Part 6
Renovation of a home as large as the Abattoir was not like any renovation she had seen before, that when the activities started and the day grew closer and closer, even Caroline who had initially volunteered to stay behind at the farmhouse was drawn into avid anticipation. It was the little girl in her, she thought, who had eagerly jumped into playing house and dreaming of raising a family behind white picket fences. It was the kid that bounced in the toy store to select dollhouses and made miniature furniture out of cardboard and scrap wood and drew and colored paper doll clothes for cardstock boys and girls.
One of these days, if she was still here, she would teach Hope all the ways you can pose paper dolls and maybe make a sense out of glitter so that the ball gowns they make would sparkle. Gowns were made to sparkle, especially when the girls that wore them were treasures. Hope should know that. It was, after all, Hope's own father that made her realize that.
When Caroline was younger, her mother fancied a renovation to give themselves a fresh start. It took the better part of a week. Caroline remembered it as a core memory from her childhood, because it was five whole days when they were eating fast food or bringing home food from the diner. She had thought it was awesome. It turned out there were just a couple notches above homeless. But her friends found it cool when Caroline talked about burgers and pizza and tacos morning and night. Obviously, lunch was the special of the day in the school cafeteria, so that was mostly just unimpressive. When Caroline finally went home, the countertops were limestone, the kitchen cabinets were repainted, and the flooring was refreshed.
She did not know how much larger the Abattoir was than her childhood home, but it was at least ten times. She grew up in a three-bedroom humble home. While she had not explored the Mikaelson compound when she was stealing away Marcel Gerard's precious prisoner—and she still abhorred this vampire that she did not know firsthand—and had not had a chance to take in the detail of the place, Caroline did know there was the courtyard where she had seen the spelled circle and the mess of wrought iron benches and tables and cracked pottery, that wide open space that crawled with the plants that grew wild after its abandonment. There were several wide balconies that faced the cobbled old Spanish streets, bedrooms for every sibling and then some for guests. Rebekah regaled her with stories of massive libraries and marvelous receiving rooms for politicians and old allies while she sat with Caroline and Hayley and urged them to help her select furniture to import.
Hayley had demurred from making selections for the salon or the dining rooms, preferring instead to make suggestions for the courtyard and then going through the wooden toy catalogue for what she knew would interest her daughter.
Caroline, on the other hand, took to the task like a duck takes to water. In the week that Klaus had excused himself for being away and busy for most of the days, letting her know that the compound was being cleared of the rubbish that accumulated after the looting and during the family's exile, she and Rebekah selected dark woods and grain patterns that would fit the old world aesthetic of the architecture. Then, very thoughtfully, they poured through textiles and color themes for the family rooms. She should have known that they would find a common interest in digging deep into the world of décor.
She would bring some refreshing changes, Rebekah assured her. Whereas the compound has been countryside baroque before the destruction, Caroline started layering in provincial rococo in the selections, to Rebekah's delight. She hummed in pleasure at the prospect of finally being able to install more of her taste in the style, knowing that her brothers would not oppose or scoff at them anymore.
"Because we're three versus two," Rebekah declared. Kol and Freya did not count, she claimed, because they could hardly be bothered with their noses stuck in grimoires.
Hayley arched her brows and looked up from the brochures that she had been marking on. "Don't bring me into it."
"Two for two then," Rebekah claimed, unbothered. "But we're the most persuasive two."
While Hope's mother rolled her eyes, Caroline did not object. It was fact anyway, and Hayley had slid into the easy comfort of her place in the family. Hayley would much rather stay in the bayou or run free and wild, but she accepted the change in her life and would do anything to give her child everything she never had. It was an odd sort of comfort to Caroline, even with the strange dynamic and connection that they had, that she could feel no attraction or chemistry between two people who shared a child between them. She truly did not know how she would be able to deal with either a close friendship or seething animosity between the two. Having come from a broken home, Caroline knew that if there was a hint of any spark between those two, she would have walked away.
Even if it hurt, even if it killed her.
Caroline leaned back in the dining room chair and observed her two new—friends. She missed Elena and she missed Bonnie; could not believe that they would never be together again as a trio. She blinked away the mistiness in her eyes. Someday maybe they would find a way. But today she was alive and needed desperately to keep herself sane. She had lives to sustain. And now she had friends who could not be more different from her friends in Mystic Falls, who both started as nemeses of hers, but Caroline knew in the short span of time since they reconnected, she trusted with her and the babies' lives.
