Palais du Louvre, Paris

1466

May Day celebrations last the entire day and, as expected, take over the entire court. After years without sumptuous displays such as this one, all of the nobles are anxious to partake in the festivities. Bonnie, as much as she tries to pretend otherwise, is no different.

Most of Queen Charlotte's ladies, anxious to catch the eye of an Earl or even a Viscount, have engaged in painstaking methods to prim themselves. Not one with a wish to look like the only dull lady in the Queen's service, Bonnie does the same.

Instead of braiding her hair and arranging it into a simple bun, covered by one of the headpieces without giving it a second thought, Bonnie is much more diligent as she gets ready for the day. She rubs lavender scented milk onto her skin to make it as soft as silk, brushes her hair and arranges it into a more complicated style with her curls hanging past her shoulders and even sprays some of her perfume – a concoction prepared by her Grandmother, using some of the wildflowers and herbs that grow in the gardens at Knebworth House.

Her focused efforts do not go unnoticed, Bonnie notes with some delight. As soon as the rest of the ladies see her clad in the bright yellow dress, they flock to her with unbridled glee.

"You look resplendent!" Caroline exclaims with a giggle as her index finger loops around one of Bonnie's curls.

Round blue eyes widen in surprise and curiosity while Caroline studies Bonnie. Her dear friend has always been quite the beauty, but she has seemed to shy away from embracing it. Unlike most French ladies, Bonnie does not seek attention from others, preferring to fade into the background.

"I'm a witch, Caroline," Bonnie would say with a resigned tone that would always put a frown on Caroline's face. "It is best that I do not draw attention to myself."

So it is certainly astounding to see Bonnie this bright; rose-colored cheeks and a mass of deep brown curls that reach her décolletage.

"Now, I am quite curious to know what has brought on this change. Have you met a certain Monsieur at the feast?"

Bonnie flinches; heartbeat becoming faster and erratic as she tries not to give herself away. As much as Bonnie has tried to convince herself otherwise, she knows the true motive for her sudden change of style. For some inexplicable reason, Bonnie finds it that she wants his eyes on her.

It is utter madness; wanting to provoke the King and rouse his emotions the same way he did hers. Nothing can come out of their involvement. At least, nothing good for her. At best, she will bear him a bastard son and hope that the King will throw enough money at a noble in hopes that he will agree to ignore her salacious past. Besides, it is naïve of her to believe she could entice him when he has such a beautiful woman by his side. With fair skin, bright blue eyes and red hair, the Queen is splendid and surely no man with his wits would ever disregard her.

Yet, there is something in Bonnie, something unfamiliar and quite dangerous that makes her want to ignore caution. Perhaps it is vanity that clouds her mind and causes her to wish for the King's longing gaze on her person. Perhaps she has simply lost her mind for wanting to play these games.

"No Monsieur has caught my eye, Caroline," Bonnie says with a chuckle, a little surprised at how well the lie flows from her lips. "It is Paris, we all should live in a merrier way, should we not?"

The ladies giggle again, all of them filled with anticipation and excitement for the day of celebrations. Bonnie clasps her hands together, overtaken by the same emotions. The reason for those, however, happen to be different than anyone else's.

"It would seem that fate is intent on placing you in my path."

The voice is filled with mirth and even though Bonnie has her back turned to the person who's spoken to her, the way her heart lurches leaves no room for doubt.

It does seem that fate enjoys playing with her. While Bonnie has donned the most enticing dress she owns in hopes of alluring just a simple glance from the King, she did not expect them to cross paths. Not while they are both unaccompanied. After all, a King is rarely alone during these grand festivities, often surrounded by Lords who wish to further their position.

"Wouldn't you agree, Lady Bennett?" he asks; cutting the distance in between them with a few strides. "You may rise."

Bonnie does so but averts his eyes; staring at one of the paintings hanging on the wall instead. Looking at the colorful drawing of the Duchess d'Angouleme amongst her garden of roses is more soothing than meeting his eyes.

"Will you not look at me?"

"Your Grace…" Bonnie starts to say, but pauses; lines of confusion etched on her forehead. Unwise words were about to come out of her lips without her control so she best keep them shut.

Looking at you makes me feel senseless, weak at the knees and I do not know why, that is what Bonnie wants to say, but she knows she would never utter this words to him.

"I have grown quite fond of your green eyes, I must admit," he murmurs to himself; the pad of his thumb tracing circles over her cheek. It's soothing and maddening at the same time, as she doesn't know how to respond. "I did not see you earlier at the gardens."

