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queenslayerbeeTitle: in this wild city, you had to fight.
Fandom: Plecverse.
Character/Pairing: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson.
Rating/Warnings: M, temporary character death.
Summary: 1916. After Klaus fails to bring Marcel back from the war, Rebekah convinces him to go to a play, in search of a nice distraction. It works, when an actress captures his attention.
Word count: 6.1k.
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Learning about Marcel’s second abandonment had, in Klaus’ opinion, made Rebekah even more insufferable than the first one.
Her childish rancor, her forgetful attempts at giving him the cold shoulder —those, he could deal with. Her insistence that, now that they’ve both been spurned by Marcel (an idea that Klaus, should be noted, resented), they were on the same side, was a tad harder to swallow.
Especially when she tried to drag him into her latest hobbies. In this case, regional theater.
He scoffed every time he heard it. But Rebekah eventually worn him down, and there he was: facing a stage that his sister had generously called quaint, about to watch how a group of barely-above-amateur actors defaced Shakespeare.
Much Ado About Nothing wasn’t quite his favourite play —he was partial to the Roman histories, of course—, but he still didn’t think he was ready to witness what this troupe would to to deface it.
“Try to at least enjoy yourself a little, will you?”, Rebekah snapped. Oh well. It seemed that the truce period was almost over. At least he wouldn’t have to come to another play.
The curtains opened, and to be fair, Klaus had mostly been right. The actors were, in their majority, just the right side of mediocre. Some lacked technique, others could’ve very well been reading straight from the pamphlet. Nothing he’d chosen to see by himself.
Except for the actress playing Hero.
Her blonde curls were styled skillfully, falling in a cascade that framed her face delicately. Her simple white dress made her look like an angel. Her smile and her eyes were candid, vulnerable. And most of all, she had a commanding energy that made one’s eyes stray in her direction, even when the focus of the scene was at the other side of the stage. She outshone everyone around her.
Klaus, certainly, couldn’t take his eyes off her.
After the play was over, and the actors addressed the public, her smile turned sharper, her eyes triumphant. It was the look of someone that knew how good she was, aware that she deserved to be at the center of the story. That’s when Klaus knew he had to speak to her.
He stood up to clap, making a few people around him follow him with confusion, while Rebekah looked at him with skepticism. She’d grown restless during the play; no doubt, she wouldn’t be dragging him to subpar performances in a while.
“We have to talk with the director!” he said, enthusiastically, as he buttoned his jacket. “They must come to the mansion, to celebrate their success. And I’m sure these troupes could always use new patronage.”
Rebekah stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.
The director, Mr. Saltzman, a tall man with a self-conscious smile and floppy hair, seemed intent in monopolizing Klaus' time during the night. Klaus hadn’t been mistaken about the crew’s funding, he guessed. But Klaus had only meant to talk with one person that night, so he dismissed him, exhibiting the lack of manners everyone accused him of, and cut through the crowd straight to her.
She was talking with a fellow actor, yet-another-brunette-man. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d played Benedick; not quite well enough, in his opinion. Klaus stepped in between them, putting him at his back, with his eyes intent on her.
“I thought I’d bring you a drink,” he said, “but you’ve been nursing that one all night. So I guessed I should abandon all pretense, and just came to talk with the most beautiful woman in the party.”
Her laugh had a marvelous, musical sound.
He could feel the other man move behind him, and saw from the corner of his eye how he walked away from them, affronted.
“That was a bit rude.”
She didn’t sound offended by it, though; her laugh lingered, mirth in her eyes. So he extended his hand, an angelical smile on his lips.
“My name is Klaus Mikaelson.”
She shakes it with her own gloved hand, looking charmed despite herself. "Caroline Forbes."
Then, Caroline opened a small journal placed next to her glass, and started writing on it, something quick and incomprehensible Klaus didn't get to read. Amused, he looked as she doodled something that looked like a giant chicken.
"You've peaked my curiosity," he said, pointing at her drawings.
She looked at him, shier than she'd showed herself to be, and deflected the question with a quick hand movement. "It's good for retaining things."
Sensing that path of conversation was a dead end, he tried something else.
"You were incredible tonight. I'd never seen Hero played as well."
"Flattery will get you somewhere, Mr. Mikaelson." She said, returning to her flirty demeanor.
