AN: Big thank you to arustykiss/CKHybrid for a read-over (minus the final section so any mistakes there are entirely on me - just as the rest of them, lol).

Also, thank you to all of you whose reviews and kind words encouraged me to write part 2 to this even more.

Part 1 can be found in chapter 24 of this drabble collection.

Trigger warnings: character death (NOT Klaroline though) and there is a scene of drowning. And nsfw.

PS. Klaus-Jeremy conversation was inspired by Robb Stark - Jamie Lannister scene in GoT.


6-year-old Caroline was basking in the sunlight, dipping her feet in the warm waters of the Mander river. She was playing on its shallow shore, under the scrutiny of her two brothers. They had lost their nursemaid some time ago, the elder woman too slow to keep up with their antics. Lorenzo was chatting playfully with some palace maiden, the 15-year-old already used to working his charm on the female population of Highgarden. Although he seemed busy, Caroline could feel her brother's vigilant eyes on her whenever she would stray too far from the shore.

Matthew was building a sandcastle just a few feet away from her; the structure in his hands reaching impressive size. It was blazing hot under the summer Reach sun in the quiet lazy afternoon and the rough waves were calling out to Caroline. She looked back at Enzo and carefully, taking small tentative steps, she ventured further and further into the water, the chilly current of the river providing the welcome refreshment.

For a while, it had been glorious, the cold enveloping her as she was floating on, lazily moving her arms and legs. Suddenly, her foot slipped on the rock and she went under, the river pulling her deeper into the abyss with unstoppable violence.

She could hear Matthew's faint cry, subdued from the distance, as he sprang to his feet and instantly dived after her and Enzo's panicked "No!" when he rushed right behind him. Struggling to keep above the surface, the water pouring into her mouth and nose, Caroline fought against the current. Using all her strength, with the waves hitting her in the face, she tried to push through but it was too much.

Too cold.

Too far.

She's gasping for air but it was getting harder to breathe, as if her lungs were stung by hundreds of icy needles, hurting with every inhale and exhale. Her body was feeling heavier by the minute and it was hopeless, the idea of dying passing through Caroline's mind for the first time. Then, someone's hand locked on her arm in a strong grip.

Matt.

Pulling her in, he pushed her into the arms of Enzo who was few feet behind, trying desperately to get to them faster. Her mind protested, the thought of both her brothers in danger unbearable but her body was weak and pliant. Catching her, Enzo hauled Caroline out of the water, his arms latched so tightly around her as if he were never to let her go again. Sand warm under her feet, she sighed in relief before violent coughs overpowered her and then she felt her brother's grip loosen, a loud splash of water alarming her.

But it was too late. Enzo was too late, making sure she got safe to the shore. The current tore Matthew away, his frame breaking under the rough power of the water.

Caroline wanted to scream for help, for her dear brother to come back but the words stuck in her throat, unable to leave her mouth. She shook and writhed, trying to get out a sound, but it was of no use.

Matthew.

Matt.

No.

"No!", she woke up with a scream on her lips. The dawn was slowly shying away, the sun emerging from the night sky.

It was time.

The joined forces of the North and Reach were riding out to battle against the Lannisters at this exact moment.

This nightmare that had woken her up felt so painfully real and now she couldn't even go to Matthew's tent to make sure he was in good health.

Shaken, shiver creeping up her spine, Caroline hovered under the furs, scared of what the morning might bring.


The morning came and it felt too late and too soon at the same time. Caroline was standing still before the entrance to the main tent, only her clutched hands betraying any signs of worry. The truth was, she longed to pace around, caged like a wounded animal, but to show a weakness had never been an option. Caroline knew she had to appear strong, even if at the very moment, she was crumbling underneath.

The horns blew and the sound of hooves stomping hard on the cold solid ground carried on the wind. She saw Klaus' bannermen first, then the rest of the Northern army. Matt wasn't among them and he wouldn't be, Caroline thought, clinging to hope as if she was drowning and it was her last saving grace. But the more soldiers passed her by, the darker her thoughts turned and the candle of light within her was slowly dimming. It was put out completely the moment she saw Klaus' solemn face, his eyes conveying the hard truth better than any words could.