"Her Grace was not feeling too well and asked me to stay with her. How do you like the celebrations? Your Grace seems to be very… festive," Bonnie finally says as she takes a longer look at him.

Tousled hair and rosy cheeks, he looks like he has enjoyed his time outside in the gardens. As a matter of fact, Bonnie is surprised to see him wearing a white long shirt with simple embroidery instead of the customary tailored waistcoat made from a fine fabric.

He tilts his head back in a loud chuckle. In that moment, he looks like a man instead of the conqueror king he is. Bonnie can't help smiling, for he looks so very handsome.

"It is May Day, is it not? We should be festive," Niklaus says with a grin, the same wretched grin that gives Bonnie a fluttering sensation in her belly. His hand; warm and calloused, is now splayed against the small of her back, and Bonnie cannot tell if she should run.

A proper lady would apologize, bow to the King and walk as fast as her legs would allow. That is what she knows she should do. It would seem, however, that Bonnie no longer has control of her own body. So she stays there.

"Will you give me the honor of wearing your favor while I compete?" Klaus all but pleads, breaking the quiet moment in between them as his fingers travel to touch the curly ends of her hair. "It would seem that you are my lucky charm."

"Compete? Are you to joust?" Bonnie wonders; raised eyebrows in alarm. Although vampires are stronger creatures than most, the jousting tournaments have always seemed particularly vicious.

"No, just a harmless match of jeu de paume," Klaus says quickly, surprised with his urge to assure her. Most of all, he's surprised at how much her concern pleases him. "But I happen to be very competitive and have no intention to lose to the Duke of Orleans."

"And wearing my favor will help you defeat the Duke?" Bonnie wonders with a smile; the butterflies in her belly batting their wings with more force. As if their excitement is linked to the timbre of his voice. "I hardly think a small piece of cloth is that magical."

"Are you trying to imply I am so wretched at sports that not even your favor will be able to help me?" he asks; his tone showing exaggerated outrage. The dimples on his cheeks are a clear evidence of his ill attempt of concealing a smile. "You wound me so, my Lady."

"Your Grace, I would never," Bonnie pleads as she places a hand on her chest; her voice also light and jesting. "Here."

With a slight tremble to her hand, she starts to undo one of the braids that compose her elaborate hairstyle. Her curls fall down until they touch her shoulder as she pulls the blue silk ribbon. A present of her Lady Grandmother, to remind her of the simple times when Bessie would brush her hair and style it with colorful ribbons, is now her own gift to the King.

"I hope this gives you luck," Bonnie murmurs as she fastens the ribbon around his wrist. The item stands out against the pale skin, making it obvious that it belongs to a lady and not him. Thankfully, the long sleeve of his white shirt hides the colorful ribbon.

It shall be their little secret, Bonnie thinks; warmth spreading over her as if she has stepped outside during a bright summer day.

"I have no doubt in my mind that it will, my Lady," he assures her; touching the object with both curiosity and reverence. If someone were to look at him, they would think he is admiring the jewels of the Crown.

Another moment of silence befalls them as their eyes meet; this time the quiet is comforting. It is as if they do not have the need for words, and that connection terrifies Bonnie.

"Forgive me, your Grace, but I must leave," she says, forcing herself to put some distance in between them. Their bodies are close, too close to be considered proper. "Her Grace will probably start to notice my absence."

"Will you not give me the pleasure of your presence at the match?" Klaus asks as he takes a step forward; not pleased with how far apart they seem to be.

Bonnie notices he does not seem to be concerned with being seen by other people. Even though they are standing on a rather deserted corridor that leads to the royal chambers, Bonnie is still hesitant. After all, no one would dare to question the King and his desires, but she is not so fortunate.

"As much as I would love to partake in the celebrations, I cannot leave Her Grace," Bonnie says, shaking her head from side to side.

Emboldened, she reaches out to touch the fabric that's wrapped around his wrist. It is a small gesture, and yet, her heart is furious inside of her chest. Not once, in the twenty years of her life did she feel this way.

"I am sure that Your Grace will have a wonderful game."

"How can I lose when I have your favor? I shall be thinking of you, my Lady, for I cannot seem to stop myself from doing so," Niklaus murmurs; the sound of his voice barely audible. Bonnie herself can only hear it because his lips are so close to her skin that she feels his warm breath.