"That accent... you aren't from around here, aren't you?"
"I am now;" she deflected, again. "I could say the same to you."
"New Orleans is my home in every way that matters."
They kept talking, as Klaus turned more and more amused (if slightly frustrated) whenever she dodged any personal topics.
"I must part home."
"Alone?"
"My roommate is already there. She's part of the crew, but she didn't go to the play tonight. I'll be fine."
"Please, allow me to walk you there."
She graciously accepted, after a pause, just like she accepted the offer of his coat and his arm once they were on the street.
She must've decided it was the time to turn the personal questions back to him, because she asked about his family, a topic where it was his turn to deflect.
"You've seen my sister, of course. I have a few brothers, but they're away for the time being. And there's, of course, Marcel." He paused, looking for a way to describe that relationship. "He's not my brother, but he's family nonetheless."
She seemed as capable of ignoring a touchy topic for someone else when she saw it as in avoiding her own, because she turned around with a question about his hobbies. But before he could continue with the pleasant conversation, Klaus felt someone colliding with him.
They had sneaked upon him, something that wouldn't' have been possible if he'd truly been paying attention. There were two attackers, covered from head to toe, and at least one of them, the one who faced him directly, was surely a vampire.
Caroline tried to push him off, and suddenly she was thrown against a wall by the second opponent.
A witch.
As he was distracted, Klaus went straight for his neck before he could say another spell, tearing it apart. The attackers ran away, the witch half carried by the vampire.
He walked towards Caroline, who was grabbing the back of her head in pain, looking utterly confused. "What happened?"
"You're bleeding." He said, regretful.
Without a second thought, he bit into his wrist, offering his blood. But when she finished drinking, the confusion turned to horror as she stood up and tried to step away from him.
"Where am I? Who are you?!?"
Klaus was speechless, not knowing how to take that question. She watched as Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, visibly calming herself down. "Do we know each other?" she asked.
Klaus had no idea of what to do with this turn of events.
"I'm Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson." A look of recognition passed through her eyes. She pulled out her journal, skimming through it, and relaxed a bit when she came to the last page.
"We talked, right? What are we doing here now? I'm sorry, my memory is... faulty." He'd never felt more undone.
"I was walking you home. I gave you my coat. A... a thief came at us. You hit your head against the wall."
She nodded, as if any of this made any sense to her.
"Look, let me finish walking you home. I'd feel better knowing you made it there safely." She accepted, again, but Klaus' mind was reeling. He'd seen humans in shock before, unable to accept the truth that was right in front of their eyes. But that wasn't what this looked like. She'd try to remain clearheaded, pushing past the fear. There was something else at play here.
“I’ve heard some things,” Bonnie teased the next day, before rehearsal, “about you, and a certain handsome, rich, potential new benefactor.”
Caroline spared a glance to the back of Enzo’s head. There was no doubt in her mind of where Bonnie, who hadn’t been able to make it to the play last night, had gotten her information. Caroline, at once amused and irritated, guessed he’d been jealous.
“Whatever it is you’ve heard, it's probably an exaggeration.”
She thought back on the strange night; she knew she shouldn’t drink when she got to parties with the cast. Her memory could get fuzzy.
Except she could have sworn she didn’t have more than one drink last night.
But thinking back on Klaus, she could feel the corners of her lips forming an unconscious smile. Her mind wasn’t clear on the details, but she knew she’d have a good time. And unlike their previous conversation, she had a clear image of his face after the attack, of his concern for her safety. She’d written that down in her notebook too, right after the comments about his accent and his eyes, and the quick doodle of a peacock that had greatly amused her to see again that morning.
Bonnie hummed, skeptical, but her face immediately closed off after.
“My, my, Caroline, what is this I hear about you and the Mikaelsons?”
Ah. That explained it. Katherine was the niece of their main benefactor, but Mr. Pierce’s health was delicate, and Caroline didn’t get the feeling he cared much about the theater trope, one way or the other. His niece was the one who seemed to enjoy hanging around the cast. And Bonnie never seemed comfortable around her.
Caroline, on the other hand, thought Katherine was fun. Weirdly intimidating, sometimes, but fun.
“They came to see the play last night, and they organized a party for the cast, afterwards. Mr. Saltzman hopes they’ll be willing to invest.”