Then, Highgarden troops arrived with cortege formed in the middle, two bodies settled on the fur stretchers next to each other. Stefan and...Matthew.

The ground shuddered below her feet. The world shook in its hinges. Yet, Caroline was still standing, moving towards the bodies on her trembling legs. She wanted to cry but knew that was not an option, the crowd's gaze fixed on her, seeking any kind of weakness, anticipating a public breakdown.

In spite of all odds, the tiny flicker of hope rose within Caroline as she told herself Matt was just badly injured, that this was the reason he was lying so still, buried deep in the furs, pale shade covering his skin. But, just as quickly as it soared, the feeling died in a swift, yet excruciating moment of clarity when she took in her brother's breathless broken body, stained with blood.

His stone cold skin send chills along Caroline's arm as she took Matt's hand in hers. She fought so hard to keep the despair she felt inside, the internal struggle making it difficult to breathe. Lips quivering as she bit back a sob that threatened to leave her mouth, Caroline tasted iron in her mouth, the bite so strong it drew blood. Her hands clasped on her brother's icy ones, arranged on the hilt of his sword.

He had fallen in a warrior's death at least, she told herself. But it was no consolation.

Because he had died for her. And for Stefan.

He might as well have died for nothing.

At that thought, Caroline felt bile rise in her throat, her lungs felt close to failing, with her breathing becoming more and more erratic.

She couldn't be here anymore.

Caroline was about to crack, her polished exterior barely hanging on its hinges, but then, she felt Klaus' hand on her back, an unexpected warmth spreading through her. Like an anchor, keeping her grounded and offering the slightest comfort - still, it was enough, keeping her from going over the edge and losing her steel control.

"Come now, love," he whispered, gently steering her away. "Let's get you back to your tent."

"But I need to take care of him...them. He's so cold, your Grace. I need to take him somewhere warm. He's a soldier of summer. He shouldn't be so cold," Caroline whispered, already making arrangements things that needed to be done in her head, her gaze unfocused when she talked to him.

"I promise, he will be," Klaus said solemnly. "Your soldiers will lay both your husband and Sir Matthew in his tent before…"

"Before the burial," Caroline finished blankly.

"Yes. Forgive me, my Queen, but it needs to be soon. We cannot afford the diseases to spread among the rest of our men."

"I know," her answer was cold as she managed to hide back in her shell. It actually helped, that unavoidable practicality. The fact Klaus felt no need to coddle her was like an intake of fresh air to her lungs, resolving the blurriness that had overtaken her mind.

He was escorting her back to her tent, her elbow resting softly in his hand, the firmness of his grip keeping her steady. Caroline could feel the curious glances thrown her way from every side, the crowd waiting for her to break, to wallow in the misery cast upon her in just one faithful morning. Raising her head, she repelled each of them with a proud stare of her own.

She was a daughter of Highgarden. She would bow down to nothing. Even grief.

Matthew would not want her to break down.

They had finally reached her tent and Klaus was struggling to find the right words. She had gone so cold in the matter of mere seconds but he could see the silent despair brewing just underneath the surface as it resembled his own.

"Caroline, I…" he began but she interrupted him immediately.

"I know," she simply replied, looking at him with a tumultuous mixture of pain and gratitude. Her name sounded so right on his lips and Caroline's guilt burnt with a brute force as that sensation brought her pleasure even at a time like this. But the comfort of his voice was a luxury she had allowed to coat her for far too long.

It was high time she faced all that had transpired.

"Should you need anything, Caroline..." his voice trailing off, the promise behind his words rang clear between them. There was a gleam of concern and understanding in his eyes, the familiar bond of loss and pain stretching between the two delicately, yet so firmly, while they sank into one another's gaze. Breath hitched in her throat when Klaus, despite all reason, leaned forward, closing the distance and she couldn't help but revel in the musk of his scent, all earth, sweat and…

Blood.

