Notes: From klarolineauweek Day Six. The theme was AU: Mythological Creatures. I ended up posting two semi-crack drabbles. But I kind of like them! I appreciate people taking the time to read and review! I skipped Day Seven (Mates/Soulmates) only posting a little snippet of an upcoming fic. So there's just one more set of these after this one.
As One Wishes To Live
(The initial prompt was pulled from a prompt Tumblr (I can't remember which one!): "Yeah hey thanks for rubbing my lamp I'm your genie or whatever listen where is the closest newspaper stand I've been in that lamp for a long time and I need to check my stocks also what year is it?" AU – but it veered in a different direction. Title taken from an Oscar Wilde quote. Rated T.)
Caroline was being taunted.
By the tarnished gold thing that sat on her mantle.
It had been there since Sunday morning - when the girls had come over for brunch. It kind of looked like a gravy boat, and Caroline had no idea what its actual purpose might have been. Kat had produced it with a flourish, explaining that she'd found it in an antique store and that the owner had said it was guaranteed to make a young ladies' dreams come true.
But, as Kat had proudly proclaimed, she wasn't exactly a lady, and Caroline needed it more.
Caroline had protested, and they'd squabbled briefly, much to Bonnie and Elena's amusement. Kat had won, since she was one of the few people on earth who stood a chance against Caroline's stubbornness. Kat had plopped the tacky gold tchotchke on Caroline's kitchen table on her way out, tossing her hair and smirking, in the face of Caroline's glare. Caroline had moved it immediately, thinking she could more easily ignore it if it sat over her fireplace.
But that hadn't happened.
Caroline's eye was constantly drawn to it. Whenever she was in the living room, or even just passing through. She wished she could throw it out. But Kat would never let that go. Caroline was stuck with it.
It really didn't go with any of her stuff. But maybe it wouldn't be such an aesthetic train wreck if she polished it? Being clean couldn't make the thing any uglier.
Resigned, Caroline dug out a jar of metal polish, and a cotton cloth, spreading out some old newspapers and rolling up her sleeves. She scrubbed at the metal, for a few seconds, before a thin, blue-tinged, misty-smoky substance began to stream out of the spout. Caroline panicked, dropped it with a clatter, and shoved her chair back from the table. Was this some kind of weird chemical reaction? She totally should have checked the date on the polish. The windows were open so it couldn't be that bad, could it? She wasn't going to die from inhaling this stuff, was she?
The smoke thickened, filled the air, the scent of it pleasant, like pine trees and oranges. Caroline squinted, trying to see through, able to just make out the shape of her couch, across the room.
And then, the smoke dissipated, all at once.
And Caroline was left blinking, mouth agape, at a very attractive, very naked, man who was now standing in her condo.
She figured there were two explanations. Either Caroline was dead, or she was seriously high.
Caroline had never really thought about heaven (or if she was really qualified for admittance) but why wouldn't it be filled with nude men with spectacular abs? And if she was high, well, then she didn't have to feel weird about ogling the imaginary guy's package, did she?
And then he spoke. His voice was low and melodic, his words accented, "Mistress, how may I serve you?" he asked, bowing slightly at the waist.
And yeah, that really didn't help Caroline's composure. Because that sentence was right out of her naughtiest dreams.
She was leaning towards this being a hallucination, because surely dirty fantasies had no place in heaven? Her family had never been much for church, but from what she'd absorbed second hand, growing up in small town Virginia, she'd assumed God would kind of frown on the kinky stuff.
He was watching her expectantly, still bent slightly forward, "Um, what?" Caroline managed to stutter.
"Mistress, how may I serve you?" the man repeats, at a louder volume, with crisper enunciation.
"Oh, I heard you. I'm not an idiot."
"I would never call you such a thing, Mistress."
He's deferential in tone, but his expression hovers around boredom and if Caroline's not mistaken she sees a solid amount of resentment, in the press of his lips and the slight narrowing of his eyes.
She brings a hand up, rubs at her eyes. Blinks a few times, and nope. He's still there. "Awesome," Caroline mutters. "Totally wish I hadn't turned down those mushrooms in college. At least then I'd know how long a hallucination was supposed to last."
"You think me a figment of your imagination? I am not. I assure you, Mistress, that you are not the first to assume as much."
Caroline holds up a hand, "Could you stop calling me Mistress?"
"As you wish. I am yours to command. How shall I address you?"
"My name is Caroline."
"Those who summon me don't usually wish for me to be so familiar, but if that is what you prefer, then that is what I shall call you. How may I serve you, Caroline?"
