Which Road
(Written for Day 19 - Human Klaus Time of the 25DaysofKlaroline event on Tumblr. Prompt from queenvampirebarbie: Caroline grew up with the Mikaelson's and are practically part of their family. Caroline is finally of marriage age. FLUFFY! Title from 'Landlocked Blues' by Bright Eyes. Rated K+).
Klaus had no concept of how long he has walked, or how far. He pays no attention direction, merely avoids anywhere he risks running into other people, his strides long and purposeful. He needs the distance.
He had to get away.
From his father, from the villagers who looked at him with pity, or worse. From Rebekah fussing at him, and Kol attempting to be jovial. From Elijah. From Tatia and her divided attentions.
He thinks fleetingly of leaving. Of finding a way back to the old world. Because surely, whatever his parents had said, it could be no worse than this?
But Klaus dismisses the idea, almost as soon as it is fully formed.
If he were to leave, who knows where Mikael would turn the brunt of his anger and disappointment? His father is brusque with Kol, and tolerant of Henrik. But rarely harsh. Would that change, with Klaus gone?
He cannot risk it. But it is a nice dream.
Klaus only pauses when the sun begins to set, knowing he has missed the evening meal. Hardly the first time, and he wonders if it would be so bad, to sleep outside, and head back in the morning. Whatever punishment Mikael metes out would be worth it, Klaus thinks. For freedom, if only for a single night.
Klaus is startled out of his musings, by a movement in his periphery. And then he hears the growls. Low and menacing, followed by sharp barks.
He turns slowly, and is relieved to see a pair of herding dogs. Not overly large, though they seem to be agitated, hackles raised and teeth bared. Klaus crouches, holds out his hands. One inches forward cautiously, sniffing, before allowing Klaus to lay his hand on its head.
He gives the dog's ears a scratch, glancing around to get his bearings. He's left the village proper, and has wandered on to one of the surrounding farms. One he recognizes, as he'd often been sent to it, to fetch Rebekah, before she'd been old enough to be trusted to make the trek herself.
The second dog approaches, tail wagging gently, and Klaus gives her the same attention, "Rosta, Geri," he greets fondly, recalling their names. "You will have to forgive me for not recognizing you, hmm? You were little more than pups, the last time I was out here."
Rosta flops onto her side, and Klaus obligingly rubs her offered belly, assuming he has been forgiven.
A whistle sounds, from the direction of the stone cottage, and both dogs perk up, once more beginning to bark. A figure rounds the corner, loose blonde waves bright in the fading light. He knows it is Caroline then. In the sixteen or so years since the Forbes family arrived in this village, Klaus has never once seen Liz without her hair tightly pulled back.
He stands, dusting off his knees. He's about to offer a greeting, but Caroline beats him to it, her voice hard and demanding, "Who's there?"
She's got a lantern in one hand, and metal glints in the other. The dogs leave Klaus' side, circling her.
"I mean you no harm, Caroline," Klaus calls over, taking slow steps in her direction. "I've just wandered a bit far."
She raises her light higher, as Klaus steps into it. He spies an axe in her hand but she relaxes, once she sees his face. "Far is understating it. And I do not appreciate the fright, Niklaus," Caroline admonishes.
Klaus bows his head, in apology, "Forgive me."
"I suppose I can. What brings you all the way out here?" Caroline asks, her blue eyes bright and curious.
"Nothing. I was just walking. Lost track of the time." It's a deflection, one he's hoping she'll accept.
A brief look of understanding softens Caroline's features, "Have you eaten? You'll never make it home in time for supper. And I imagine there's rarely much left on your family's table, with so many mouths to feed."
Caroline makes the offer casually, no pity in her tone, and Klaus finds himself agreeing, "Between Kol and Henrik there will hardly be a crumb to be found."
A quick smile lights her face, and Klaus finds himself staring at her, rather more intently then he thinks he should. He's known Caroline since she was tiny, barely two years old. She'd taken to Rebekah immediately, the two of them close in age. They'd been constantly underfoot as children, noisy and always wanting to be doing what Klaus and Kol had been.
When he thinks of Caroline Forbes he thinks of haphazard braids, gangly limbs. He remembers freckles and cheeks turned pink by wind and sun, boisterous giggles and incessant questions. A love of climbing trees and a distaste for standing still.