That broke her out of the daze, Matthew's bloody face flashing before her eyes and Klaus must have guessed her thoughts when he drew back instantly, a flash of guilt crossing his face.

"Thank you. However, I shall not keep you from your duties any longer. Congratulations on the victory, your Grace," Caroline let out, retreating to her tent not waiting for his response, the scorching burn of his gaze imprinted on her back.


Caroline was lying on her bed that night, unable to fall asleep.

In all truth, she was even reluctant to close her eyes, fearing the ghosts she might see in her dreams. The whole day, she had kept herself busy, planning, writing letters, strategizing her next moves. But now the dusk faded over the camp and Caroline found herself not exhausted enough.

Not enough to sleep a dreamless night.

Not enough for Matt and Stefan not to haunt her.

There was no love lost between her and her husband. She was no hypocrite to play a grieving widow and the truth was, no one actually expected her to. Still, Caroline could feel the sting of loss when she thought of Stefan, his genuine smile when he spoke of her brother, rare moments they laughed together, over the glimpses of childhood she shared with him, reminiscing her and Matt's antics with Enzo watching over them.

Stefan might have been abrasive and dismissive towards her most of the time but Caroline had long ago trained to brace against men's underestimation and take advantage whenever she could. She put up with her husband's attitude as in the end, they were aiming towards the same goal. And that used to be all that mattered.

She had not lost a lover. But she did lose an ally. And she had never felt more alone.

Caroline had wanted to be the Queen.

For now, that was no longer an option.

But vengeance was.

It was Jeremy Lannister who had killed her brother, the soldier had reported to her earlier in the day. He had been fighting with Stefan and Matthew rushed to shield his lover from the fatal blow. And the iron pierced right through his heart.

His gentle, loving heart.

Stefan managed to wound the Lannister boy and Klaus's soldiers held him captive. After that, her husband supposedly threw himself into the worst of the fight, taking out the enemies with wild fury, seeking death. And death had found him - and Caroline could only hope Stefan had found absolution in that. But she could seek none, for the sacrifices her brother had made for the both of them.

A stifled sob escaped her mouth and Caroline realized the pillow was soaked with her tears. She only needed to get through the night, and then in the morrow, she would be back to her usual strong self - and Lannisters would rue the day they had earned her wrath.

The furs covering the entrance to her tent rustled and seconds later, a giant wolf leapt onto the bed right next to her.

"Grey Wind," she whispered, reaching out to pet him behind the ears, the low murmur that came from his muzzle proving the animal approved of her actions.

With the wolf nuzzling into her neck, his warmth offering the similar comfort his master had before, Caroline remembered Klaus' words when he had escorted her to the tent - and she had been too desolate to capture their magnitude.

We cannot afford the diseases to spread among the rest of our men.

Our men.

Perhaps it had been nothing or possibly, it had been a lapse on his part. But the words lifted some of the overwhelming heaviness off her chest. In that moment, with Grey Wind's weight sprawled against her body, his eyes so similar to Klaus', Caroline did not feel so alone anymore.

And finally, she succumbed to sleep. A silent one.


The following morning, Klaus strode purposefully towards the barracks that held Jeremy Lannister. He felt exhausted from the sleepless night, his mind haunted by Caroline's solemn desolate expression as she had bidden him farewell before escaping to her tent.

His resolve had been an inch from cracking and he had almost kissed her. It was a good thing she had drawn back - in these circumstances it would've been a mistake. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage. Even if he recognized Caroline was not the woman that would allow being played or taken advantage of - no, she was resourceful and cunning enough to be the player, not the played.

Yet, yesterday, there had been an utter honesty in her despair. Perhaps not everyone would see it that way but, Klaus had always been more perceptive than most people. And he was very keen on observing the young Queen.

Was the misery imprinted on her face reserved for her brother solely, or the husband as well? The question formed in his mind before he was able to stop it and although he could not believe himself to be so crude, it was burning at him with white jabs of rage. It made him feel dirty but the uncertainty kept eating at him.