Caroline ignores the tiny part of her brain marvelling at how hot that still managed to be, and focuses on his other words, "'Summon you'? I didn't summon you."
"You possess my lamp, and rubbed it, therefore I am yours."
Caroline runs her hand through her hair, glancing around, to see if maybe this is some kind of elaborate prank. She wouldn't put it past Kat, to hire a stripper, just to mess with Caroline.
But there's no one around, and there's no way Kat could have known just when Caroline would choose to deal with her gift.
"I think I need to sit down," Caroline says, nodding to herself. She kind of wants a drink, but she's pretty sure that will only make things worse. Backing up, she sits on the couch, pulling the throw off the back and offering it to the man. "Why don't you um, cover up? And sit down, so I can figure this out."
He takes the purple knit afghan from her, wrapping it around his waist before sinking to his knees at her feet.
Caroline leans back in alarm, "What are you doing? You can sit there," she points at the armchair next to her. The man rises, enviably graceful and regal, despite the fact that his only covering is her inexpert attempt at knitting (it was supposed to have been a stress relieving activity. It hadn't worked out, once Caroline's innate need to strive for perfection had kicked in, only to have to battle her lack of skill).
He sits down in the indicated chair, "I apologize, Mist-Caroline. My last summoner did not allow me to sit on her furniture."
Caroline's mouth falls open, and she has no idea how to reply to something that's frankly so batshit insane. "Who are you?" she asks, finally. Because she really needs to figure out what the hell's happening here, and that seems like a pertinent question.
"I have been called many things, by many people. Are you asking me my name? It's been a very long time since I've used it." The man's head tips to the side and he seems puzzled, as he studies her.
"Yes. I am asking you your name."
"Niklaus. Though I always preferred simply Klaus, from people who were not my family."
"Klaus," Caroline tests it out, and he smiles, faintly. "I guess my next question is what are you?" She has a sneaking suspicion. It's absolutely nuts, of course. But the lamp and the smoke, his subservient manners, only led her to one conclusion.
"I'm not certain how long it's been, but the last time I was out of my lamp the common term for what I am was 'genie.'"
A laugh bubbles out of Caroline, mildly hysterical, and she claps a hand over her mouth. Klaus raises an eyebrow, but doesn't seem offended. "I take it you don't believe in the existence of such things? Other beings, magic? Humans have become so mundane."
Caroline thinks she should probably be offended by that, but she'll allow the guy a little crankiness. It sounded like being a genie royally sucked.
"So, how does this work?" Caroline asks, pulling her legs up on the couch and leaning forward, "I get three wishes, right?"
"Precisely. And I am bound to serve you, until such a time as they are completed."
"Serve me how?" She's pretty sure she knows, and it makes her a little sick to her stomach.
Klaus shrugs, appearing resigned. "However you wish. Should you wish me to clean your home, I will do that. If you need me to cook for you, I've done that too. If you wish to take pleasure from my body, it is at your disposal. I belong to you."
God, that sounds so, so wrong. Caroline's shaking her head, getting up from the couch, "No. No, not going to happen."
"You may, of course, make your wishes quickly, if I displease you."
She whirls, "What? No! That's not what I meant. Geez. You're very pleasing."
"I am glad to hear it, Caroline. I look forward to serving you."
He says it mechanically, and Caroline doesn't buy it for a moment. "Alright, wish number one. I want you to be honest with me, and to feel free to tell me what you really think and feel."
Klaus eyes widen, "Are you sure? Wishes can't be revoked once granted."
"Yeah, I figured. And I am sure. That is my wish."
Klaus nods, closing his eyes briefly. When they open, he settles back into the chair, seemingly more relaxed. "I thank you, Caroline. I have not had such freedom in a very long time, and I am grateful that you will allow it, if only for a short time."
Caroline waves his thanks away, "Please. No thanks necessary. If I had to kiss ass and do someone else's bidding all the time I would totally explode. She sits down again, angling her body to face him, "Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions? You can totally say no, if you want to rest, or if you're hungry or anything. Actually, where are my manners? Can I get you a drink?"
"I am fine, thank you. I am in a state of sleep, when confined to my lamp, so I am not the least bit tired. And I don't require food."
"You can't eat?" Caroline exclaims, "I'm sorry, but this genie deal sounds worse and worse."
"I can eat. I just don't need to, to survive. And most of my past masters and mistresses did not allow me to."
"Well, they sound terrible. Help yourself to anything you want here, seriously." He looks like he's going to thank her again, but Caroline cuts him off before she can, "And please don't thank me for being a decent person."
