Author's note: This was written for the Klarowinter Bingo Event. King Henry II's French court no longer held any amusement for Klaus, but then he witnessed one of the ladies-in-waiting dance in the Ballet Comique de la Reine, and decided he'd found a new diversion...or at least a decadent meal.
Prompt: Snow-covered cathedral
"Unfortunately the contracts are often written in invisible ink when they should be signed in blood."
― Suzanne Hayes, I'll Be Seeing You
He was bored and Elijah wouldn't let him eat anyone. With a long-suffering sigh, Klaus tried to lose himself in the palace musicians' subpar melodies, but if the cornets kept trouncing on the arrangement, he would cut a bloody swatch through the first row of musicians. Lightly caressing the decadent gold leaf and wrought iron bannister, his polished boots clicked as he slowly descended the carved marble steps of the grand staircase. Klaus resisted the urge to fidget in the overly tight breeches and uncomfortable slashed-and-puffed-sleeves doublet. Even after several centuries of dressing in this finery befitting his elevated station, he still longed for the simplicity of tunics and trousers from his peasant days. The last vestiges of humanity manifested in the oddest of ways.
Perhaps that explained Rebekah's obsession with French royalty. She'd stubbornly insisted they wile away their days at Henry II's court, and since loyal whispers kept them well-informed of Mikael's current rampage across Russia, Klaus was inclined to indulge his sister's whims. Besides, the marriage of King Henry II to Catherine de Medici had even intrigued Elijah, and once it was announced the court would host the Ballet Comique de la Reine, their tedious brother had insisted upon their attendance.
Fortunately, both of his tiresome siblings were occupied for the moment — Rebekah had immersed herself in the queen's sycophantic circle, while Elijah pompously strutted about in a satin doublet and stylish Venetian hose, desperate for compliments.
Shaking his head at his siblings' foolishness, Klaus entered the formal ballroom, openly admiring the exquisite stucco panels depicting Bacchanalian festivals. However, before he could properly enjoy the artwork, the irksome court heralds trumpeted the elaborate spectacle had begun. Queen Catherine and her ladies were brought out on a three-tiered fountain of sparkling jewels, polished marble and intricate gold leaf designs that intrigued his artistic sensibilities. But one face alone ensnared him.
She'd been dressed simply as a dryad, a pale blue shift clinging to her body in a fluttering wisp of silk. The crowd may have murmured appreciatively at the ostentatious costume Queen Catherine wore for the role of Circe, but it was the ravishing blonde who danced so prettily that caught his eye. Her diminutive steps held such power. She was meant to be a part of the background, a pretty bauble to underscore the queen's grace and beauty, but she was far too radiant to merely be part of the scenery. What a fine meal she'll make.
The familiar court dances had been embellished with flourishes and synchronized choreography, and the little blonde's artistry was a sight to behold. The violins began to plan an entrée, but he barely spared a glance for the queen or the other dancers, watching avidly as the blonde left Pan's bejeweled grove with the other dryads to dance on the raised stage for the enchanted garden sequence.
Klaus carefully arranged his expression into one of nonchalance as the dancers were presented to the king and then the formal processional honoring the aristocratic courtiers. He was familiar with all of Queen Catherine's ladies-in-waiting, but he would've remembered those fierce blue eyes. His fangs itched in delight at the thought of a bit of mystery with his meal.
Over the centuries, he'd perfected many an accent as he immersed himself in every language he encountered. Currently, he and his siblings were posing as Scandinavian aristocracy, allowing the crisp bite of their mother tongue to flavor their words. It was ever so delightful to turn many a maiden's head with little more than a rough consonant and a dimpled smirk. Klaus approached his quarry with two goblets of wine, handing her one with a courtly bow. "Good evening," he said, purposely rolling his tongue over the sounds to emphasize his accent. "I am a recent visitor to your homeland and while my beloved Norwegian court contains many a splendid wonder, it pales in comparison to your beauty, my lady."
Was that a scowl that graced her lips before she hastily arranged a more pleasing countenance? Klaus was most puzzled by what could've raised the lady's ire in a few mild words. Giving a terse headshake in which more of her blonde curls tumbled from the ribbon headpiece, she replied airily, "I do not wish to imbibe, Lord Mikaelson. But I thank you for your kind words." She gave a half-hearted curtsey that could be passed off as spirited rather than rude if one was feeling generous. And then she turned away from him.
It was quite maddening how quickly he chased after her. His intended meal had proven to be quite the delightful diversion. A ballroom full of fragile roses and he desired naught but the thorns. A gold embroidered slipper paused at the marble staircase near the silver threaded tapestry, the delicate foot set back down with an irritated sigh at his footsteps behind her.
"I'd fancied myself familiar with all the queen's ladies until I encountered your lively performance." With a twinkle in his gray eyes he observed, "You addressed me by name, but I'm afraid I cannot return the favor my lady."
Despite her pained smile, she was a lovely thing, and he couldn't help but be charmed by the way her fists had curled in anger before she seemed to remember herself and relaxed into a comely pose. He did so enjoy a spirited creature.
"Lady Caroline, sire — sir. I'm newly appointed to His Majesty's court."
He bowed low, placing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "Fortune has smiled upon us indeed to favor the court with such sunshine." A pretty blush colored her cheeks and despite the stubborn set of her jaw, it was clear she wasn't above flattery. He decided to press his advantage with more honeyed words. "Forgive my boldness, but I was so entranced by your masterful dancing that I was compelled to approach you."