He'd not noticed that she'd grown up, until this very moment, and Klaus wonders how that's possible. Her face blossomed into true beauty. And the soft curves of her hips and bust, plainly visible despite the long dress she wears, reveal there's nothing childish about her any longer.
Klaus realizes that he's been silent for too long, and that it is quite possible that she will have noted that his regard has turned admiring.
If Caroline has, she makes no mention of it, there is no hint of shyness or simpering in her expectant posture, "My mother's been ill, so it is not grand. Just bread and soup but I am happy to share."
Klaus clears his throat, and nods, finding a reply difficult to form. A first for him, in Caroline's presence.
She turns, motioning for him to follow, and the dogs bound at their heels. "Would you like me to take those?" Klaus asks finally, motioning to her hands. It's only polite, he thinks, even as he cringes at the stilted way the offer emerges.
Caroline shoots him a questioning look, before handing him the lantern, "I'll keep the axe, if you don't mind. My mother prefers me to be armed, in the company of strange men."
She says it with a laugh, and Klaus finds himself grinning back. He'd wager that Caroline is more than proficient, at yielding the axe. He wouldn't be surprised if she knew her way around blades and bows as well. Elizabeth Forbes scoffed at the idea that women should rely on men for protection, something his father had often derided her for in private.
He knows that Rebekah carries a small knife, gifted to her on her sixteenth birthday, courtesy of Caroline's mother.
"Smart woman, your mother," Klaus comments approvingly, "I hope her sickness is not serious?"
"No, she's on the mend. Tried to go out and tend to the animals herself, but I insisted she go to bed early. Harvest will be soon enough, and she'll run herself ragged."
Caroline sounds exasperated, and Klaus could only imagine how that conversation had gone. Caroline was headstrong, a trait she seemed to have inherited from her mother. When William Forbes had died, his young widow had been inundated with offers for her hand. Liz had refused them all, and proven those would whispered that she'd be destitute and begging wrong. The Forbes women managed their farm, and their livestock, all on their own, and had managed to prosper, silencing all doubters and earning respect.
Liz had been refusing offers for Caroline's hand, and a share of their wealth, since Caroline's fourteenth birthday, or so the rumors went.
Looking at Caroline now, Klaus assumed that those offers were not purely made in the hopes of a comfortable future. A man could do far worse, for a wife.
"You are awfully pensive this evening, Niklaus," Caroline says, nudging him with her elbow, and breaking him from his thoughts.
Klaus shakes his head, pressing his arm into hers, "Perhaps I'm just waiting for you to begin chattering, love. It's what I'm used to, and it would be impolite to refuse to listen, since you have offered me food."
The look she favors him with, as they reach the door to her home, is narrow eyed and unimpressed. She shoos the dogs away, and they dart off towards the fields. "That seemed like an insult. And I'm certain that's not polite either."
"Not an insult a statement of fact," Klaus teases gently.
"Perhaps I've matured," Caroline shoots back.
"Perhaps," Klaus agrees, with a laugh, marveling at how closely her words had mirrored his thoughts. He sets the lantern on the rough wooden table in the center of the room. Caroline grabs a candle, lights it, and several others, before she busies herself in stoking the fire.
"The soup will take a few minutes to heat," she tells him, sinking into a chair and gesturing to the one across from her.
Klaus takes it, his eyes drawn to her face, in the low light. He notes the freckles are still there, though they are fewer in number, and that her skin is fair and lovely.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Caroline blurts out. Her lashes drop, as soon as the sentence is out, teeth biting down on her lower lip. "I mean…" she stammers, before falling silent once more. She darts a quick glance up, before looking away, shifting restlessly. "Forget I said that. I should not have. I'm being silly. And fanciful. And improper. And I am trying to stop all of that."
"Why?" Klaus asks, genuinely curious.
Caroline sighs, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling. Her fingers knot together on the table, "Because I'm not a child any longer. I have responsibilities. My mother says I can take my time, in choosing a husband. But the work grows harder for her every year. I would like to ease that burden, and marrying seems the best way. The only way."
"I fail to see what one thing has to do with the other, sweetheart."
