Notes: A sequel! Probably not one that anyone reeaallly wanted but the brain works in mysterious ways.
Poisonously Pretty (Part Two)
(For Writer's Month Day Four. Trope Prompt – Road Trip. Part One can be found in Chapter 88. Short version: Caroline's a princess, Klaus is captain of her guard, and neither are particularly happy about their stations. Rated T.)
"What are you wearing?"
Caroline tosses a scornful look over her shoulder and returns to securing her saddlebags. She does not offer a response to Klaus' asinine question. He has eyes, and a lifetime of putting on his own breeches, surely he can deduce the name of the garment Rebekah had sewn for Caroline in preparation for her journey.
She'd had Klaus' horse brought from the stables because, as soon as she'd learned he'd be guarding her door, she'd known her chances of giving him the slip were nil. Caroline had adjusted her plan accordingly. When he makes no further movement, no attempt to begin checking his saddle or loading his own belongings, she pauses and turns to him.
He's staring at her, expectantly, with a fair measure of disbelief. It makes her want to fidget, or adjust her loose fitting tunic. Caroline refuses to give into the urge. "I can hardly travel incognito in my gowns, can I?"
"You have a dozen split skirts meant for riding."
Again, he's pointing out the obvious and, with her plan coming together so nicely, Caroline has little patience for it. "Ten, actually. All in fine fabrics, embroidered in expensive thread and intricate patterns. Do you want us to be set upon by highwaymen?"
"You can't mean to pass for a man." His tone rankles, the incredulousness he's displaying. It's as if he's convinced she's an imbecile. She narrows her eyes into a glare because she won't let him see that he's hurt her. They might not be friends, as they were as children, but she'd thought Klaus at least respected her.
She gives her bag a final tug, ensuring it won't be jostled loose. She lifts her chin, crosses her arms as she turns to face Klaus fully. "A man, no. Bonnie offered a potion that would grow whiskers on my face but I declined. I see no reason why, from a distance, it would not be assumed I'm a youth of fourteen or so if I dress the part."
Klaus isn't convinced, his eyes dipping towards her chest. If it were any other man she'd be offended but Klaus' gaze isn't lecherous. If Caroline's being entirely honest – something she always tries to be with herself – she's been wishing Klaus would recognize that she's a woman now. That he'd perhaps find her desirable. Touchable.
"They're bound," she informs him briskly.
He appears horrified, "I beg your pardon?"
Caroline throws up her hands in frustration, "Oh please, don't act like you're a blushing maid. I'm speaking of my breasts, Klaus. I've overheard both Genevieve and Aurora whispering rather flattering things about your prowess as a lover so I assume you're familiar with the weight and shape of the average pair."
His mouth opens. Closes. Caroline's never seen him so discomfited, without a ready quip, and it's immensely satisfying. She can't resist needling him a little more, "Perhaps you shouldn't pick your bed partners from among my ladies in waiting if you're so concerned with discretion."
Caroline purposefully chooses the most gossipy courtiers for her inner circle. It's only prudent, keeps her well appraised of the goings on in her kingdom. Her father's advisors aren't keen on Caroline's interest in politics. They tend to hide information they think her too delicate to know. Caroline's ensured she has other sources.
"Besides, between the tunic and the cloak I'll wear, my breasts will be entirely unnoticeable."
She'd checked of course. Had modeled her new clothing for her closest friends and gotten their assurances. Well, Bonnie and Elena had assured, Katerina had teased Caroline about how the tightly fitted leather of her breeches clung to areas of her body that were usually well covered. Kat had pronounced the pants alluring, had commissioned Rebekah to make her a pair of her own.
Unfortunately, Klaus doesn't seem allured. He's irritated, even further away from her than he usually is, regarding her like he's not sure she's in her right mind.
She'd like to tell him that she's more herself than she has been in years. Free and excited about her quest and in control of her own life. She feels exactly how she's longed to.
It doesn't look as though Klaus is going to recover himself anytime soon so Caroline sighs, fits her foot into her stirrup. That jolts him into awareness and he takes several jerky steps, instinctively reaching for her waist to assist her.
Caroline's faster, has ridden astride her whole life – slightly scandalous but her mother had always refused to be tucked away in a carriage or trail behind the men at a sedate pace and Caroline has happily followed her lead - and she's sitting comfortably in the saddle by the time Klaus is close enough to reach her.
"Best hurry," she tells him sweetly, tipping her head in the direction of his horse.
He guesses her intent immediately, "Princess," he says, voice low and thick with a censure.
Caroline doesn't heed his warning, digging in the heels of her boots so her horse takes off. She laughs when she hers Klaus curse, the sound ringing through the empty stable yard.
Who knew quests could be such fun?
If anyone had told Caroline that silence could be a form of torture, she never would have believed them.
She and Klaus had departed The Salvatore castle a few hours before dawn and he hadn't spoken a word to her since he'd thundered up the road behind her. It's now passed midday and he's only glowered. Her early attempts at conversation had been answered with nothing but the barest grunts. Caroline had been forced to give up. She's tempted to sing but that would give her sex away should another traveler happen to hear.
