Hertfordshire, England, 1462
"Are you mad, child? Leaving home when there is a war raging outside?" Sheila Bennett cries out when she sees her granddaughter; pulling her into the house by the arm with mighty strength.
"Grandmother, you hurt me!"
"This is nothing compared to what might have happened had you been captured by the Pretender's forces, they are rogue beasts, all of those!"
Bonnie's veins fill with ice when she realizes whom her Lady Grandmother is referring to. Niklaus, the very same man she has saved from death, the very same man who is probably in battle at that moment, fighting to become king. It is no surprise that Grandmother sees him as the pretender, for she favors King Richard. Yet, Bonnie cannot help but want to defend him.
A few hours with the man and already smitten, a voice in her head mocks her, and for that, Bonnie has no reply. She may not be smitten like the girls in the village or even the young ladies that attend to her, but she is charmed. How can she not, when Niklaus – no, not just Niklaus. His Grace – is easily the most handsome man she has ever seen?
"Where were you? I have asked for all of the men to go and search for you and nobody found a trace of you. Some thought you were dead!" Sheila says; the grip on Bonnie's arms so tight that her knuckles begin to turn white. Her lady Grandmother, who is usually so strong and composed, trembles; some tears escaping from her eyes.
Bonnie regrets her ill conceived decision of leaving her home in the middle of the night in search of her own mother, the lady Abigail. She saw some letters, heard some whispers in the market concerning the whereabouts of her estranged mother, and saw fit to investigate the matter herself. Needless to say, there was no Lady Abigail. Her entire journey was for nothing. Well, not nothing. She's saved the King's life, after all.
"I have heard news of my Lady mother. It is said she is currently residing in St. Albans."
"Have you lost your wits, child? Seeking out Abigail in St. Albans? That is where the Pretender's army is stationed!"
"Why must you call him the pretender, Grandmother?" Bonnie asks in curiosity as Mary, one of the ladies, undoes the lacings of dress.
"Because a man calling himself the king does not make him so. Richard is the king and this pretender can only bring a war to England," Sheila answers in a hardened voice while fussing over Bonnie. Her eyes narrow, and with that one look, Bonnie feels naked and exposed. "You are a girl of fifteen, why do you concern yourself with politics now?"
"I-" Bonnie stutters, not able to think of a single reasonable answer. As she has told the king, Bonnie has never shown any inclination to either side, even with the country so divided. "I saw him, grandmother."
Sheila takes a subtle step back as shock colors her face for a few seconds. She quickly recovers from it, as she ever does, and offers a blank expression.
"Leave us," Sheila commands the two serving girls, who quickly leave in a flurry of curtsies and murmurs of 'my lady'. Bonnie feels her heart skipping a beat when her Grandmother turns to her. "You saw the pretender? How?"
"Edward accompanied me to St. Albans. We were in a tavern when a physician came, asking for anyone with healing abilities."
"You revealed your powers to him? Do you know what the Duke of Somerset used to do to witches?" Sheila questions; her blank expression contorting into a picture of desperation.
It was not long ago that her dearest friend, the Lady Isabelle, was killed on the orders of that brute Somerset. That family could not be trusted.
"He was nothing but kind to me, grandmother," Bonnie assures in a small voice; her mind wandering to the memory of his blue eyes. "He is not a bad man, I know it in my heart."
Bonnie feels the change in the air around them as soon as the words leave her lips. It is hard to breathe, as the room becomes uncomfortably warm, even though the November weather outside is cold and crisp. She dares a glance in her grandmother's direction to see her astonished.
"In your heart?" Sheila repeats with a shake of the head, keeping her eyes to the bright flames in the burning fireplace. "Your father is the Ambassador to France on King Richard's command, his father restored our lands and titles. You may not fall in love with a vampire king!"
A dry laugh echoes in the silent room and it takes Bonnie a few seconds to realize the sound came from her, for she is too surprised by her grandmother's words. Love? Bonnie does not feel love for Niklaus, how can she when she has just met him?
You may not love him, but you did gift him with a protection charm.
"I held you in my arms when you first came into this world and raised you when Abigail left. There is no thought in your head that you can conceal from me, Bonnie," Sheila says, and Bonnie feels like a foolish little girl who was charmed by a handsome highborn Lord. Just like Bess and Annie. "Now tell me, did anything happen between you and this king? There are many rumors of his penchant for bedding ladies."