Pressing his fingernails into the flesh of his hands, Klaus fought to keep his attention on the man before him as he opened the door to his cell and went inside.

Hatred rose in his chest, unlike anything he had ever felt, upon the sight of the dark-haired man, bruised and battered, blood dried on his face and hands shackled to the wall. This was the man who had been responsible for his little brother's death after he had been unfortunate enough to catch him with Queen Elena. Father to the bastard spawn who had ordered to behead his father.

Man who had killed Caroline's brother.

"Well, look who it is. Niklaus Stark. The King in the North," Jeremy's voice was strained but still managed to carry a mocking tone, his gaze challenging when he faced Klaus.

"I know not why you continue to be so smug, Lannister. Your troops are crushed," Klaus drawled, slowly drawing his sword from the sheath.

"One won battle doesn't make you a victor. Elena will send her forces and you will be biting the ground soon enough," the Lannister was young and cocky but looked at him warily when Klaus set up to lazily graze the blade along his weary flesh.

"Ah, the lovely Elena. The same one who has been busy gathering all royal armies in the Red Keep? It seems the love has blinded you, Lannister."

"I do not know what you are speaking of," the man's voice waned, a low ominous growl reverberating along the cell giving him goosebumps. Just a moment later Grey Wind's giant posture appeared like a shadow behind Klaus' back, Stark's free hand sinking into the beast's fur.

The man and the beast, united in fury. One.

"You need not pretend anymore, you fool. The whole Seven Kingdoms know the truth now. My father saw to that before that sadistic spawn of yours executed him," Klaus hand trembled with his anger, the blade cutting through the skin of Jeremy's cheek. A few droplets of blood stained the steel, the Young Wolf mesmerized by the sight as he fought for much needed control.

"Your father died a traitor," the young Lannister taunted, clearly trying to rile him up even more.

"My father was loyal to the Crown and all you Lannisters will burn paying for your sins!" Klaus yelled in Jeremy's face, his last words a fuse that unleashed his temper. Breathing heavily, he pulled back, even though every inch of his body was aching to spill more blood, to avenge all those he had lost. He could almost feel his sword piercing though Jeremy's skin, then his sternum, crashing muscles and bones on its way. How the blood would gulp from this man's mouth, his body convulsing and fighting to keep air in his smashed lungs.

But he could not afford to kill him.

Rebekah was still imprisoned in the Red Keep and even though Elena Lannister was as traitorous as she was beautiful, Klaus knew his sister was objectively safe. If he continued to keep young Jeremy alive as a leverage.

He could not afford to lose anyone else, he thought, Rebekah's clear laugh echoing in his head as he calmed himself.

"I will burn House Lannister to the ground and you will pay," he promised with a menacing smile, revelling in the fear that glimmered in the eyes before him.

"What right you have to pass judgement on us?"

"I'm the King in the North. There are no rights anymore. Only winter and death," he spoke silently, Grey Wind grazing Jeremy's face with his fangs before following his master.


The light midday breeze caressed her cheeks when Caroline of House Tyrell stood by the riverside, with Klaus on her right and Lords of the North behind. Soldiers of both North and Highgarden stayed in silence to bid their respects to her brother, husband and all their fallen brothers.

Matthew and Stefan rested in two wooden rafts, their bodies covered with plain cloth. Her brother looked peaceful, a gentle smile adorning his face even in death. In Highgarden, he would have been buried in flowers, sent away to eternal life with sweet tones of harps floating in the air. Here, in the middle of war, Caroline had simply put a garland of wild flowers around his neck, their colours vibrant in contrast to his pale skin.

The rafts were let go, the slow current of the river, unlike the one from her nightmare, lulling the two soldiers to eternal sleep. She started singing then, the old hymn that their mother had taught them when they'd been children, telling the tale of brave soldiers, might and glory. Her captivating voice carried on the wind, soothing the exhausted souls of those who survived the battle.

