#frilla

She held out a hand, cutting through his thoughts.

“She is not a liability.”

“She knows everything, and is markedly different than she was during the journey here.”

“Her sudden melancholia has nothing to do with what she witnessed,” her voice lowered to a hiss. “I give you my word on that.”

His eyes searched her expression, measuring her sincerity in the set of her mouth.

“What is the cause then?”

“I swore not to tell. I gave my word, Elijah.” Her fingers pushed out, flattening over her stomach subconsciously as she shook her head. “Don’t make me break it.”

Magic swelled in the air, the cloud of pure power pushed back from each angle, intent on naught but the purpose of its design.

“Are you serious?” She glared at the air, longing to turn the energy in on itself.

“It wasn’t me,” Bonnie balanced a basket of clean laundry on her hip, twisting to fit through the door. A wave of her free hand opened the three trunks in the room.

“That might make it worse,” she groaned, flopping back on the pillows.

“It’s not that bad,” she set the basket on the edge of the bed and started sorting the laundry into its rightful places. “You spent months sleeping in tents. Enjoy your relaxation while it lasts.”

“Bonnie,” Elena twisted, propping herself up on one elbow, “if I have to spend one more day in this bed I am going to go insane. I can’t sleep anymore. There is only one fun thing to do in bed and my darling husband is too worried about harming me and our child for that.”

Bonnie cut her a sideways look as she closed a chest.

“Sorry,” she shut her eyes. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s fine,” she played with the amulet around her neck. “After a year I’ve grown accustomed to your language and open ways.”

“Speaking of language,” Elena sat up and folded her legs beneath the blankets, “I would like you to teach me yours.”

Bonnie balanced her amulet against her chin. “You wish to learn?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I think you’d make an excellent teacher.”

“I can try,” she blinked slowly. “I was actually going to ask if I could make the short journey to Klaus’ home.”

“Why?” Elena leaned forward, a teasing light in her eyes. “Are you interested in my brother-in-law?”

“The woman he brought back, actually,” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“Ah,” Elena snickered, “so those are your tastes.”

“Elena,” she covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

“Just kidding, Bonnie,” she pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’ve seen the way you look at Enzo.” A deep flush met her jibe about the boat maker.

“I thought I might help her learn your language, so…”

“Bonnie,” Elena threw off her blanket and swung her legs over the bed to stand up, “you’re free to do as you please.”

She gave a pointed look to Elena’s bare ankles when they both heard a loud crash from outside.

“Here he comes,” she pressed her lips together.

“Good,” Elena crossed her arms, “I’ll tell him where you’re going.”

Heavy footfalls thudded through the house. “Elena!”

“I’m fine,” she turned towards him, wanting to laugh at his wide eyes. She forced a stern expression instead. “A barrier spell around the bed?”

“I just wanted to know if you fell.”

“You wanted to know if I tried to stand up.” Her eyes narrowed.

“You need time to heal,” he moved forward, reaching for her arms.

“I am healed Kol.” She side-stepped him. “And if I have to spend a fifth day in this bed you’re going to need healing. I need to get back to work. There is so much to do before the snow falls.”

“Bonnie and I can handle that,” he reached for her hands, “and there is not much to do.”

“There is wood to cut, and preserves to put away,” she shook her head.

“Preserves won’t take much time,” he rubbed her knuckles, “and I we have more than enough wood stored up for emergencies.”

“Oh excellent,” Elena grinned, “then you won’t mind if Bonnie walks to Nik’s and teaches Caroline. Since the wood is handled and I can take care of the preserves.”

Bonnie tried not to do it, but she couldn’t stop the amusement from breaking out in a loud laugh.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” He sighed.

“You did,” Elena smirked.

“You’re with child, Elena, and recovering; you need some extra help,” he shook his head.

“Could I make a suggestion?” Bonnie cleared her throat, drawing their attention towards her. “Elena could start taking on light duties, and I’ll set out at first light to teach Caroline. I can return by midday to do my work here; Elena will likely be so exhausted that she sleeps that long anyway.”

