Notes: Day Five of klarolineauweek was AU: Mythology and Creatures and I published a sequel and a new drabble. Hope you enjoy!
Under Night Sky (Part Two)
(This is a sequel to the Dragon!Caroline drabble that can be found with the collection in Chapter 80. Rated T)
Caroline has always been a very punctual person, even before watches and cell phones made the time easily accessible. It's a quarter to seven when she walks into the bar, shaking off a dusting of snow and stripping of her outer garments before they could get wet.
Damp cold was the worst.
This time showing up this early had nothing to do with a desire to be on time. It has little to do with politeness; she's not worried about making a good impression on the peculiar werewolf she'd encountered on the mountain last night.
No, this is strategy.
She'd picked the meeting's location specifically, had known that she could arrange the variables to her advantage. She doesn't go out much during the high seasons but when the tourists leave and Aspen slows the waitresses and bartenders are always grateful for Caroline's generous tips. She weaves through the crowds, basking in the warmth of the room. It's packed with bodies and lit by numerous fireplaces and Caroline might even be able to take off her chunky knit cardigan.
She makes a beeline to the bar. The ambience is purposefully low-key – comfy seating and music that didn't overwhelm conversations. Pairs and small groups of humans are clustered in cozy seating groups and perched on stools around high tables. Squeezing in to the pack around the bar she looks around for someone she knows.
The bartender who meets her eyes grins in recognition and welcome and she returns it. He's one of Caroline's favorites, fun to flirt with, easy on the eyes, and a generous pourer. He even manages to be gracious when he loses at darts. She's often wondered what had brought him to Aspen but Enzo has never offered an explanation and Caroline had never pressed. She didn't need to give him a reason to get curious about her background. He ignores several people who had been waiting (to audible grumbling), to greet her. "Long time, no see! What'll you have?"
"The hot chocolate. With a shot of bourbon and extra whipped cream. And I need a favor."
He leans closer, resting his forearms on the bar. "Color me intrigued, Gorgeous."
"I have an… associate meeting me here at 8. I need a spot that's public but where we won't be disturbing anyone, if you know what I mean."
"Associate," Enzo repeats slowly. "I thought you were a writer."
"Can writers not have associates?"
"Can't say I know a lot of writers. But, if I were to give it some thought, I'd wonder why the sort of associates a writer had would need the set up you're suggesting."
"Proprietary info," Caroline lies. "Big plot twists, that sort of thing."
Enzo's expression makes it obvious he doesn't believe her but he pushes back from the bar. "If you say so. But you'll shout if you need me, yeah?"
Caroline fights a smile that would surely be indulgent. It was cute that Enzo thought she needed protection. "I can handle myself, but thanks."
He taps the bar and turns away, flipping up the top at the far end and slipping into the crowd. Caroline spins on her stool once she loses sight of him, and she scans the room, re-familiarizing herself with the exits, making a mental list of everything that could be used as a weapon. She's got a knife in her bag, some wolfsbane, but she's learned that sometimes improvisation was a necessary evil.
She feels someone climb on to the stool next to her and lean into her space. She glances quickly in his direction, long enough to take in the gelled hair, Packers jersey and overly cocky smirk before looking away. "No," Caroline clips out. "I'm meeting someone."
He opens his mouth to reply, and Caroline's sure it would have been annoying, but she turns towards him once more, narrowing her eyes and baring her teeth in a sharp smile, and he falters.
Clearly a human with above average self-preservation instincts.
She hears a clink behind her, glances back to see that Enzo's returned and has gotten her drink prepped. She barely notices her hopeful suitor's retreat. Enzo nods towards the back corner. "The chairs by the far fireplace. I think that'll suit your purposes? They were occupied but, with a little persuasion, and an offer of a couple free rounds, their occupants were happy to vacate. I'll put it on your tab, shall I?"
Caroline figured that was a fair trade. "You've totally earned your big fat tip, Enzo. Thanks." She wriggles her fingers in farewell and picks up her drink, wrapping her hands around the mug with a grateful sigh. The seats Enzo had cleared for her are upholstered in buttery leather, warmed by the crackling fire, and Caroline sinks into the one with the best view of the door, curling her legs underneath her. She checks her phone, settles in to wait.
The wolf has forty-three minutes to show up. If he knows what's good for him he won't be late.