Klaus trusted them both with her after all, and she knew how discerning Klaus was of the people he trusted. Blood relationship did not automatically bring you to the inner circle. Finn was proof of that, and so was Freya, apparently, when she first reunited with her brothers. Neither did being a hybrid take you a notch higher in his esteem—Tyler was a case in point. So Rebekah and Hayley hanging out with her while Klaus pretended and made up stories about what occupied his time during the day as if Caroline did not suspect what he and his siblings were doing, told her that she would be safe from everything she ran from. While Caroline was not helpless—and she would strangle Klaus if he ever thought that, an Original and a hybrid having your back did not hurt one bit.
Even if she knew what Klaus did for most of the day, it did not make her miss him any less. At the end of the week, Caroline waited for him at the rocking chair outside the porch, where she had stayed waiting for him when he had run in his wolf form, hoping that if she stayed later she could meet him when he returned. But the night grew late, and Caroline swore it was her sleepiness, half awake and dreaming, that made her imagination to run wild. Immediately her hand flew to the curve of her belly. She swore she felt eyes from the direction of the darkness, eyes that watched her, that sought to look closer, barred only by Freya's shield placed around the farmhouse.
"Caroline," was the curt, cutting voice from Rebekah, "go inside."
She did not need to be told twice, knew exactly why she was here and what the purpose was of every person she surrounded herself with. She was under no pretense that she was a better fighter or vampire than these people she ran to. Caroline hurried inside while Rebekah scanned the surroundings with her sharper eyesight, then closed the door behind her.
"I need to call your brother."
Rebekah nodded. "You can tell him that I looked and found nothing, but call him if you want. He'll want to know if you're afraid." Without hesitation, Rebekah went back outside to look around.
If Caroline was still the same old Caroline that competed with Rebekah in Mystic Falls, the statement would have felt like a dare. Now, it just was.
Caroline went to the bedroom and sat on the bed, then reached for the phone. Stefan's voicemails and text messages had built up, but Caroline swiped them to delete over and over without listening or reading them. She deserved more than someone who would leave at every turn. The overwhelming sense of power and satisfaction washed over her even when she decided to send a message to Klaus instead of calling him.
Within fifteen minutes, he was home, standing at the front porch, looking out into the darkness. He was establishing his watch, letting himself be seen, staking his responsibility over the farmhouse and the occupants within. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him from behind, because it had been too long since breakfast when she slipped her hand in his. His shoulders were stiff, his back too straight. While any other time she had no doubt an embrace could help him, she stayed away in case there was someone watching.
On the second week, Klaus informed her that the compound was cleared now of the broken and burnt furniture, and finishings that she had selected were being installed to the specifications that Rebekah indicated Caroline preferred. On that second week, she barely saw Elijah either. and wondered if he was 'supervising construction' like Klaus had been. She had been engrossed in choosing period iron bed frames or massive four posters, rejecting the ideas of blinds for sheer curtains, and needling Rebekah to spill more about the furniture that Klaus had insisted he order for the two rooms that he decided to personally design. It was impressive how late the decorators worked, because on that second week Klaus did not come back to the farmhouse earlier than ten. By that end of their day, she was completely sapped of her energy, and no amount of healing tea or blood bags could quench her.
~ o ~ o ~ o ~
Witches never learn. They were only as valuable as the spells they could cast for him. But they could be stubborn creatures, thinking so highly of themselves, forgetting the fact that despite his benevolence of allowing some witches to survive. They forget who he was. He was one of the old ones, and while he had been more measured since a little ball of light hit him in Mystic Falls and embedded herself inside him, making him glow and burn from inside, Klaus was still one of the most powerful supernaturals that walked the earth.
After two weeks of non stop work among Klaus, Kol and Elijah, one would think that news spread far about the absolute ruthlessness of their kills that they would slow or scare these covens enough that they would turn back. Instead, the most fanatical purpose-driven ones treated their march to New Orleans like a pilgrimage, like the Gemini twins were sacred or profane in their religion.
And so Klaus fought them off like he were in the Crusades.