Caroline huffs, the sound slightly disdainful, "Of course you wouldn't. Those who have offered for me have been the wrong kind of men. They want what I can give them. They would be more of a hindrance, then a help, in the long run. And maybe the right sort wants something different. Someone more… docile."
Klaus struggles to turn his disbelieving snort into a cough. He's unsuccessful, given the stiffening of Caroline's shoulders, the angry line her lips are pressed into. He doesn't think that Caroline has even a passing acquaintance with such a thing as docility. As bright and willful as she is, it's a wonder to Klaus that she would even think to attempt it.
"I think," Klaus begins, choosing his words carefully, "that the right sort of man would not want you to stifle yourself, would he?"
"I will not know until I try, will I?" Caroline snaps back, standing up to tend to the pot over the hearth.
It bothers Klaus, the idea of her trying. It is not his concern, but he cannot seem to brush the thought aside. He tries a different tactic, "Would your mother be happy, knowing you were not?"
Her spine straightens, and a vigorous stir sends liquid hissing into the fire, "I could make her think I was happy."
"I doubt it," Klaus tells her. Elizabeth Forbes is an observant woman, and fiercely protective of her only child.
"I would thank you," Caroline mutters, her back still to him, "not to meddle in my affairs. I think yours are messy enough."
It is a pointed statement, and more than mildly judgmental, and Klaus finds himself bristling. "And what would you know of that?"
"Women talk, Niklaus," she tells him, dripping condescension, her movement's jerky as she ladles soup into a bowl. She sets it down in front of him with a clang, before returning to her seat. "Few more then Tatia. I have never encountered a more boastful person. I know far more of you, and Elijah, and your appetites, then I care to."
Klaus feels his ears heat, and anger gnaws at him, at the idea that others are privy to what he had believed to be private moments. He stares into the bowl in front of him, reaches for the spoon Caroline had set in front of him mechanically.
Klaus begins to eat, and the silence becomes heavy, the only sounds he hears are Caroline's even breaths, and the crackling of the fire.
"She's very… complimentary," Caroline ventures. "If that helps."
"It does not," Klaus clips. Caroline looks guilty, when he chances a glance up, and he softens. "But I believe that it is better that I know that Tatia has been free with her words. Does Rebekah…"
Caroline shakes her head in vehement denial, "Oh, no. She is careful to be discrete, when Bekah's in earshot. Likely because she knows that Rebekah may very well claw her pretty brown eyes out."
That pulls a smile from Klaus, and Caroline returns it tentatively.
Caroline bites her lip again, a tinge of nerves plain in her expression, "And since I have already failed at impressing you with my ability to be ladylike and reserved, may I say one more thing?"
"You may," Klaus replies, cautious but interested.
"You deserve better," Caroline says, serious and fervent. "Then Tatia Petrova's changeable heart. You and Elijah both. It's not fair, what she's doing. And it is not right."
Klaus knows that he should be defending Tatia, defending what he feels for her. But his mouth is dry, and the excuses stick in his throat.
He takes a few more bites of soup, before he pushes the bowl away. "I should be going. Thank you for dinner."
She smiles softly, and stands to see him to the door. Klaus steps outside, but feels compelled to turn back. He grabs her hand, and squeezes, trying to express his gratitude when he speaks, "Thank you. For your honesty." Caroline's eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. Klaus leans in, before she can formulate a reply, brushes his lips against her cheek, taking an extra moment to enjoy the scent of her skin, and the warmth of her so near to him.
He pulls back, notes the stunned look on Caroline's face, her fingertips reaching up to touch the spot on her cheek where his mouth had just been. He's not sure what had possessed him, just knows that the time spent in Caroline's company has been enjoyable. Few people would think Klaus deserves better, than what he has. It warms him, that Caroline's one of them. His dark mood had all but evaporated and he has a sneaking suspicion that he'll be seeking her out again. That he won't be able to help himself.
"Goodnight, Caroline," Klaus murmurs.
She echoes him, quiet and maybe a bit dazed. He doesn't hear the door close, and when he looks back, at the edge of her property, he can see her standing there, the faint glow of firelight outlining her figure.
Klaus smiles to himself and takes his time, walking back to the village, lost in his own thoughts once again. Much different ones, this time. Of Caroline and her sharp tongue and vibrant eyes.
Of new discoveries and possibilities.