Author's note: In honor of my bday today, I'm getting this one out earlier than expected – enjoy! Fate may have ripped away his love, but Klaus would challenge the natural order to find her. After all, what was a few centuries in the face of true love?

Warning: Angst and violence. Also, depending on your answers to certain philosophical questions, a major character death.


"I have loved thee long; I have loved thee well...

Thou shalt sleep with me on a couch of foam,
And the depths of the ocean shall be thy home."

— Charles MacKay, "The Kelpie of Corryevreckan"


43 A.C.

It wasn't the harsh scrape of the rope or the searing pain from his deep wounds that roused Niklaus from his fitful slumber. It was the enraged bellows of his beloved Caroline. The village elders often clucked their tongues in disapproval at her untamed manner, but he loved her as fiercely as the dawn embraced the sky.

She would steal her father's horse and ride onto battlefields, face painted a fearsome red as her war cries nearly split the sky. She carried a warrior's fury in all matters save one — her art. She was blessed by the gods with the gentlest of touches when it came to crafting the totems and markers of their clan. His Caroline was extraordinary.

He bit back a scream, refusing to give Mikael his pain. His flesh burned from Mikael's vicious blade, but he continued to look wildly about, trying to find his love. The torchlight revealed he'd been brought to his people's most sacred gathering place, the tall carved stones marking the circle where rituals were performed. Sacrifice. His heart thudded in his breast as he glimpsed Caroline's crudely shorn blonde curls carefully arranged on the altarpiece, the crimson streaks of her blood making him howl in fury. "Caroline!"

"Niklaus," she cried out, gnashing her teeth at the hooded Druid who dragged her to the ritual stone next to his.

He briefly put aside his fear to look on in pride at his woman's warrior spirit as she successfully ripped away the hood of her assailant, blue eyes spitting fire as Esther's cold visage was revealed.

"I will have your blood, witch," Caroline swore, clawing and kicking like a feral creature until Esther and Mikael had bound her to the stone.

"Not before I have yours," his mother cackled, painting the symbols of their people's blood rites along Caroline's bare flesh.

The terror that briefly flashed in his love's fierce gaze mirrored his own, and his words of comfort turned to ash before they could be spoken. Grim understanding colored Caroline's tone as she spat, "The hollow king and his simpering witch — you would awaken the Morrígan's thirst for war with our blood? To forge a blood pact and use their might to best the Romans?"

Mikael bared his teeth at her well-struck insults, using the dagger point to pierce her cheek. As a thin stream of blood marred her beautiful face, he snarled, "The Romans are ravenous locusts who will devour our homelands and enslave our people. The paltry sum of your and Niklaus' life force is a welcome bargain to taste the might of the gods."

They both stiffened at their chieftain's words, and Caroline lifted her blazing stare to Niklaus, piercing his heart more than words could ever say. Her blonde curls had been chopped from her head, cruelly taking bits of her scalp as though she wore a crimson crown — and yet it did not spoil her beauty. "Find me, Niklaus," she entreated, reaching out with her fingers, but was prevented by the cruel strength of her bonds.

At their heart-wrenching almost-touch, he nodded vigorously, swearing, "In the next life. I swear to you, my love."

Suddenly, Esther plunged her iron blade into Caroline's chest, ripping through her flesh as Niklaus screamed until he was hoarse.

Now her beauty would be eternal.

As Caroline's light left her, Niklaus felt his humanity leave as well. Good. He had no need for it now that he knew what must be done. For his people had a legend...

Concentrating fiercely, his bindings had started to give, just enough to wrench one arm free, and he quickly ripped away the poultice of foul-smelling herbs Esther had placed over the deep wounds Mikael had carved into his chest. He knocked over the carved wooden bowl at his head, spilling the icy water from the Gulf of Corryvreckan across his tear-stained face.

Esther and Mikael paused their chanting over his dead love, eyes narrowed in suspicion. With a gasp, Esther seemed to realize her son's dark intentions and screeched, "The curse tablet!"

With a twisted smile, Niklaus plunged his fingers into the soft wax, carving jagged runes with his nails into the curse tablet. Suddenly, his weary body was energized as he felt the new power course through him. He had awakened a beast. "I've twisted your magic, witch," he icily spat, "the gods will never accept your sacrifice. Now I'm flesh made new and will see the Romans overtake these lands and once they've ripped away everything you desire, I will ensure your deaths are permanent."

But not Caroline's. A pure soul such as hers eventually would return from the land of the dead, and he vowed to find his love once she'd been reborn. He would keep his promise.