Elijah loved the Crusades. And just like the bloodthirst that propelled his brother on those religious wars, the blood thirst this time was cool and collected and vicious. Elijah made him proud. He was magnificent. Klaus had missed this side of his brother—dispassionate, brutal, clinical. It took his older brother less than ten minutes to bludgeon a group of fifteen upon the roadside, and he did it all expressionless. While Klaus had shown his rage in his snarl, spitting in his anger at those who thought they could descend upon his city looking for those babies.
No one would come close to Caroline. Not while he was alive. And he was going to live forever, unlike those stupid, bloody mortal witches.
It was an hour before midnight. His body hummed with the pleasant sensation of his victory against another coven. Soon, he and Elijah would eradicate any possible threat that ever heard of the Gemini. He used Elijah's bathroom to wash off the blood and the guts that soaked his clothes and scrubbed off the soot that permeated his skin and hair.
He expected a wash of pleasure once he saw Caroline lying asleep in bed, but found the blankets thrown off halfway on the floor. His ears picked up the sound, so he made his way to the bathroom and found Caroline huddled in the corner right by the toilet. Freya had sent him a short message about this a few days ago, sharing about Caroline's morning sickness that just did not know how to follow the schedule or missed the lesson on the difference between morning and midnight.
Nor did his sister tell him how utterly exhausted and drained it left Caroline. He suspected that Freya did not know how bad it was going in the privacy of their bedroom.
"Sweetheart," he said gently, crouching in front of her. Caroline pressed her cheek on the cool tile of the bathroom wall, soothing her hot cheek. He reached to lay his palm on her forehead, grateful there was no fever. She was sweaty and clammy. Klaus could see the dried, sticky residue of tears on her skin.
She swallowed painfully, her throat raw from the effort of vomiting, the bile acidic and burned where it passed. "No, no, stay somewhere else tonight, Klaus. I'm smelly."
He did not have the heart to tell her that they lacked for options in the farmhouse. She could banish him once they move to the compound and even more so in the plantation. But this small bedroom was all that they had unless he bunked with one of his siblings. More than morning sickness was wrong with her if she thought he was going to agree to leave her looking like she was.
Caroline was obviously miserable. She did not even bother to put on cute clothes or anything, even if she now at least had a small selection of clothing that was hers and not borrowed from Hayley. She delighted in having her own clothes again and had given him an impromptu fashion show when he brought the bags home. He would need to take her out shopping himself. He imagined the sparkle in her eyes once she made her own selections.
He saw the discarded pajamas on the floor by the sink, then surmised the reason she was in a bedrobe instead of proper clothes when it was so late. "Tried to run to the toilet and never made it," she mumbled. "Puked all over them and I really wanted to wear that pair."
"That's a pity. You looked so pretty in them."
"I know!" she replied in despair.
"I'll get it taken care of. Maybe they'll be ready tomorrow and you can be pretty in pink then." Hell, if the pajamas were not washed and dried by tomorrow, he may just swing by the store and get her another exact same set if she was so stuck on that dainty flower print. Klaus started to reach for her, and she feebly pushed him away.
"Klaus, no," she insisted. "I'm not beautiful and strong and full of light right now. I'm wretched and I'm too drained to pretend this is attractive and too miserable to hide."
He sighed. Klaus did not want to sit in the bathroom, really. He had tried to be as silent as possible when he came home. Kol had requested to speak with them first, and Klaus had been in this using words kick that Caroline had been making him try before flying off the handle. And then they started talking about extinguishing the twins that were unnaturally still alive, so Klaus decided the time for words for over and set upon them even before Kol could say hello.
"Caroline," he said patiently, "you don't have a fever, so you'll need to explain to me why you're having hallucinations that you would ever be unattractive to me."
She turned to him with an expression of disbelief. Klaus tore tiny wounds in his wrist, then offered her his blood in an effort to get some color back into her cheeks. She scrunched her nose at the scent, then finally latched on when he insisted.
And then she abruptly pushed away his arm and rose to her knees, then threw herself over the toilet bowl and heaved. Klaus pulled back her hair and moved his hand in circles on her back in an effort to soothe her. "I told you," she sniffled, wiping the sticky saliva from her mouth. "You don't listen to me."
