Author's note: This is a new Klaroline AU one-shot series similar to my other Klaroline one-shot series, A Beautiful Symmetry. And please let me know if there's any one-shots/sequels from A Beautiful Symmetry that you'd like to see continued in this series! This chapter is a sequel to Chapter 40: Redcoats and Blue Ribbons in A Beautiful Symmetry.
As a spy for General Washington, Caroline thought she knew who the enemy was. But then she learned the truth about the arrogant Lieutenant Niklaus Mikaelson, and while he may be a detestable redcoat, he was not her enemy.
"An army without secret agents is exactly like a man without eyes or ears."
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
It should be a perfect day. The setting sun had cast a rosy glow upon the village, Caroline was wearing her favorite dress of cornflower blue and starched petticoat trimmed in a fine bit of lace and Lieutenant Mikaelson was resplendent in his soldier's garments of brilliant scarlet and trimmed with silver braid to announce his dignified rank. And they were dancing at the harvest celebration with such vigor and closeness that the entire sewing circle tittered and cast upon them disapproving grimaces.
But all was not as it seemed. Their improper dancing was a product of necessity rather than wanton pleasure because Niklaus was bleeding from a musket ball wound. How fortunate that he was a damnable redcoat.
His hands shook as he twirled her fast, ensuring to step daringly close to catch her once more against his torso lest prying eyes see the bloodstains on his white breeches. "We need to see to that wound," Caroline murmured through a pained smile, nodding stiffly at Victoria who'd been batting her eyes at Niklaus once again. The silly chit had grown too familiar with Niklaus.
"Thy concern for my good health certainly gladdens my heart, but 'tis thy covetous nature that flatters me so," Niklaus told her with a dimpled smirk. "Rest assured, I've told thy overeager clerk that my heart is set upon another."
The audacity of that man. To hath suffered such a wound and yet embrace the temerity to flirt. "Given the...work we do, our hearts art the least of our worries," she told him grimly, supporting his frame as he stumbled a bit in his dancing. It would be foolish for Caroline to say she hadn't had dizzying fantasies of Niklaus, especially once he revealed that he too was a member of the notorious patriot spy ring, the Travelers. She'd heard whispers, of course, that some British soldiers had secretly pledged loyalty to General Washington and the patriots' noble cause, but Niklaus had still be a surprise.
He'd swept into the small township of Mystic Falls, bold as brass as though he and the regiment of British soldiers he commanded owned all of Virginia Colony. Exceptionally handsome, his esteemed officer's rank revealed him to be a man of wealth and privilege, and no doubt the Mikaelson surname was attached to fine estates throughout England. The people of Mystic Falls were fierce loyalists, priding themselves of clinging to the loathsome crown of England's mad king, and many an overbearing matriarch had pronounced Niklaus to be the finest of matches for their grasping, shameless daughters.
Caroline barely kept a civil tongue in her head whenever he'd frequented her candle shop, but knew better than to betray her secret patriot leanings. But then she'd learned that he felt as she did and truly yearned for freedom from rule, and 'twas all she could do not to fling herself into his arms and fulfill her fondest desire. But too much was at stake. To be a patriot spy in this dangerous world almost certainly guaranteed a swift, painful death, and affairs of the heart would only serve to distract from their cause. But then Niklaus would look at her with a softening in his steel gaze, and sweet words playing upon his lips...curse that arrogant man.
"Dance with me a bit longer, Mistress Forbes," Niklaus entreated with that devilish smirk, "I feel energized yet for another lively jig."
A biting response was on the tip of Caroline's tongue, but then she spied the unseemly sweat at his brow and his extreme pallor and firmly told him, "No. We must make our way to safety now."
The cellar doors to Silas' Cure were exceedingly stubborn, and Caroline huffed at her fruitless exertions to tame the lock before finally plucking a hairpin from her blonde curls and seeing to it properly. As the lock released, surprise colored Niklaus' tone as he observed, "I'd wager thou would've made a fine cutpurse back home. Wherever did a candle maker learn such a scandalous skill?"
"My father wasn't always a virtuous man," she replied stiffly. "His upbringing was somewhat...colorful, and he passed along certain knowledge to me that could prove useful." It grieved her heart to think of him in his sickbed at that moment, but knew the kindly Widow Bennett had promised to administer his evening poultices and perhaps a bit of stew if he had regained his appetite.
Caroline couldn't bear the sympathy in Niklaus' too-knowing gaze, and she hardened her heart for the strength to do what came next. "Enough chatter. Thy safety should be our only concern."
"Of course. Although I must question the wisdom of seeking my safety where my soldiers currently dwell."
Easing him down the mossy stone steps, she gasped a bit as they managed to rest his trembling body on a sturdy table. "'Tis an inspired hiding place," she defended hotly. "Thy soldiers know that they shot at an intruder in their encampment, but they never saw his face. Even now as they search the township, they'll never think of searching their own sleeping quarters."
"You're far too clever for this tiny village. I wish..." he trailed off with a sigh, fingers twitching as though he'd longed to reach for her.
Busying herself among the shelves, she hastily asked, "Was thy mission successful?"
