Author's note: Like any hardworking griffin, Caroline just wants to do her job — guarding treasure and fending off Klaus' inept attempts to steal from her boss. But then, she's asked to guard something that might be the perfect bargaining chip...
"Where the waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give."
― Jane Austen, Emma
The urn filled with that mouthy idiot's ashes was still singing.
"I like to shag in the morning; the sun streaming in my face.
And her jubblies in a bit o' lace.
I like to shag during elevenses; the tea piping hot
And my dangly bits —"
"Seriously?! You've been singing that same stupid rhyme all morning," Caroline screeched, her irritated voice echoing throughout the vast underground chamber. She clicked her curved black talons, barely resisting the urge to stomp over to the marble pedestal and shatter the elaborate crystal urn with a flick of her tail. But Marcel paid her an absurd amount to watch over his treasure vault, and she intended to uphold the code of the griffin: To use her power to guard priceless possessions.
Marcel had brought in the urn earlier, acting even shiftier than usual, his body practically vibrating with excitement at his recent acquisition. She noticed the way he purposely avoided offering any information about the identity of the cremains, just reiterating the immeasurable value of his latest treasure.
She couldn't help but be a bit curious.
"Not a fan of original songs, then," the sly voice asked. "I also take requests, little bird."
Caroline scoffed, feeling her enormous brown and white feathered wings twitch. "I'm hardly a little bird."
"No," the voice readily agreed, "But you are part bird — a griffin. And I could use someone with your considerable skills on my side."
She rolled her eyes. "You're nothing but a pile of ashes crammed in a fancy Mason jar. What makes you think you can offer me a better deal than Marcel? For what he pays me to guard his treasure, I've bought vacation homes on several islands."
"Oh, little bird, that's mere pennies. With my resources, you can buy entire islands."
Bored, she began sharpening the tips her talons along the thick quartz wall. "Uh huh. And who are you to be making those kinds of ridiculous promises?"
The smugness of his voice was unmistakable. "I'm Kol Mikaelson."
All playfulness left her expression and she was so surprised that her feathers retracted back into her human form. Marcel was right — this particular treasure was valuable.
She'd lived in New Orleans long enough to be familiar with the Originals — Klaus Mikaelson in particular. It was because of his petty, ongoing feud with Marcel that she'd been hired in the first place to guard Marcel's most valuable possessions. The first time she caught Klaus' idiot hybrids sniffing around, they were after the Tupperware Bowl of Inexplicable Angst. (A powerful object created by witches that imbues alpha male-types with an overwhelming urge to constantly weep and act wildly out of character. Never let it be said that witches didn't have a sense of humor in addition to being insufferable twats.)
She'd bloodied his minions with a few swipes of her talons and tossed them into Rousseau's where she knew Klaus enjoyed holding court with his adoring sycophants. She still recalled the way her gut twisted unexpectedly when she caught the Original's gaze, and how his dimpled grin lit up his face.
She did her best to ignore the way Klaus looked at her, not to mention the way he seemed to look for her whenever she stopped by the bar for a drink at the end of her shift. But then he kept sending his minions, which meant she'd have to see him every time she dropped off whatever was left of his idiot followers post-battle. She couldn't deny that she'd started to enjoy their flirty banter, and it was refreshing to have a supernatural creature not immediately trip over themselves to get into her good graces or try to recruit her for whatever bullshit power grab they were plotting among the factions. Her thoughts drifted to their last encounter a few days ago...
Caroline slid onto the barstool next to Klaus, inhaling his familiar scents of cedar and that fancy scotch he insisted they drink whenever she stopped by. The sleeves of his henley were pushed up to his forearms, and she wondered if he did that on purpose because he'd caught her staring at his arms so often.
"I suppose I can guess why you're here, love," he rumbled beside her.
She took a sip of his scotch, allowing her powerful gaze to trace the sculpted planes of his chest. Her fingers were aching to touch his henley and see if it was really as soft as it looked. Maybe it was time they act on the electricity that zinged between them every time they met. "Can you," she asked, allowing some of that lusty heat into her appreciative gaze.
"You're here about Katerina."