Bonnie feels the blood rushing to her face until her cheeks are burning. It should not surprise her that a man like Niklaus is not chaste, but she did not ever expect her grandmother to doubt her own virtue.
"I only healed him, Grandmother. Nothing inappropriate happened, I swear!" Bonnie cries out as she laced her hands together in a beseeching demeanor.
"Do not fret, I believe you child, but others might have the wrong idea of a lady being alone in the company of a womanizing man who calls himself king."
"I am sorry for leaving, Grandmother. I meant no harm," Bonnie finally says after contemplating her grandmother's words.
Did the King mean to have anything more between them? He behaved honorably while in her presence, but then again, Bonnie does not know how a man who wants to have a woman behaves.
"You are still young, Bonnie, but I have yet to see a boy or a man who can walk past you. I implore you to be careful, child."
Yorkshire, England, 1463
By God, they have done it.
The words echo inside Klaus' head as they approach Ripley Castle; a sensation of amazement and exhaustion seeping through his bones. It is a wonder he is still atop his horse instead of falling on the ground. His men look the same; all battered and filthy, appearing so mortal and weak that one would not ever believe them to be an army of vampires.
Despite their victory, they ride in silence. It was a hard fought battle, one they almost lost had it not been for his cousin's reinforcements. For a moment in the heat of battle, Klaus even believed the Queen's army - allied with the Scots - would get the better of them. The band of werewolves seemed to be much faster; so strong that one would think the full moon was glowing in the dark sky, conferring them with magical resilience. Klaus knows he was close to meeting his death when Scottish army broke their line and one of the mongrels set its sights on him.
Some would have said it was an honorable death on the battlefield, but for Klaus, it would be nothing but a bitter end. The small trinket hanging from his neck, tied by a leather string, feels warm against his skin. In the gelid February air, it brings him some comfort. The memory of the beautiful lady who has gifted him the item comes to his mind. She has kept her word and protected his life even now.
"Whatever brings a smile to your face, brother?" Kol asks as he inches his head in curiosity.
Strangely enough, his younger brother does not look the least bothered by all of the horrors around them. If it was not for the blood staining his face and armor, one would not believe he has fought in a battle.
"We just defeated Richard's forces and I was proclaimed King. Is that not a reason to rejoice?" Klaus says with an easy smile, deciding against telling his brother the true cause for his sudden good humor.
That secret is to be his and his alone, at least for this moment.
Hertfordshire, England, 1463
Months have passed since Bonnie's chance encounter with the King; the ground is now covered by a blanket of thick, white snow instead of the colorful tapestry made by fallen autumn leaves. While Bonnie still thinks of the handsome king and his blue eyes, she obeys her Lady Grandmother and does not dare to speak a word of it to anyone.
"These are trying times, child," Sheila said as she brushed Bonnie's hair. "Our friends will turn into foes if they believe there is something to gain."
Bonnie did not understand the meaning of her grandmother's words then, but now she does. Even though they are a family of witches, they still own a title, along with lands and their property. Some of the other Lords have never accepted her father as their peer, and would not be above using silly gossip to favor themselves. And what would be a better gossip than a nobleman's daughter committing treason?
'It will only be treason if Richard wins,' a voice in Bonnie's head says, far more bold than she could ever dream of being. She has never ill-wished Richard or prayed for his defeat in battle, but perhaps they will be in better luck if Niklaus wins.
"Will you tell me my future?" Bonnie whispers as she sprinkles the dried betany over the basin filled with warm water. Before she can begin to chant the words of the spell, Bessie barges into the room.
"My lady, your Lady Grandmother has received a letter and now she is most distraught!"
"A letter? A letter from whom?" she asks, allowing Bessie to lead her by the hand.
"I do not know, my lady," Bessie says; her brown eyes wide. The blood in Bonnie's veins becomes as cold as the frozen waters of the river outside. If her Lady Grandmother, usually so composed, is distraught, then certainly the letter must spell doom.
"Grandmother, what is happening?" Bonnie asks as she enters her grandmother's solar.
"A letter came, from one of my cousins," Sheila says as she sits on the bench. "It appears that the Pretender won the battle at Towton and has been proclaimed king. Both Richard and Margaret have fled to Scotland."