He was not going to argue with her at the state she was in. Her lashes were spiky with her tears and any fight would end up with him losing—whether or not he had the more rational argument. And then she closed the lid of the bowl and laid her cheek on the cool plastic, and the hell he was going to let that stand. He straightened and lifted her in his arms.
"Wait, wait. I need to at least wash up and brush my teeth, Klaus. I can't go to bed like this."
Klaus grumbled, shifting her in his arms and carefully setting her down so her feet touched the floor. He turned on the shower. He held tight to her so she would not slip. The shock of the cold water made her squeal. "Sorry, love," he said gently, wrapping his left arm around her waist as he twisted the knobs to mix the temperature properly. She rested her cheek on his chest as the shower battered them with warm water, drenching their clothes and soothing her. Klaus reached for the shampoo and lathered her hair. He kissed the shell of her ear. "It will be better in the compound. I'll make sure your bathroom has a nice, big tub."
She hummed in pleasure when his fingers worked into her scalp. "Sorry for being a bitch. It's your fault."
His eyebrows shot up. "Me, sweetheart?"
"You spoiled me, making me think I can say anything and do anything and to hell with consequences."
And somehow, even after massacring an entire traveling coven,thatwas his biggest accomplishment and made him the proudest. "Good." He helped her peel off the sodden robe, then took the soap and helped clean her up. The goal, he told himself, was to get her feel fresh enough to go to bed. He was surprised that even the glorious, glowing breasts and the gentle curve of her belly, which had several times been his undoing, did not cause him to harden in his desire.
He made quick work of her shower, then reached for the hanging towel to wrap it around her. Then, Klaus discarded his own soaking clothes and washed up, wrapping another towel around his waist when he finished. He glanced at her watching him from under the wet strands of her golden hair.
There it was again. That look that she never named. That look that fed and nourished him, that drove his action and inaction in equal measure.
He took her hand and led her to the sink, then squeezed the tube of toothpaste onto her toothbrush then his. Their hair was dripping, and Klaus watched their reflection in the mirror as they brushed their teeth in the most ridiculously human couple activity that they had ever done. He finished first, and he picked up a smaller towel from the cabinet under the sink, then scrunched dry her hair. She rinsed her mouth then leaned back against him, turning her face and raising her lips so he could meet her with a kiss.
"I can make do with a bathtub in the Abattoir—and none of those mini tubs," she warned. "But I want a jacuzzi at the plantation," she said into his lips. The sweet demand was soft and coaxed a smile from him. Her gaze fell onto his cheeks, and she dropped a kiss on each of his dimples.
This morning sickness even when it was not morning, that debilitated her to the point that she was hugging the toilet bowl, and now to this teasing, gleaming if still pale and shaky gift in front of him, confounded him completely. He helped her into a night shift dress, doubted highly that her unforgiving muscles would let her shimmy into long pants and suspected her patience enough that she would do a row of buttons or wait for him to do them. He threw on a pair of boxers. The night was warm enough for them.
She lay back in the bed and curled on her side, her eyes drooping immediately even as she patted the space beside her. First, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. Klaus reached to cup her face between his hands and waited. Nothing. His heart sank. The twins needed none of the magic he was willing to give, was offering without hesitation just so the roses in her cheeks would return. Normal, human, natural, but severe case of the morning sickness did not require magic to be siphoned.
Once those babies were born and grown, Klaus will make it a point to teach them that rules were made to be broken if it's for their own good. This stringent rule following was not helping Caroline at all.
He climbed into the bed and lay down next to her, and like she was called by his body heat, Caroline squirmed to press against his side and used his chest as a pillow. Klaus idly ran his fingers through her damp hair. "I know what you do when you're away," she told him sleepily. "I know why you have to do it." Klaus prepared himself for the lecture, or at the very least a reminder that he should not hurt or maim or kill. Instead she said, "Thank you."
He continued to soothe both of them by the repeated action of threading her hair though his fingers. One could be easily lulled to sleep. Her breathing told him she was falling, so he kissed her forehead and wished her goodnight. "I haven't been spending much time with you, have I, love?" And he was a fool, noble though his intentions had been, to finally have Caroline Forbes in his life only to be preoccupied elsewhere. "Maybe we can have Bekah and Hayley take turns monitoring the final deliveries at the compound. If you feel better tomorrow, I'll take you out on a quick tour."
