Château d'Amboise, France, 1466
Much to Bonnie's surprise, she finds that the French court is not as unpleasant as she had feared. Sure, she is far from home and she misses her grandmother terribly, but she has grown used to life in court and would be hard pressed to change it. Queen Charlotte, while quite pious, is not the drab woman as the rumors have painted her. She is a gentle soul and a lover of arts and music. Her private chambers are often a lively place, with the musicians playing the lute or the cittern, and the ladies practicing their embroidery technique or their dancing. Most importantly, the French Queen does not seem to possess the same contempt for witches that so many nobles do.
"Oh, Bonnie! I have heard the most delightful news!" Lady Caroline Forbes, the daughter of a deceased vampire viscount and a human English lady, announces as she enters the Queen's chambers. With Queen Charlotte outside in her mid-morning walk in the gardens, the room is quiet as Bonnie practices her Spanish.
"What is it, Caro?" Bonnie asks as she smiles at her dear friend. Caroline is another reason that has made her stay in France even more pleasant, for she always brightens her day with her high spirits.
After a lonely childhood in Knebworth House wondering if her mother would ever come home to her, Bonnie had come to crave for some more company. She had her Lady Grandmother and her dear Bess, but she found herself very envious of others who had many siblings and a full house. Hers was quiet so often that Bonnie cannot help but enjoy her newfound life in France. She has not grown used to court gossip, something the French nobles seem to be so fond of, but she still loves the balls and the pretty dresses, as vain as it may seem.
"The King is hosting May Day celebrations and the English King is coming to sign a treaty. We are to go to Paris! Can you imagine, Bonnie?" Caroline sighs in delight as she plays with the ruffle on her sleeve.
Bonnie, for once, does not share the same delight at the idea of attending celebrations with the English court. Four years have passed since she was hastily sent to France as a way to ensure she wouldn't be used as a pawn or be left a destitute. She is now nineteen with her twentieth birthday approaching, a woman grown who should be married and have children of her own, but the memory of that moment with King still lingers in her mind.
After Niklaus won his crown and had his right to the throne recognized by Parliament, Bonnie foolishly expected her Grandmother to tell her she had been summoned to court. No such news arrived. What arrived, however, was a letter from Grandmother telling her of the King's marriage to Princess Aurora. Her grandmother was right, after all. The words the King uttered were just desperate words from a man who was about to ride into battle.
Bonnie was a naïve little girl who dreamed of a different life. Now that she is in France and has learned much, Bonnie cannot bear to even remember that side of her.
"I hear Paris is quite beautiful this time of the year," Bonnie says without exhibiting the same excitement as Caroline. "Do they know when we are to travel? I imagine there are quite the preparations to be made."
Caroline's eyes, so blue, gleam in nearly childlike anxiety. Even though Bonnie senses trepidation creeping up her spine at the thought of leaving the safe haven of Amboise, she can understand her friend. They have been outside the capital for much too long, and the ladies were certainly anxious to rejoin all of the activities in Paris.
"If they were to ask me, I would tell them we should go at once!" Caroline exclaims, pausing when she fails to see the dimmed glee in Bonnie. "What is it, Bonnie? This could be a good thing. It is said the whole English court is coming. Perhaps we will find ourselves some husbands!"
Well versed in good manners, Bonnie is able to school her features into remaining amiable, even when she wants to grimace. The thought of finding an English husband is most unpleasant to her.
"I do not wish to return to England, Caro. They are not kind to witches there," Bonnie settles for that, knowing it is not a lie. English nobles would never be as kind as Queen Charlotte and the ladies at Amboise. No, in England, she would always be their inferior.
"We will be together, and I will not allow anyone to be unkind to you, I promise," Caroline says with so much defiance and courage in her tone that Bonnie does not have the heart to do anything but nod. "We shall have the best of times!"
Bonnie does not believe their Paris celebrations will be as merry as Caroline expects, but she still smiles. Even if all goes unwell, she will have her friend by her side. At least she won't have to be alone anymore.
Westminster Palace, London, 1466
Another summer is to come. They have endured a cold, hard winter, which Klaus has taken as a sign of more fortuitous things to come. After all, save for some rebellions near the Scottish borders and a few thwarted plots brewing in Cheshire, they have been blessed by peace in the kingdom. No longer battered by civil war, England has begun to recover financially; resuming their trade with Burgundy and France, and starting a new alliance with the wealthy House of Sforza through Elijah's marriage to Gianna Sforza, the daughter of the Duke of Milan.
