25 Days of Klaroline: Day 17 - Klaroline + Royalty

FYI - This is very loosely based on how Prince Frederick of Denmark met his Australian wife Princess Mary (although this is set in the USA for obvious reasons).

The Prince and the Showgirl

Atlanta, Georgia - Summer of 1996

"Can I buy you a drink love?" A voice asked above the loud chanting in the Wrecking Bar. Caroline closed her eyes momentarily, dreading the ensuing awkward conversation where she had to tell whoever it was, yet again, that she wasn't interested.

Atlanta was hosting the Summer Olympics, and as such all of the pubs and restaurants were filled with athletes and tourists from all over the world.

Although she loved the buzz and atmosphere it brought to her home city, Caroline couldn't help but feel that they'd been overtaken by a new type of male breed. The testosterone was still as strong as ever, but combining it with sport and competition seemed to take it to a whole new level.

Currently, the English rowing team was celebrating their gold medal in the double sculls that day, not that you could miss them. Their loud and out of tune rendition of God Save the Queen was unmistakable. Truth be told, even if it was the Star Spangled Banner it would be just as bad, their drunken singing was that terrible.

She was going to kill Katherine for dragging her out tonight. Katherine loved nothing more than a buffed sportsman, and was happily joining in the celebrations over the other side of the bar.

Almost too scared to acknowledge the stranger, Caroline's head swiveled around trying to locate the source of the barely heard question.

Underneath his blue baseball cap she could make out a few stray blonde curls that had escaped, remnant stubble on his chin and lips the colour of deep crimson. His eyes and face were partially obscured by the peak of his cap. Against her better judgment she answered.

"I can't understand you," she raised her voice trying to be heard over the din.

"Is it because I'm English?" He joked. She mentally rolled her eyes wondering how she got stuck with this smart ass.

"Last time I checked we both speak the same language, albeit with a different accent," she explained slowly for his benefit. "I meant I couldn't hear you over all the noise."

"I can understand why with God Save the Queen on repeat," he laughed, choosing not to address her obvious insult.

"If only she could hear them now," Caroline groaned, shaking her head.

"I don't thing she'd mind too much."

"And how would you know that?"

"Just a hunch," he replied mysteriously. "I actually asked if you'd like a drink love."

"I'm fine."

"Well you don't seem fine," he countered.

"You don't even know me," she scoffed, wondering who this stranger thought he was.

"Well if you don't mind me saying, you seem like you have a big stick up your ass," he offered.

"You realise that treat them mean, keep them keen is a myth created by men as an excuse to be idiots?"

"I didn't realise I was being mean, I was just making a general observation, love."

"I can't believe I'm even entertaining this conversation with you," she growled, growing increasingly impatient.

"Why not?"

"Well for starters; are you really brave or just trying to get yourself killed?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" He asked, obviously perplexed by the turn in the conversation. She leaned over and touched the orange emblem on his cap for extra affect.

"You're in Atlanta Braves territory, but you're wearing Mets memorabilia," she shook her head disapprovingly.

"Let me guess they don't like each other much?"

"Major baseball rivals, but I suppose given you're a foreigner you had no idea."

"I think my now former friend was playing a joke on me, and I'd really like to stay alive tonight," he laughed, pulling off the cap and giving her a full view of his face. Not only was he far more attractive than she was expecting, he also looked extremely familiar.

"You look familiar," she spoke, without thinking.

"Is that your line?"

"Hey you were the one asking if I wanted a drink, not five minutes ago," she spluttered feeling a blush cross her cheeks.

"So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want a drink love?" He asked again, his cute dimples only accentuated distracting her further. "I promise it's only a drink, not a marriage proposal."

"Fine," she relented, wondering what this guy was doing to her. It must have been the English accent. "Vodka, soda and lime." He gestured to the bar tender just as a brunette came over and joined them.

"Oh if it isn't my former friend," he growled, throwing the hat at him. "Way to embarrass me."

"It was a joke," he chuckled.

"You realise I wouldn't need you if you didn't make me wear stupid hats," he grumbled, noticing Caroline watching them with avid interest. "Stefan, this is?"

She looked between them curiously, wondering what was going on and wondering whether to answer, it was all so weird.

"Caroline," she murmured, probably against her better judgment.

"Caroline," Klaus repeated, and she couldn't help but think how nice it sounded rolling off his tongue. "This is Stefan, we used to be friends."

"He's just in a mood; I'm the only friend he's got in this country."

"Ha ha," he quipped sarcastically. "As much as I enjoy our time together…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. On that note, I'm going to go far over there," Stefan sent her a quick smile and walked away from the bar.

