The year was 1789, and the air was cold. Too cold. The annoying sort of cold when it was too cold to feel comfortable but not cold enough for my father to call off our royal responsibilities.

I sat leaning forward in the back of a carriage, looking out at the people gathered on the streets to watch us go by. A small girl grinned at me, waving her hands frantically at me before her mother could scold her. I smiled widely, waving back.

Besides me, my younger sister had no reservations either. Marie was always thrilled by the attention from the public and returned their adoration whole-heartedly. She constantly poked her head out of the carriage window and waved to those lined up on the streets. Unlike most young children, she didn't mind long carriage rides or publicity events if it meant she got to soak in her country-wide fame.

Marie was undoubtedly fit to be a Princess of France.

Now, I'm not saying that I wasn't fit to be one. Not at all. I did love being a Princess. I loved my family and the many benefits that came with being royal and wealthy.

I just hated that I had so little control over my own life. Every little detail of my life, from what I wore to where I went, was dictated by rules I had no say in. Sometimes, it made me feel like I couldn't breathe. The worst part was, I knew that I would be married off soon to some noble man who would assume control of me. I would never get to have my own life put in my hands.

On the other hand, Marie revelled in the entire experience. She was only 8 years old, and yet she could sit in a conversation for hours, twisting anyone around her little finger. She would tell stories that were definitely only half true and could manipulate anyone to fetch her what she wanted with a flash of her adorable smile.

As the eldest daughter of the King of France, and very much nearing eligibility for marriage, people were less interested in me for me, and more for my title.

I suppose my eldest brother Prince Louis must have had it worse. His entire life, he had been raised to one day be the King. There was so much more pressure put on him, but at least one day he would get to be in control. That's why he was sitting up the front with my parents now.

"I do wish I could sit up with Louis and Mama," Marie said, as if reading my thoughts. "People can see them so much better from there."

I scoffed, patting Marie's head affectionately.

"I'm sure you will be quite alright back here with me. Besides, it's cold out."

Marie turned to smile out the window again, watching the increasing crowds as we neared the Chateau de Versailles. We were finally returning home after months touring the nearby cities in an attempt to improve public opinion of the royal family.

"Maybe you should be out there, Caroline," Marie said slyly, gesturing to the front of the carriage. "After all, you need to find yourself a man!" She said the last part in the deepest voice she could muster.

"Not from amongst the peasants!" I replied with mock surprise, clutching at my chest violently.

Marie giggled, waving more frantically as we finally passed through the palace gates and the crowds disappeared behind us.

.

.

.

It was always nice to finally return home. After endless nights on the road, being back in my own room felt safe and cosy.

I walked around my room, running my fingers gently over the spines of my favourite books. There were dried flowers scattered on top of the books. Usually, any flowers I brought in were quickly cleaned away by the staff, but I guess no one found these ones.

I sat on my bed for a while, breathing in the smell of home and relishing in the comfort of the most familiar place on Earth.

I was interrupted, however, by my mother.

"Caroline dear," her smooth voice came calling from my doorway. "We have a party tonight and your father has just told me that you are to attend." My mother stood at the threshold to my room, her ashy brown hair pinned up with pearl-covered pins.

I sighed quietly at her news.

"Thank you, Mother." I obviously didn't want to go; we'd just gotten back, and I was exhausted. But there was no point arguing. What my father wanted he would get, and he wanted me at this party.

"You will need to be ready before twilight. Your dress will be delivered shortly." With a kind nod, my mother turned away to walk back down the hall.

I looked out my window. Behind the neatly trimmed roses of the garden, I could see that the sun was low in the sky. I would not have much time to relax before servants came to help me get ready.

I made my way to my bookshelf, choosing "la Vie de Mon Père" after a minute of contemplation. I managed to read through quite a few chapters before someone finally came in with a dress for me.

.

.

.

The sun was setting in a hazy spring glow as I admired my dress in the mirror beside my closet. It was a light blue, with flowers along the sleeves.

"Your parents will expect you very shortly," my maid Claire informed me as she fixed my makeup. She stroked my hair gently, careful to not disturb its placement.

