Why haven't I updated? Somebody pointed out that I don't seem to have the same passion for OMIL as I used to. This is true for a number of reasons:
1) I've been writing OMIL for two years now. Seriously, the published date of this fic is February 5, 2013. When I began doing this, I had no idea it would go on for this long.
2) I've written almost 200,000 words collectively. That's longer than Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
3) I've written (including this one) 88 fics for OMIL. 88 is not a small number of chapters.
4) All the prompts are from you guys and sometimes it's hard for me to write them in a way that is fresh or coherent. (Love you guys, really, but some of the prompts you gave me were just plain random and sometimes strange).
5) I have a life outside of fan fic writing. Seriously. I go to college, I have friends, and I have other hobbies.
End of rant. Now on to the fic...
"Caroline is kols serving maid he starts having feelings for her and she starts having feelings for him they are kind of in a relationship he keeps telling her he's going to marry and she tells him no cause she's a serving maid" -julieanamikaelson587
"I was hoping you could do one where it was set 1400 or around that time, and Kol was a prince and Caroline was his servant and Caroline loved to tease Kol?" -Guest
He first sees her when she's three years old and clinging to her mother's apron. He's in the midst of some childish dream when he blearily opens his eyes as Miss Elizabeth quietly stepped into the room to make the fire in the hearth. It was chilly and he wanted to burrow further into the thick blankets of his large bed but the sight of gold in the room caught his eyes. She was his small and fragile, hand clutched firmly on one end of her mother's apron as the woman worked.
He blinks and just observes the little blonde thing. She's clean but her clothes are faded and somewhat tattered from age, an unassuming grey that clashes with the very luminescence of her. In her other hand, clutched to her shoes is an old doll that has seen better days, one of its black button eyes missing. He remembered his young sister, Rebekah, and her room filled with bright, pretty gowns and porcelain dolls, and even at the young age of five, he wonders at the contrast of their parallel worlds.
He watches quietly now as Caroline, long having taken over her mother's job, makes the fire for the hearth. The room is chilly and he fights the urge to hide underneath the covers for the very sight of her is too brilliant to ignore. She's in an old grey gown, the color unassuming on her, with an apron wrapped around her waist, her hair styled severely up and out of the way. And yet, he sees nothing but the majesty in her.
"Caroline," He says her name quietly but she hears him none the same.
She wipes the coal dust on her hands on her apron and turns to him, giving a customary curtsy. "Your Highness."
He stifles a grin. "So formal, Miss Forbes?"
"Of course, your Highness,"
He gestures for her to come closer and grabs her hands when she is within reach, pulling her unto his bed until he can smell the scent of citrus and sandalwood on her. Lovely girl. Lovely scent. Always so lovely.
He tucks some stray blonde curls behind her ears with care. "My Caroline, why do you resist?"
"It is not proper, your Highness," She says even as she makes no move to leave. "I am your servant and nothing more."
"Now, you know, my sweet, that is untrue." He kisses her lightly, his lips soft on hers. "You are mine."
She sighs as he rested his cheek against hers, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. He puts a hand on her nape and her lower back and sighs as well.
"I could give you everything, make you my consort, my queen," He says. "You will never bow to anyone ever again."
"A lovely fantasy, my prince." She kisses his cheek. "How you enjoy your fairytales."
He pulls back from her and stares deeply into her blue eyes. "Are you not Cinderella and I not your prince?"
"Glass slippers would not suit me, I'm afraid," She giggles breathily. "And the rats and ashes are much more suited for my station."
"I can change all of that," He clutches her hands tighter in his. "Let me give you what you deserve."
"No one deserves anything," She finally pulls away from him, getting to her feet and the walls she keeps between them come back up. He is the royal again and she the servant. "Good morn, your Highness."
She curtseys briskly and leaves. The room is colder with her gone, the warmth from the fire a myth as he burrows under his blankets and wills sleep to return to him. He will try again tomorrow with her. She would have to give in eventually and well, happily ever after and all that.