"I like that," she murmured. Her hand rested in a fist above his heart.
With his one hand, he unfurled her fist and let her palm rest face down on his chest. "Couldn't hurt," he said softly. At the very least, let the twins have easy access if they were threatened through the night.
"I hope we're as happy as this in the compound. All I remember of it now are those stubborn wildflowers that ran wild in the courtyard, and that miserable circle that someone drew on the floor." The reminder of one of the most humiliating days he had gone through flashed in his mind. He was only glad she had not been there to see him paraded and caged, surrounded by the world's most bloodthirsty, presented by his own as a spectacle to establish his position of power. "I'll scrub it away," she promised.
"It's already gone, love."
When she was silent for a time, Klaus tightened his hold on her. He closed his eyes, pushing away the rest of the day so he could just relish the few hours. For so long, this was what he wanted. For a dark time in between, he had accepted that the first thousand years of his life had been so monumentally destructive that it ruined any chance he would have to take this, that too much blood stained his hands that he would never deserve this light.
And then he saw the look in her eyes, and the quiet moments after he buried himself inside her in that forest and he just knew. It was only a matter of time.
"I saw you there," she said, the hitch in her voice belying the horror. It was one thing for him to have those nightmares seared in his brain. It was another that she still carried it with her. "It was horrible. I can't even imagine how he thought you deserved that. He took you away from your daughter." She raised herself on her elbows, turning on her stomach. Her hair grazed his chest, a gold curtain falling down the sides of her face, her shoulders peeking out temptingly.
Nothing had been more beautiful to him in his thousand years.
He reached out so his fingers could feel the soft strands again. "I know, love. And I wish you can forget all about it. I don't want Marcel's actions following us like a shadow."
"I am in awe of your strength, Klaus," she told him somberly.
If they were still in Mystic Falls, and he had just only met her, he knew the praise would earn a smirk and an easy, 'Do go on, love.' But as he told her, he knew exactly where they were, could tack two points on a coordinate plane to illustrate.
"You tell me I'm strong and I'm a sniveling mess. After what you went through, I don't know how you seem so normal."
"Normal? That is the most flattering compliment and the worst insult you have thrown at me." His voice was husky, rough with emotion that he made no effort to contain. If he could forget being held captive he would.
"Do you—do you dream about it?"
He could drown in her eyes.
"I don't," he corrected her. "I have nightmares about it."
She rested her chin on his bare chest. "Can you tell me?"
"I don't want to burden you with them, love."
"They say that talking about your nightmares help you get perspective." She squirmed higher on the bed so she could press a kiss on his jaw. "I'm not just here for you to help me, you know. I need to be able to help you too."
"You help me plenty, love, just by being here."
Caroline shook her head. "I call you when I'm scared. I tell you what I want. Meet me halfway, Klaus."
How ironic her request was when he laid his feelings bare for her and she still ran around hers afraid to be caught. Klaus leaned his head back, and her lips found his chin, grazing her way across his jawline to the other side if his face.
Minx.
"I could still hear the sounds of people above me," he told her. "It was dark most times, but there's a few minutes when reflections are just right up there when sunlight would pour in through the cracks. That was the only time light chased the shadows away."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, even if it was not her fault. She pressed her lips on his temple, then moved to his lips and he tasted the burn of salt on his tongue, realizing she had kissed a tear away.
"The worst of all was when the blade buried in my chest. I was alert. I could and hear what was going on under all that pain, but my body would not move. Hell. Complete hell."
"I know how that feels," she confessed. Before he could react, she burrowed herself onto his side and wrapped her arms around his torso. "But just this once, it can't be about me. I don't want to talk about it. I know I would never feel that ever again, not when I'm with you."
"Caroline—" he started. Who made her feel the horror that he felt, conscious and paralyzed?
"Maybe someday."
Or tomorrow. Or yesterday. One of his siblings would find out. And then he would make sure it will be never again.
"Sweetheart, I am lucky that you're here, because I need you as much as you need me," he said thoughtfully. "You drive the nightmares away."
Were they each other's own amulets to ward off those memories?
~ o ~ o ~ o ~
Caroline blinked her eyes slowly, rising from her dreams slowly and languidly. Her lips curved. She was warm, so warm, and he was solid and steadfast beside her. She wanted to wake up like this everyday. She licked her lips and stretched. His arm was a heavy weight slung across her belly, like he was hugging the babies involuntarily. She sat up with a start and he did not stir.