She was the most exquisite creature Klaus had ever seen, beautiful and strong in her pain. Her voice was like honey on his senses, smoothing all the sharp edges of his weary mind. Klaus would do anything to ease her suffering but knew that some things were impossible to fix. There were wounds that needed to heal on their own - he was painfully aware of that.

But that didn't mean his Queen needed to go through all of that alone - in fact, Klaus would make sure she would never be alone again.

Two burning arrows crossed the air and stuck to the boats, setting them aflame. Caroline's voice wavered at that, tears slowly stringing down her face. He inched even closer to her, his fingertips resting gently on her lower back. His touch seemed to help keep her emotions in check, soothing circles he drew against the thin material of her dress having a calming effect.

The crowds slowly scattered as the rafts disappeared behind the line of horizon, until there were only Caroline and Klaus left by the shore.

"I want them dead. The Lannisters. All of them," she whispered, her voice steady and clear of all the tears she had shed.

"They will be. I promise," he grasped her hand in his, thumb brushing against the smooth skin of her palm.

She leaned towards him, burying her head in his chest, her sleek hair tickling his chin. It surprised Klaus but he molded his body around hers, enveloping Caroline in his arms, his cheek resting against her head.

"Good," her murmur reverberated against his chest.

They stood like this for a very long time, almost till the Sun has set and the cold of an early evening forced them back to the camp.


The feast was loud with laughter and dance, their men enjoying the night before another battle.

The only thing that stood between Klaus and the Red Keep was Jonathan Lannister's army, father of Elena and Jeremy. All they needed to do was survive another bloodshed and he would be one step closer to freeing his sister and getting his revenge.

Their revenge.

After the funeral, Caroline had been keeping distance from him and it was infuriating. He could understand her need to mourn but she did not need to be alone in that anymore. Their connection was as clear to him as it was to her, yet, she continued to cover it with hostile words and empty stares.

Was she detaching herself from him because she felt guilty? Was it because of Stefan?

She couldn't have loved him. It angered him to even think so. Not because of her harboured affection for another man (though in all honesty it may have been a factor) - but because her husband couldn't be more undeserving of such devotion.

Looking around the room, he noticed the constant object of his thoughts slipping away from the feast. He waited for a few minutes before deciding to follow her out, moving like a shadow across the camp until he disappeared in her tent.

Her lady in waiting was brushing her hair when Caroline saw his reflection in the mirror.

"Klaus! What are you doing, barging here like that?" she exclaimed, standing up.

"I've simply grown tired of your running away, my Queen," he drawled, shamelessly raking over her body clad in the silk robe, the thin material accentuating her lovely curves.

"I will leave the two of you alone," the brunette said - Katherine, if he remembered correctly, her grin wide when she looked at her lady.

"Katherine!" she shot the woman disapproving stare.

"Your Grace," the maid nodded at him, her expression outrageously mocking as she left the tent.

"Why are you here? On second thought, you need not answer that. Just leave," Caroline snapped, clearly exasperated.

"What are you afraid of, Caroline?" he asked, striding towards her until they were mere inches apart.

"I do not know what you mean," she dismissed him.

He hated that.

"You know perfectly well. You have been fleeing on my sight since the funeral. What is it? Did you really love the bastard so much that you deny us what we both clearly want?" Klaus knew he had gone too far but he didn't care. Her breath mixed with the flowery fragrance that always accompanied her overwhelmed his senses, his heart beating fast with anger pumping the blood furiously through his veins.

"How dare you?!" Caroline yelled to his face, hands pushing at his chest. "I am mourning my brother! Who loved too much and sacrificed himself for someone so undeserving. And then, I find myself mourning Stefan. Matthew died to save him, it was all because of his selfish interests...and mine," her voice started to break. "If it wasn't for me…" Tears were slowly falling down her cheeks but when he tried to wipe them away, she shook off his hands and took a step back. "Then tomorrow, you're riding into a battle again and...who knows how many will not come back," bracing her arms around her midriff, she fixed her gaze on the floor.