Caroline froze at her friend's name. She owed Kat a life debt. Centuries ago, Kat had stumbled across a weakened Caroline, bound in silver shackles and strung up in a cave. At the time, Kat had been a young vampire, only a few decades old, but still strong enough to kill the two trophy hunters who'd intended to carve Caroline into pieces and sell to dark magic sorcerers. "What about Kat," she asked sharply, feeling the tips of her talons itching to pierce through her fingers and throttle Klaus.
"It seemed her luck wasn't infinite. I've had her desiccated and locked away." Klaus must've noticed the anger flash in her eyes, because he offered, "I do not take betrayal lightly, sweetheart. Had it been another who had thwarted my attempts to break this curse, they'd experience every torture, every ounce of pain I could inflict upon their wretched carcass before I finally chose to kill them — many centuries from now. But because I know of your fondness for that traitorous creature, I granted her mercy."
Caroline ground out through gritted teeth, "It's not merely a fondness, you asshat. I owe Kat a life debt. My people don't take that lightly." She couldn't believe she'd been moments away from licking into those dimples to see what they tasted like. So, it wasn't just his minions; apparently, ALL hybrids were idiots.
She tossed back the rest of his scotch, slamming it to the scuffed bar top with enough force that she cracked the oak. Damn it — she always forgot her strength when she was angry. A quick glance around the room told her the handful of clueless humans just assumed she was drunk, but the other supernatural creatures knew she was a griffin and wisely kept their distance. "What's your price, hybrid? What will you trade for Kat?"
The way his gray eyes darkened at her words pissed her off all over again. If he turned this into a creepy dudebro innuendo, she'd pull out his spleen in juicy little slivers. Fortunately, Klaus seemed to reconsider his words and instead told her, "You have access to some of the most rare and powerful objects in the world. I'm sure we can reach an accord, love."
"Hello? Little bird? I'm used to getting a reaction upon introducing myself, but it's rare I leave my audience speechless for this long," Kol's amused voice rang out, interrupting her thoughts.
Caroline's mind was racing as she considered what this could mean for her. New Orleans' supernatural community had been buzzing for months with fearful whispers that the Original hybrid had torn apart entire cities searching for the thieves who had stolen his brother's ashes before he could complete the resurrection ritual. And now, Kol's ashes had practically fallen in her lap. You've sworn an oath to guard your employer's vault; to uphold the code of the griffin.
She also was certain Klaus would willingly trade Kat for his brother. Screw the code of the griffin — she was getting her friend back. "Don't flatter yourself," she finally answered, "you aren't the first Original I've met. Although, it seems your ego is almost as big as your brother's."
Kol's voice was intrigued as he playfully replied, "I can think of a few things of mine that surely must be bigger than Nik's...if you're interested, that is."
"I'm only interested in trading you to your brother in exchange for my friend."
"Marvelous, little bird. Then, let's scoop me up and take me to Nik," he cheekily commanded.
Caroline shook her head, forgetting that he couldn't actually see her. "Nope. You're not going anywhere until I make the deal with Klaus. No way does he get what he wants until he frees Kat."
"Not the trusting sort, are you," Kol mused. "Also, I have some follow-up questions concerning your willingness to go against the griffin honor code for a cat. Perhaps you should consider online dating?"
She let out an indignant screech at his words, not wishing to be reminded of her fleeting moment of insanity where she'd thought about hooking up with Klaus. "I see now why this is the third time you've been killed this century," she ground out, quickly texting Marcel's other on-call griffin to pick up her shift.
Looks like she had a date with Klaus after all.
Rousseau's was fairly dead — only a few dedicated day drinkers lined the bar when Caroline arrived. She was taken aback when the bartender slid her a lemon drop — she came here often enough the bartenders knew she wasn't a fan of overly sweet cocktails. A greasy-haired vampire leaned into her, his blue eyes glazed over from drinking. "That's from me, Blondie," he told her proudly.
"Thank you, but I'm actually looking for someone," she began, quickly scanning the room.
His voice had an edge to it as he pushed the drink toward her a bit more forcefully. "And you found him, trust me."