When he strolls in the door five minutes before eight – every bit as confident in a flawlessly tailored black coat and jeans as he had been entirely bare – Caroline refuses to allow herself to consider his punctuality a point in his favor. She doesn't move, makes no motion to gain his attention. She watches him curiously, wondering how long it will take him to pick her out in the crowd. According to Bonnie the only thing she'd told the werewolf (or rather been coerced into revealing) was Caroline's name and location. He'd pushed Bon to facilitate an introduction but she had refused.
Brave of her, considering the leverage the wolf had. Bonnie's cousin had a knack for finding trouble and was hopelessly inept at untangling herself from sticky situations. Caroline was going to have to look into a way to ensure her impulsivity would leave Bonnie untouched in the future.
Caroline had gone heavy on her perfume – not offensively so but enough to obscure her scent. The thick crowd will make distinguishing different smells difficult too, no matter how sensitive the wolf's senses.
She had no idea how he could change without the moon, how he'd managed to change back so fast. She's spent a good portion of the day pacing and plotting, had been forced to admit that if he could do that he might have other abilities beyond those of a run of the mill werewolf. She'd fired questions at Bonnie and they'd all been hastily dodged. It was clear that Bonnie knew something but she'd clammed up when pressed, only urging Caroline to be careful.
Like she wasn't always.
She'd expected him to have to look, to wander around the room in confusion. She'd thought she'd have more time to observe – to take his measure before he found her but she'd been mistaken. His gaze locks on to hers after his first sweep of the room and his slow smile tells Caroline that her efforts at concealment had been pointless.
He's made her. Worrisome, but she hadn't survived this long by being quick to panic.
He doesn't look away from her as he approaches, brushing through the crowd with ease. Caroline lifts her chin, refusing to squirm under the weight of his gaze. She doesn't stand when he reaches her and he helps himself to the chair adjacent to hers without being prompted. His eyes drop, running over her form without a hint of shame, frank appreciation written plainly across her face.
"My eyes are up here," Caroline tells him blandly, taking a sip of the drink in her hand. She's switched to bourbon on the rocks and though it's her third but Caroline's head is perfectly clear. Getting drunk takes a great deal of effort, a side effect of her physiology and age.
He doesn't mention the fact that she'd done some shameless ogling of his own last night as he makes himself comfortable. The leather creaks as he settles, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee, studying her far too intently. "You'll have to forgive me, love, but I rather expected you'd be… larger. Harsher, somehow."
Caroline offers him a cutting smile, "If I was scaly I wouldn't be all that inconspicuous, would I? Besides, the most dangerous things come in pretty packages."
His eyes glint with amusement, "Touché. I must say I'm a bit upset. I've heard whispers throughout the centuries, of dragon shifters and their value, but I'd always dismissed those tales as too fantastical to be true."
She bristles a bit when he says 'value.' It's a harsh reminder of all those who'd tried to capture her, those that would still come, intent on using pieces of her for their own personal gain. She doesn't let her ire show, maintaining a neutral expression. The second part of his statement was more pressing.
Werewolves were lucky to manage a long human life, the strain of changing every month was hell on them physically and they often died young. They certainly didn't live centuries.
She'd thought his scent off yesterday, Caroline remembers. She'd picked up on a sweetness, a faint tinge of metal, but she hadn't made the connection.
For good reason. Vampires and werewolves did not mix.
Except Caroline had heard rumors of her own over the years.
Her fingers tighten on her glass as the pieces fall into place and he snatches it out of her hand before it shatters. "Easy," he murmurs. "It seems you're not just a pretty face, hmm?"
She glances longingly at the drink, wishes for the burn that could distract her from how greatly she'd miscalculated. "You're Klaus Mikaelson," she says, thankful she manages the words without a tremble.
She could handle a werewolf and most vampires but the really old ones, the vampires who outstripped her years? They could pose a threat. Klaus was an original, now a hybrid. He could hurt very likely hurt her, even if she shifted. And, if anyone had the resources to hold her, keep her prisoner and harvest bits whenever he pleased, it was him.
No wonder Bonnie had been freaked out. Caroline would need to tread carefully.
"I am," Klaus says, smiling. Pure evil should not have been given dimples like that. He takes her hand, and lifts it to his lips, "It's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Caroline."
He lingers for a long moment and Caroline holds her breath, sitting stiffly in her chair. His fingertips stroke her palm, "You can relax. I'm just here for a conversation."
She's sure that more than one person had heard similar reassurances shortly before their death. "Yeah, sorry if I'm not super trusting. You're kind of well-known and nothing I've heard about you suggests you'd balk at telling a couple of lies." She tugs her hand back and he releases her instantly. She straightens her spine and folds her hands in her lap. "Now, what do you want? Scales, blood, teeth?"
