Author's note: Klaroline historical AU – will be told in several chapters; working on part 2 now! Separated by the rigid caste system of their village, Klaus and Caroline were not meant to be. But with one betrothal gift and a stolen moment in the woods, they sealed their fate.

Warning: Mentions of slavery and abuse. Angst. But also some Klaroline sexytimes.

"'Mirrors,' she said, 'are never to be trusted."

― Neil Gaiman, Coraline

Mystic Falls, 10th century

It was a beautiful, terrible burden. The longer Caroline stared at Klaus' gift, the more her heart soared — and plummeted. Her Klaus was an impressive man by their village's standards, not only a well-formed jarl, a member of the most prosperous class, but also part of the powerful Mikaelson clan. And she...was nothing. The iron collar at her neck revealed her to be a thrall, a slave of the lowest order.

She reverently ran her palms over the edges of turned maple, admiring his intricate carvings. Each knot and whorl whispered the secrets of their bond. Passionate. Strong. Forbidden. "You serve me with an honor I'm unfit to bear," she whispered, eyes downcast as she turned away in shame.

Klaus knelt beside her, tenderly lifting her chin until she had no choice but to meet his fierce gaze. "I am a son of Mikael; my word is my bond, and I say you deserve every honor I can bestow." When she started to protest, he silenced her with an insistent shake of his head, carefully opening the polished antler latch to reveal the true surprise inside.

She gasped in delight, "A mirror box!" So moved by the enormity of his gift, she quickly kissed both of his dimples, relishing the blush that always followed even the smallest of her affections. Klaus was exceedingly skilled, crafting the thin glass and pouring inside molten metal. Caroline spied her reflection, and her smile faded once more as it underscored the immoveable divide betwixt them. Dirt-scored cheeks roughened by the sun and drab, threadbare garments all condemned her. The hollow look in her eyes whispered the rest of her sordid tale.

Because not all of her kisses were freely given.

"Leave with me," Klaus said unexpectedly. Nodding to the exquisitely carved box, he revealed, "This was meant to be your betrothal gift."

Caroline's heart raced at his words, and even as she started to protest, he reached for her hands, entreating, "Do not turn from me. My heart is yours."

It was the way Klaus' voice quavered and the uncertainty in his gaze that broke her. So, curse the Norns and curse Yggdrasil — may that sacred underworld tree wither and die — she would embrace this wonderful love that Klaus offered and together they'd escape their village and all its haunted memories.

"May the gods spurn me, but yes! Everything I am is yours, my love." Cupping his face, she brought her lips to his, pouring forth all of her passion. They were not strangers to trading burning touches off in the forest, but it was always with a tinge of melancholy, knowing these stolen moments could not last.

But now Klaus had changed everything. Today they made their own fate. Klaus buried his hands in her hair, the simple hair sticks clattering to the ground as her blonde waves tumbled down. A slave's hair was shorn to bear the mark of servitude; however, Master Saltzman prized her locks and often called them his 'golden glory'. At first, Caroline had mistaken his favor as a kindness. It was not.

She violently shoved aside those dark thoughts, knowing her vengeance was in choosing a lover. Klaus was her choice. And she was his. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder, removing the iron fastening that secured her overdress and linen shift. The bite of frost in the air warned of an early winter, but Caroline's flesh was on fire as she cupped her bare breasts and held them to Klaus' eager mouth.

A hint of teeth at her nipple made Caroline moan, and she tugged on his long curls until he panted against her breasts, "Betwixt these peaks is more lovely than all the mead of Mount Hnitbjörg."

His boldness made her cheeks flame, and yet her fingers traced the outline of his bulge, teasing, "Then taste the honeyed mead I've prepared for you."

Gray eyes darkened with lust as Klaus rumbled, "Minx. Beautiful. Dirty. Mine." He lifted the rough woolen skirt and parted her knees, fingers dancing along the thin barrier of her linen shift before he impatiently pushed it out of the way. Caroline gasped as he curled his tongue against her quivering folds, taking the pleasure he freely gave. The sharp prick of his stubble against the cream of her thighs caused her to whine and ride him harder, chasing after that sweet release.

The pleasant ache grew unbearable as Caroline craved more and more, finally shoving Klaus off of her and scrabbling for his fastenings, finally freeing his cock with a triumphant growl. Taking him inside was a source of pride, relishing the feel of him swelling within her as she furiously rode his body to bring them pleasure.

"You take me well," Klaus grunted with a knowing smirk, his thrusts bouncing her soundly. "Always so ready," he added, sliding fingers down to touch that bit of flesh that brought her to the stars. When he savored her taste with his tongue, Klaus' gaze went feral, and he became a wild creature driven mad with desire.

With an unearthly snarl, Klaus grabbed her about the waist and wrestled her to ground. Caroline's hands and knees dug into the earth as she shoved her ass in the air, taunting, "But you like me best this way."

"I like you all the ways," he swore, blunt nails digging into her hips as he mounted her again. The steady slap of flesh on flesh sent them both reeling, and Caroline boldly met each thrust, feeling him shudder against her as he finished. Her sweat-slicked body clenched around him, desiring to keep him with her always.

And now she could. Because Klaus had sworn an oath to her, and as Caroline lovingly stroked the smooth edge of the beautifully crafted mirror box, she felt the weight of their promise. They were betrothed. Soon, their lives could begin anew, far from the stifling confines of this wretched village and its cruel ways.

"Where will we go?" Caroline hated the fear that colored her voice. This should be a joyful moment — why did her heart weigh heavy in her breast?

"Northwest. It is said great mountains seek to shame the sky with trees of an otherworldly blue." Klaus cradled her in his arms, confessing in a hushed tone, "I would see you on such a mountaintop, your hair plaited with blooms plucked from our gardens."

She chuckled at his certainty, turning to place her palm upon his chest. "My heart is gladdened by the thoughts you've spent on our future. And while I plait my hair with flowers, what might occupy your time?"

"I will be a goat herder."

"A goat herder," Caroline laughed, "you, a mighty jarl, have barely seen a goat much less herded one!" Shaking her head, she lamented with a smile, "I'll have much to teach you on our journey."

"And I eagerly await your lessons," Klaus slyly replied, pulling her in for a long, passionate kiss.

When a bitter chill overtook them, they assumed it was another reminder of winter's early arrival rather than an ill wind. "So it is to be the lowly goat herder and his concubine, then," came a bitter voice as Esther, the Mikaelson matriarch, stepped out of the shadows. Fury rolled off of her in waves, and Caroline panicked as she found her body wouldn't move. The rage upon Klaus' face showed her that he too had been affected by his mother's vicious spell.

"You would shame our kinsmen to run away with Alaric's concubine," Esther accused, pointing at Caroline as she spat at her feet.

Caroline found her tongue to snarl, "You're naught but seiðkona, a dark witch, and I will never cower before you!"

Klaus uselessly raged beside her, "Our love is stronger than your pitiful hexes! We will leave this wretched place and you'll not stop us!"

Chuckling darkly, Esther stooped down to pick up the mirror box, her touch causing the wood to blacken as though covered in pitch. She smiled venomously, "I'll show you my power."