Klaus knows he should have been ecstatic. He is the King, loved by most of his subjects – some of the werewolves are still apprehensive and not willing to divest of their loyalty to Richard – and is finally bringing England to its golden age. Yet, something still dismays him.
He is childless. Apart from a bastard son he has sired back in Wiltshire, not one child of his still lives. In these three years, Aurora has swollen many times, bringing them joy and hope they would finally have a Mikaelson prince. However, their hopes were dashed time after time. All of her pregnancies ended in miscarriages or worse, stillbirths. Only their tiny daughter was born strong enough to draw her first breath, but not enough to live for more than two days.
His heart weighs heavily as he thinks of this matter. Is it possible that he's been cursed by God? He's killed so many men in these battles, so it's quite possible that he's incurred His wrath, and for this, he would not have any heirs. At the same time, Klaus sees many of the Lords that fought alongside him blessed with sons and daughters, and questions the reason for his lack of heirs.
"What troubles you, brother? I believe one could hear your thoughts all the way in the Tower," Elijah questions with his usual calm voice, jostling him out of his unpleasant reflections.
"My mind is never calm, brother. Even with years of peace, there is still much to do," Klaus says as he attempts to focus his mind on anything other than the issue that haunts him. "Tell me, how is newlywed life? I was quite surprised to see you dancing and drinking with your Italian bride."
Elijah, who has always been a picture of propriety and intent on showing no emotion, seemed to be quite enraptured with his new wife; a surprise to all of them. Part of Klaus envies his brother. While he is expected to sire the next Duke of Somerset, he will not have to worry about England falling into civil war should he fail to do so.
Even though he technically has heirs - his brothers Finn and Kol are the first in the line of succession - Klaus knows the werewolves will use any excuse to take up arms and regain the throne.
"You wound me by painting me as a cold and unfeeling man, brother," Elijah japes, placing a hand over his chest in mocking pain. "I may not have your same inclination for the fairer sex, but I believe I am quite a suitable husband."
"I meant no offense, brother," Klaus croons with an easy chuckle, before turning to the pile of parchments that still have their seals intact. "Why did I ever agree to sail to Paris for May Day celebrations?" he questions with a sigh, already exhausted by all of the preparations necessary to take the whole court to Paris.
"Because we are to improve our relations with France. King Louis was a little displeased of our closeness to Burgundy, so this should appease him for some time. Besides, I believe it will be a useful distraction from the Queen's …" Elijah trails off; knowing the subject to be a delicate one.
The whole court is abuzz with the Queen's latest failure in providing the so desired Mikaelson prince, and Elijah knows a change will do all of them some good.
"Sometimes I wonder if I was cursed," Klaus confesses in a low voice, so quietly that Elijah has to tilt his head to hear him. "So many lost children. Not even a healthy girl. Louis has two sons and three girls! Even Mad Richard was able to put a boy in that bitch Margaret."
The grief and dismay emanating from Klaus are palpable, so thick that Elijah can feel it within himself. He knows that beneath his brother's blunt words lie insecurity and fear. They may have had peace for these years, but they were not fools. While Richard, Margaret, and their son are still at large, their security would be compromised. And that security becomes even more tenuous by the lack of an heir to consolidate their new dynasty.
"Brother," Elijah starts, at a loss of what to say. What can be said at this time? That he will pray for heirs, that he and the Queen are still so very young and have time to produce many children? All of these words sound wrong to him.
"We have sent for a witch, and she concocted many fertility spells and potions, and yet. Perhaps it is my fault for being a hybrid. I am an aberration just like Father said, after all."
The memory of their father's cruel words makes both brothers cringe ever so slightly. Surrounded by guards, they do not wish to show their pain. After all, the two highest men in court should not demonstrate their weaknesses. Their private memory is to be just that, private.
"You must not think this way, brother. Let us go to Paris and celebrate for a little while. It will do you and the Queen some good. Perhaps you will be christening your son in next year's May Day."
"Aye, brother," Niklaus assents with a nod, even though he still harbors a bitter taste in his mouth. The taste of failure.
Elijah is the wisest man he knows. If his brother believes there is still a chance he will be successful in forming his dynasty, it is best that he trusts him.
Palais du Louvre, France, 1466
There is much pomp and circumstance when the English court finally arrives in the city. It seems to Bonnie that both kings are anxious to impress each other. Since it is King Louis - quite the frugal man who even preferred not to keep the court in a Palace and dress in his hunting garb - Bonnie has expected much more simplicity for this occasion. She happens to be mistaken.