++++

Klaus had left early in the morning, pausing long enough to smooth the hair from her cheek and murmur quiet words against her ear. Half-asleep she recognized that he was going out, but ‘veiði-fǫr’ remained a mystery until she had fully awoken.

She tidied and explored everyday in the house, often beckoning his laughter at the end of the day, but honestly who stored dry food in a bench on the ground? It made much more sense to store it raised up high, and he had more than enough shelf space. Arguably he had a ridiculous amount of shelf space.

Her memory of Mikael’s home faded with each passing day, but she was fairly certain she hadn’t seen a shelf, or nearly as many chests.

She knew the house backwards and forwards after organizing every inch, so when she finally rolled out of bed the empty space stood out. A bow and a quiver of arrows were gone.

‘Veiði-fǫr’, she deduced meant hunting.

He had taken many such trips over the last few days to the point where Caroline had lost track of how much meat was drying. Her father used to hunt heavily when the weather shifted, but the amount of food Klaus had already preserved would have sufficed through the coldest months when animals were scarce.

How severe was the oncoming winter?

++++

The arrow missed by a narrow margin, whipping over the deer’s shoulders. It lodged in a tree. The rush of wind and subsequent thump spooked the animal. He watched it bolt and decided against trying his luck with a second arrow; if he missed again the shaft would be lost to the river.

“Pitiful,” a gruff voice sneered.

Klaus turned stiffly to where he felt the eyes watching him. “It was not needed father.” Two rabbits weighed down his belt.

“Not needed?” Mikael stared in the direction the deer had run, listening to the fading fall of hooves. “Have you not an extra mouth to feed, boy? Or has the frilla run off now that her ankle is healed?”

“Caroline,” he gripped the bow tight, “is in my home. She’s not going anywhere.”

“She’s clever enough to know better than to run,” Mikael said, nodding approvingly. “Make sure to keep her in line.”

He thought of her brilliant smile and stubborn nature, but said nothing of how she kept him in line.

“That woman of Heimir’s refuses to do anything,” Mikael waved a hand in the vague direction of the village.

“I believe her name is Leticia,” Klaus twisted his tongue around the foreign name. Or is her name Viviane?

“Her name would be irrelevant,” he said, shaking his head, “if not for the child growing in her womb Heimir swears he would kill her.”

“I’m certain she’s thrilled,” Klaus muttered, attempting to keep his sarcastic voice below his father’s hearing.

“Heimir’s wife is,” he said, having heard anyway. “What the Frilla feels is irrelevant. Inge is ecstatic.”

Klaus nodded. Inge would be ecstatic; after ten years of marriage and trying she would be thrilled at the notion of finally being granted a child.

“Is yours pregnant yet?” Mikael fixed him in a cool stare.

“Caroline is not,” Klaus shook his head. He felt his stomach drop. Until his father acknowledged her as something more than what she legally was any child they had would be lesser. Their future children deserved more.

She deserved more.

“I’ve been meaning to come and speak with you,” Klaus said, clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders, “about Caroline.”

“Don’t tell me you wish to be rid of her already?” The corner of Mikael’s mouth quirked up.

“Quite the opposite, father,” his heart thundered in his chest. “I wish to marry her.”

++++

She hated being useless, so she picked up a basket after breaking her fast. The woven backpack slung across her shoulders, bouncing against her back as she stepped outside and followed the narrow path.

It had been a few days, but she still remembered the break in trees that opened up onto the orchard.

She had the basket half full of nearly ripe apples. And if she inspected each one before snapping the stems for imperfections then at least Klaus wasn’t there to tease her over the neglected fruit.

She was certain he understood that one bruised or cracked or rotten apple would destroy the bunch, but he still would have teased her. And she would have wound up scolding him for laughing and slapped her hand over his mouth again. He would have kissed her palm and maybe flipped her into the grass, and…

On second thought, she wouldn’t mind his presence.

