm not angry, Caroline," he lied. He released her hand and took a step back.
"Are you sure? A few minutes ago, I said I didn't want to see New Orleans again. You didn't even question why, Nik!" she pointed out, wrapping her arms around her torso.
"I assumed you were referring to your hesitation to leave France in such a precarious position," he deflected.
Her eyes narrowed. "I wasn't."
"Fine." He exhaled sharply. "Why are you afraid of returning home?"
"I'm not afraid! Stop putting words in my mouth!" she snapped.
"Alright. Alright. Why don't you want to go back?"
She bit her lip and sighed. "Well, first, I need to find Pacari."
He blinked in bewilderment. "Find Pacari? Bekah's Pacari? For what reason?"
"To help him-"
"He's been a hybrid for over two centuries. I think he's mastered the basics. Feed from humans, live forever. It's not that difficult to grasp."
She glared at him. "Performing magic as a hybrid is not the same as performing magic as a witch. I doubt he's discovered Expression. He certainly doesn't know my techniques."
"Fine, whatever," he grumbled.
Her glared deepened. "You asked."
"Fine. I'll admit it," he ground out. "I have been distant, and Pacari is partly why. Tell me, if he hadn't shown up in our home, would you have ever told Rebekah or anyone about him?"
Husband and wife stared at each other. Finally, Caroline looked away, shame coloring her face.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I kept telling myself to find him, but I-"
"How could you keep something like that from my sister? His death broke her!" he interrupted accusatorily.
"I thought he died, too! The eruption… It was like nothing I've ever seen. I didn't think I would survive it. I couldn't sense him. When he finally broke free of the lava and finished the transition, we were on the other side of the world. I knew he'd have to figure out how to be a vampire without me and consoled myself that at least he had his magic and already knew about vampires. I tried to tell Bekah, but she wouldn't let me even say his name. I didn't want to upset her further."
"How thoughtful," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I wanted to search for him, but there was always something in the way: Mikael, or New Orleans, or Katerina," she protested. "It seemed like everyone needed me to stay-"
"Oh, is our family a burden? God – WHO ARE YOU, Caroline!" he roared.
Caroline's face grew red with fury. "How dare you accuse me of not caring about this family! I gave Pacari my blood for Rebekah. I knew he might come to resent her if she turned him, stripping his magic away. And don't forget, I died for your sister! When you and I finally got together, I sacrificed a peaceful existence to live with all of you, endlessly hiding and running from Mikael and fighting off all the enemies you've made over the centuries-"
"Is that why you played hard to get for so long?"
She closed her eyes and breathed in and out to calm herself before reopening them. "I'm going to assume you only said that out of anger."
"Assume whatever you want," he said callously.
"Let me explain something to you, Niklaus Mikaelson: being a part of this family is no easy task, and I've known that since I was human. How dare you accuse me of being a tease! I never promised you anything!"
"No, but you were happy enough to let me pine for you while you pursued-"
"That was your decision. I won't let you guilt me for having a life before you."
"Saladin and whoever else..."
"What about Katerina? She's been a part of our marriage for centuries now."
"I will not let you school me on revenge!"
They had stopped listening to each other.
"-Played hard to get?!-"
"-talking about sharing-"
"I've had to put up with your tantrums, Bekah's dramatics, and Elijah's holier-than-thou condescension. And don't even get me started on your little brother!"
"Oh, yes, bring up your favorite fucking subject: Kol," he snarled viciously.
She crossed her arms. "Is there something you want to say about Kol?"
"Don't you think your little game has gotten out of hand?" he asked in knowing provocation. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he still couldn't bring himself to open that box.
Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief.
"Game? You think it was a game when Kol slaughtered all but one of my students in Paris? He murdered 39 children in cold blood!"
He shook his head in frustration. "We're ancient vampires! Sometimes we lose control! And his bloodlust was out of control because he'd been ravaging England for twenty years in the name of Joan of Arc. Remind me again why he did that? Ah, yes. You were too sad to do it yourself."
A silence rang out between them then, and Klaus knew he could never take back what he had said. A cold look settled over his wife's face; one he'd seen very few times in his life, and never directed at himself.
"The grief I suffered from that loss..." she murmured, stung. "You thought I was too sad?"
"You hid behind that grief," he accused.
"Were you hiding behind grief when you killed your mother and lied about it to your siblings?" she shot back.
He stepped towards her. "Don't talk to me about that. I never should have told you; it was a mistake."
"A mistake to be honest with your wife?"
"Yes, a mistake. Now you seek to use it against me as leverage," he said, running his hands through his hair.
There was a short pause while she looked at him in stunned incredulity. "Do you honestly believe I'd do that to you?"
"Trust has always been hard for me. You know this, Caroline," he muttered.
Another silence rang out between them. Suddenly, all the sounds of reality rushed back in. The sails slapping against the wind, the captain shouting orders, the waves rolling into the docks.
Caroline gazed out at the Channel and allowed a single tear to fall down her face.
"We should get on the ship," Klaus said gruffly.