She stopped looking for Klaus to briefly assess the presumptuous vampire before her. Mortality still lingered in his scent, and she guessed he wasn't even two centuries. The arrogance of youth never failed to amuse and irritate her in equal amounts. He kept gazing into her eyes, his forehead wrinkling in confusion, and she finally realized the nitwit was trying to compel her. It's a miracle he'd survived in New Orleans this long if he couldn't recognize other, more dangerous supernaturals in his midst. Useless creature. Or, was he? Her blue eyes twinkled with malice as she realized she'd need to replace that gaudy crystal urn with someone's ashes to keep Marcel from finding out he was missing a valuable bargaining chip. "Congratulations, it seems you're worth my time after all. I'll come find you after I conclude my business, little vampire," she breezily told him as she headed toward the back, ignoring his slurred invitation to join him at the bar.
She didn't bother knocking on the dusty office door as she gripped the doorknob with enough force to leave dents. Apparently, the useless vampire had touched a nerve after all. Seriously — what kind of clueless idiot would you have to be to try to compel a griffin?
Klaus took note of the ruined doorknob, smirking up at her as he wryly said, "I may have to start charging more for drinks if you keep damaging my bar, sweetheart."
"Your bar," she asked in surprise, "since when?"
He waved a hand carelessly, before handing her a glass. "Since Elijah kept prattling on about tax advantages for small business owners and I promised Rebekah I wouldn't dagger any more siblings until after we located Kol."
Caroline took a sip, allowing the smooth, delicious warmth of Klaus' favorite scotch to sink into her bones. "Original family dynamics make me glad I'm an only child."
He chuckled, dimples bracketing his smile as he regarded her fondly. "I must admit, I'm a bit surprised to see you so soon, love. I'd assumed that temper of yours would win out and I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company for far too long. I'm pleased to see that isn't the case." Raising a quizzical eyebrow, he slyly observed, "I haven't heard from Aurora lately. In fact, she's missed the past two check-ins. I assume this means her attempts to break into Marcel's vault have been met with certain...difficulties?"
"Don't think you're off the hook, asshat. I'm still pissed as hell you took Kat — but we'll get to that in a minute." Caroline settled more comfortably into the leather chair across from him, a playful smile touching her lips. "When I caught Aurora trying to break into Marcel's vault, your cute redhead and I had a little sit-down where I helped her realize that she wasn't actually in love with you; it was just an obsessive shame spiral that had more to do with her weirdo brother's bizarre possessiveness. I convinced her to go find herself and suggested kayaking the Amazon. I hear Ecuador in particular is nice this time of year." His annoyed grunt made her giggle. "You really should recruit better minions, Klaus. This is just getting embarrassing for both of us."
He leaned over the desk, the soft glow of the lamp caressing the planes of his beautiful face in a way that made her pulse quicken. "Now, what pleasure would be gained in that? I enjoy you far too much to consider bringing you actual harm. Why do you think I've never instructed my minions to use silver weapons against you?"
That was...unexpected. Klaus thought he knew her weakness and refused to exploit it for fear of hurting her? She fought to keep her tone even as she pondered what that meant. "Well, points for effort, but it wouldn't work anyway. I took measures long ago to ensure silver is no longer an issue for me." She could tell he was impressed, and it made her inwardly preen as she assumed few in Klaus' lifetime had managed that small feat.
She cut him off before he could ask more questions, anxious to get to the purpose for her visit. "I'm here to trade your brother for Kat. I can get you Kol's ashes."
"Marcel has had them this whole time," he inhaled sharply, his voice a deadly whisper. "My witches are bloody useless — their extensive dreamwalks, incantations, and potions all indicated Kol had been spirited far away from New Orleans."
"Well, wonders never cease — sometimes Marcel isn't always an incompetent boob."
He choked a bit at her assertion, flashing her a delighted smile. "Despite my wayward progeny's defects, I'm sure he'd eventually notice Kol has gone missing. May I assume you have a plan to replace the ashes?"
"Of course. I picked out a donor on my way in. He's still at the bar, likely boring some other poor woman with his lousy taste in cocktails. I'll bring him, you bring Kat, and we'll meet up at Marcel's vault?"
Klaus reached out to take the hand she offered, but rather than shake it, he impishly placed a gentle kiss above her knuckles. "I knew we could reach a satisfying accord, love. Perhaps later on we could discuss how you took the griffin's little-known weakness to silver and made yourself invulnerable? I've a similar allergy to white oak that could use your cleverness in curing."
As he favored her with that dimpled grin once more, she couldn't help but smile, curious to see what satisfying accord they could reach.