Even Queen Charlotte, along with all of the French nobles, is surprised when seeing the newly renovated quarters of the palace. Stretched across the borders of the Seine, the Louvre boasts windows carved in elaborate designs to bring more sunlight into the rooms and walls covered by colorful and rich tapestries. Despite her initial reservations about leaving the quiet comfort of the Château, Bonnie has grown to enjoy Paris. There is plenty of wine and laughter, the rooms are filled with the sound of cheerful music and the nobles dance and play cards until the wee hours of the morning.
Bonnie, who has gotten used to a lively yet somewhat modest household, finds that she cannot help the amazement in her eyes at seeing the festivities in full bloom. She also cannot help the way her heartbeat quickens when she sees him, even though she does not understand why that happens.
Niklaus is now an anointed king and not just a rebel fighting to enact revenge, looking resplendent in a regal purple waistcoat and a glittering golden crown. Bonnie, however, can only see the overconfident boy she healed.
As Bonnie has feared, she feels like a little girl, swooning over a man who happens to be her king. And she loathes it.
Palais du Louvre, France, 1466
Despite the most luxurious celebrations filled with Bordeaux wine, plenty of food and beautiful women dressed in their scandalous French styled gowns, Klaus finds it hard to enjoy himself. He is far from a dull man, widely known for enjoying the simple pleasures of life, yet his mind still reels. Both Elijah and Stefan have urged him to leave his issues aside once they set sail from England, and he has attempted to do so. He's danced with Aurora, feasted on the delicious venison and drank goblets of wine. He has done everything he could to distract himself, but Klaus can only think of his disappointment.
Louis, the insufferable prick, has gone to great lengths to show all of his wealth and his dynasty. Four children, two boys who passed infancy and looked as healthy as an ox, have been trotted out to show the future of France. And to poke at him, Klaus is sure. Even though they have been able to establish an alliance through his marriage, the wounds of the long-lasting war between England and France run deep.
It has been a long time since he's felt inferior to another man – the last time being his conflicting emotions towards Elijah, all caused by their father – and unsurprisingly, he does not appreciate it. He is a king, conquered the throne after winning battles when he was seventeen. How could he feel envious of Louis?
The sweet wine turns bitter as it coats his lips. The feast, so rich that has dazzled many of his courtiers, now feels quite uninteresting to his eyes. Dull. It is all so dull.
Until something catches his eye, that is. Through the glittering gold of all the silks and jewels, she shines. There is something familiar about her, something he cannot comprehend. The mystery dissolves when he notices her eyes.
As green as the emerald grass that covers the grounds of the gardens at Westminster Palace.
Good God, he's found her. For a while, Niklaus has believed he would never come to see his savior again. His own inaction was to blame; that and his cousin's counsel.
Alaric was prompt in squashing any intention he ever had of summoning her to court. The presence of a young witch in such a new court would only lead to trouble, he argued. At the time, his crown was not fully secure ass they needed Parliament to recognize his claim to the throne as a birthright, not as conquest. They needed France and other monarchs to support him, so his gratitude to the witch who saved his life would have to be paid later.
It has taken him four years, but he has finally met her again. In the most unexpected of places. Given that their only encounter happened at one of his camps in St. Albans, he should not be surprised. Seeing her as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Charlotte seems like a more reasonable setting, he believes.
Draped in a dark blue dress, she looks more beautiful than he has remembered. No, not that. She was little more than a child when he first saw her and now she is a woman now. A perfect English rose, even if hidden in the French court.
His eyes are fixed on her as she moves about in an elegant manner to the steps of the dance, his attention unwavering, even as King Louis speaks of his hunting tales.
He cannot stay there anymore, listening to meaningless stories. No, he must speak to her
Palais du Louvre, France, 1466
It is a beautiful morning; Bonnie has to admit as she takes a stroll on the gardens, searching for fresh flowers to craft wreaths for the ladies and Queen Charlotte.
The air is not frosty from the harsh winter any longer, replaced by a warm breeze that ruffles the lush green foliage on the trees. Even though the sun is already out in the sky, the palace is quiet. Most of the nobles- both English and French- are still asleep, probably exhausted from the grand feast that lasted until the wee hours of the morning.
The servants, though, are already hard at work as they prepare for May Day festivities. As it is customary, the beginning of spring is to be celebrated with a merry day outside filled with games, dancing, and plenty of wine.
"Imagine my surprise when I find my little guardian angel hidden away in Paris? Or should I say my little guardian witch?"
