AN: In advance, I'm sorry for the length of this author's note.

I'm ecstatic to announce "52 Weeks" won Klaroline Awards for the Best New Drabble Series! Guys, thank you so much for voting, this wouldn't have happened without you. I'm still in awe that I was considered among so many talented people, to be honest.

And finally, the day when I present you with the last installment of this series has come. This year has been incredible and I'm a bit emotional to change the status of this work to 'complete" (although there will be one more chapter with epilogue to the drabble below).

I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, following, favouriting. Your support made me want to write more and to write better. Thank you.

Last but not least, just because I'm ending this series, it doesn't mean I'm done with writing Klaroline stories ;) If you're interested in more of Klaroline drabbles, I've started two new series: "Eternity Tastes Like Your Blood On My Tongue" with canon-ish/supernatural AUs and "All Roads Lead To You" with All Human/Fusion fics. I invite you to checking these out, if you're up to it, of course ;)

This is part 3 of my GoT AU (see chapters 24 and 33 for previous parts), continuing almost immediately after events of part 2. There is some smut so NSFW.

Beta'd by garglyswoof who is an angel for making this readable.


"A bruise is a lesson… and each lesson makes us better."

(George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones)


It was a cruel thing, having to wait.

Dawn lumbered into the morning and morning slowly crept towards the noon, the sun's lazy stroll along the skyline contrasting with Caroline's nervous pacing around the camp.

Time stretched out like a smudge of paint smeared over too many canvases, thin and yet still there, a constant presence in the background.

Minutes simply refused to go by any faster, lingering stubbornly as she tried to busy herself with menial tasks. Still, she couldn't help but imagine Klaus in the midst of battle, wreaking havoc on the Lannister forces with Grey Wind by his side. She could almost hear the piercing sound of iron clashing against iron, the whinnies of horses, the hiss of arrows and the momentary silence that followed when they hit the mark.

Mayhem, blood and death.

He was right in the middle of it, Caroline knew, for his heart and his pride wouldn't let him be anywhere else.

And how utterly unfair, that what seemed like unbearably endless hours to her was probably a swift strike of a sword for Klaus, engrossed in the maelstrom of the battle.

Strolling back to her tent, she sent Katherine away, unable to handle anyone's presence. Her eyes darted around the room, sizing up the bed, now made and tidy, as if they hadn't shredded the sheets and rumpled the furs in their passion just hours ago.

But they had. She could still feel the rough touch of his palms burning on her skin, the graze of his teeth claiming her as his.

Her Wolf.

"He will live," she whispered to herself.

He will live, he will live, he will live.

She chanted like a prayer while her fingers danced on the table, smoothing over the place where their hands had rested the night before. His over hers, joined just like their bodies had been, and despite all the despair and loss in her, she had never felt more complete.

She can't bear to lose more people.

You can. You're strong. You can bear anything this world weighs on you. The thought crossed her mind in a lilting whisper of his voice.

Eyes bored into the table, she stood as time passed drop by drop, ruthlessly slow. Finally, horns bellowed across the valley of the camp and Caroline's knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the table in a strong hold.

They arrived.

For a fleeting moment, she wished she could stay in that tent and never find out whether Klaus awaited her dead or alive outside of it.

But it was a sentiment of a coward and a foolish one at that - and Queen or not, Caroline was neither of those things.

With a deep breath and her head held high, she stepped out into the midday sun.


Caroline remembered the first time she had seen Niklaus Stark - his face and golden curls had reminded her a little of Highgarden's sun-kissed soldiers until she'd noted the harsh chill of winter in his every move and assessing gaze.

Except when that gaze was directed at her.

This time, what she first saw was blood and mud and the fire in his eyes as they beheld her standing by his tent.

Her knees buckled as the crushing wave of relief washed over her, yet she caught herself and stood tall, waiting for him to make his way through the maze of their joined troops.

He did, stopping just inches away from her, close enough that Caroline could pick up the scent of blood, dirt and iron, a familiar hint of forest and spices still there, lingering beneath.

It smelled like home, she thought, eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled subtly, mindful of the crowd rambling around in a post-battle haze.

Gently, his fingers skimmed down her arm until they reached her hand and fastened around it, her breath hitching in her throat at the touch. Their eyes met again and she noted how he fought to conceal his weariness, the tightness around his mouth and his tensed muscles telling her all she needed to know for now.