"Blood. For a spell."
Of course. That's how it usually went.
"What spell?" she expects him to demure since it's really none of her business but Klaus surprises her by offering information freely. "My doppelganger is a vampire and therefore useless. My younger brother has seen fit to inform me that there is another line. I need to find it."
She senses there's more to the tale – the harsh way he grinds out the word 'brother' tells Caroline that there's buckets of family drama there. Her innate nosiness makes her itch to press but she decides to stick the things that will affect her directly. "And my blood will help you do that?"
"According to the witches I've consulted, yes. And since my propensity for violence when displeased is well known I'm banking on them being correct."
"Then why didn't you take it?" Caroline blurts out.
He was capable, he'd had the opportunity last night. He could have taken her by surprise easily – she wouldn't have been expecting the speed and strength he was capable of – and he could have left her bleeding in the snow last night. Or worse, dragged her away to some carefully constructed cage. Last night could have been, as he himself had noted, a neatly set trap.
"I'm sure you know how finicky spells can be, being what you are. Witches are ever so fond of their terms and conditions. I need your blood and I need it willingly given. And I'll need it more than once."
Well, that changed things. Caroline's tension melted away and she shifts to get more comfortable. It was good to be standing on an even playing field again.
"I've always liked witches," she tells him cheerfully.
"They seem rather fond of you. The Bennett girl was very reluctant to supply your direction despite the motivation I provided."
Caroline's friendly expression drops, her tone hardening. "That'll be my first term. Bonnie, her cousin? They're mine. The Bennett's always have been. You don't use them or threaten them if you want anything from me."
Klaus inclines his head, "I can accommodate that demand."
The ease with which he'd capitulated makes Caroline suspicious so she decides to keep silent and see what his next move is. He seems to choose his words carefully, "The spell is complicated. You'll have to leave here for at least a month."
Not a deal breaker, "I like travelling."
"There are those who'll try to stop me. Who'll go to great lengths to prevent me from making more hybrids. You'll be travelling with me to ensure your safety."
That was a bit concerning. Given how magnetic he was, how susceptible to him she was turning out to be, spending prolonged periods of time with him could be a disaster.
"What would I be getting out of this deal?" Caroline asks. "You're asking me to totally disrupt my life here."
"What do you want? Money? Protection? Name it and it's yours, sweetheart."
Essentially a blank check then. She was sure that there were plenty of people who would kill for one of those signed by Klaus Mikaelson. Caroline didn't know if she was one of them. "I've got money. I've done pretty well protecting myself. It's something dragons have a knack for. I imagine I'm the best lead you have?"
His nod is grudging, the barest incline of his head, confirming Caroline's suspicions. It could take him years, decades even, to track down another like her. She would have trouble doing it even though she had starting points and leads available. Dragon shifters were secretive out of necessity. "And if I say no?"
His head tips to the side, lips curling slyly, "I suppose I'd have to develop an appreciation for your town. It's a bit cold for my liking but I imagine I could grow to like it well enough while I attempt to convince you to help my cause."
"Convince how?" she presses.
Klaus wets his lower lip and she detects a slight glow of gold around the blue of his irises. "I'd be happy to try any number of methods."
Her body reacts to the gravelly pitch he'd adopted, the muscles in her stomach twitching as a faint flush overtakes her cheeks.
If he could coax that kind of reaction with only a handful of words she was screwed if he really tried to be persuasive.
Caroline clears her throat and reaches for her glass. She tosses back the rest of the liquor in one swallow, ignoring Klaus' satisfied noise of amusement.
Of course he was amused. Caroline was the one that was thoroughly stuck with him no matter which option she chose.
It was a probably a bad sign that she wasn't that upset about it.
Lies To Buy Myself Some Time
(Prompt: mermaid caroline has found herself tied up on this awful british dude's pirate ship and told to navigate them to the island on the treasure map and she knows perfectly well where the treasure is but it's just SO MUCH MORE FUN to give them wrong directions. Title from "Ocean of Noise" by Arcade Fire. Rated K+)
Above her it's chaos and Caroline basks in it, her eyes on the horizon as the sun sets.
She can hear the sailors rushing to and fro, their footsteps pounding the ships' wooden deck. There's shouting, harried questions and clipped answers, and above the panicked din his voice is the loudest.
Captain Niklaus Mikaelson is livid, barking orders at a rapid clip. It's deliciously satisfying for Caroline. She hums happily, swimming lazy circles, her movement limited by the enchanted manacle and chain that keeps her imprisoned, attached to a hook imbedded into the hull.