No, no, no. She leaned forward, peering closely at his face. His coloring was healthy, and he just looked fast asleep.
What did you know? Caroline Forbes was right. Talking about nightmares helped. Klaus looked like he was having a restful, energizing sleep. She gingerly climbed out of bed, expecting to experience a dizzying wave of nausea. Instead she was steady on her feet. Her ears picked up the sizzling noise from the kitchen, then smelled the wafting aroma of breakfast sausages. Her stomach remained steady.
She walked to the bathroom and picked up the soiled pajamas and the clothes that Klaus discarded from them still soaking wet from the shower, then tossed them into the laundry basket. She set aside the slim hamper.
Caroline closed the bathroom door behind her, then caught her reflection in the full length standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom. She glanced back at Klaus still fast asleep, his arm now slung over his eyes, seemingly wanting to prolong his rest. She walked over to the windows and drew the curtains closed, hoping it would help.
Last night, she was at her rock bottom.
She was under no impression that he first became intrigued with her because she was brave, or kind, or intelligent. Caroline was brave because she had to be, but it was not her courage that made him follow her out of the bar after she had been sent into that bar with her hair in waves and her breasts in a push up bra. She was kind because people liked kind girls first, not because she naturally had a bleeding heart. And she was intelligent because she found people thought that they could spin a cute blonde around and she would never understand.
No, she knew exactly what drew him to her. Last night, she was everything but.
But today, she thought, well rested and the morning sickness that visited her almost daily as soon as she found out she was pregnant, finally calmed. She gave herself a radiant smile. No cheerleader worth her salt would forget to cheer herself on for this milestone. "Yay, you!" She felt great, and she was going to hold him to his promise.
She gasped in surprise when he flashed behind her, his bare torso warm against her back. His eyes met hers in the mirror, held her gaze even as he kissed the shell of her ear. Her arm raised and reached behind her to bury her fingers in his curls. He tugged down the thin straps of her night gown and let them fall down to the sides. The bodice fell, revealing her rounder breasts to the mirror. Her eyes fluttered closed.
"Look at you, Caroline. Look how stunning you are."
His hand came from behind and she watched as his fingers brushed on her arm. His hand cupped the underside of her breast. She gasped at the warmth that radiated from his palm. "Do you see how perfectly they fit in my hand? They were made for me."
Caroline leaned her head back, but she could not take her eyes away from his hand so firm and different from her breast. He seemed to have developed a fascination—or at least opened up about his obsession—to her breasts. "Or maybe you were made for me," she suggested.
That he was a thousand years older only proved his point did not matter when the pink tip of her nipple hardened into a nub and teased his palm. "I was," he acknowledged with a smirk. There was no other reason for the depth and the intensity of his feelings for a girl who constantly thought she was never enough to match with the universe he saw when he looked into her eyes.
"I was selfish when I said I want to be there for you for your pregnancy," he confessed. She held his gaze in their reflection in the mirror. "While I wanted to be there to support you, I must confess, love, that I really wanted to be in the front row seat to watch your body change in all the ways it will, so I can experience your genuine beauty, Caroline."
For some sick reason, that witch dying on her wedding day was a gift. Centuries from now, Caroline would have the memories of this time to return to and remember her womb quickening at least once, a monumental life experience that turning at seventeen would have deprived her of. And he could paint all of phases of her body, the degrees of curvature of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, the flaring of her hips.
Klaus had lost count of how many bodies needed to be cleaned up just in the last two weeks alone. And he would kill a thousandfold of that so he never had to let this go.
He raised his other hand, now cupping both of her breasts. "Did you notice the deeper shade they've taken now?" he asked, tracing her areolas until she bit her lower lip.
He was straining in his boxers, pushing up against her bottom. In her thin night gown, he was sure she noticed. Klaus placed his hands on her hips, his fingers digging in slightly, establishing his presence. "You're softer here." At that, he saw the slight alarm in her expression. "You are more beautiful today than you were yesterday; more beautiful then than you were the day before. I'm sure you'll be more beautiful tomorrow, even if it almost feels impossible how you improve on perfection."