A silent understanding passed between them and Caroline walked him into his tent, hand in hand, appearances be damned for once.


People said he couldn't be killed.

Strangely fascinated, Caroline traced blood that slowly trickled down from the poorly stitched wound in his left side, just inches below the heart. Above it, spreading over his left pectoral, there was a tattoo of direwolves, a couple with pups.

A pack. A family - his family.

It hit her then just how much there was that she still didn't know about him. Last night, their coupling had been passionate but hurried. Two starving people that finally had given in to their hunger. Caroline may have had that feeling like she had known Klaus her whole life, but in the end, she had just started learning the patterns on his skin and the lines of his body. And there was still so much she didn't know about him - who he was beside the man that saw her, what he wanted apart from avenging his father and rescuing his sister.

Bile rose in her throat at the thought that he could be taken from her before she had an opportunity to learn all she craved for, to read a book of his life from cover to cover and remember it by heart, then start all over again.

Because Klaus was hers, but he bled like any other man - and people were wrong while he was right.

Anyone could be killed.

As Klaus stood there, bloodied, bruised and battered, just a glint of victory tingling in his eyes so dimmed by the darkness, Caroline knew. In one of those rare moments of absolute clarity, she realized there would be no half measures nor silent grief if Klaus too was taken from her.

She would pick a sword of her own and whore herself out, but the world of the Lannisters would burn down to ashes with her fury.

What it meant exactly, she felt no need to ponder right now.

Resting one hand on his beating heart, she cleaned the wound, then picked up the needle, bracing herself to sink it in his flesh.

"A queen knowing how to stitch? You're full of surprises, your Grace," he mused weakly, his voice tired.

Yet it wasn't just a flesh wound that had worn him out, it appeared.

With a wry smile, she deadpanned in an attempt to resolve some of the tension, "It cannot be that much harder than embroidery, can it?"

Klaus' lips stretched a little as well, a hiss escaping them when she started closing the wound in slow, yet efficient moves.

Questions welled up on her tongue, threatening to spill in an uncontrolled wave. Their army had come out victorious once more, that much was obvious to her, but the cost of that victory seemed to be etched into his face. Caroline was starving for answers, but when she cleared her throat, his face closed off again.

So instead, she simply said, "I've asked them to prepare a bath for you here. The wound is sewn together, you should clean up now." Her hand darted out to his chin of its own volition, cupping the stubble-covered skin.

Klaus leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut. "Thank you, love," he croaked.

"Join me, then?" she asked as her thumb caressed his cheek. The need to touch him was ingrained so deeply, so profound, as if she could keep him with her here just by brushing her skin against his.

As if the contact shielded him against the demons that haunted him.

His hand enclosed hers, pulling it towards his mouth, a hint of warmth filling his gaze as he met her eyes. "It would be my pleasure, love," he said, lips grazing the inside of her wrist.


Cradled between Klaus' legs, Caroline let out a sigh of tentative contentment, nestling her head on the curve of his shoulder. The water was still pleasantly warm, relieving tension from her strained muscles, and time quickened its pace again, released now from the slow torture of waiting.

Yet nothing could compare to the comfort offered by the touch of his hot skin on her own or the way his heart beat, steadily and stubbornly, against her back. Klaus' fingertips danced on her arms, like little flares of fire licking at her flesh. The tent was filled with friendly silence and perhaps it could've stayed that way, but then Caroline wouldn't be herself.

She needed to know.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

She could feel his body grow tense against her own, although his fingers didn't cease their caress. The silence stretched, and for a moment she thought the answer wouldn't come.

"We won, my Queen. That's all that should matter." Klaus' gravelly voice filled the room.

His Queen.

Just last night he had called her that, and the words had scorched her skin and felt so right. But now, his flat tone sank low and heavy in her stomach, leaving her cold as if he'd been miles away, back on that battlefield, instead of here with her.

Well, Klaus could try distancing himself from her just like she had done before. Only Caroline wouldn't let him, just as he hadn't allowed her to run away from him and their growing feelings.

If anything, her persistence matched his.