Any guilt she might have felt about the ship's damage is erased each time the tug of her tether reminds Caroline of what he'd done to her.
It takes long minutes for the noise to die down, the sun slowly sinking. She hears anchor hits the water with a splash and the ship groans, listing slightly to one side.
Oops. Looks like the treasure hunt was going to be delayed.
She faintly hears her name being called but she ignores it, despite the sharp insistence in the voice, sinking as deeply as she can into the water. If Klaus wants to talk to her he's going to have to get wet. His voice cuts off for an instant and then she hears a string of curses. The two thuds that follow are familiar (Klaus shedding his boots) as is the clatter that follows (his pants and heavy belt). A second later his body slices through the water on the starboard side, smoothly righting itself and kicking back to the surface.
For a human, Caroline had to admit, he was fairly impressive in the water. She studies him without really meaning to, captivated by the way the muscles of his legs bunch and relax as he treads water.
It's only natural that she finds that fascinating, aches to touch him, to map the contours with her fingertips and learn what the motions feel like. They're so different from her tail.
He's quieter when he addresses her again but no less forceful, "Caroline, if you are not above the waterline within the next few seconds I will shorten your line. You think you miss your freedom now? I could be far less benevolent, love."
When she crests the water she's shaking with fury, "Don't threaten me," she spits.
"You ran my ship aground."
"Did I? Odd, I could have sworn you were the one doing the steering."
His eyes fall closed and his chest expands as he takes a deep breath. It's a gesture he repeats often, one that means he's struggling to reign in his temper. It no longer scares her – as hot as his anger burns he's never lashed out at her in his fury.
No, he prefers to coax. He can spin honey sweet words, beguile with smiles and knowing eyes.
It's how he'd gotten close enough to clasp the cuff around her wrist.
"You have a single job, Caroline. Once it's complete you'll be free. Don't you want to be free?"
Of course she did. But she wanted him to suffer more.
She remains silent, slipping lower into the water, her eyes narrowed into slits.
Klaus is not a stupid man and he eases closer to her. "I need this treasure," he says, almost gentle. There might, for the first time, be a hint of apology there and Caroline allows his approach. "It took weeks to track your people down, longer still to get close. Merchant ships cross these waters daily, sitting heavy with gold. They're easy pickings if I just wanted wealth. I have wealth, enough to last several lifetimes. What I'm after is something different."
This is the first she's heard of that. She wants to stay silent, stoic. But she's always been one to ask questions, seek answers. "And what, exactly, are you looking for?"
This time his exhale is longer, frustrated. "I'm not precisely sure. There's a legend."
"And those are always real," Caroline mutters, making no attempt to mask the healthy helping of sarcasm.
"Says the mermaid," Klaus shoots back.
Okay, fine. He had a point.
She rephrases, "What does what you're looking for have to do with me?"
He reaches for her, watching her face carefully as he brushes her arm. Caroline tenses but he makes no move to grab her. The touch remains light, skimming over the sigil inked on her skin. "The tattoo on your shoulder. What does it mean?"
He'd never asked before even though she'd caught him staring at it often. "It's a rite of passage," she begins. "We receive it when we reach adulthood, once we are entrusted with the secrets of our territory."
His hand leaves her skin, grasping one of the leather cords he wears around his neck. He toys with a silver medallion, turning it over. Caroline instinctively leans closer to see what's etched on it. The light is low but her eyes are sharp and she recognizes the shapes lines easily. She touches a fingertip to the metal, "That's my tattoo. Our clan's crest."
"It's my father's crest too. It's all over a manor thousands of miles from here. Not the house of the man who raised me but the home of a man I never knew. My mother gave me a letter upon her husband's death. It contained the medallion and a map, a few brief words of regret from a man who never got to meet his son. It's that map that led me to the island where we met."
Her hand falls from his throat, grazing his chest before sinking into the water to latch around her wrist. She tugs at the cuff, something she's done hundreds of times in the last few weeks, but it doesn't budge. His eyes follow the motion and he glances away.
She'd thought him in danger the first time she'd spotted him, half submerged in the shallows of a tiny, uninhabited island, wearing only trousers that had been torn at the knees. She'd spied no ships docked, no supplies on the shore, and he'd barely been moving.
Damn her soft heart. It was entirely responsible for her current predicament.
Caroline had thought she'd been rescuing him, performing an act of charity, but he'd merely been resting. Later he'd explained that he'd been filthy and exhausted, having been dropped off by his crew to explore the island. Having been working all morning to construct a camp he'd sought relief from the sun in the cool blue waters and she'd interrupted.