“Good morning.”

Caroline squeaked, slapping her hand over her heart.

The perfect apple bounced in the grass, bruising beyond repair.

“Sorry,” she apologized, bending to catch the basket before it could topple too. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I suppose it was my fault,” Caroline plucked another apple from the tree, setting it gently in the basket. “I was lost in thought.”

“I gathered as much from the way you were staring at that apple,” she nodded to the fruit on the ground. “I’m Bonnie by the way.”

“Caroline,” she rubbed her hand over her stomach.

“I know,” Bonnie smiled. “Elena told me. I’ve been meaning to come out here since we first met, but with her injury I took over her daily tasks.”

“But you’re here now,” her stomach trembled. Fear flickered in her eyes. “Is she alright?” Caroline preferred not to consider the alternative, but her mind journeyed of its own volition.

“She’s better,” Bonnie smiled, “a little magic goes a long way for those who know how to use it. Had his supplies not been decimated she would have been healed before boarding the ship.”

“Decimated?” Her face paled as she recalled green gel and countless cuts.

“It happens when they go on raids, but she’s alright now,” Bonnie reached up, snapping some apples from the tree. “And now I’m here to teach you.”

“Would you believe that’s exactly what I was hoping for?”

“I’m probably the first person you’ve met who speaks your language,” she mused. “I’m the first person you could talk to.” Bonnie inspected the smooth skin of the apple in her hand for blemishes and wiped away a layer of dust on her apron until the fruit shone.

“I had Viviane and Letitia.”

Caroline busied her hands. Snap a stem. Inspect an apple. Fill the basket.

“The first person who could talk to you about what was going on,” Bonnie amended. “I saw those girls. One was wary and the other looked at Heimir as if she wouldn’t mind killing him. Whatever conversation you had with them about your circumstances would have been clouded by their experience.”

“How do I know their experience isn’t the normal one?” She balanced three apples precariously on top of the basket and proceeded to wring her empty hands; any more fruit would have fallen out when she picked it up. As it was the last three apples were unlikely to make the short return to the house in safety.

“Normal is subjective,” Bonnie glanced at the pack. “Have you thought about how you’re going to store these for the winter?”

“What do you mean?” Caroline fiddled with the end of her braid.

“Winter,” Bonnie repeated. “You will want a basket to keep them in. Do you have one?”

“I don’t know, but that’s not what I meant.” She pulled up a mental image of the house and its contents for an empty basket, but found nothing.

“About normal being subjective?” She waited for Caroline to nod.

“Was their experience on the journey the same as yours?” Bonnie unsheathed a small knife from her belt and bent at the waist, cutting long grass near the ground.

“Well, no.” She thought of Letitia’s screams the first night and Viviane’s hollow expression a few days later. Heimir wasted no time, but at least the man who took Viviane allowed her twisted leg a chance to heal; Viviane had never screamed.

“Everyone has a different experience Caroline,” Bonnie glanced up as she worked, “and while some are more commonplace than others, no two experiences are the same. Did Klaus give you a knife?”

Her fingers brushed the handle at her waist, tucked firmly into her belt. A gift from Klaus the morning after their trip to the hot spring. She had made good use of it thus far in preparing food.

“Yes.”

“Then help me with the grass. We’re gonna need three times this,” she pointed with the knife to her pile, “to make a basket. The sooner we have the grass the sooner we can start weaving.”

“But the grass has to dry first,” Caroline protested even as she bent to work.

“I find it easier to manipulate this way.”

“And longer to dry,” she arched an eyebrow.

“Not the way I do it.”

“The way you do it?” She gathered a handful of long grass and swept the blade near the ground, severing the stems.

“Magic,” Bonnie dropped another handful. “I’m sure you’re familiar by now with it.”

Caroline’s eyes cut through the swaying grass towards her. The nonchalance with which Bonnie spoke made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end; she glanced over her shoulder for prying eyes.