Katherine’s eyebrow raised, interested. Her gaze was piercing, as if trying to figure out what she was withholding from her. Since Caroline herself wasn’t entirely sure, she wasn’t too worried about what Katherine could read in her face.
She collected her things and told Bonnie to wait for her, that she’d be back before rehearsal began; she felt that she needed a moment alone, to try and make sense of her head, so she started to walk towards the market. On her way there, distracted as she was, she collided with someone.
She looked up, ready to apologize, and almost screamed in horror when she realized that, whoever she bumped into was, they had no face.
No, no. That didn’t make any sense, she thought, as she hurried away. They might’ve been covered. She thought she remembered an uncovered head, but they must’ve worn a hat; maybe a scarf too.
She was almost sure she hadn’t seen any eyes. She hated the tricks her brain played on her.
“You know who knew a lot about magic?” Rebekah mused, just at the wrong side of derision.
“Rebekah…” sighted.
“That’s right! Our dear brother Kol. He always had the talent for it. I wonder how we could reach him to ask for help…”
“I do not have time for this, Rebekah.”
This conversation was making him miss Marcel even more than he already did.
“Maybe is not magic,” she said, placating. “Some humans simply can’t stand being faced with the truth.”
But in the light of day, Klaus was certain that wasn’t what happened. Caroline was rattled, yes, but she calmed down with relative ease. And that journal of hers, her questions. She treated it as if it’d happened before. She had said that her memory was faulty. And Klaus, always prone to second-guessing everything, couldn’t help but find it suspicious that it’d happen when he fed her. Earlier even; when the witch had used magic.
Hence, his current search among his mother’s spell books. But for once, he couldn’t find anything useful there.
“I know magic is involved, Rebekah.”
She looked at him, a drop of worry in her eyes. “You seem—"
“What.”
“Nothing,” she amended. “I’ll try to find something else for you, brother.”
When she left after rehearsal, Caroline was greeted at the door by a vaguely familiar face.
The woman looked her age, maybe even younger, but her tight curls were pressed in a style better fit for a slightly older woman. Caroline scrambled through her brain, and smiled politely when she finale placed her.
“Ms. Mikaelson.”
“Call me Rebekah, Caroline.” She told her, with a tight smile and a friendlier tone that would’ve been warranted.
“Is there anything you needed, Rebekah?”
“I’m just very interested in the arts, Caroline. My brother dabbles, sometimes, but I’m the one that takes interest in making something else of this community.”
Halfway through her little speech, something happened to her face. Her eyes reddened, and the skin around them seemed to crack, almost like—
Oh. She didn’t remember what they’ve been talked about. She should’ve grabbed her notebook.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”, she asked, putting it out then, trying to draw a quick doodle of Rebekah’s face, “I’ve been rehearsing for hours, I’m a bit tired, I apologize.”
But she didn’t repeat herself; she just stared at her for what seemed an eternity, as if trying to solve a puzzle.
“My brother seems quite taken with you, you know.”
A feeling of misplaced fondness (and more than a little pride) flooded through her chest when she heard that.
“Is he?”
“He came back last night late, without his coat.”
Oh, right. She remembered it now. She’d left it at her place, since the weather that morning had been pleasant enough.
“I’ll come back later to return it.” She promised.
“See that you do.” And with that, Rebekah turned her back on her, primly, and left without another word.
She felt the impulse to fulfill her promise sooner rather than later, so the next day she stood before the Mikaelsons’ mansion first thing in the morning.
Klaus is the one to open the door, with a more than welcoming smile. Caroline almost feels herself blush; something that she could swear hadn't happened since 1912, at least.
"I came to return your coat," she said, offering it.
"There was no need. I have plenty of those."
"But it was such a good excuse to see you again," she admitted, shamelessly. "I hoped we could talk about the other night? About what happened? Oh," she said, looking at his stained hands, "were you painting?"
He invited her in, and showed her a black canvass. It looked like an endless void; like the sky in a dark, cloudy night; like a deep well. It made her uncomfortable, as if she'd stared at it before.
"This, of course, has nothing on your doodles."
"You've seen my notebook?" She usually felt self-conscious when someone asked about it, but even if he was teasing her, it didn't feel like he was mocking her, or judging her in any way.
"You drew something when we first talk. A chicken, I think."