"I-" Bonnie starts to say, but stops when her voice is caught in her throat.

How can she respond to such words? Nobody has ever said this to her before and now, the King of England himself is saying them. It is almost like a fairytale. Or at least it would be if she wasn't a witch with no royal blood and he is already married? They are a little more than a doomed story.

"I will think of you, too," Bonnie whispers out after seconds of nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing. She utters the word while looking down at the floor beneath them instead of his eyes. She cannot look at him, for she will be utterly lost if she does so. "I must go."

Clutching the fabric of her dress in between her fingers, Bonnie lifts the hem to move faster as she makes her way towards the royal apartments, disappearing in the maze of corridors.

Still rooted to the same place, Niklaus can do little more than watch Bonnie's sudden departure; the longing expression settling on his face without his awareness. A longing expression that quickly morphs into a different one; one of anticipation and determination as he clasps his hands together.

Come what may, he will have her.

"I see you are in much better spirits, brother," Elijah comments as he walks past the two guards and enters the King's private chambers to see Niklaus enjoying a game of chess and some wine with Stefano Salvatore.

Elijah is not yet sure if the Milani noble is a good influence on Niklaus – his brother needs no more encouragement to continue enjoying frivolous pleasures – but he will not say anything for now. After weeks of self-despair, Niklaus has gone back to his usual self and for that, Elijah is grateful.

"It seems you were right, Elijah," Klaus announces, as he flashes his brother a bright grin before returning his attention to the game. "The Parisian air did make me feel much better."

Stefan, as he has been called ever since coming to English court, looks down and covers his mouth with a hand in an attempt to stifle his snickering. Parisian air, what a jest. All of them know the only possible explanation and it is certainly not the change of surroundings. With all of the sumptuous celebrations, the courtiers have been too wide-eyed or perhaps too drunk on sweet wine to notice what is right before their eyes.

"My Lord, will you excuse us?" Elijah requests; his voice taking on a graver tone as he keeps his clasped hands behind his back.

"As you wish, your Graces," Stefan acquiesces with a bow of the head before exiting the royal apartments. While it is an honor to be in the company of the King, joining some of the ladies for a late night entertainment will certainly be more pleasant.

"Come now, Elijah. There is no need to be standing there as if you were part of my guard," Klaus quips with a smile as he fills two goblets with wine. "Since you saw fit to dismiss Stefan, perhaps you should take his place as my chess opponent."

"I am sure you have summoned me so we could play chess," Elijah comments with the smallest hint of irony. Klaus tilts his head but keeps quiet as his brother eventually sits down and accepts the wine.

"I apologize for keeping you from your wife. Remind me to personally apologize to the Duchess tomorrow over breakfast," Klaus says easily as he breaks a small piece and brings it to his mouth. "When we return, I shall like to bring one of those cooks to London. They make the most delightful meals."

Taking a small sip of the wine – mulberry wine has always been far too sweet for his taste – Elijah studies the way his brother is behaving. Knowing Niklaus for as long as he has, he can tell there is something unusual happening.

"What is it, brother? I am pleased that your spirits have improved, but I cannot help but wonder the cause for your odd behavior," Elijah admits, frowning when his brother throws his head back in a joyous laugh and gulps down the wine.

"Odd behavior?" Klaus questions as he turns his attention to the ivory pieces on the chessboard. The Queen stood to the right of the King, as her rightful place. "Is my merry disposition now an odd behavior?"

The Duke of Somerset sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Out of all of them, Klaus has always been the blunt one, delivering his cutting words with no preamble. That impetuous nature of his has given Elijah much concern over the years, but at the moment, his own anxiety has him wishing to see the hasty side of Niklaus once again.

"If you would be so kind as to inform me why we are here. It is late and I wish to retire," Elijah finally says with gritted teeth. Though the day has been filled with delightful celebrations, it has exhausted him to the bones. Since the trip's main objective is to further strengthen their alliance with France, Elijah's done his best to work in charming the French Noblesse, which is no easy feat.

"You were right about coming to Paris. It has certainly given me the perspective I need to remain a successful king."

"And what is this new discovery?" Elijah asks, feeling his pulse quicken as he dreads the answer his brother may give him. If Niklaus desires to embroil England into another war, perhaps one with Scotland, he will be forced to against his King's wishes.

However, by staring at the way which Niklaus' blue eyes glitter, Elijah can tell this is not the look of a man who plots for war. No, that Niklaus is bloodthirsty and ravenous.