His hands were so close and warm. He hooked his thumbs to the silk night gown that clung to her hips, then pushed them down so it lay in a puddle around her ankles. Caroline caught her breath. She had never stood in front of a mirror completely nude. And here she was, naked and pregnant with Klaus holding her from behind.
"You missed your calling to be a poet, Klaus. You're painting a masterpiece with your words."
His hands slide from her hips to cradle the slight curve of her abdomen. Her hands trembled as she hovered over them. Klaus moved to let her lay her palms on the babies, then he covered his hands with his. "Look," he told her, directing her to the mirror. "Remember that. Because I have it seared in my memory now. I am going to paint you looking just like that."
She turned in his arms, hooking hers around his neck and pulling him to her for a kiss. His hands grasped her bottom for support when she wrapped her legs around his hips. The nightgown lay discarded where it pooled on the floor, and Klaus easily pulled down his boxers. In one smooth motion, he slid inside of her and he was home. She breathed a prayer. Caroline's legs tightened around his hips as she moved up and down the length of him.
~ o ~ o ~ o ~
Sweet, fluffy, heavenly.
And sweet. Did she say sweet?
Caroline laughed when Klaus opened his mouth and received another mouthful of beignets, making it a point to try and capture her sugar-powdered fingers. No one would figure him to possess a sweet tooth, but he seemed to enjoy the delightful confection as much as she did. With how quickly they were consuming the treat, she was fairly certain they would be done with this version of breakfast soon enough. Their paper package was empty now, and Klaus tossed it into the bin.
Their hands were clasped together as they made their way towards the looming church structure of St Louis, his legs picking up pace the closer they came, a sure sign that he was eager. Caroline allowed herself to be swept up in his excitement.
"There's a wedding inside," he said quietly. Caroline could hear a trace of disappointment in his voice.
"We'll come back when it's empty and you can show me inside. If we're staying in the Abattoir, we have so many more opportunities to go," she told him.
Klaus made his way around the façade of the building with her. They stopped in front of an stretch of wall, obviously of another build than the rest of the more modern building. He told her the story of the fire that raged in New Orleans, and how the friar refused to ring the church bells to alert the town of the threat because it was Good Friday. "Three quarters of the town burned to the ground."
"This is where we made our first fortune in America," he continued. "When I claim we built the city, that is literal. We built the levees to protect the city from flooding, had a hand in laying the foundation for the architecture you see around you."
Klaus nodded in acknowledgment at someone behind Caroline. She turned and saw his brother. She had not even noticed that he joined them. "Elijah in particular had an in with the governor so we always won the bids."
"And it was your brother's charm and not compulsion," she teased.
"You would be surprised at how charming my dear brother could be," Klaus parried back.
"I'm sure Hayley would agree. She would definitely say he has more charm than you." She could not completely understand how it was possible that any woman who had been with Klaus could even see anyone else that could measure up, even if it was Klaus' older brother. "Although I can't imagine how."
"Sweetheart, you of all people know that how I am with you is a world apart from how I am with anyone else in the world."
Despite the comfort that he seemed to be in, Caroline could feel the tension in his muscles, the hyper alert stance. Sometimes she wondered if it was fair to impose the responsibility on him. She had started to ask about it once, but he shut off the doubt with his kisses, and then she remembered everything that he had told her of her place in his life.
"I know why Elijah's here. The date is over?"
"I need to take care of this."
"I know, Klaus."
He drew her close, then gave her a searing kiss. "And the date is not over. I promised you a day in New Orleans. I'll meet you for lunch. Elijah knows where to bring you."
Caroline nodded. She wanted protection, and he was ensuring he gave her what she asked for. Without burdening her with the full breadth of the work he took on, he made her feel safe. One night, when they thought she was asleep, Klaus disentangled himself from her. She felt the brush of his kiss her on her forehead. The Mikaelsons gathered at the dining room and spoke in hushed tones.
But the farmhouse was small and she still possessed sharp hearing even if she was a baby vampire.
He was so different in that meeting, intent, seething. She winced at his dispassionate tone, dispatching his siblings here and there with individual missions, using words like annihilate.
And then when he came back to bed, she pretended to stir and hold him.
She closed her eyes and embraced him tightly. "Keep yourself safe," she whispered softly. "Thank you." How many times she would say those words in the duration of her pregnancy? But he needed to know. Actually, he needed to know many things, and not just her gratitude.