She gasped dramatically, faking offense. "It's a peacock!"
"Is it?"
"Yeah, well. You must have seemed incredible full of yourself."
"I've been called that, yes."
They laughed. Klaus offered to walk her back into the city, like the previous night. "It might jog some memories." She beamed at him, thankful.
"What did you say, to make me draw a peacock?"
"I have no idea. The only thing I told you was that you were the most beautiful woman in the room."
She basked in the compliment. "It must have been something about your tone, then. What else happened?"
He retold their conversation, thought Caroline got the feeling that it wasn't an exact account; that often happened, she had noticed. People didn't have the same memory issues she did, but no one had ever been able to give her a play by play version of events. That was probably one of the reasons why she loved scripts; it didn't take any effort to memorized them, and they relayed on everyone else telling the same parts to her again and again.
"You faced the attacker for me," he said, "that's why you were hurt. You were quite brave."
She should be annoyed that he was using the situation to further flirt with her, but truth be told, she was charmed. Her breath caught in her throat, and it was hard to maintain eye contact, with the way he was looking at her.
"There's another showing tomorrow night," she said, changing topics. "Will you be there?"
"I'd love to see you act again. And I'll be there to help, any time you ask."
He hadn't stopped staring at her, his words almost a whisper. The rest of the walk, she was sure she'd swallowed her tongue, unable to come up with an answer.
Very early in life, Klaus had understood that it paid well to have connections among the witches.
“A witch attacked me the other night. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?” he drawled.
“I know it wasn’t me,” Genevieve answered, smiling.
He let his mouth stretch into a smirk, making it echo an amusement he wasn’t nearly close to feeling. “I’d like to know it, if I should start worrying about the witches in this city. Specially if they start to ally with rogue vampires.”
Genevieve seemed slightly surprised at that last fact. He supposed he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.
“I can’t tell you much,” she said, almost apologetic.
“Because you don’t know or because you aren’t allowed?”
“A bit of both,” she admitted. “What I can say is that, something is brewing against you, and that it’s not organized by the witches. An old enemy of yours is back, and she’s intent on getting her revenge.”
His first thought, when he heard the word “she” had been a snapping, fearsome Esther in the back of his mind. But no, it couldn’t be. She was still in her coffin, he was sure of it.
He checked. Regularly.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me anything else?” he asked, with a cheeky smile, letting the eye contact linger for a few seconds.
“I’ve already said too much, Klaus.” Genevieve lowered her gaze, looking somewhat flustered.
A disappointed sight left his lips, a bit melodramatic. Then, as if it were a mere afterthought, he asked her if she knew anything about memory spells.
“A little,” she said, confused, “but that kind of magic is more on your side’s territory.”
“I’ve met with a strange case. And it is something beyond compulsion.”
Rebekah had all but confirmed that, whatever was going on with Caroline, it had a magical source. She'd seemed to take an almost scientific interest in the case, proposing ways to test its limits. But Klaus loathed the idea of his interactions with someone being erased so easily —at least, without his say-so. The fact that Caroline had forgotten at least part of their conversation already hurt his ego, even if he knew that was the least of their problems.
"The subject seems to react that way to supernatural occurrences. As if they'd been made to not react to them," he explained.
Genevieve's face changed in an instant. "The witches know of that case. But it wasn't our doing; whatever happened to that girl, she came with it to New Orleans. We took notice; it is an extremely powerful spell, Klaus."
Genevieve seemed to close off after that, trying to erase any emotion from her face. Klaus knew when he should stop pushing, and aware that he wasn't going to get anything else out of her that day, he said his farewells and quietly thanked her for the help.
Rationally, Caroline knew that taking pleasure in other people’s misery was something to frown upon. But Sofya had fallen ill and that meant she was going to be Beatrice tonight, that Klaus was going to see her as Beatrice. She was ecstatic.
“Try to be a tad subtler, or one of the ladies-in-waiting will push you down the stairs to get your part,” Katherine told her, her eyes shining.
“I can take them.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Both of them were behind stage, and Katherine was helping her prepare for the part; she didn’t exactly need to do so, but the warning had come with such short notice that Caroline wasn’t going to begrudge the extra hands.
“You know better than anyone how long I’ve waited for this, Katherine. They can’t blame me for been excited about it.”
“But they will anyway.”