Water churned, spilling over the bathtub as Caroline swiftly rolled over to face him, knees on either side of his legs straddling him. She wanted to dig into the matter right away but thought better of it when she noted the grim expression on his face. Grabbing the cloth, she started lathering his body with it, slowly tracing the muscles of his abdomen, chest, and shoulders. With dirt and blood now washed off, the bruises and shallow cuts his skin was marred with were even more visible, but she knew what troubled him was hidden much deeper.

The tattoo on his chest drew her attention again and her hand darted out to touch it, fingertips tracing the black lines of it. Klaus shuddered under her touch, his eyes fluttering shut. She watched his muscles flexing as he breathed in and out, her palm resting where the ink stained his skin.

"Tell me about them. Your family." Her demand was like a soft whisper on her tongue.

As he opened them, his eyes roamed over her naked form, hands following the path until they enclosed her face in their calloused embrace.

A storm of emotions roiled through her at his gaze and the way the hollowness seemed to disappear from it when he looked at her. Tipping her head, she traced her lips along his thumb in a feather-like kiss, waiting for him to deny her the answer.

She should've learnt by now that Klaus never did what people expected him to. Surprised, she listened as his guarded voice broke the silence word by cautious word.

"My mother, Esther, is a strong woman. She's not from the North, but father would always say she resembled a snowdrop - A fair and delicate exterior laced with strength to withstand the hardships of winter," he began in a quiet strained voice. His eyes set somewhere over her shoulder, darkened as he stared at something only he could see. A subtle smile formed over his lips as he went on, "She did endure the hardships of raising five of the most obstinate unruly children."

"With you heading the herd?" Caroline mused, playing with the loose curl that swept over his forehead.

He looked almost boyish at that moment, a playful smirk curving his lips and a tinge of mirth colouring his irises and Caroline marvelled at that new side of him she just got to see.

With an innocent shrug, Klaus replied, "I might have been the instigator at some point. Elijah is the eldest but he's always been the most disciplined of us. He joined the Night Watch the day he turned 18. I haven't seen him since."

Whatever joy that had lain simmering in his eyes before disappeared now and Caroline felt as if she had lost something precious. She could tell separation from his family took its toll on him as she ached from her own, similar loss. She missed Lorenzo dearly and it'd been just months since they'd seen each other last. And Matt? She knew she would miss him for the rest of her life.

Klaus' voice broke her out of her own thoughts as his next words filled the room. "You know of Rebekah. She's both the sweetest and the most spoilt girl you'd ever meet, a bit naive and so eager to love. She was ecstatic when father announced her betrothal to Alexander Baratheon. Foolish girl," he sneered, and Caroline felt the grip of his hands tighten as they fell to her hips. "And Henrik is the youngest. Bright and curious and always looking for trouble, wandering the woods and climbing the trees. He was so angry at us all for leaving him alone in Winterfell while we got to set out for an adventure. Mother's with him now."

He fell silent once again, mindlessly trailing his fingertips along the curve of her spine. It blurred her mind, making her want to lean into his touch and let go. Instead, she nestled herself against his taut chest and and cautiously voiced her thoughts, "You said there were five of you. What about - "

"Kol," he croaked, his body stiffening at the name. "He died in our first battle against the Lannisters. I forbade him to come, implored him to stay at Winterfell with Henrik but... but Kol would always do what he wanted, nothing else. 'I won't let you run like a lone wolf,' he said. And naturally, he threw himself into the worst of the battle."

"Klaus - "

"Today," he cut in again, words leaving his mouth in a taut, clipped tone. "I sent a battalion of men to certain death today. Boys like him, laughing and reckless, with mothers and sisters at home."

Her insides burned at the self-contempt and guilt she heard in his tone. Caroline wanted to say or do something, anything to bury the pain. To wash it away like she'd done to the filth layered on his skin. But the feelings were wrapped too tightly around him, and no words held power to change it. Not when his only options were to either keep pushing forward or bow down to the people responsible for his father's death.

So she just wound fingers in his hair, soothingly raking them through its softness. Taking joy in the way Klaus appeared to lean into her touch.

"But it doesn't matter, does it? We've won and we're one battle and four thousand corpses closer to the Red Keep," Klaus uttered, his words crude but his accent lilting around the edges, smoothing them over.

"It does matter. But we're at war and we all have choices to make," Caroline let out quietly.