“Do you not hesitate to speak of such things?” She cut another bunch of grass, and moved to sit when Bonnie did.

Dark eyes met hers as they got comfortable on the ground, or as comfortable as Caroline could get when she kept shifting to look over her shoulders.

“Once I did,” she nodded, “but not any more. When I was growing up I was taught by my mother to never tell anyone about what I am, or the things that I can do.”

“What happened?” Caroline reached into the small bag at her hip for string as she gathered a small handful of grass. She kept her hands busy by creating a basket base; coiling and tying, twisting more grass, and coiling again.

“About a year ago, my village was invaded,” she played with a blade of grass. “I could describe the scene, but I’m certain it’s close to what you experienced.”

“Really,” she stared at her hands, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Did Heimir murder your betrothed’s father and throw you down on your table?”

Caroline closed her eyes and banished the feeling of phantom hands on her body. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on the memory of an almost moment until her palms began to sweat and she inadvertently took it out on Klaus.

“Over a fence, actually.” Bonnie’s admission made Caroline lift her eyes. “And I didn’t really see the man’s face, but I know it wasn’t Heimir.”

Caroline’s heart thundered in her chest.

“He didn’t,” Bonnie twisted the grass around a finger, suddenly very interested in the green ring. “I was bent over, trying to remember anything that would help me, when Elena came out of nowhere.”

“Did she put a sword to his throat?”

“No, it was an ax. He laughed and knocked her aside, that was when the sword came out.” Bonnie tilted her head. “And it was Kol that did it. He saw his wife fall on the ground. Things happened pretty fast after that and next thing I know Kol’s sword runs through the man that attacked me and I was claimed as a concubine.”

“A concubine?”

“Technically that’s what you are,” she nodded. “They call them Frilla, but Kol’s never touched me; he’s too in love with his wife to even consider bedding another woman.”

“Then what are you?” Caroline frowned. She tied off the basket base before it grew to a ridiculous size.

“Legally I am a Frilla, but unofficially I’m a servant of sorts. I have my chores around the house, and I assist Kol with his spells.”

“What would my friend have been?” Unseeing eyes flashed in Caroline’s mind. “She was claimed by him.”

“Then she would have been an extra set of hands. Kol might have had her gathering herbs for him, or Elena might have enlisted her for further aid in running their household. They didn’t bring anyone home?”

Caroline heard the question in her tone.

“Cassandra took her own life,” she whispered, “after a night of listening to Leticia’s screams; she was claimed by Heimir.”

“She would have been safe,” Bonnie returned in a quiet voice. “These people, or should I say our people, have a high respect of women. If a man forces a woman he can be put to death. Taking so much as an unwanted kiss can lead to banishment.”

“If that’s the case then Leticia…”

“Some of these men toss their rules out when they raid,” Bonnie shook her head. “And taken women have fewer rights. If anyone else laid a hand on you or me they would be punished, but we can’t own land or any property.”

“These woman can own land?” Caroline’s brows shot up.

“Elena does,” Bonnie smirked. “If she and Kol ever divorced she has land and money to fall back on. They were gifts from her father before her wedding, and she retains them after. I also heard that Finn gifted his bride with a tract of land on their wedding day, and despite being widowed she owns the land still. Should she ever choose to leave the town she has a home waiting, but we were talking about magic.”

“Right,” she nodded, remembering suddenly, “you said you once feared such topics.”

“I did,” Bonnie nodded. “But then I came here. They have a lot of respect for witches. At first I thought it was just because Jarl Mikael’s wife, his eldest daughter and two of his sons practiced, but once I picked up the language Elena and Kol assured me that this was always the case.”

++++

Autumn mornings dawned crisp and cool but the afternoon sun burned away the chill. A thin sheen of sweat dung to his skin by the time he returned home with two rabbits and a great auk.

He left his prizes on a rough table outside and moved toward a trough of water, stripping off his shirt as he went. He plunged his hands into the cold, splashed it up his arms and against the back of his neck. Fat droplets rolled down his spine.