Despite her Grandmother's somber voice, Bonnie cannot help the elation that comes to her with the news.
"And this upsets you so? Are they not merry news?" Bonnie questions, frowning when her Grandmother scoffs. "All of England says King Richard is a witless man, while the new king is strong!"
"Oh, my child, you have allowed the new king's comeliness to blind you," Grandmother murmurs, shaking her head in a disappointed manner. "We are witches, Bonnie! Our fortunes lie with an exiled king and I doubt the new king will show us the mercy we have been granted."
"Lady Grandmother, his Grace has assured me he will summon me to court. Our family will not suffer!"
"Those were the words from a grateful man who was about to ride into battle and who was captivated by your beauty. Not the words from a king."
As much as Bonnie wants to argue- her Lady Grandmother was not there and didn't see him- she does not. Right now, her words will fall on deaf ears, as her grandmother seems to be in a world of her own. No doubt already concocting elaborate plans to ensure their survival.
"What are we to do, Grandmother?" Bonnie asks, clasping both hands together to keep them from trembling. It is no use, as they fail to over her, especially when her grandmother fails to answer. "Grandmother?"
"I have discussed the matter with your father, of what we were to do should this happen. We both agreed that you shall be safe in France, as a lady in waiting to Queen Charlotte."
The blood rushes to Bonnie's head and she feels faint. Out of all the possible outcomes, this is not one she has ever envisioned. Fleeing her home like an exile.
"France? Why? The king will-"
"The king is a boy who just had a crown placed on his head. His advisors will be the one making the decisions on his behalf," Sheila says, not unkindly but in a direct manner. She sighs when seeing Bonnie's eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her granddaughter is far too sweet for this world. "It will be just until we know what kind of king he will be. It may be for naught, as Richard could raise an army to get his crown back."
Even though Bonnie does not want to go to France and leave her home behind, she finds it that she wants another war to put Richard on the throne much less. For some reason Bonnie can't quite understand, she wants him to be the king.
"If they do not strip your father of his title, you will be the only daughter and heir of a nobleman. I cannot allow you to become a pawn in their wicked game."
Bonnie nods, and finally understands the reasoning behind her grandmother's actions. As a woman and a witch in a world of men, vampires, and werewolves, she would always be a chess piece. It was naïve of her to believe otherwise.
"When am I to leave, grandmother?" Bonnie asks as she wipes the tears that trail down her face; a sense of resignation dawning on her.
In time she will stop dreaming of a young king and his beautiful smile, and he shall become nothing but a memory.
Yorkshire, England, 1463
"A toast to His Grace's most formidable victory in battle!" Sir John Ingleby cries out as he raises his cup, filled with a rich mixture of blood and an imported wine from Bordeaux. The rest of the men, pleased to finally have the comforts of a castle after months of skulking around, cheer loudly.
Such a delicacy as this would not ever be so freely wasted on so many men, but the Lord, drunk from all of the mead and wine consumed at supper, does not care. It is the victorious King of England, and it would do him well to garner his favor.
"I see Sir Ingleby is quite excited tonight," Elijah comments as he approaches his brother, who happens to be rather quiet for such a lively night of celebration. "What is the matter with you, brother? I would have expected you to be behaving like Kol at this occasion."
They both stare at their younger sibling, who happens to be enjoying himself; downing his cup of beer and nibbling on the neck of a servant girl.
"Aye, you told me I was to behave differently as king, did you not?" Klaus reminds him as he sips on the wine, savoring the sweet taste he hasn't appreciated in so long. "Besides. I fear there is not much celebrate as of yet. Richard could be raising an army with the help of the Scots. There is much to be done."
"Most of the lords who supported Richard are either dead or fled in disgrace. The threat has been neutralized for now," Elijah offers, hoping that it will lift his brother's spirits.
"And now comes the hardest part, I shall rule England," Klaus says in such a quiet tone that Elijah thinks those words are more to himself than others.
There is a sense of vulnerability within him and Elijah understands Klaus wishes that moment to be private. Out of all his siblings, Niklaus happens to be the proudest and hardened one.
"What name shall you rule under, brother?"
"I shall be known as Niklaus I, the founder of the Mikaelson dynasty. I want that bitch to hear my name and regret the day she hacked our father."