"So that was weird," she murmured.

"Well, that's Stefan for you," he replied handing her the drink. "Now tell me about yourself Caroline."

"What do you want to know?"

"Your hopes, your dreams, what you want in life."

"Oh please, enough with the lines," she groaned.

"It's not a line, I'm genuinely interested," he argued. "Maybe we can start off with something easy like what you do for a living."

"I'm a dancer," she said, not bothering to elaborate further.

"What kind of dancing?"

"Not exotic, if that's what you were imagining," she shot back, sending him a dirty look. "I'm the Prima Ballerina for the Atlanta Ballet. "

"It never entered my mind," he chuckled. "Wow, I've heard how strict that can be, should you be drinking?"

"It's okay mother," she replied, rolling her eyes for extra effect. She was so sick of people telling her what she could and couldn't do.

"It's actually Klaus, not mother."

Caroline realised why he suddenly seemed so familiar. She was in the presence of royalty. How could she miss that? She almost dropped her drink realising Niklaus Mikaelson, Prince of England and Heir to the British Throne was sitting less than a metre away. No wonder he knew the Queen so intimately given she was his grandmother.

"You're doing that thing," he began, and she couldn't miss the way his face fell.

"What thing?" She asked curiously, before realising she shouldn't be addressing royalty in that way. "Your Highness."

"There it is," he smiled knowingly, placing his drink on the bar. "As nice as this has been, I should be going."

"What just happened here?" She spluttered the confusion on her face evident.

"My identity has been compromised," he explained. "And as much as I want to talk to you, I have no interest in being fawned all over because of who I am."

"Excuse me?" She asked, standing up from the bar stool and placing her hands on her hips.

"It's okay," he said. "No hard feelings."

"No hard feelings?" She growled, her anger only building. This guy might have been a Prince but he had no idea how to treat people. "You arrogant jerk, you realise the five minutes I've spent talking to you I'll never get back?"

Klaus let out a laugh, only confusing Caroline further. What the hell was going on? Was he drunk or just a complete weirdo? Pity he was so gorgeous when he smiled.

"People don't usually talk to me this way."

"Well they should given your obvious lack of manners," she shot back defiantly. There was no way this ass was getting away with it, even if he was the fucking Prince of England.

"They're usually too busy trying to…"

"Fawn all over you?"

"I realise how…"

"Arrogant?"

"Yes how, um, arrogant that might sound," he repeated. "It's just difficult when…"

"You're a Prince."

"Do you always finish people's sentences?" He grinned, taking his seat again.

"Only when they're as annoyingly predictable as yours," she smiled.

"I'm sorry, I guess it would just be nice to be treated like Klaus and not His Royal Highness Prince Niklaus Mikaelson for a change."

"I have no intention of fawning over you; in fact I'll be as nasty and disrespectful as you want Klaus." She said emphasizing his name for extra affect.

"Well, only if you promise," he joked. "So what brings you here?"

"You mean that in a non-pick up line kind of way, right?"

"Of course, I mean I am only visiting your fair country, and you seem…"

"Too smart to be seduced by you?"

"Ouch, when you said nasty, you meant it," he drawled, pretending to be offended.

"I'm indulging my friend's Olympic fantasy," she raised her eyebrows and gestured to the brunette who was getting cozy with one of the successful rowers.

"And you don't have one of those?"

"I'm not into sportsmen," she replied shrugging her shoulders. "They're not really my type."

"So what is your type?"

"Oh you know just normal all American guys," she teased. "Don't worry; English Princes don't even rank in my top fifty."

"Why not?"

"I don't really like crowns to be honest, they have this tendency of messing up your hair," she quipped.

"I hear you," he joked. "How about we get out of here?"

"What will your friend think?"

"Friend?"

"You know Stefan, the brooding brunette, about yea high?"

"Stefan's my bodyguard," Klaus explained. "Plus after that that incident, I'm not sure I care what he thinks."

"You, me and Stefan," she joked. "Sounds like a fun threesome."

"Oh I have no intention of inviting him along," he laughed, taking her hand. "Care for an adventure love?"

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, his dimples or the way her skin tingled from his touch, but Caroline nodded, excited for the night ahead.

"Hang on; I'm not going to get in trouble am I?"

"For what?"

"Well, you know, abducting royalty?" Klaus looked at her, his face deathly serious.

"Oh it carries a life sentence," he said making her inhale sharply and stopping in her tracks. "Don't worry I'll put in a good word for you with the judge."

It was only then that he finally let out the laugh he was suppressing.

"You're hilarious," she drawled. "Let's get out of here before I change my mind."