“I don’t care. I’m playing Beatrice, Klaus is going to come…”
Katherine paused, letting Caroline’s hair fall. She opened her mouth, seeming deep in thought, and closed it again. “So it’s Klaus now, huh?”
Caroline got the feeling that wasn’t what she was going to say at first.
“We’re getting to know each other.”
“Aren’t you going a little fast?”
She knew Katherine was just concerned, but it bothered her that she thought she had a say in this. It was none of her business.
“I’m not going to buy a ring and ask for his hand in marriage, Katherine;” she snapped. “But I like him, and I plan to keep seeing him.”
Katherine stared at her, way too intense for her liking. “You’re a good person, Caroline. Strange things happen around the Mikaelsons, everyone knows that. I’m just worried that you might put yourself in danger by getting so close to one of them, that’s all.”
She clasped her hand against her chest, half mocking, half touched. "Glad to see you care." And then, because she wanted to make something clear: “But that’s my choice to make.”
"I supose it is," Katherine accepted, after a charged pause. She started pocking around her makeup cabinet. "Here. This lipstick works much better for Beatrice."
Klaus stood by the door when Caroline came to greet him, with an excited, almost manic look on her face. She looked different than the previous night, more vivacious, her hair wilder.
“The actress that played Beatrice got sick and now I have to replace her!”
She’d said those words impossibly fast and high-pitched, to the point that, Klaus was sure of it, mere humans would’ve had trouble understanding her. He smiled, entertained by her bubbly enthusiasm.
“It’s nothing less than what you deserve, love.”
She was so happy she seemed about to jump with joy. She technically did, hurling into his arms for a quick hug before running away. “Wish me luck!”
“Break a leg!” He shook his head, still feeling her arms around him. He sat on one of the seats closer to the door, and waited for the play to begin.
If he’d been taken aback by her performance as Hero, it was nothing next to what he saw that night. Beatrice’s anger and self-righteousness shined through her, she was pure fire on the stage. Next to her, the dull Benedick from the other night seemed to come alive. Playing against her Beatrice, it seemed that everyone else’s performances improved, challenged by her energy.
He had to break the spell, he thought. He barely understood what it was, but he felt determined ever since she’d appeared in his house, since he’d witnessed how hard Caroline was trying to fight it on her own, undeterred by the magic that was messing with her life. Klaus had to figure out what he was up against, so that he could end it and show Caroline everything the world had to offer behind the curtains of the spell.
And, of course, so he could help her enact revenge against whoever it was that put her in that predicament.
After the play was over and the cast left for a party, Caroline and Klaus sneaked back into the theater.
Caroline felt as if she was floating, still high from joy. She jumped onto the stage and twirled like a child, laughing without worry.
“That was the best night of my life,” she said.
“You were incredible.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Mikaelson.” As she said that, following her gut, she jumped into his arms again, going straight for a kiss.
But Klaus recoiled, with a hiss of pain. He was touching his lips, his eyes unnaturally red, and muttered under his mouth. “Verbain”.
“What—"
A scream left Klaus’ mouth as he fell on his knees. Caroline ran to him, trying to help, when she felt that the air was pushing her away with force, just like the other night.
The air doesn’t push you. Had Klaus pushed her? He was the only person who could have done it, from that angle. But no, that didn’t make any sense. She forced herself to look up, at Klaus. He was screaming in pain, holding his head in his hands, but no one was doing anything to him.
She heard the door open and saw a brunette woman coming in. Followed by—
“Katherine, what—"
“Katerina.” That word, from Klaus’ lips, was full of hatred. Caroline felt that she understood less and less. She looked at Klaus again, unable to understand what was keeping him down. Why didn’t he move, why didn’t he fight? There was no one holding him down.
As the two women approached, Katherine put out a vial from her dress. Caroline was surprised when she finally got a look at her face: Katherine looked terrified. As if she wasn’t the one —somehow, in some irrational way that Caroline struggled to put a name to— approaching an immobile man.
“You just need to feed it to him,” the other woman said, her arm extended towards Klaus. “He’d be human again, and he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”
Katherine’s face was determined, but she seemed reluctant to come any closer to Klaus. She looked towards Caroline, a disappointed look on her eyes. “I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, Care.” She took a deep breath, and took another step, her eyes the incarnation of hate and sorrow. “This is for what you did to my family, Klaus. But most of all, for what you did to me.”