She shook her head.
"Come, Caroline," he said, impatience coloring his tone.
She brushed the tear away. "I told you – I need to find Pacari. Please respect that. You should return to New Orleans and the family," she added.
He closed his eyes. "Alone."
"I'm serious about making thing right between my progeny and myself. And…something has been broken between us. I was the reason Kol asked you to dagger him. I cannot live with you in that house, with his daggered body in the cellar, knowing you blame me for that," she said emphatically.
"That isn't what I meant," he started, but she stopped him.
"It is. That's fair. He's your brother, your blood. I can see now that I let our vendetta stretch out far too long and involve too many people. I can barely recognize myself anymore. I caused irrevocable damage to my relationship with Bekah – as well as ours," she admitted.
He closed the short distance between them and grasped her shoulders. "Do you want to find Pacari to make amends? Or are you avoiding our problems?"
"So, you admit it," she whispered, staring up at him.
"Of course, I admit it," he said, briefly touching his nose to her hair and breathing her in. "Can't you have your minions search for him and bring him home? You could train him in New Orleans."
"I need to find him myself."
He swallowed, rubbing his hands over her arms. "But why?"
"Because I didn't last time!" she yelled, pulling out of his embrace. "I can't go back there. It hurts too much, Nik. I would feel fraudulent – attending parties and balls; ruling the supernatural community; pretending nothing had changed. We built New Orleans as a refuge from Mikael. It was supposed to be the one place in the world we were safe."
"It still is."
"Not for me."
He scoffed. "Well, whose fault is that, Caroline?" He balled his hands into fists; he could feel his veins begin to protrude. "If you must do this, then fine, GO. But don't expect to fall back into my waiting arms when you're done, crawl into our marital bed as if nothing had changed. If you leave me now, we're truly separated."
Her head snapped back as if he'd slapped her. "How could you say that?" she choked out, tears filling her beautiful eyes.
He couldn't bear seeing the pain he'd caused her; he looked at the ground. "You destroyed my trust in you! There were so many lies and secrets and-"
"Pacari's turning was much more Rebekah's business than yours," she said sharply, blinking the tears back.
He snorted with derision. She breathed deeply, then approached him, lifting his chin up until he was forced to meet her watery but determined gaze.
"Why did you dagger Kol, Nik?"
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You know why - he asked me to. He didn't want to live in a world so cruel."
"What did he say to you that night?" she pushed.
"He was upset; I was upset. I - I don't remember," he tried twisting out of her grip, but she held him firm.
"Bullshit. What did he say to you, Nik?"
"What do you think he said to me?" he shot back.
She stared at him calmly. "I think he told you he's in love with me."
Klaus said nothing, but he knew his wife could see the truth in his expression. It was as he'd feared: she'd known.
She was speaking again. "The massacre was not simply a result of uncontrolled bloodlust. He was punishing me."
He frowned, taking a step back as his fury built. She let him this time. "Punishing you for what?"
"For choosing you, Niklaus."
His gaze darkened. "How long?"
"What?"
"HOW LONG, CAROLINE! HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?!"
She steeled herself. "Since Africa."
"Africa," he repeated dully. "You've known he's loved you since the 13th century."
"Nik, I didn't want you and your brother to fight over me."
"No, you fought him instead," he said, looking her over. "Did you sleep with him, then?"
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"Answer the question, Caroline," he said grimly.
"No."
"No, you won't answer the question, or no, you've never slept with him?" he asked for clarification.
"The latter," she confirmed.
"That's it; that's all I get?"
"You asked me if I've ever slept with Kol and I gave you the answer: no. What else do you want from me?"
"An explanation of what happened in Africa," he demanded, stepping close to grab her wrists.
"We were friends," she started.
"Bullshit," he snapped.
"We were friends. I would never, ever sleep with your brother, Nik. Not then, not now."
"When did he profess his love for you?"
She sighed. "It's not that simple. Kol and I could communicate without words. I know you think I owe you more of an explanation than that, but I don't," she told him flatly. "We were best friends. No matter his unrequited feelings, he valued our friendship too much to pursue them. He knew I loved you. Our vendetta twisted his once pure adoration into hatred; I don't believe he still yearns for me."
"You think you know the secrets of his heart?"
"I know Kol."
He sneered at her. "How well?"
She ignored this. "Whatever he said to you in New Orleans, he said to cause friction in our marriage."
"It worked; I feel as if I do not know you anymore," he said lowly, still holding her wrists.
"Don't act blameless, Nik. If you weren't so possessive, it wouldn't have bothered you that he once loved me. If you weren't so prone to jealousy, you wouldn't perceive anyone who dares look at me as a threat. If you were more trusting and less quick-tempered, I'd have told you of his affections. I may have made mistakes, but so have you. You can never take back the things you've said to me today."
"No. No, I can't," he agreed, his voice cracking. "What I said about Esther, about Joan – I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry, too."
"And now?"
"And now we go our own ways. We need time apart - you know we do."