He makes a soft, amused noise, "I can't help it. Decency is rarer than you seem to think."
"Depressing," Caroline muses, though she can't find it in her to blame him. He's only dropped a few scant tidbits, about his life, and Caroline assumes they're not even the tip of the iceberg. "So, how long have you been a genie? Or is it something you're born into?"
"I was cursed. Before that I was just a man. May I ask what year it is?"
"Of course. It's 2015."
Klaus' eyes light up, the blue of them brightening. He leans forward, grabbing at her hands, "Is it really?" he breathes in wonder.
"Uh, yeah. Almost 2016. Why so excited?"
"I was cursed in the year 1020. My curse was to last a thousand years. To know it's so close to expiring, that I have so few years left to be bound to that lamp, to the whims of a master. It's almost overwhelming."
Caroline squeezes his hands, in understanding. "Four years, huh? Not so bad, I guess."
Klaus grins, "And you seem far kinder, than any mistress I've had before. Perhaps my luck will hold, and once you're done with me my next will be nearly as lovely."
"Wait," Caroline says slowly, a thought occurring to her, "is there a time limit, on my wishes?"
"No, not at all. I once spent 60 years at the beck and call of one mistress, only to have her make her final wish on her deathbed."
"So… what if I just don't make mine, until like New Year's Eve 2019? And then your curse is done, and you're free."
Klaus avoids her gaze, and looks down, "That sounds… nearly idyllic, to me. But I would never presume to tell you how to use your wishes, Caroline. They are yours and you may use them as you see fit."
"Well, how about we see how it goes? Maybe you'll hate me and be dying for another person to boss you around in a couple of weeks."
"And maybe you'll decide you have no use for me, and send me away."
Ugh, god that was heartbreaking. "I have no interest in 'using' you Klaus," she tells him firmly, "People shouldn't use other people."
"Yet another sentiment that I am unfamiliar with," Klaus notes.
"Yeah. We'll have to work on that, I think. Just so you know I'm kind of a workaholic. And I'm super particular about how I like things around here. I'm an only child, so I can't help it. If you're going to stick around I expect you to pull your weight. Now, how about I show you to the guestroom?"
"I don't need a room, I have my lamp."
Caroline looks over at the thing skeptically, "Yeah, that doesn't look very comfortable to me. If you want to sleep in there, I'm not going to stop you. But the guest room is yours, for as long as you need it. And want it."
Klaus brings her hands to his lips, presses a kiss, to each of her knuckles and murmurs, "I don't think it's possible for anyone to hate you, Caroline."
Caroline feels her cheeks heat, under the serious admiration he's sending her. She's not perfect, and he's looking at her like she's some kind of goddess. It will take a while, for him to get out of the habits he's made, over the course of his life as a genie. Because it's the 21st century, and consent is a thing that matters. But they'll work on that, work on preparing him to have a real life. And she still has so many questions.
But they've got years, from the sounds of it, to figure things out.
Pockets Full Of Stones
(Last year, on The Originals, Davina was practicing something they called 'Earth Magic.' So I thought hmm, is there also 'Water Magic?' and then my brain went directly to mermaids. As is should. Title from What The Water Gave Me by Florence + the Machine. Rated K+.)
When Klaus walks into his house, intent on locking himself away in his studio, all he wants is a glass of bourbon and some peace and quiet. Why ever had he thought taking back New Orleans was a good idea? And how had the various factions managed to survive so long, without burning the city to the ground? They were like squabbling children, for the most part, and it was a trial not to slaughter them all and start fresh.
Perhaps next week.
He knows his studio is occupied, before he even opens the door. He grits his teeth, resists the urge to crush the doorknob in his grasp. A little peace and quiet was just not something Klaus was going to get today, especially since the daggers were all the way on the other side of the house.
"Hello, Brother," Kol greets him, taking a swig out of the bottle in his hand. He's at Klaus' desk, dusty boots propped up on the edge, drinking 80 year old whiskey like it's water.
"Kol," Klaus returns evenly, "I thought you were in Greece."
"Yes, I gathered you were aware of my location, from the messengers you sent. I do hope that one bloke's arm grows back alright."
Klaus turns his back to his brother, so Kol won't be able to note how tightly Klaus' jaw is clenched, and decide to be even more aggravating. Klaus pours himself a large drink. He'll need it, now more than ever.
"I was told that you were antagonizing the witch population there and that I'd best collect you, lest they decide to put some effort into putting you down themselves."