Poison. It must be poison, she thought. She struggled to stand up, when she heard another voice in the auditorium.
It was telling Katherine to stop. Or that’s what Caroline guessed. The voice seemed to be filtered by capes and capes of hard glass, and when she tried to locate who it was coming from, she was surprised to see that she recognized the face. Or rather, the lack of it.
She could hear Katherine calling him Silas, as she was thrown to the floor the same way Caroline had before. But she couldn’t hear the man, she barely could hear anything. Whatever was going on, she couldn’t maintain her grasp on everything that was happening around her.
The poison. The poison for Klaus. She tried to locate it, seeing it still on Katherine’s hand. She’d finally gathered herself together, running towards her, when she felt a burst of pain in her abdomen.
A spear, a piece of one of the chairs, was stuck in her side. Crossfire, she thought in some recondite part of her brain. She heard Klaus scream in anger, throwing himself towards the man who’d caused it.
Katherine swore under her breath, and approached her. She took the spear out in one quick movement, making her cry of pain. Caroline could see her face changing, her arm rising to her mouth, but she couldn’t look at it. She kept her eyes on the vial, on the poison, that Katherine had dropped right next to her on the floor. She had to get the poison.
She almost groaned with disgust when she noticed a warm liquid in her mouth, before something inside her told her to keep drinking.
“It’s okay, Caroline, it’s okay.”
“Glad to see you care,” Caroline snapped with contempt. She couldn’t parse exactly what was happening, but she could tell when she’d been used. She surreptitiously grabbed the vial, but she could tell that Katherine was about to fight her for it, and that Caroline wouldn’t be able to beat her.
And suddenly Klaus was there, snapping Katherine’s neck in one smooth motion.
She wondered how she could possibly tell that it wasn’t deadly.
“Run!” he screamed, right before the faceless man attacked him again.
And she did just that, the vial of poison in her hand.
It didn’t take long for that so-called Silas to find her, but she had managed to hide the vial by then. She knew, somehow, that it was safe amongst Bonnie’s belongings.
“Is Klaus dead?” she asked, her eyes closed. If she looked at that face again, her mind would go haywire. She needed to think about the poison. She repeated it to herself, again and again. The vial. Katherine wanted to give it to Klaus. Silas had hurt him, but he’d been trying to stop her. He must’ve wanted it for someone else.
“He’s fine. Beaten, unconscious. But he’s particularly hard to kill. Where’s the cure?”
The voice was clearer now, but it still felt as if she was swimming under dense, muddy waters.
The cure. The poison. The vial.
“I want to make a deal.”
A pause. “This will be interesting.”
“I’m— I’m cursed;” she managed to say, with effort, feeling how her memories kept rearranging, trying to turn the impossible things she’d witness into something plausible. But she knew there wasn’t anything natural about what she’d seen, no matter what her brain was telling her. “I— I forget. Things. Whenever something strange happens around me, it’s all gone. I want it to be over. I want to remember everything. Fix this, and the vial is yours.”
He hummed, thoughtful. She could hear him walking towards her. When he could practically feel his body a couple steps behind her, he put a hand on her head, a flash of light blinding her despite the closed lids. Caroline struggled to keep her eyes closed, and she focused again in the vial. She pictured its shape in his head, its color, its tact, its size. If she concentrated in the one logical thing, everything else wouldn’t slip.
“I’m afraid there’s only one way, child.”
“Tell me.” She didn’t care. She just wanted it gone.
“The safe way would be by making the one who cast it in the first place take it away.”
That wasn’t possible, she thought. She didn’t know where that information came from, but she could see a graveyard, and feel a friend cry on her shoulder, and she knew that wasn’t the way.
“The other way, as with every curse, is to die.”
Her heartbeat skyrocketed. That wasn’t an option. But—
“The doppelganger’s blood is inside you. You have nothing to fear.”
Yes, she thought. That was true. She could finally—
“You want help, or you want privacy?”
“Privacy.”
A hand grabbed her wrist, and she could feel how a knife was put in her palm.
She took a deep breath, turning around, and she placed the blade right below her heart.
In between the ribs, she thought. Less resistance.
Her hands were trembling. It wouldn’t work if she didn’t put her whole strength into it.