She's also starving, her back and thighs beginning to ache because if Klaus wouldn't bend enough to converse she'd decided to refuse to suggest they rest or stop for a meal. It's childish, she knows but if he's intent on making her suffer in silence she'll ensure he's as uncomfortable as she can make him.
She sneaks a peek at him, finds him just as stone faced as he'd been the last time she'd checked on him. Caroline huffs out an annoyed breath, only realizing her mistake when Klaus' head turns towards her. "Tired, Princess?" he drawls.
"Caroline," she corrects. Klaus opens his mouth, surely to argue about the proprieties, but Caroline talks over him. "What if someone should hear you addressing me so formally? Why, the news that I was travelling these lands with such meagre guard would spread like wildfire and we'd be forced to fend off bandits left and right."
"Meagre guard?" Klaus repeats, highly offended.
She turns away, reaching for her flask of water to hide her smile. Perhaps she's just stumbled onto a solution for her problem. She doesn't necessarily want Klaus to be angry with her but if she pokes at his temper, his healthy ego, he's unlikely to be able to maintain his silence.
A burning desire to be right, a willingness to fight to prove it, had been the source of many of their childhood clashes.
She shrugs, "I rarely see you in the practice yards anymore. It stands to reason that you're no longer as skilled as you once were."
"Just because you don't see me, doesn't mean I'm not there."
Caroline groans, her head rolling back on her shoulders until she's staring at the sky, "Must you only speak in meaningless nonsense?"
She can see him in her peripheral vision, just barely, and he's smirking, the lout. "You're there every morning. Making a spectacle with Katerina. Surely your skill with your blades can save us should we be ambushed?"
He's mocking her but Caroline's stuck on his first words. They hadn't been a question. "How do you know I practice every morning?"
"I am the captain of your personal guard."
"Oh yes, how could I forget? So nice to know that I only matter because I am your job." She winces at the naked bitterness, the pain that spills out with her snide words, urging her horse to trot a little faster so he won't be able to see the sheen of tears that has clouded her vision.
He allows her the distance, a modicum of privacy. Somehow, that hurts even more.
They find a village, a few hours after sunset. Klaus looks around, studying the buildings, the few people who remain outside. Caroline does the same, knows the assessments that he's making. The street is swept, dotted with buildings in good repair. The villagers are clean and seemingly pleasant, no drunkards or beggars in sight.
Klaus must find the place pleasing enough, calls to a passerby, asking if there's an inn. The man approaches and Caroline tips her head down, hoping the dimness and the shadow of her hat will hide her features. Luckily, he pays her no notice, converses briefly with Klaus.
There's no inn, Klaus is informed and Caroline despairs for a moment. She'd been hoping for a blanket, a bed, even one less plush than the feather stuffed mattresses she's accustomed too. Klaus is told that there is a farmer, with a wife and several young sons, who'll provide travelers a safe campsite, a hot dinner and a place to wash, for a small price just a short ways down a lane.
Caroline's stomach rumbles at the mention of food. She'd stocked her saddlebags with dry fruit and jerky, has been grazing all day, so a home cooked meal sounds rapturous. Klaus thanks the villager for his assistance, steers his horse in the indicated direction and Caroline is quick to follow.
"Have you thought of a name to go with your disguise?" Klaus murmurs, once they're alone again.
Caroline cannot believe that she hadn't. She's been planning this for ages. Not the dragon, though that had been a welcome bit of news. But a quest, an escape from the rules and regulations that governed every moment of her existence? She's been dreaming about such an opportunity since she'd been fitted for her first court gown. "Stefan," she decides. "After the young prince."
Klaus isn't pleased with her answer, "You'd name yourself after a boy so easily manipulated?"
She laughs, more loudly than she should because the trill of it would easily mark her as a woman, "Why not? Had he been shrewder I'd never have managed to steal away. I owe the prince a favor."
"You most certainly do not," Klaus clips out.
His expression has turned thunderous, his jaw tight and brows drawn. If Caroline were more familiar with caution she'd seek to soothe.
Instead, she inflames.
She's got a dragon to face. She might as well practice with another ornery beast.
Caroline brings a fingertip to her chin, tapping as if she muses aloud, "Whatever sort of favor would he like, do you think? Katerina's not a fan of kisses but I'd like to investigate the matter myself. I can do at least that without risking ruination."
Klaus makes a noise, low and sharp and infuriated.
Caroline ignores the warning in the sound. "Perhaps a little more, hmm? I've been told that there are a number of pleasant things a woman can do with a partner without surrendering her virginity. And Stefan is quite nice to look at."
Klaus throws her a lethal glare, reaches over to slap her horse sharply on the rump before urging his own into a gallop. Caroline's mare gives chase and she has to lean down, grip tightly with her knees, in order to avoid being thrown.
Well. Seems she'd hit a nerve.
Caroline couldn't be more pleased.