Maybe it was her voice almost breaking under the weight of consequences behind her words that caused Klaus to glance up at her face. Understanding filled his handsome features. "Do you regret the ones you've made?" he asked.

She bit her tongue, as if tasting the reply before it left her mouth. There was no easy answer here, there never had been. "No," she admitted unapologetically, before her voice faltered into a broken sigh, "and yes." A single tear rolled down her cheek, dangling by her chin before Klaus swept it over with his thumb. Warmth spread over her body, making her shiver against the water that was slowly cooling down. Casting her gaze down, she carried on. "I've never wished to marry Stefan. And as my father informed me of our impending nuptials, with no qualms about my opinion, I made a promise to myself. That if I were to be Stefan's wife, I would do everything in my power to become the Queen. Take my place by the Iron Throne, the most influential woman in all of Westeros, and let no one rule me ever again."

"Such ferocious fire that burns in you. Who would dare to rule you, my Queen?" Klaus whispered, his awe-tinged eyes caressing her with their stare while his fingers drew circles on her hipbones.

"No one, perhaps. But it wasn't me who paid the price for it to come true." Matthew did, she thought bitterly.

Seeing right through her, Klaus countered, "You didn't decide for him, sweetheart. Your brother made a choice of his own."

Her head jolted up, breath catching in her throat. "So did yours," she managed.

Realization lingered like heavy, hot air between them. Maybe both of them needed someone else to point it out so that they could really hear it. Or perhaps they had just needed to hear it from one another. All she knew was that while the vile taste of guilt was still there, somehow, the knot in her stomach had loosened slightly, just as Klaus' expression had softened. The ocean blue of his eyes darkened as he took her in and her skin prickled, her body wound tightly. She became very much aware of his naked body pressed against hers - his muscled thighs rubbing along the inner side of her legs, his hands gliding up to her chest, brushing past rib by rib.

Palms clasping onto his shoulders, Caroline shifted, firmly holding his burning gaze. Hovering over his hardening length, she slightly swiveled her hips, her silky folds brushing and teasing. The touch of his cock against her heat made arousal pool in her belly, the evidence of it smearing across the tip.

"Caroline," he rasped, voice thick with desire as she reached with one hand, fingers wrapping around his shaft.

She just looked at him in response, detailing every single crease and twitch on his face as she pushed his cock past her entrance. He must have been exhausted after the battle, his body still carrying signs of all the strikes he had taken, but Caroline could tell he wanted this as much as she did. Needed her exactly like she needed him - no foreplay or kisses, just skin against skin and him, fucking her till her lungs were raw from screaming his name.

Klaus groaned, burying his head between her breasts, fingertips digging deep into her hips. As if set to torture herself, Caroline sank onto him, their eyes locked on each other as she sheathed him deeper in her, inch by glorious inch. A drawn-out moan escaped her lips as she felt him stretching her walls, the incredible sensation of being so full causing her muscles to clench convulsively around him.

Breath caught in her throat when she heard him growl into her skin just before he jerked his hips forcefully, hitting just the right spot. She saw his face contort in pain before it was quickly overshadowed by desire; still her hands rushed to smooth away the weariness and the hurt.

It seemed like their control snapped then and it all became blurry and rushed, cold water neither of them cared about sloshing out of the bathtub. With her arms draped over his neck, she bit into the curve of his shoulder each time he pushed into her. His lips sucked her skin, her clavicle and neck painted red as he furiously worked to mark any inch of her he could reach.

And it was hard and fast - he slid deeper and deeper each time and their breaths blended together as they became all teeth and nails and tongues. Caroline's spine arched as she frantically ground onto him, meeting his thrusts with head thrown back. Soon, they went over the edge, moaning their release into each other's mouth, their breathing harsh.

After a quick peck on the lips, Klaus scooted her in his arms, closed the distance to bed and lay on the fur with Caroline curled tightly around his limbs. With little care for their damp skin, he draped the covers over them and pulled her snugly against him. They shared a small satisfied smile, like a secret passing between their eyes, and this strange sense of elation came over her - a feeling she'd learnt to associate with him since their first meeting.

Lazily threading fingers through his still wet curls, she nuzzled the crook of his neck, savouring the scent that was all them. Forest and steel blended with honey, filling her nostrils until she could almost taste it on her tongue.