Caroline thought about the vial, again. She knew how to end this.
The blade, longer than she’d expected it to be, pushed through her skin. She gasped, choking in her own blood, and—
And then there was darkness.
The lights were turned off, but Caroline realized that she could see.
And that her mind was clear for the first time in God knew how long.
She could’ve laugh, but she was too hungry.
“Here,” she heard, right before something heavy was knocked to the ground. “He kept knocking at the door, probably looking for you.”
That something heavy, she discovered with surprise, was a barely conscious Enzo. But the only thing she could pay attention to, was the cut in his neck, a drop of blood sliding down his throat.
The blood tasted nauseating for three long seconds. After that, it was the greatest delicacy she’d ever tasted.
By the time Caroline heard Enzo’s pleas to stop, she had the feeling he’d been asking for a long while. He looked weak, and she could feel the familiar panic raising from her stomach. But she recalled —clear as day, as she’d never been capable of before— what Katherine had done, what Klaus had done before her. She bit her own wrist, and made Enzo drink from her. She saw, amazed, how the wound closed before her eyes.
“You’re a quick study.” She was able to see Silas’ face for the first time. He was tall, taller than her; attractive, with upturned lips that curved with mockery. “Do you want to learn about compulsion?”
Caroline was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.
She helped him stand up. He wasn't surprised to find that they were alone in the auditorium. Katerina would flee at the first opportunity, of course.
“Are you alright?”
“I wasn’t the one unconscious, Klaus. But yes. Thanks for asking.”
“What happened?”
Caroline bit her lip, hesitant, and walked towards the first row of chairs. She sat down, and patted the one next to her. Klaus complied, moving slowly. Silas hadn’t been a minor threat, that’s for sure.
“I made a deal,” she answered. Countless dire possibilities crossed his mind; “with Silas.”
That had been one of them, yes.
“I gave him the vial,” she said, rushed, as if she knew what was going through his head, “and he broke my spell.”
Klaus felt that he was going to need more than a minute to process that. He had a plan. Or, at least, the beginning of one. He was going to investigate until he got to the bottom of this.
But Caroline was ahead of him. She came up with the solution herself. And she might have saved his life in the process.
“Who did it? Who put that spell on you?”
She dropped her gaze, lost in her thoughts. In her memories. Caroline never outright answered personal questions, he’d found out. But it seemed that the time for disclosure had arrived.
“They didn’t mean for it to go this way. The spell was supposed to protect me. From magic, from supernatural creatures. It wasn’t supposed to… to wreck my mind like that.” She swallowed, clearly shaken by what happened to her. “But after the witch who cast it died, it started to… it was erratic. And after that, it only went downhill.”
He had a feeling that he knew who “they” were, thanks to the way Caroline talked about them. He had some experience with a parent's misplaced sense of protection screwing over their kids. Still, he asked. “Who are they?”
“They’re gone,” she answered, curt.
Klaus sighed, and decided that in that case, he should deal with more urgent problems.
“We need to find Katerina. Who knows what she’ll do if she gets her hands on the cure again.”
“She’s not a threat to you anymore,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m sure she’s already flown the city.”
“That just means I’ll have to track her down.”
“Please, don’t.” Klaus paused, confused. “Just, let it go. Please.”
“She just tried to kill me.”
Caroline directed him a stare so full of amused skepticism, Klaus felt it could power a city. “And I’m sure she did that for no reason at all. None whatsoever. Without prompting by any of your actions, for sure.”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this.” But he could feel his resolve waning. He felt content, and when one was content, revenge wasn’t at the front of one’s mind. Who knew.
“Besides, she saved my life.”
“That does buy her a certain amount of goodwill,” he admitted, “so I guess I can give her a head start?”
Caroline shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get, for now.”
He shook his head, surprised at his own decision. Next matter, then. “What happened with the cure?”
“Silas swallowed as soon as he had it in his hands.”
“Why would anyone do that?" he asked, shocked.
“Beats me. If you ask me,” she said, patting his wrist with to fingers, “I’d choose immortality in a heartbeat.”
As she said that, he saw how her eyes turned, how her fangs enlarged. Vampirism, of course. Death and rebirth. That’s how she broke her curse.
“Well love,” he told her, a smile so big it didn’t feel like it had room in his face, “we’ll have an eternity of those.”