His skin cooled rapidly in the wind until he shivered and reached for the shirt.

He turned his attention back to the rabbits, letting his hands do the work without thought. He looked without really seeing his actions: draining, flaying and stripping the skin away in quick, methodical motions. His mind still on the conversation in the forest.

He couldn’t get Mikael’s derisive laugh out of his head. The outright refusal irked him, made his blood boil; he was surprised he hadn’t attacked then and there. He had wanted to, but the bulk of his anger had been taken out on the bird; four of the six arrows in the carcass had been completely unnecessary.

But then, refusing to raise Caroline’s status for the very reason Klaus came to like her had been unnecessary as well. ‘Her defiance should not be rewarded’. No amount of arguing, or citing his love for Elena’s defiance worked; her nature worked in her favour, and to the benefit of each of Mikael’s men during battle.

Hatred he thought tempered down after childhood reared its ugly head, influencing his motions as he moved to the second rabbit, slices turning from methodical to wild.

He was halfway through slicing the second rabbit’s skin when his knife slipped. It dragged across his palm, searing pain ran up his arm.

He swore loudly, dropped the knife and clutched his palm. Rage at his own stupidity flooded his veins and he saw red. He kicked the work table, and swore and kicked it again.

He failed to hear the voice calling him until golden hair flooded his vision.

“Klaus, mitescere!” Caroline grasped his wrists. “Mitescere,” she repeated in a quieter voice. “Quod factum est?”

He frowned, looking down as her fingers smoothed over his bloody wrists. His eyes glanced to the side, taking in the overturned table and the petite woman beyond; embarrassment brought a flush to his neck.

“Quod factum est?” Caroline murmured, gently prying open the hand he had curled into a tight fist.

“She asked what happened?” Bonnie cleared her throat, finding her voice as she picked her way across the yard.

“I cut my hand,” he allowed Caroline to steer him towards the water. He wasn’t entirely sure why he bothered saying a second later when she plunged his hand into the water and carefully swiped at his palm; truthfully it didn’t hurt that much anymore. He could hardly feel the pain.

“Luckily I’m prepared for such things,” Bonnie placed the empty basket she and Caroline had made next to the door and moved towards them, reaching her fingers into the bag at her belt. She pulled out a small jar and popped open the lid, revealing a sticky green gel.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he shook his head.

“Vos oportet esse cautior,” Caroline muttered, shaking her head.

“You need to be more careful,” Bonnie translated.

“I figured it would be something like that,” he chuckled. Caroline cut him a stern look and he struggled to hide his grin. “I’m fine, love.”

He lifted his hand from the water, turning his palm towards her for inspection. A thin line tingled in the cold air.

“But there was so much blood,” Bonnie echoed Caroline’s words, staring down at his palm.

“Must have been the rabbit’s,” he shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose,” he tipped his hand towards Bonnie.

She spread a thin line of green over the cut and they watched together as it healed.

“What are you doing here, Bonnie?” He looked up and reached out to help Caroline with the heavy basket over her shoulders.

“I thought she might like some company and good conversation,” she tucked the healing gel away.

“You don’t think I can provide conversation?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I think it would be one sided,” she shifted on her heels.

“And I assume by your presence that Elena is recovered?”

“Much better.”

“Well enough to receive visitors?”

++++

The next few days passed by in a blur of new routines. She woke up. She explored inside and tidied, making sure to stoke the low fires so the smoke rose up and preserved the drying meat. Then she shifted her exploration to the outside until Bonnie arrived for language lessons.

She could recognize a few sentences and even more words, though according to Bonnie her pronunciation was atrocious; well, that had been Bonnie’s translation of a chuckling Klaus.

Around midday she made the return journey with Bonnie and inquired after Elena’s improving health. The recovery proved nothing short of miraculous; she would know, she had monitored the wound for days.

Klaus always appeared later in the afternoon and walked back with her. He had no trouble letting her walk with Bonnie, but he drew the line at an extended solitary journey; nervous of the towering woods along the path.