Klaus had been startled when she'd grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to haul him up so she could check his heartbeat. Caroline had panicked when he'd begun to flail, had met his wide blue eyes for an instant before she'd turned her back and dived deep into the water to escape.
"You saw my tattoo the first day," Caroline says, when the realization dawns. "And you lured me back because of it."
Her curiosity had gotten the best of her embarrassingly quickly. She'd crept back to observe him as soon as dusk had fallen, watching from a safe distance. She'd found herself fascinated by him, had avidly watched him put the finishing touches on a shelter and built a fire. He'd caught fish and cooked them over the flames and, once they were prepared, he'd stood and called out to her.
She'd have never thought that she'd find being addressed as "Miss Mermaid" endearing before that moment.
He'd offered to share his dinner and Caroline had swum closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. She'd always hungered for new adventures but excitement was in short supply in the waters she'd lived in her whole life. Meeting a human, eating cooked fish, weren't experiences she'd ever had and she'd rushed into them headlong.
Caroline had taken a leap and shown herself, following the tide in and accepting the tin plate he'd offered. The fish had been a little burnt but she hadn't minded, had quickly become absorbed in learning about her new human acquaintance. She'd had an endless pile of questions for him about things she'd observed and he'd indulged her, never seeming to find any question too silly or insignificant.
She'd come back the next night, and the next and the one after that. She arrived a bit earlier each time, lingered longer. Klaus had worked to win her trust, sitting side by side with her in the water fielding her questions and telling her the stories his people had made up about the stars.
When he'd finally taken her hand she'd shivered, her breath beginning to quicken. Her heart had begun to flutter wildly in anticipation that had taken a sharp turn to confusion.
Because Klaus had cuffed her and Caroline had never felt colder or more stupid.
"Why didn't you just ask me?" Caroline demands, all of her banked fury rising. It's suffocating and difficult to contain. Her fingers curl, the temptation to wrap them around his throat nearly overwhelming. "I would have helped you."
Klaus blinks, something like surprise flitting across his face. "Why?" he asks, the word thick with surprise.
Caroline lets out a harsh noise, "Because I thought you were my friend! Because I thought…" she snaps her teeth together, cutting off a confession that Klaus didn't deserve.
The play of emotions across Klaus' face is hard to follow. Shock and disbelief and regret twist his features before they settle into something that looks like hope. "Would you help me now?" He asks carefully. "After I've…"
"Kept me chained to your boat like a prisoner?" Caroline supplies harshly.
He sighs, his shoulders tensing. "It's not an acceptable excuse, I know. But it never occurred to me to just ask. Where I'm from people don't just help other people. Not unless they get something in return."
To Caroline that sounded like an awful way to live.
"How badly is the ship damaged?"
"We'll limp into a port at first light. She'll probably need a week of repairs. I won't know for sure until she's in dry dock."
Caroline doesn't try to hide her triumphant grin. She's been leading Klaus in all sorts of wrong directions out of spite and anger and a sheer stubborn determination to keep him from his goal. This is her most successful sabotage yet and she's immensely pleased with herself.
Klaus appears resigned to her glee, "I'll admit I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings but I've had a lot on my mind."
"Oh, poor you," Caroline bites out. She lifts her wrist, lets it hover in front of his face. "Let me go and maybe I'll help you."
His lips press together, and he shakes his head, "Sweetheart, I can't just…"
"You can," she insists forcefully. "I think it's become abundantly clear that I am perfectly content to lead you in circles and into catastrophe. If you want to find your treasure you need to try another tactic. When you uncuff me I'm going to leave. I need to swim and I need some time. I'll find you in a week."
He wavers, "How can I know that you're telling the truth?"
"You're just going to have to trust me."
His hand goes to the leather cords again, finding one and following it around to the back of his neck. He tugs it to the side and she spies the key knotted there. "I'm probably going to regret this," he mutters, more to himself than her.
Caroline holds her wrist higher, brows rising pointedly. She's not sure if she'll end up coming back, truth be told. He'd betrayed her and it would serve him right if she left him waiting for her in a port she'd never swim in to. "I guess we'll see," she says sweetly.
The cuff comes off her wrist and sinks into the water. Caroline takes one last long look at Klaus. Just in case she never sees him again. He opens his mouth and she knows that whatever he says will just confuse her, would make it harder for her to leave, so Caroline flees, diving deep and swimming hard, putting as much distance as she can between them.
It's the only way she'll be able to make the right decision.