Portrait of a Muse - Unresolved Sexual Tension.
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He captures her in soft moonlight, posed in silence, a living dream...
"They say he might've loved her..." One of the viewers comment. "I mean look at how he drew her! How can they not?"
A touch of fingers, a stolen glance, yet their boundaries stay held in a cautious dance...
"They say you might've loved me..." She repeats to him one night.
"And what do you think?"
"That things were rarely that simple."
Or, an AU starting in 1492 Bulgaria where Bonnie is but the simple daughter of a traveling merchant and Klaus a man on the hunt.
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“I’d like to draw you,” a stranger asks, his words hanging in the air between them like an unexpected
Bonnie blinks at the man before her, her eyes widened in bafflement. "Draw me?" She utters, because that wasn’t the first thing she was expecting to hear from him with all the days he’s spent watching her work the inn, his eyes tracking her every move yet never approaching.
It was a different kind of proposition she'd expected, one she loathed responding to; and yet such depravity is not what he's asked from her tonight.
Though the man before her doesn’t bother repeating himself, all but a fleeting twitch upon his lips as sea-green eyes continue boring into her. “I’d make sure that you were well compensated for it,” he adds, nodding towards the dishes in her hand. “Double whatever you might be making here.”
Bonnie instinctively pulled the plates closer to herself, a bit defensive as she asks, “And just what would such an agreement with you entail?”
"That you pose as I ask, allow me to dress you however I desire for a scene, and make yourself available to me whenever I want."
“It would be easy for you to abuse such rules,” she retorts, her skepticism lingering.
Though the man only shrugs at her, his expression bored. “It would. But you’ll have to trust that my intentions aren’t wicked.” A subtle grin played on his lips now, a tilt that Bonnie isn't sure she should like.
And he seems like the kind of cautionary figures her mother always warns her about—men who purposefully sought out naive or disadvantaged women, disguising their ill intentions with the facade of opportunity that proved advantageous only to them and detrimental to their victims.
Still…she was no regular woman—the magic constantly stirring against the surface of her skin could attest to that—and she certainly wouldn’t call herself naive.
She glances away for a moment, teeth worrying at some of the dry skin on her bottom lip. “I don’t know you…you’re a stranger here.”
This was a very bad idea…
“A stranger offering you a grand opportunity,” he counters, eyes alight with a ferocity she can’t comprehend, one that seems to draw her in further. “Do you need more evidence of my wealth before you can agree? I can assure you that it’s nothing to scoff at.”
That much was obvious with the way he was dressed, the way he looked; opulence in every thread, his attire draped in velvet and gilded finery, intricate patterns of embroidery matching perfectly with the few bits of gold jewelry he wore on his fingers, his blonde hair seeming soft and perfectly styled on his head.
Yes, this was a man whose comforts surely matched that of a king, his offer hanging in the air both tempting and treacherous.
She could always use the gold…
The innkeeper here was kind enough to pay her what he could in exchange for her modest services, but it was never going to be enough to put certain plans of hers in motion, the idea of orange grove trees and sandstone beaches flashing temptingly in her mind's eye.
Bonnie looks back at him, gaze assessing.
…she could have it all in exchange for what? A few pictures?
“I want the option to say no if your requests prove to be against my liking,” she demands, taking the first step toward the precipice where either her success or peril surely awaits.
The man, seemingly unfazed, shrugs again, conceding easily to her demand. “Fair enough.”
“And for the first few drawings…” She continues, unwilling to let a single condition of hers slip their current negotiations. “We’ll do them here in the inn.”
Where she could call for help if anything were to go awry.
“Easily done,” he quickly agrees, tossing her a smile that was something both dangerous and beckoning. “Now….do we have a deal?”
Bonnie nods once, sealing her fate. “We do.”
He extended a hand toward her, and she discarded her dishes to a nearby table before taking his hand in turn. “Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson.”
An interesting name she thinks, looking down at their hands, that familiar dark energy coursing through their touch, surprising her eyes back to his; her heart beginning to beat sporadically in her chest.
Witch, his eyes seem to answer, grin widening further to show all his teeth. “And your name is?”
Bonnie licks her lips, wondering just how desperate she seeks to become before finally making a decision, bowing slightly as she answers, “Bonnie Bennett, my lord," though the answering look of glee on his face does nothing to help the shivers running up her spine.
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For @klonnieshippersclub KlonnieWeek.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
A bit late to the party! But I've got all my stuff in order so I'll just be posting these as they get done.
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