"We must have a coronation at once so they can proclaim your name!"
Both brothers turn their heads at the voice, sporting similar grins when they see the familiar figure enter the hall. Their dear cousin, the Earl of Warwick, looks just as merry as Sir Ingleby.
"Cousin! I did not expect to see you here!" Elijah greets as he walks up to him and clasps him on the shoulder. "How are you faring?"
"We have won, and Niklaus is to be the King of England. I am in great spirits!"
"We are most grateful to you, cousin, for I doubt we would have defeated Richard's army if not for your men," Klaus says without the bravado that one would expect from a young king who has won his crown. No, he is humbled as he knows none of this wouldn't be possible without their cousin.
"All I have wanted was a vampire king back on the throne, and I am overjoyed that it is one of my blood," Alaric Neville tells them as he accepts the cup of wine offered to him.
"I am sorry to disappoint, cousin, for you have put a hybrid on the throne," Klaus quips, grinning when he notices the frown on Elijah's face. "Is it not the truth, brother? I am what the physicians call a mystery of nature. I have to admit I quite like it, being stronger than the lot of you."
"And you are always so fond of reminding us," Elijah says, pleased that Niklaus has finally accepted his most peculiar nature.
It has been the cause for a lot of grief in their lives, as Father was never able to understand the reason why Niklaus was born a hybrid, even going as far as accusing Mother of making a cuckold of him.
"When are we to have the coronation, cousin?" Klaus asks as his mind turns to all of the affairs that need to be tended to.
"In a week's time. It is important we do not allow the momentum from our victory in battle to falter. London supports us, and we shall secure the confidence from the rest of the country," Alaric asserts; his stance reminding others why he has been awarded the epithet of 'Kingmaker'. "There is also the matter of your marriage."
"Marriage?" Klaus questions in a faint voice; so surprised by Warwick's words that he almost loses the grip on his wine cup. They have just fought a battle; surely this is not the most appropriate time for matchmaking. "So soon?"
"Niklaus, we need to make alliances if we are to return England to its glory. Richard's weakness and war have torn this country apart," Alaric attempts to explain as he sees the King's face contort into an unreadable expression. He knows Niklaus well enough to be sure he is not pleased.
"And you sound like you have an alliance in mind, cousin," Elijah comments; his eyes shifting from one man to another, not knowing how Niklaus would accept the news. His brother has always been the most rash, so there is no telling what he is to do.
"Princess Aurora of France."
"Louis' sister?" Elijah asks in confusion.
Although King Louis has not openly denounced them as rebels, it is clear that his true support lies with Richard. Most monarchs have failed to show support for their cause, as they were afraid it would seem as if they were condoning a rebellion against the Crown. Having Louis offer his eldest sister's hand in marriage to Niklaus is an astonishing development, and one that can only strengthen their positions.
"We can cement an alliance with France through this marriage and ensure that Margaret will not raise an army there."
Klaus sips on the wine, savoring the taste or the sweet drink mixed with blood. Oh, it has been too long since he last tasted fresh blood from a beautiful woman's neck.
"Will I not be allowed to choose my own wife?"
Both Alaric and Elijah chuckle at Niklaus' naiveté. As a second son, he has been many liberties, but as a king, he must bear the multiple duties that come with the crown.
"Your marriage isn't for you, Niklaus. It is for England. You can have as many mistresses as you wish, but know that this alliance is what we need," Alaric says, choosing his words carefully. The young king may be his cousin, almost like a brother to him, but he is still a king. "The Princess is rumored to be one of the most beautiful women in France."
Niklaus' lips curl ever so slightly at this piece of information, causing Alaric and Elijah to smirk. Perhaps Niklaus' weakness for the fairest sex will finally be put to good use.
"Proceed with the negotiations, then. Let us have a French alliance," Klaus finally says after a moment of silence.
The men cheer and as Klaus touches the amulet containing the protection charm, he cannot help the feeling that spreads through him. It is as if he has lost something precious, something he has not yet discovered.
A/N: So yeah, I'm kinda addicted to this universe and I can't stop writing this! Sorry for the lack of Klonnie, but don't worry, there will be plenty of Klonnie in the next chapter and that's when things will really pick up. Thank you so much for your reviews, it always makes me happy to see that people enjoy my stories and historical fiction.