Kol scoffs, "They're welcome to try. And I was not. Is it my fault that witches are prone to ridiculous fits of jealousy? How was I supposed to know that they were sisters?"
Klaus stalks over to the desk, shoving Kol's legs from it, leaning down to meet his brother's eyes, "I need The Naxos Coven, Kol. They're the only practitioners of their particular branch of magic who still thrive. Why can't you confine your carnal dalliances to any of the myriad of Earth Magic covens?"
"Because they're dull, Nik. Besides, it seems as though your pet Water Witches have been keeping something from you."
Kol's eyebrows rise mockingly, and Klaus straightens, anger flooding him, biting out, "Explain. Now."
But Kol's not intimidated, unfortunately. He drains the rest of his bottle, standing and making a show of brushing off his clothes.
"Kol," Klaus growls in warning, "do not test me. Not today."
"Keep your knickers on, Brother. This is something you need to see. Trust me."
Kol heads to the door, not looking back to see if Klaus is following. He does, reluctantly, because Kol's version of a surprise was rarely a good thing. Kol leads him downstairs, towards the back of the house, and outside into the late afternoon sunshine.
Kol waits for Klaus to come up beside him, smirking and gesturing to the swimming pool. "Don't say I never gave you anything, Nik."
It's only centuries of practice that prevent Klaus from expressing his shock.
Because there appears to be a mermaid, huddled in a corner at the far end of the pool.
She's nearly fully submerged, her eyes just above the surface of the water. They're narrowed, the cool blue of them scarcely visible to Klaus, alert and watchful and very, very angry.
"Tasty little thing, isn't she?" Kol murmurs, watching Klaus' reactions carefully.
Klaus shoots his brother a glare, though he can't say he disagrees. She's lovely, from what he can see. Her thick blonde hair tumbles down her back, plaits of it woven together in intricate braids, threaded through with bits of silver and gold. The pale skin of her torso is covered by no garment, flawless, and at her hips scales of the palest blue begin, getting darker and shifting to greens down the length of her tail.
He's need days, and dozens of paints, to even begin to try to capture all of the colors.
"I'm told she can talk," Kol tells him, "but I have yet to see any evidence of an ability to make sounds other than snarls. She's a bit violent, too. Tore the throat out of one of the men on the ship, before we could subdue her."
Klaus is watching her, sees her smile at Kol's words, teeth pearly white, the incisors just a touch too sharp to pass for human. She understands exactly what Kol had just said, and Klaus would bet that she speaks just fine, and is merely picky about when she does so.
"I'll be having a little chat with our witch friends. Very soon. Because I assume their knowledge is not new, not something that simply slipped their minds?"
Kol throws his head back and laughs, "Hardly. Cassia, that was the first sister, had loose lips. They've known for centuries. Have a bit of a symbiotic relationship. The mermaid's scales add a certain kick to protective spells, their blood seems to work similarly to ours. Heals wounds and such. She even said you can use strands of hair in love potions, but I think that bit was drivel."
"And what do they," Klaus nods to the creature in the pool, "get in return?"
Kol reaches into his pocket, pulls out a bracelet. It's beaded, wood and shells and polished stones. Bloodstone, if Klaus isn't mistaken. Kol twirls it around his fingertip, and the mermaid's eyes follow it covetously. "They get these. Some nifty enchantments and they're not stuck in fish form all the time. Pulled it off of her so she couldn't run. She needs to stay near water, when she's like this. The legs are nearly as pretty as the tail."
Klaus plucks the bracelet from his brother's hand, studies it more closely, notes the symbols carved into the individual beads. He turns back to the girl, who's turned the full force of her attention to him. She's wary, like she senses that he's the bigger threat. It's fascinating, she's fascinating, to Klaus. It's been a very long time since he's discovered something new in this world.
He walks around the edge of the pool, and she tracks him, with her eyes, her body moving with just a flutter of her powerful tail.
He dangles the bracelet towards her, and she moves, quicker than he'd been expecting. Her fingers are slender, topped by lethal looking claws and Klaus only just manages to avoid having his forearm sliced open.
Her eyes blaze with anger. "That's mine," she tells him, her voice soft but imperious, edged in threat.
Klaus is hard pressed to keep from laughing, bad mood forgotten, because this day had just turned far more interesting. "And perhaps I'll give it back to you, love. In time." Klaus sinks down into a crouch, cautiously, resting on the balls of his feet, in case she tries to strike again. She can't kill him, but she likely doesn't know that, and she seems the sort to try. Klaus almost hopes she does, so he can learn more about the things that she is capable of. "Now," he coaxes her, smiling genially, "tell me your name."