"Thank you," I smiled at her as she stepped away. Claire had been more involved in raising me than my own mother, not that this was unexpected. As the queen of France my mother had many things to do which were more important than me or my siblings.

.

.

.

I sipped a glass of champagne and tried to pay attention to the idle rambling of the man in front of me. There had been so many already that I'd forgotten where this man had said he was from. Judging by the accent, he must have belonged to the Austrian nobility.

Finally, another man stepped in and distracted him long enough for me to slip away. I made my way through the crowd, avoiding eye contact with the people around me, my champagne glass firmly in my hands.

I slipped through the crowd, feeling almost ghostly. I went, for the most part, unrecognised, and saw no one who I wished to talk to.

That was, until I saw him.

He was standing by the balcony, a glass of red wine in his hand. Besides him, another man stood stiffly and spoke rapidly. However, he was obviously quite relaxed. And definitely not listening to the person beside him.

His eyes scanned the room before him, and as I watched him, they caught mine. I should have known better than to be embarrassed, but I was. I looked down briefly, before I remembered myself. I was the princess of France. I did not look down when someone looked at me.

When I turned my eyes back to him again, he was still looking at me. He smiled crookedly at me, watching me.

Before I realised what I was doing, I was weaving through the crowd, making my way towards him. As I walked up the few stairs to the balcony, he watched me.

"Princess Caroline of France, pleased to make your acquaintance," I introduced myself in English, offering the man my hand, which he took respectfully, kneeling briefly to kiss it.

"Lord Klaus Mikaelson, and my brother Lord Elijah Mikaelson." He spoke in a thick British accent, gesturing to the man beside him as his brother. What surprised me was that he responded in fluent French. His eyes were a clear, ocean blue.

"Pleased to meet you both. Your French is very good," I diverted my attention to his brother for a moment, offering him my hand. But really, I was still thinking about Klaus. He was the one who had caught my attention.

"Your parents are the King and Queen of France?" Klaus asked, seeming briefly impressed. This surprised me. Usually, I was treated as the highest of royalty, especially by the lesser noblemen. However, it seemed that Klaus was not nearly as impressed by my title as most of the other men at this party.

"They are," I replied politely.

"This is a riveting party," he said, flashing me with a white smile.

I held back a laugh as I responded. "Entirely riveting," I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice that he clearly picked up.

"You are not a fan of your parents parties, love?" He laughed. His brother watched our conversation, possibly debating leaving.

"Not when they mess up the seating chart so badly- I shouldn't have said that." Bad-mouthing my parents to foreign dignitaries was not in my job description.

"Ahh, the responsibilities of a princess. Especially in this political climate." I knew exactly what he was referring to. Recently, the public opinion of the royal family had not been good. The country had been facing food shortages and an increase in poverty, which the general population had been receiving the full force of. Many people were angered by the wealth we lived in, while they struggled through this cold spring. I didn't really know what to think about the whole ordeal. Obviously, I wished that our people could live more comfortably. But at the same time, we did not overindulge as much as I'm sure they thought we did.

"Our parents have dragged us around the country for the last few months to deal with just that situation," I admitted. I wasn't sure why I was telling him this, but I'm sure it couldn't hurt. Afterall, it wasn't a secret.

"I'm sure that was fun," he said, his tone questioning.

"To begin with it was, of course. I love seeing my country. But it does become very exhausting, and eventually it is just the same thing, over and over again."

He nodded slowly, as if thinking about what I was saying.

"France is a lovely country. My brother and I are hoping to travel through it a bit before returning to England."

"Have you been before? Your French is far too advanced for this to be your first time here."

Our conversation continued like that for quite a while. Eventually, Elijah left, and it was just the two of us talking. It was probably the longest I'd ever talked to a man.

"Well, it has certainly been interesting talking to you, but I really should continue to make the rounds," It took all of my years of social training and discipline to drag the words out of my throat.

"The pleasure is all mine, love. Have a wonderful evening," He took my hand again, pressing it gently to his lips. It was an action so many men had repeated, but this time it felt different.

As I walked away, I could feel his gaze following me. And as I spent the rest of the night making dull conversation, I remembered him.

Was there something special about him? I didn't know. But I did know that I wished with every part of my being that I might see him again.