Her Wolf.

He smelled like home.

Time didn't stretch stubbornly anymore - it went by decidedly too fast. So little of it she got to spend with Klaus when the truth of the matter was she wanted him for so much longer.

'Til she couldn't remember her own name, yet his own remained carved in the deepest corner of her mind. Until her grey hair draped over the pillow next to his as they lay in each other's arms.

Until his wrinkled hand cupped her cheek and he kissed her goodnight.


Caroline stirred, encompassed in a blissful warmth radiating from Klaus. Her body felt pleasantly sore as she stretched then nuzzled back into his side. She wished for this peaceful moment to last so she could have the luxury to pretend, to bask in the illusion that there was no war outside of this tent.

But the real world was waiting for them both, and sooner rather than later it came to interrupt their time together as Katherine quietly stepped into the tent. With a determined expression on her face, she motioned for Caroline to come out and narrowed her eyes at her when she didn't respond immediately.

Honestly, sometimes Caroline wondered whether Katherine was indeed her lady-in-waiting or if it was the other way around.

Klaus slightly shifted on the bed as she left it but didn't wake up, a true testament to his exhaustion. Or perhaps he feels safe with me, she mused, the thought making her heart skip a beat. Having gathered her scattered clothing, she swiftly put it on, and with one last glance at him walked out into the chill of the morning.

"What is going on, Katherine?" she hissed as soon as she was out of earshot, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders tightly.

"I could ask you the same thing, dear sister," Lorenzo's drawl rang in her ears. Spinning on her toes, she was met with the sight of her older brother, his usually teaseful features disturbed by a scowl. Still, with no hesitation, she flung herself into his arms. Familiar scent filled her nostrils, a fragrance of fruit at the market, sun and the sea. The thought of home and Matthew brought tears to her eyes, the few drops that she let fall dampening the fabric of Enzo's tunic.

Taking a breath in, Caroline opened her mouth with no words coming out. How could she convey the turmoil of feelings she had gone through? The inexplicable mixture of relief and sorrow she experienced upon seeing him alive and well?

She was about to say something, anything, but fortunately Enzo beat her to it. "I know," he whispered, hugging her more tightly. They stood like this for some time, embracing and taking comfort in each other's presence before walking back to her tent, arm in arm. Once they were there, she couldn't help but inquire about everything she had missed since leaving Highgarden with Stefan. It was a great plan to stop Enzo from asking his own questions, but regrettably it could only deter her brother for so long.

"Would you care to tell me what is happening between that Stark boy and you, Gorgeous?" His clever, all-seeing eyes focused on her.

"Not particularly, if I'm being honest."

"Caroline," he trailed off expectantly.

She crossed her arms and turned her gaze away from him, looking at a point inches from his face. "What are you doing here, Enzo?" she asked defiantly.

It was Lorenzo's turn to become disconcerted as he shifted on his feet, unsure. "I knew you'd need me," he murmured.

Knowing him well, it was obvious to Caroline that he was hiding something. "I know that," she assured him, her voice softening. "But there's something else you're not telling me."

"Father wants you to marry that little Lannister King," he said bluntly.

Caroline swallowed hard, thinking of all the stories she had heard of Alexander, Elena's son. The cruel joy he took in causing pain, the fits of anger, the tortured servants. How could her own father be willing to subject her to that? "And you?" she demanded, proud when her voice didn't falter.

"I wouldn't throw you to the Lions, you know that, dear sister. Even if I know you would be a snake among them," Enzo said, smirking.

An idea brewed in her mind at his words, one that could be both genius and disastrous in its simplicity. "A snake, you say?" she mused, her mind already busy weighing all the risks in each possible scenario, making up lists of things that needed to be taken care of.

A glint of recognition crossed Enzo's eyes as he registered the familiar expression on her face - both determined and elated at the thought of executing her plan. "What is on your mind, Gorgeous?"

She beamed at him with a victorious smile, "I know how to win this war."


Please don't hit me, there WILL be an epilogue explaining it all! But I rather like where this part ends :)

So what did you think of this part? How did you like Klaroline's bathtub scene? The cliffhanger? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to figure out Caroline's plan, what do you think it is? One last time *ugly sobbing*, please share your thoughts with me :)

Til next time,

Kate