In a second he was gone.
"He's leaving to do all those things your family thinks you're so cleverly hiding from me."
Elijah offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. To the city, they were a man and a woman out for a stroll by the churchyard. "I think we can be fully transparent with each other by now, can't we, Caroline?" She nodded. "I did advise my brother not to hide things from you. You seem far too smart to believe that he'd turned into a pristine, idyllic, non-violent partner, or that the supernatural threat had just magically disappeared." He sighed. "But Klaus has not lived a life blessed with long periods of happiness, so I thought I'd give him the privilege of pretending."
"You're a good brother, Elijah. But I hope that you know that he's not solely your responsibility anymore. You can let go."
"My brother's salvation had been my one all consuming mission for centuries. I don't see how I can just change the way I have been living my life."
"Well, you can start. I have a stake in his soul too. I promise I'm not going to slack off."
"I'm sure you won't." He offers his arm to her. "Now I have been asked to take over escort duties and I don't play around. I did fancy myself a tour guide once, when I wanted to feed off a flock of noisy tourists in Venice. After I compelled them to forget, they gave me the largest tip that the tour company ever saw that decade."
He turned her attention to the old wall that survived the fire and the reconstruction. "The governor had wanted to take down everything after that remained after the fire, so the citizens could put the horror behind them. But Klaus insisted to keep this part of the surviving wall from the 1800s." Caroline reached out to touch the rough surface. "My brother was right. It would be a shame to not have that piece of history laughing down at humanity now."
What an eerie personification of a worship structure. "What do you mean?"
"Every person that voted to tear it down is dead and buried in those cemeteries," Elijah told her, "probably had their funeral rites inside this very same church. And this old wall still stands here, cracked and worse for wear, but see how it sustains some life in the moss and the tiny blossoms springing from the cracks."
She liked that. It reminded her of the growth on the façade of the compound. When she was last there, it was a miserable place, and the only thing she loved was the wild growth of the flora that sprung in the cracks. She would be sad if the courtyard was pristine and perfectly manicured.
"The wall survives. They do not." Elijah turned to her and Caroline was fascinated by the hint of humor in his face. "And I hear you love old things."
How he heard that, she did not want to know. But again, the farmhouse was small and they were vampires. Caroline laughed. "I think you just teased me." Caroline tightened her grip on his arm. "I had been meaning to speak to you. I've been feeling like you were uncertain about me, that you were wondering about whether I'm worth all the crazy effort, especially when you just woke up. You have better things to do."
"Caroline—" he started, the objection dying on his lips.
"I'm not." He looked back at her in surprise. "If Klaus says I am worth it, don't believe the hype. I'm neurotic, too young and inexperienced, and more problem than I'm worth. He says I'm beautiful, but so are millions of other girls. He says I'm strong, and I am probably the weakest person he's ever—dated. He says I'm full of light and I don't even know where to begin understanding what that means." His somber regard was familiar, and somehow easier to spill her guts instead of to how tenderly Klaus regarded her all the time. She swallowed. "But I will be," she assured Elijah. "Because when he's with me, I am slowly convincing myself that I can be what he sees in me, and sooner or later I will be everything he says I am."
He expression morphed into burgeoning pride. "Welcome to the family, dear Caroline."
Very gently, he pulled his arm from her grip. "Now if you will excuse me for a second."
Caroline gasped when he flashed away for a moment, then appeared before her again. His mouth was bloodied. Elijah carefully took a handkerchief from inside his jacket pocket and wiped his mouth clean, then gingerly wiped the specks of blood from his hands. He tucked the soiled handkerchief away and out of sight. He shook his head when he saw a stain on his sleeve. "I hate it when that happens."
From behind him, Caroline sees two clumps of ashes. He opens her palm and presses two lapis lazuli rings in them. "I do hope that we will not need to collect as many daylight rings before lunch. I don't want my brother raging over the sheer hubris of these young ones while you're on your date."
Ever the gentleman, Elijah offered his arm once more. "Do you hear that?"
The air was filled with the haunting organ music. It would be even more chilling if they were inside, with the sound echoing in the cathedral, bouncing off the walls.
"Let me tell you about the Holtkamp."
tbc