"I had but a moment to search the captain's quarters, but secured multiple documents of troop movements and plans for a blockade along the James River," he answered with a hint of pride.
Grabbing several jars and linens, she nodded her approval. "'Tis a fine catch to be sure, Lieutenant Mikaelson, but save thy boasts for when the precious missives art firmly in the grasp of our courier."
"Thy sweet countenance hides quite the pessimist."
She snorted softly at his gentle teasing, "And thy cruel soldier's demeanor hides quite the artistic soul." At his burning gaze, she nearly dropped the jars of dried hyssop and sage. He often brought to her shop exquisite drawings of her countenance, infusing a delicate beauty and softness that couldn't possibly belong to her. 'Twas sheer vanity to keep those illicit parchments, nourishing a flame in her breast that lingered despite her most ardent protests.
"Thou enjoys my drawings," Niklaus ventured with a teasing lilt, only to shudder and grunt in pain.
Letting out an exasperated noise, she grasped the edges of his fine wool overcoat, impatiently removing it to expose the white linen shirt. Fingers trembled at the wide bloodstain, but she pressed her lips into a thin line as she pulled it over his head as well. "Thy ego is great; it hath no need for my embellishment." Sweeping away the dark blood that still welled up from his wound, she paused, her voice gentle as she whispered, "But thy talent is vast and I am touched by its beauty."
Feeling the telltale flames upon her face, she ducked her head to study the liquor before her, pleased that Katherine had secreted away a good assortment for clandestine uses in the service of the Travelers. The liquor stung her hands where a few burns from candle making lingered from this morning. Biting her lip, she gave him the leather strap of a satchel, wordlessly bidding him to clench it between his teeth.
Caroline poured a steady stream across his trembling torso, ensuring his inflamed wound was properly purified. He let out a muffled hiss, straining against the harsh pain, but Caroline stubbornly continued, knowing the worst was yet to come. She felt along the torn flesh, noting the slight ridge that betrayed where the musket ball was lodged.
Pleased to see that Katherine's careful trading with the local barber had yielded a useful set of tools, she grasped the straight razor and slightly enlarged the wound. Ignoring the stream of blood, she worked quickly, nimbly using long tweezers to pluck out the musket ball.
They both heaved a great sigh of relief, Niklaus spitting out the strap as he shakily said, "Thou hath the steadiest hands in all of Christendom, dearest Caroline."
She paused in her ministrations, an irksome crimson staining her cheeks at the sound of her name so sweetly caressed by his tongue. "'Tis quite bold of thee to be so familiar, Lieutenant Mikaelson."
He chuckled heartily, but paused to scowl as the sewing needle pricked the rough edges of his wound. "Thy healing fingers art working miracles upon my flesh and blood; let's dispense with the foolish societal notions of only referencing our surnames."
Caroline closed the wound and tied off the thread, and then she glanced up, taken aback by how close their faces had grown. "Very well, Niklaus." His gray eyes darkened as she hoarsely whispered his name, but she hastily turned away. Clearing her throat, she tossed the bloody rags into the small smoke oven, telling him, "We must be diligent lest infection turns the flesh putrid."
Niklaus gave a long-suffering sigh, no doubt ready to grumble at her deflection, but they both were struck silent at the sudden stomping of boots and boisterous laughter among the dusty rafters. Their eyes widened in alarm as a pair of boots could be heard coming downstairs to the cellar. They had been found!
Thinking fast, Caroline hiked up her dress and petticoat to one side, and then pulled down the edges of her bodice. If the situation weren't so dire, she'd laugh at the ridiculous expression on Niklaus' face. Honestly, the man looked as though he'd run afoul of Master Lockwood's hammers. She hugged his waist with one leg, leaning on the unmarred side as she giggled merrily and kissed his startled lips firmly.
"Lieutenant Mikaelson! I heard noises down here and thought one of the men was whoring, but I'd no idea ye'd be the one taking up with a lusty bit of fluff," crowed the stray soldier from Niklaus' regiment.
Caroline subtly moved on from Niklaus' lips, trailing kisses down his neck as she shifted to ensure the bandaged wound on his side was still covered by her rumpled skirts. He clutched at her waist, pressing with enough force to surely cause agony against his ruined flesh, but when he spoke, 'twas with harsh irritation rather than pained breaths.
"Officer St. John, thy timing is just as unfortunate as thy aim on the battlefield. I suggest thou rejoin the men upstairs rather than continue to spoil my pursuits of pleasure."
As the soldier mumbled apologies and bid a hasty retreat, the couple stood frozen in their awkward embrace. Niklaus seemed to be searching her expression for something, and the silence between them stretch into something expectant. Potent.
"I wish to kiss thee, Caroline. A real kiss," Niklaus revealed, fingers lightly brushing her cheek and leaving a fiery trail in their wake.
That arrogant man. She still felt the remnants of terror that had gripped her heart when Niklaus had been wounded. She cared for him. And she was tired of pretendingshe didn't. Lightly resting her arms around his neck, Caroline leaned in close once more to confess, "That was a real kiss."