Mona Lisa

"If you would just sit still we can hurry up this process, Princess."

When Klaus used the term Princess he wasn't meaning her official title. She was definitely hard work. Klaus had been warned as much but given her angelic features, those loose golden waves and creamy skin he'd obviously been lulled into a false sense of security.

"Well, if you had to act like a statue for hours then you'd probably understand my dilemma," she muttered, standing up and moving about the room obviously for his frustrated benefit.

Klaus was someone who spoke his mind freely but he was a little helpless in this foreign situation given her principal private secretary had sent him a one hundred page document on royal protocol. What he'd expected was being told how to address the Princess but what he got was no-go conversation topics and surprisingly some no-go touching regions.

Klaus was starting to wonder if someone had said the wrong thing to her once or touched her shoulder which was most definitely an area off-limits.

"I know this is difficult but…"

"Please don't baby me," she bit out. "I have enough of that from my family, the staff and pretty much everyone else." Klaus was rendered silent for the moment unsure of how to proceed. He was trying to madly recall what the manual said about this situation.

"Don't worry, there's nothing in the instructions about this," she added, approaching him. "Trust me, I looked. If there's anything I love it's finding a loophole."

"You should have been a lawyer, love," he grinned, before realising his mistake and correcting himself. "I mean, uh, Princess."

"Don't ever call me that again," she warned. "And that's a royal order."

"Noted, love," he repeated for her benefit.

"Trust me, a legal degree was high on my list of priorities," she murmured. "But apparently it wasn't important enough."

"There's still time," he replied, thinking he probably shouldn't be encouraging the Princess on an alternative career given her royal duties.

"How about you?"

"How about me what?" Klaus asked, surprised by the question given it seemed to come from left field.

"Why did you want to be an artist?" Although it seemed like an obvious question to most people Klaus didn't often share the truth. Usually he'd talk about sketching as a child and paintings that inspired him but for some reason he thought she deserved the truth.

"It was my mother actually," he coughed nervously. "She taught me to paint when I was younger."

"Does she still paint?"

"Uh, not anymore," he mumbled. "She died when I was seven." He immediately saw the pitying look on her perfect features, something he had tried to avoid and hence his reluctance to share that particular memory.

"I'm sorry," she uttered, placing her hand over his in an attempt to comfort him. Klaus would be lying if her unexpected touch hadn't caused some foreign sensations to course through his body.

"How are you allowed to touch my hand?" He asked trying to lighten the mood, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "That wasn't in the manual."

"Oh I can touch anything I like," she assured him.

"Why do I suddenly feel objectified?" Klaus baulked, pretending to be offended.

"I don't write the rules," she chuckled. It was the most relaxed he'd seen her all day. "I'm sorry for being so difficult, I just don't like my picture being taken and I suppose that extends to sitting for portraits too."

"Boy were you born into the wrong family," he teased.

"Tell me about it," she drawled, moving away and taking her rightful place back on the chaise.

It was two months later and Klaus had been notified that his portrait was going to be officially unveiled at the palace in a fortnight and his presence was expected. Klaus wasn't excited about that prospect and had declined the invitation.

Portraits weren't his passion but he'd reluctantly agreed after a long bout of unemployment due to a lack of creativity not expecting the project to stir so much inspiration within his soul. He'd painted her unlike anything he'd painted in a while. He could still hear her melodic laugh and complaints of her ass falling asleep as he painted.

Caroline had become his unexpected saviour but Klaus knew seeing her again would stir up way too many unresolved feelings.

The doorbell rang in short and sharp bursts that didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Klaus threw the pillow off his face in frustration, knowing they weren't giving up anytime soon. He was dressed in fitted, grey boxers and not much else but decided to go without a top. If anything just to deter the annoying person on his doorstep.

"What do you want?" He growled, his eyes slowly adjusting to the invading sunlight streaming through the door.

"Well, a few extra items of clothing perhaps," she drawled, her eyes travelling southwards. "Are you always this charming in the morning?'

"Pretty much," he uttered, kicking himself mentally for being so scantily attired. "What can I do for you Princess?"

"Oh please," she growled, pushing past him inside. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that."

"Do you always just invite yourself into people's houses?"

"Only when they're grouchy and in obvious need of caffeine," she muttered, powering towards the kitchen. "Let's just hope you have something worthy to work with."

"You make coffee?"

"Only for inconsiderate idiots that aren't morning people," she growled, playing with his coffee machine.

"And how am I inconsiderate?" Klaus countered, trying to ignore just how beautiful she looked with her hair pulled back and dressed in casual skinny jeans, ballet flats and a striped sweater. Very different to how he'd painted her in that royal blue dress and crown.

"You won't attend the unveiling," she growled. "Given it's your painting I assumed you'd be there."

"I'm not the star of the show, it's you, my Mona Lisa," he said self consciously, finding a nearby white t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

"Call me stupid but I thought we might have shared something that day," she whispered her gaze now downcast. "You brought out a side of me I haven't seen in years. The Queen even remarked just how alive my eyes look in that portrait. You brought me back." The words hit him with blunt force but he wasn't sure how to respond to such a candid comment.

"I'm not the guy for you," he lied, thinking that was all he wanted.

"And who is? Some wealthy wannabe royal that my parents deem suitable? I didn't choose this life or this destiny but I have every intention of choosing who I want to be with. But if you're not interested then…"

Klaus didn't need to hear any more, moving forward and capturing her lips with his. She melted into him immediately, abandoning the coffee making to massage his mouth. He didn't think anything could feel so right, until now.

Princess Caroline married revered artist Klaus Mikaelson a year later. Shortly after the royal wedding they moved to Boston where she began her law degree and Klaus opened his own gallery and adjoining art school for children with many of his paintings inspired by his one true love he never dared to call Princess.