"A king is only successful when he creates a dynasty, brother. For that I need children, I need sons," Klaus says; gripping the goblet of wine so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "I have realized that I will not be granted any sons in my marriage to Aurora."

The sharp breath Elijah draws is unmistakable in the silence of the room. Klaus tilts his head up so he can meet his brother's eyes; an attempt to figure out one of the many thoughts that are swirling in that mind of his. It is no use, though. Save for the subtle paling of his face, Elijah does not allow himself to show him any emotion. A servant could enter the room and believe they are speaking of the hunting instead of serious matters of state.

"You wish for a divorce?"

Displaying a calmness that feels unfamiliar to him, Klaus shakes his head. For months he has been agonizing over his inability to fulfill the most elementary duty of men. After all, he has won a war, killed men with his bare hands just so he could avenge his father and sit on the throne. He is a conqueror and champion, and as such, he should be able to sire a son, many sons.

After seeing Bonnie, though, Klaus was finally able to understand the reason for his failures. She is the woman he needs beside him, the woman he needs as his Queen.

"No, an annulment. I am in a marriage that has yet to produce any issue. Rome should find no trouble in granting me an annulment just like they did the King of Portugal," Klaus says, remembering that Manoel I was in the same situation as him a few months ago.

"Niklaus, I understand your frustration, but this could have disastrous consequences," Elijah warns, already anticipating the doom that could come to England if Klaus put his plans in motion. "Louis is a vain man and will not be happy with you setting his sister aside. France is an important ally, and one of the reasons why Richard has not attacked us."

"Richard has not attacked us yet, but he will not hesitate to do so if I die with Finn as my heir!" Klaus bellows out; sending the ivory pawns flying on the floor in a burst of rage. "Thousands of men died at Towton, Father died at the hands of that bitch. I will be damned if I allow her even the slightest chance of having her blood back on the throne!"

Specks of crimson red appear, marring the clear blue of his eyes for the slightest of seconds. So much for being calm. Elijah winces in the subtlest manner, just the right corner of his lip twitching as it dawns on him that Niklaus' words are not of a man deep in his cups or just a burst of irrationality. It is worse, much worse.

"And who do you have in mind, brother?" Elijah wonders with a resigned sigh. There is no arguing with Niklaus, not while he seems so obstinate.

His keen tactician mind listing the eligible princesses who would bring a considerable dowry and help broker a strong alliance.

If England is to make an enemy out of France, they need to unite themselves with a stronger partner. The Infanta Juana is of appropriate age, and with her hand comes the mighty Spanish Navy.

"I have already prepared a document," Klaus supplies, sliding the piece of yellowed parchment closer to Elijah. "This contains the information I've gathered regarding my intended bride."

Elijah chuckles at his brother's level of preparation as he takes the parchment. His laughter dies as soon as he reads the words at the top, written in cursive letters and black ink.

Lady Bonnie Bennett, daughter of the Earl of Derby.

"You wish to marry one of your subjects?" Elijah asks; a cackle of incredulity betraying the gravity of the situation. Niklaus has lost his wits, that is the only explanation. "No king has ever done that!"

Illuminated by candlelight, Klaus looks downright predatory; much like the first time when they discussed battlefield strategy in father's study. Crinkled eyebrows in concentration as his index finger circles the thick rim of the silver goblet, one would believe Klaus is back at a tent in Yorkshire; pondering on the most effective plan for the vanguard. It is fitting, as Elijah has realized there is little difference between marriage and war.

"I reckon I will have to be the first king to that, then," he finally says, gulping the wine from his cup until his lips are stained red. "This should stay between us until we return to London. There are some matters that must be resolved before an announcement is made to the public."

"Yes, Your Grace," Elijah agrees with a nod, unsure if he should be impressed with Niklaus' absolute confidence or terrified by his lack of judgment.

"Will you not lighten up, Elijah? This is my future marriage we speak of, not a declaration of war!"

Unfortunately, Elijah fears those two happen to be different sides of the same coin, even if Niklaus is not yet aware.

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for all of your reviews! You may not know it, but they are all very important to me and hearing your feedback inspires me to write even more! There you have it, Klaus is stubborn as they come and in true medieval fashion, he's already decided what to do with his growing affection for Bonnie and a solution for his succession problem. This Klaus was inspired by two famous British monarchs, did you already figure out who they are? Let me hear your thoughts, guys!