"Caroline...I was set on this course long before I met you. I have too many promises to keep to die on the battlefield," Klaus inched towards her, lifting her chin so that she would look at him. "But if I do die, I am glad that I have met you."

After his words, silence stretched between them, eyes boring into one another's as their breaths mingled together. Neither of them knew who moved first but there they were, mouths clashing and teeth grazing in a blazing fury. Caroline molded against his chest, her luscious curves fitting perfectly into the hard planes of his upper body. Klaus' tongue delved into her mouth, deepening the kiss and she sighed, nails scraping the nape of his neck.

She felt his lips on her throat next when he hungrily sucked on her sensitive skin, leaving red marks as he moved downwards. Arching into Klaus even more, the heat of his body like a cocoon around her, Caroline's hand sank into his breeches, cupping his throbbing erection.

"Caroline," came out his strangled gasp and she smiled with satisfaction - only to moan loudly when he sucked her nipple into his mouth through the silk of her nightgown.

His warm tongue swirled around the nub till it was taut and hard, grunt escaping him when Caroline circled the tip of his cock with her thumb.

It was too much too soon but somehow, it still wasn't enough. They moved across the room, frantically ripping away their clothes until they crashed with the table in the middle. Turning her around, Klaus put her hands on the wooden surface, his erection pressing into her ass while his fingers darted into her soaking pussy.

Hooking her arm around his neck, Caroline angled her head so he would kiss her. Klaus' lips skimmed over the line of her shoulder, teeth biting into the skin as he crooked his fingers, hitting just the right spot inside.

She sobbed, rutting her body against him in a frenzy, searching for even more delicious friction.

"I adore you, Caroline. I crave you, all the time, like drowning men needs the air," he whispered heatedly, his words hot on her skin, his other hand darting out to pinch her nipples. "You're mine, you're my Queen. Say it," his thumb grazed her clit and she shivered, biting her lip so hard she drew blood.

"I'm yours. I'm yours and you are mine, Klaus," his name mixed with taste of iron in her mouth.

Caroline whimpered when he withdrew his fingers, only to slam into her from behind.

"Yes. My Caroline," he nuzzled her neck, his chest flat against her bare back. Setting a fast punishing pace, he thrust wildly in and out, filling her to the hilt as she rocked her hips to let him in as deep as she could.

The tent filled with their moans and sounds of skin slapping against skin and they melted into one another, moving together in pursuit of release. Caroline felt tension coiling in her belly, her body quivering and walls throbbing around his cock. Klaus placed his hands on hers, their fingers intertwining. The gesture was intimate, smoothing the fierceness of their coupling. She bent further onto the table, changing the angle and the next time he filled her, it sent her over the edge. Caroline cried out her pleasure, while she could hear Klaus grunting in her ear as she milked his orgasm with her clenching core.

They stood like this for a while, revelling in the closeness until their breathing calmed. She groaned when he withdrew from her, her shaky legs barely supporting her body. Klaus wasn't in a much better condition, she noticed with satisfaction, his hair tousled and skin marked with scratches. He planted a few butterfly kisses along her jaw and then took her in his arms, devouring her with darkened eyes, a wide grin on his face.

Placing her on the bed, he rested next to her, spooning her in the cradle of his arms, their legs twining together.

"Rest now, love. You are going to need it," Klaus whispered teasingly in her ear and indeed, it wasn't long before both of them succumbed to sleep.

They made love throughout the night, one waking the other with firm touches and slow caresses, basking in each other's bodies.

When Caroline woke in the morning, place next to her was already empty and cold. She tried to focus on the pleasant soreness of her body that was still humming with pleasure but in the end, it was to no avail. Covering herself with the fur, she ventured outside and stared into the distance, hoping silently this war wouldn't tear another person from her.


Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought of this one :) I'm really curious (and nervous, lol)!

There will probably be another part to this.

Thank you for reading, lovelies and till the next time ;)