Her laughter mocked him so prettily that he ignored the cutting impertinence. Blue eyes regarded him with mirth as she said, "I suspect you care not if your boldness is forgiven, Lord Mikaelson. But your compliment about my dancing gladdens my heart." Nodding to a small gathering of ladies who flashed knowing smiles and fluttered their lashes in Klaus' direction, Lady Caroline entreated, "I urge you to practice your charms upon another. You'll find there's no shortage of receptive audiences at court."
She turned again, ascending a few stairs with nary a backward glance. Impudent human. His monster rumbled in pleasure at the thought of a proper chase. Even with his wolf long-caged behind his mother's wretched curse, he could sense Lady Caroline's interest, but for some infernal reason, she genuinely did not wish to encourage his pursuit. He was determined to unravel this beautiful blonde mystery. Besides, the scent of her arousal was maddening.
Lady Caroline stiffened at his approach once more, and stared him down boldly as he said, "You seem rushed, my lady, and wear trouble upon your brow. Might I be of assistance?"
"There is no trouble other than thyself," she grumbled.
Despite her temper, Klaus detected the slight tremble of lips and hands, and how her pulse quickened. The sour taste of her fear lingered unpleasantly in the air and he found he did not care for it. What had frightened this poppet so? Lady Caroline did not look upon him in terror, but it was evident she would not take him into her confidence. He wondered if perhaps she was afraid the court would learn her secret — that she wasn't aristocracy. In fact, from the callouses on her hands and how her speech faltered when addressing him as 'sire' like a commoner would rather than 'sir', he was certain she was naught but a peasant. Lady Caroline must be in possession of the most silver of tongues to have charmed her way into court.
The audacity of her boldness intrigued him and he desired to learn more. But given that she had the temper of a virago, nothing short of torture would dare loosen her tongue. Which is something he no longer desired — their vigorous verbal sparring had removed all thoughts of turning the fair lady into a meal. It had been centuries since a human had tempted him so. Bowing low once more, Klaus slowly descended the stairs as he backed away, telling her, "My most humble of apologies, Lady Caroline. I will trouble you no further." He would need to relearn the tedious ritual of proper courting, but he suspected this intriguing little human would be worth his efforts.
Confusion and a hint of disappointment warred on her lovely face, but Lady Caroline pressed her lips together in determination as she curtsied, watching Klaus leave with a sharp gaze and suspicion lingering in the air.
It should've been effortless to track Lady Caroline when she slipped out of the castle, but instead, Klaus found that he had to take great pains to follow her. What a fascinating creature. He spied her blonde head peeking through the dark hood she'd donned for the journey, and grew more intrigued when the lady hastily went inside a snow-covered cathedral. When he climbed through the window tucked away behind a stone pillar, Klaus perched behind several wide beams. Even without his supernatural hearing, the cathedral's vaulted ceiling perfectly carried the sounds of the argument below.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, studying Lady Caroline in the glow of the candles. "I see the chambermaid has returned from her adventure. Were you successful in your quest?"
"I was a dancer," came her sharp rebuke, "and a brilliant one as that. Do not presume to know me, Tyler."
The deep chuckle was mocking, and Klaus felt his fangs threaten to drop at the grating sound. The revelation of Lady Caroline's modest station was hardly a surprise, but the pointed ears Tyler possessed as he turned his face to the candlelight was unexpected. He was fae. Klaus had had limited dealings with the fae over the centuries as he found them to be even more duplicitous than witches. Best not to invite conflict with such troublesome creatures unless absolutely necessary.
"From the moment you were a foundling on the cathedral steps, you've been the chambermaid. The bargain we struck was to fulfill your heart's desire to dance before the court." Tyler icily observed, "You didn't answer my question. Did you retrieve the queen's bracelet?"
Lady Caroline scowled, her words biting as she finally admitted, "No. I was hindered by a half-witted courtier on my way to Her Majesty's private chambers."
Half-witted courtier. Klaus smirked at her cutting insult, feeling ridiculously pleased with himself. He only could raise Lady Caroline's ire if passion had stirred in her heart for him. The willful creature was not as indifferent as she pretended. The prospect of pressing his advantage was quite thrilling to imagine.
"How disappointing. Catherine de Medici struck a bargain with my people and was given that bracelet forged by fae to ensnare the king and become his queen. However, she's refused to return it and only a mortal may retrieve it." Feigning an empathetic sigh, he replied, "You've broken our contract, chambermaid, and must pay the price."
Klaus had been resting his palm on the beam above his head, but when Tyler threatened Lady Caroline, his nails reduced the wood in his grip to dust. Presumptuous fae. It didn't escape his notice that Lady Caroline failed in her task because of his flirtations. Bollocks. It had been ages since guilt had pricked his heart.
Tyler dangled a lock of blonde hair that had been braided into a small circle. He jeered, "You readily ripped away your hair as an offering, to bind our contract." With a snap of his fingers, it engulfed in flame, the stench of burning hair making Klaus wrinkle his nose in distaste. Perhaps he would set this oafish fae on fire after he ripped out his tongue.
Despite her obvious terror, Lady Caroline squared her shoulders, glaring at Tyler as she replied fiercely, "Get on with it, cursed imp. What is my price?"
"You, chambermaid, will be bound in service for 1,000 years and a day." With a careless wave of his unnaturally long fingers, he pronounced, "Immortality will be yours while you serve me." His lips curled into a cruel smile as he mocked, "After all, we cannot have your skin crack and bleed from the lye. I care not for blood to spot my hearth."
Lady Caroline was now immortal. What a peculiar twist of fate. Klaus all but purred at the possibilities.
As Tyler led her away, Klaus' monster rose to the surface. A covetous creature, Klaus would deprive the foolhardy fae of his prize. And would see to it that Tyler's hearth was spotted with every drop of his blood.