He let go of her and turned towards the ship. He wanted to believe she was telling the truth about her history with Kol. Yet, even if she was, it didn't mean things could go back to normal between them. She was right: something between them had broken, and he had ignored it for nearly a decade. "You can find Pacari?"
"Yes," she said. "It's an easy spell."
Then they caught each other in a fierce embrace.
"I didn't mean it – I won't turn my back on you. You'll always be welcome home, Caroline. I only said it to make you stay with me," he whispered hoarsely. "Please, please don't leave me."
"But you were right, Niklaus. We can't just go back to the way things were. We've both changed too much. We need to sort ourselves out before attempting to sort out our marriage."
"No, Caroline," he protested, shaking her lightly.
She kissed him. He deepened it, parting her lips with his tongue and cradling the back of her head ardently. He hissed when she pulled away.
"I love you," she swore.
He leant his forehead against hers. "You're still my wife, no matter how long this separation lasts. You'll always be my wife. Never forget that. If you need my help, I'll come at once," he promised.
"I know; and I you. Behave yourself, my love."
"Always do," he said with a weak grin.
She smirked. "If you find Katerina, you have my permission to give her one kiss."
He rolled his eyes. "The only kiss I'd ever give that bitch is the kiss of death."
"Exactly."
He sobered. "If more than a decade passes, I'll come for you."
"Let's not put a number on it. We will find each other again. We always do."
He was not quite so confident.
"Take care of your siblings. Be kind to Bekah," she ordered softly.
He nodded.
"Monsieur and Madame Mikaelson? The ship is ready." The driver had returned.
Klaus pulled away from his wife and turned towards the driver.
"My lady's effects must be taken off," he said in a low voice.
Caroline shook her head. "It's fine; I don't want to delay you further. It'll be easier to travel without all that, anyway."
"Madame?" the driver questioned.
"My husband will be on the ship in just a moment," she told him.
The driver bowed and walked back to the carriage, leaving the couple alone on the docks. Klaus searched for the words to say goodbye, but then her mouth was on his again, her arms wrapping around him. He responded feverishly, desperately, drinking her in, memorizing the sensation of her lips on his, her alluring scent, the soft moans she made as they embraced.
As quickly as it began, it was over. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
"Goodbye, Caroline."
She ran her hand through his hair. "However long it takes, my love."
He planted a final kiss on her cheek before flashing up the gangplank. He clung to the railing of the ship as the crew bustled around him, preparing to set sail. She remained on the docks the entire time, unmoving, her expression haunted as she stared up at him. The wind lashed against her tall frame, whipping her cloak around and staining her cheeks.
Klaus did not allow his tears to fall until she'd disappeared from his line of sight over the horizon.
Ni'ihau Island, Kingdom of Hawaii
1801
Mariko splashed through the lagoon and shot a freezing spell at Pacari. He twisted quickly to avoid it, chanting under his breath. The ocean floor shook beneath them, but instead of catching the Undying Witch by surprise, she hovered in the air with a grin.
"And now I have the higher ground," she scolded him.
He hissed at her, before flashing up to grab her ankle and toss her across the lagoon. She flicked her jet-black hair over her shoulder and waded in the deeper waters.
"You forget I have super speed and strength," he called to her.
"Touché."
Both of them felt the new presence at the exact same moment and snapped their heads to the cliff overlooking the lagoon. A blond woman wearing far too many layers for the warm climate was staring down at them with a shocked expression.
"I came here looking for my progeny, and find he's befriended the witch who created me," Caroline yelled to them.
Mariko held a hand to her ear in a mocking gesture. "Sorry; what was that?"
Pacari grinned at her before sending another shock through the earth, causing his sire to stumble into the lagoon. As she sputtered out of the water, her clothes soaked through, she sent them each a cross look. They both swam towards her, but Pacari was much faster.
"Hello, Caroline," said the Incan hybrid.
"Pacari. I know this may be coming too little, too late, but I am sorry for everything," she said softly.
He shrugged. "It's not as if you forced your blood down my throat - what you did insured my survival that day."
"I'm talking about everything after. I felt it when you woke up, and I should've forced Bekah to listen to me. I should have found you, instead of you finding me."
"Yes - you should have. But I don't like to hold grudges."
She opened her mouth to apologize further, but he cut her off.
"It's alright, Caroline. I forgive you."
Mariko reached them, out of breath. "When I came here seven years ago, I was trying to find some peace and quiet."
Pacari splashed her. "Oh, please. You'd have been bored without me."
She grinned. "Maybe." She turned to Caroline and tilted her head to the side as she studied her old friend.
"What is it, Caroline? Did Nik come with you?"
Then Caroline collapsed into Mariko's arms.
"Nik and I," she gasped out painfully.
Mariko's eyes widened. "You've separated?"
Caroline nodded between tears. "My marriage is… Oh, I don't even know! Broken. It's broken."
"It's okay, Caroline," Mariko soothed. "We'll take care of you."
Pacari placed a gentle hand on his sire's head. "Everything broken can be fixed."
A/N: I love writing fights. Hope you enjoy reading them! ~L