The voice, masculine and familiar, catches Bonnie by surprise as the handle of the basket escapes from her grip. He chuckles, most likely amused with her clumsiness. Bonnie takes her time to collect the lilies and wildflowers from the floor; her face burning with shame. Not even a minute in front of the king and she is already making a fool of herself.
"Your Grace," Bonnie murmurs as she bows her head, as a show of deference and because she wishes to hide her face. "I am far from being anyone's guardian angel. Much less yours, Your Grace."
"It is a relief to see that your time in France has not diminished your humility, my Lady," Niklaus says; his lips curling into a pleased smirk. Having her so close to him, as the sunlight illuminates her bronzed skin, is more delightful than he's expected.
"Her Grace insists that her ladies are humble and not engaged in vanity," Bonnie replies; her last words so unexpectedly bold that even she is surprised. If he is bothered, he fails to show it. His easy smile does not falter for even a second.
"Oh, I do not deny that I happen to be a little vain. What king isn't?" he asks, extending a hand to remove a yellow wildflower that's caught on her headpiece. She shivers when the pads of his fingers touch her skin. "I did not think I would ever see you again, my Lady. I regret not showing you my gratitude."
"There is nothing to regret, Your Grace. I did nothing more than my duty," Bonnie assures as she takes a step back; her legs trembling just a little. She has never been so close to a man, much less a king, before. Even though most of the ladies around her gossip about such matters, Bonnie has remained chaste.
"I doubt that giving me this constitutes as your duty," Klaus argues, fishing out the small vial that hangs around his neck. For some strange reason, he is pleased when her eyes widen in pure surprise. There is something quite satisfying in extracting an emotion out of her, who seems to be wearing her stoic mask.
"You've kept it," Bonnie murmurs, hiding the urge to get closer to him, to see if that tiny object is indeed the protection amulet she gifted him years ago. She is lost for words. Why would the king have kept this? Surely the amulet has lost its power. "Why?"
"It is because of this that I am King today," he answers as he the memory of his near death at the Battle of Towton comes to mind. "Because of you."
"I did not command an army to fight your battles, Your Grace. Your victory is your own."
"You may not have wielded a sword, but you did have a hand in making me king. After all, you are the young witch who healed me when I was nearing death, aren't you?" Klaus asks; his blue eyes so fixed on her that she is able to notice the golden specks on his irises.
"Your Grace…" Bonnie whispers; voice faltering as her heartbeat becomes erratic. He may be the king, but he is all but a stranger to her. How can he have the ability to affect her so?
"Have supper with me tonight," he requests as he inches over until his lips are inches away from her skin. Bonnie can barely hear his soft words. Blood rushes to her ears, as loud as a thunderstorm, rendering her nearly deaf. Her eyelids become so heavy she has to close her eyes for just a moment, just while she inhales his minty fragrance.
Thinking with a clear head proves to be a difficult task, and for a moment, Bonnie is inclined to say yes. That moment passes as she remembers her Grandmother's words.
All of England knows of his penchant for bedding ladies.
The King is a womanizer and she will be nothing but a warm body to be discarded later. Bonnie may be somewhat sheltered, but she knows what happens to foolish girls who think themselves to be in love or mistresses who fall out of favor. No matter how handsome and charming the king may be, she has no wish to be the subject of court gossip.
"I'm afraid that would be inappropriate, Your Grace," Bonnie says; looking down at her own hands as she attempts to avoid his gaze.
To her surprise, Niklaus does not throw a fit at being rejected. Most of the nobles Bonnie knows are quite entitled and prone to temper tantrums when they do not get their way. The king, however, seems to be different. Both corners of his lips remain curled in a subtle grin as he looks at her.
"Perhaps I will see you later in the festivities then," he says with a nod after a moment of silence.
"Yes, Your Grace," Bonnie replies with the customary bow, so taken aback by his display of chivalry that she finds it difficult to tear her eyes off him, even as he walks away.
It is only when he is out of sight that Bonnie releases the breath she's been holding; her head so dizzy that she thinks she may faint onto the ground.
Bonnie has refused the King's request, a wise judgment on her part. Cavorting with the King would hardly befitting of her station, a lady, and daughter of a noble. Even an innocent act such as a joining him for supper would become court gossip and soon she would be branded as a whore, the King's mistress.
So why does it feel like she cannot take a proper breath; her chest already heavy with regret?
A/N: I'm back with a new chapter, and finally, Klaus and Bonnie met again. I hope you enjoy their interaction because that was the hardest part to write, and I had to rewrite it a couple of times until I felt I had their voices right. Things will probably move at a quicker speed now because there is much to cover!