Author's note: This was created for the Klaroline Fall Bingo Event.
Prompt: Broomstick
It was a mistake to take him to the ruins.
But Klaus whispered so reverently in her ear, and Caroline craved his daring compliments and shameless flirtations. She sensed he was special, this traveler from so far away, and she wanted him to think she was special too. No one in her village knew of the ruins, so it was their secret to share.
His sharp eyes missed nothing, studying every detail of the stone archway left forgotten in the forest. Klaus was most intrigued by the strange carvings, and while she knew better than to reveal the deepest part of herself, she couldn't help but tell him the folktales of the Old Ones. Klaus always listened with rapt attention to her ramblings, and sometimes he would tell her stories too — fanciful tales of villages so full of people they must live in shining towers that seem to touch the sky — that made her realize he was different too.
Laying his head upon her heavy wool skirts, he watched her with a lazy smile. She loved to run her fingers through his strangely cropped curls, relishing the freedom of their touches in this place hidden away from the judgment of her village. She shivered slightly in the shade of the old oaks, marveling at how the brisk winds that would bring the harvest never seemed to bother him.
"I played here as a child," Caroline began, her heart suddenly fluttering at the prospect of telling one of her secrets. "I didn't have many companions, and I found myself drawn here." Because others could sense she was different. The first time the broomstick clattered to the floor only to merrily twirl as though it was dancing, she fainted. What came after was something best not to speak of. Witches still burned.
Klaus' voice was barely more than a rough whisper, and she often was struck that these soft moments she glimpsed within him were rare. "Your village doesn't understand you, love. You're extraordinary. This virtue always has been resented by the ordinary."
Overcome with emotion, she leaned in to kiss him, permitting him to deepen the kiss until she was breathless. Feeling her cheeks redden under his blatant perusal, she lightly admonished, "You make me forget myself."
A brief note of regret entered his voice as he replied, "And you've no idea the sweet chaos you've brought to my world."
Caroline beamed at him. "Chaos isn't always wicked." She counted the smooth stones where the crumbling wall met the ground, and carefully remove the one that kept her secret hidden. Tucked inside was a beautiful gem that looked as though it had been bathed in goat's milk. She eagerly placed it in Klaus' outstretched hand, confessing, "I found this moonstone the very first time I stumbled on these ruins. When I hold it, there's something that feels...remarkable in some way. I can't explain it, but I know it's special."
At his gobsmacked expression, she placed her palm over the stone, her fingers grazing Klaus' skin. "And I can feel you're special too, which is why I wanted to share this secret."
"You trust me," Klaus said, a note of awe creeping into his tone. "It means more than you can imagine," he finished abruptly, reluctantly letting her remove the stone and placing back in its hiding place.
A shift in the wind blew the cold through her shawl. Shivering, she stood up, telling him with a sigh, "I suppose we should return to the village before dark."
Klaus offered his arm, staring off in the distance as he muttered, "It appears time has a way of making fools of us both, sweetheart."
It was Katerina's high-pitched voice that woke her just as the sun crested the horizon. She sleepily opened the door, noting that her friend giddily bounced on her toes as she told the latest gossip. "I've only just heard! Lord Klaus has left the village! It was most unusual — Master Alaric swears that one moment he was near the forge, and the next he stepped through a whirling storm of blinding light and disappeared! It's said he made a pact with the devil and must be a witch!"
No. Caroline struggled to keep her face impassive as she felt the cold certainty settle over her. Klaus had used her. She made all of the expected noises to placate her friend, shuffling Katerina out the door as soon as it was polite. The villagers were gathered in groups around the well, excitedly murmuring as they traded rumors of Klaus' disappearance. While they were distracted, Caroline slipped away to the stone archway.
She knew what she would find. But it was different from knowing. Her fingers trembled as she removed the stone from the wall and turned it over.
The gem was gone.
Faint sparks emitted from her fingers as she let the rage consumer her. She would show Klaus that chaos also could be very, very wicked.
Prompt: "Great, now the banshees are screaming"
Warning: Some angst.
He plunged his fingers in the blood-soaked earth, a grim smile on Klaus' gore-streaked face as he claimed the desolate battlefield. He'd been at war with his father's kingdom for years, and each vicious campaign had brought him closer to finally conquering the cruel king. His steel gaze swept the eerily quiet valley, lips curling in disgust as he watched some of the lesser vassals and soldiers looting from the fallen; victorious cries echoed as they removed valuable weapons and armor.
His distaste kept him from noticing the sound at first, but soon, the insistent buzzing noise became a piercing shriek. Startled, he leapt to his feet, hand immediately resting on the hilt of his sword. When he realized his men continued squabbling over their newfound riches, a cold sliver of fear crept into his heart. Warily, he raised his eyes to the jagged rocks overlooking the valley, and it took all of his courage not to flee the battlefield. They had come for him.
Banshees perched precariously on the rocks, their ghostly visages twisted in rage and despair as they shrieked. Blood-red eyes seemed to bore into his soul as their cacophonous screams tore the sky.
"Great, now the banshees are screaming," Klaus muttered to himself, unable to tear his gaze away. Despite his flippant words, he felt the gravity of the situation all the same. A single banshee's appearance was a harbinger, heralding the violent death of whomever could hear their cries. But a group was far worse — signifying the death of a leader, foretelling the fall of kingdoms, affecting entire generations.
His death was looming.
Heart pounding, he hated the helplessness that washed over him. Glancing wildly around the valley, he noticed that all but one banshee had disappeared. The one who remained studied him gravely, and he was struck by the flash of anger that flickered across her face. Intrigued, he decided to approach her, carelessly leaving behind much of his infantry. He reasoned his death was imminent; no reason to draw his loyal soldiers into his fate.
His breathing was haggard by the time he raced up the narrow trail to the rocks overlooking the valley. The banshee backed away from the ledge, hovering near the forest. She wordlessly moved into the dense woods, and Klaus followed, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as he realized she was leading him to a long-forgotten graveyard.
Now that Klaus stood before her, he was taken aback by her loveliness. But her red eyes were weary from carrying a great burden. She touched her throat, shaking her head sadly. She couldn't speak. Her gentle manner coupled with her sorrow made him realize she was what his grandfather's people called a 'Caroline' — a mortal woman who suffered immense torture before being murdered by a loved one. Despite their pain, they fought their dark nature to help humans.
"You wanted me to follow you," Klaus murmured incredulously, "because you have something to tell me."
The Caroline nodded vigorously, her ghostly form suddenly becoming more pronounced as though fueled by her desire to communicate. She stretched out her hand toward a gravestone so old the Northern tribes' symbols had worn away. However, just before she tried to claw a mark, she hissed, almost as though burned. She stubbornly clenched her jaw, quickly slashing the mossy surface of the stone with a ragged nail.
Klaus looked on in surprise as he recognized the language of his grandfather's people. It was the series of ancient symbols for danger and betrayal. His blood ran cold — he was destined to die at the hands of someone whose loyalty he'd never think to question. The Caroline gasped in pain as several of her fingers began to wither and blacken. He felt the urge to comfort her; to tell her that his fate already was sealed. But she angrily surged forward, a fiery glint that spoke of a spirited, willful creature that he couldn't help but admire.
He wished he didn't recognize her final mark. It was the Salvatore crest, belonging to his most trusted general and friend.