The present

It was like a Hallmark movie threw up. Caroline found herself in a daze as she sat out on the veranda of a Scottish castle where a sumptuous feast had been laid out. First, she unexpectedly was selected to study abroad with a famous Scottish sculptor. Apparently, he'd seen her portfolio online and was so impressed he immediately offered a year-long apprenticeship. Then, she found out it was at his castle. She was living in a CASTLE. A stunningly beautiful, sprawling estate that apparently had been in his family for generations.

Famously reclusive, Klaus Mikaelson spurned the voracious media attention of the art world, which meant no one was quite sure what he looked like. Caroline had been around enough self-styled "creative geniuses" that she instantly had pictured a too pale, too thin, shrouded in monochrome flowing scarves and a knit beanie artist with an affected accent. Holy fuck, had she been wrong. Broad shoulders, a well-muscled frame and confident stride along with expressive, steel gray eyes — how was he real? During introductions, his gaze greedily drank her in as he placed a gentle kiss to her hand, and told her with a dimpled smirk to call him Klaus.

So yeah, a Hallmark movie had thrown up all over her and she kept trying to figure out what the catch was. It was too good to be true.

"Tell me, sweetheart, have you had occasion to travel very often," Klaus asked curiously, tearing into the poached lobster with gusto, capturing a wayward drop of the garlic aioli sauce on his lip with the tip of his tongue.

Why did she find that so damn erotic? Normally, messy eaters were a huge turnoff for her, but Klaus attacked each dish with a frenzy as though he was starving. His voracious appetite awakened wildly inappropriate thoughts in her and she stubbornly pushed them aside. "Um...I haven't really been anywhere. There's lots of places I want to go once I've finished my degree." Ducking her head shyly, she mumbled, "I may have a few lists outlining itineraries..."

Catching sight of the impossibly gorgeous view of the Crinan Canal where sailboats dotted the horizon on their way to the Atlantic, she sighed dreamily and added, "Actually, Scotland was near the top of my list. I've done a little research and I know my ancestors settled somewhere in this area, so I've always been a bit curious to see it for myself."

"Anything else," he asked sharply, making her sit up a bit straighter in the carved high-back chair. It was just as uncomfortable as it was pretentious — it was like she was at a Renaissance Fair. Also, why did he seem so interested in her answer? Was this part of her apprenticeship?

"Well, my DNA ancestry test skewed heavily toward Scottish, but I think I'm also British and Irish...so not too exciting I guess." There was a wistful expression on his face and Caroline awkwardly took a large gulp of her chardonnay, unsure why a pit in her stomach had formed at the thought that she'd somehow disappointed him.

"I disagree. I suspect you're quite exciting, love." Klaus looked startled by his outburst, and his cheeks immediately reddened. He hastily threw back the rest of his wine, and changed the subject. "Do you know of the legend here in Crinan?"

Blue eyes alight with excitement, Caroline couldn't help the little squeal of delight that escaped as she replied, "Yes! There's a legend about a kelpie being created here long ago. Just like the Loch Ness Monster," she sighed happily.

"Upstart ruffian," Klaus muttered unexpectedly. "Nothing more than a prancing, preening peacock. This is where the kelpie myths originated." At her bemused expression, he explained, "The origins of such myths have been lost to time, but the regional folklore agrees that kelpies are shape-shifting water spirits inhabiting various large bodies of water around Scotland. Of course, there's also some foolishness about appearing as horses," he chuckled in amusement.

Thoroughly charmed by his enthusiasm for the local legends, Caroline teased, "Of course, it seems like a lot of these tales originated as a way to warn people away from dangerous stretches of water. And, you know, teaching young maidens that mysterious strangers probably just want to kidnap and drown them."

"Nonsense. That's just a waste of a perfectly good maiden."

She laughed, taking a moment to savor the richly seasoned mushroom and chives risotto. And were those new potatoes with fresh mint? She wasn't sure she'd make it to the steamed mussels with truffled garlic cream, but Klaus already had started on the thick ribeye with red onion gravy. She found herself wondering if that voracious appetite of his could be found in other areas of his personality...No. Stop it. He's your mentor for the next year. A flirty, unfairly attractive mentor.


Caroline was overwhelmed by the power found here. She'd been passingly familiar with Klaus' work as she first became exposed to the art world, but standing in Klaus' studio was an almost otherworldly experience. Well-known for his homage to ancient Celtic art, his beautiful designs even featured authentic materials like hammered bronze and exquisitely carved wood.

"Your work is beautiful," she whispered in awe, gazing at the long, flowing hair that looked as though a breeze was blowing through it. "You've depicted the Morrígan, right," she asked, studying the wicked-looking sword clutched in a warrior stance." He must be quite the fan multiple pieces bore the same fiery gaze and knowing smile.

Looking strangely uncomfortable, Klaus corrected her, "Actually, it's meant to be a Celtic woman. They were quite fierce, their raging battle cries striking fear in the hearts of their enemies." A note of nostalgia entered his voice as he added, "Never was there a more beautiful or loyal woman. To earn the heart of a Celtic woman was a blessing from the gods — a gift one never let go."

Gesturing around the studio, she observed, "It looks like you've used the same subject multiple times. Is she a local model?"

Klaus shifted his gaze away as though her words burned him. He replied tersely, "I draw inspiration from many. To draw the same face would be madness."

There's that artistic temperament she'd been warned about. "It's nice to meet someone who's so...passionate about his work," Caroline commented carefully. "I don't know that much about the Celts; I'm hoping to have some time during my apprenticeship to really explore the area and learn about its history." She tried not to sound too hopeful, but it was her first time overseas and she didn't want to miss her chance to experience everything the area had to offer.

The steel in his gaze softened, and he told her softly, "It would be my pleasure to show you everything this land has to offer." He selected a thick ceramic goblet from a silver tray and handed it to her with a gentle smile. "Starting with a traditional heather ale — it's brewed locally using kilns. Quite flavorful and a good introduction to our beer."

Clinking her drink companionably against his, she eagerly took a sip, inwardly cringing at its strong, bitter flavor. Plus, that weird seaweedy smell. Ick. Not wanting to be rude, she drank it all, doing her best to gulp it down the instant it touched her tongue. "Delicious," Caroline told him with a weak smile, wondering how much toothpaste it would take for her to stop tasting the ocean. Weird.

With a pleased grin, Klaus told her, "Tomorrow, I thought we'd take a boat and explore the Gulf of Corryvreckan. There's a seal colony and a sea eagle nesting site that might interest you. Also, a whirlpool that's at the heart of much of the folklore in this area. Would that please you?"

"Seriously?! I love an adventure," she replied excitedly.

All her life she'd felt like there was something...more. She couldn't help but think this apprenticeship would lead to something extraordinary.


The waters were a savage beast today, tossing about their boat as though it was a box of matches. Klaus grit his teeth, keeping a steady hand on the wheel. It was quite the feat convincing Caroline to come out on the boat today — humans were somewhat touchy about their safety. If only he could tell her the truth. "We're quite safe, sweetheart," he called out over the motor, sneaking an admiring glance at her form huddled beneath a blanket.

His love had been lost for ages, sacrificed in a selfish, useless attempt to stem the endless tide of invading Roman hordes. He'd searched for her for centuries and finally she walked this world once more. Or, soon his Caroline would.

The narrow strait between the islands was choked by jagged waves; without his beast, the boat would've capsized the moment they left the rickety dock. Despite her wariness, Caroline had been charmed by the seal colony, cheekily barking back at the creatures as they stretched out along the mossy rock banks. It was in these bittersweet moments that he saw glimpses of his Caroline.

How he longed to hear her call him by his true name.

Klaus just needed to call her soul home. And then awaken a beast within her. He'd already planted the seeds with the ceremonial drink laced with water from the Gulf and his blood to bring about the change. She would thank him one day.

He slowed the boat as the approached the Corryvreckan whirlpool and favored Caroline with a dimpled smirk.

Love is like drowning.

She crept closer to the bow, leaning gingerly over the side of the boat for a closer look at the whirlpool. Shivering, she said, "Supposedly Orwell nearly drowned in that thing back in the 1940s...aren't we getting too close?"

Forgive me.

As he gripped her arm with his monster's claws, he wasn't sure what she saw, but the dawning horror on her lovely face spoke volumes. Klaus set aside his anguish, knowing he needed to be strong for them both. With a terrible yanking motion, he tipped them both overboard, allowing the turbulent tides to pull their bodies into the whirlpool.

Gasping for breath, Caroline screamed furiously, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Keeping a promise," he swore. He allowed her to splash helplessly, trying in vain to reach the cliffs. She'd never been more safe, but she'd never believe him. Not until he showed her. The churning cold waters energized his beast, but he could feel Caroline's energy slipping away. He quickly propelled them both into the deep, allowing the current to send them into the heart of the whirlpool.

I swear to you, my love.

Suddenly, Caroline broke free of him with new strength, blue eyes glowing as her beast was awakened. She easily bested the wild currents and broke through to the surface, reverently whispering, "Niklaus."