She supposed a witch made for excellent protection, and after hearing some unknown animals rooting around in the forest she had no desire to be without protection.

Maybe one day she would ask Elena to teach her how to use a sword. Of course that would have to wait until she figured out the game.

One task at a time, Caroline, she glanced up through her lashes to see Klaus studying the board.

Bonnie had explained Hnefatafl a few days ago when they arrived and found Kol and Elena locked in a heated match which Elena had ultimately won. However, Elena’s victory relied heavily on her chosen lot as the odds were stacked in her favour.

Really, how could one be expected to win with significantly less pieces?

She tapped her finger on the latticed game board and considered her options. He had begun the game with twenty-four game pieces and he still had them all; her thirteen dwindled down to ten.

She moved a piece three squares to the left, catching one of his between two of hers.

A bright smile lifted her lips as she claimed her prize.

The game went back and forth in silence for another ten minutes until, somehow, she managed to capture half of his pieces and level the playing field.

She thought she was doing rather well until the board blurred and her head grew light. One wrong move along the hazy column and Klaus captured her king piece.

“I win, Caroline,” he grinned.

The smile slid off his face as she blinked, swaying on her stool while registering the words. Blood rushed in her ears, louder than anything she had ever heard.

“Caroline?” Game pieces scattered across the floor as he knocked the board aside. She saw concern flood his eyes as he knelt before her.

“I…” She struggled to remember the words, the syllables that would ease his mind. “I am alright.”

He looked sceptical and she smiled gently, lifting her cold hands to caress his face. She assured him again that she was fine, and just a little tired since she didn’t know the right phrase to communicate her head ache.

She recognized that tired might have been the wrong way to put it when he hustled her off to bed a moment later, but she wasn’t about to complain. She found she lacked the energy when he helped her out of her dress and laid her down.

By the time he closed up the house and joined her she barely felt his arm slide over her waist.

++++

HN: Vikings were actually pretty chill about fertility. They recognized that sometimes when a couple failed to get pregnant it was the man’s fault. This was discovered through trial and error. If the wife was unable to conceive then a concubine would be brought in and the husband would go to the other girl’s bed nightly until she got pregnant. This could go on with a few different concubines until it was decided that ‘hey, your man’s infertile’ at which point adoption was discussed.

I’m getting off topic though. If the concubine did conceive and deliver a baby legally that baby belonged to the married couple even though for the first few years the child would be weaned by the birth mother.

In this story Inge - who will likely never actually appear - is barren, but it would have been just as likely that it was Heimir.

Caroline hummed contentedly, completely sated for the time being and unwilling to move her weightless limbs from her position, but she knew she needed to unbend her elbow before it permanently locked in place so she shifted just enough until she lay comfortably positioned on her side.

Exhaustion caught up to her and for a moment she nodded off, coming to when stubble scratched her shoulder.

Her eyelashes fluttered; she looked down to the strong hand splayed over her stomach. His fingers danced and drew patterns across the taut skin. She envisioned her body steadily growing round with their child, stretching to accommodate the life inside and leaving marks that would never go away. She knew she would be self-conscious about them, but right then she was anxious to see the first.

The deliberate movements and the grin she felt against her shoulder betrayed him as being awake. Her own smile threatened to break her face in two.

Would it be a girl as golden and fair as them? Would it be a boy, raised with the morals of his father and uncle?

He must want sons; all men wanted sons. Before the village was invaded she had been destined to bring sons into the world and take care of the house, but her main duty was to deliver sons; they were always valued over daughters.

She sensed his smile falter and covered his hand with hers.

“Is something wrong?” She whispered, rubbing her palm over his knuckles.

“Thinking,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

“Thinking?” She prompted, unable to remember the words for a full question.

“About my father.” Klaus stilled his hand. “He was not a great father.”

He rolled onto his back and Caroline felt a rush of cold across her stomach flowing after his retreat.

She turned over until she lay on her stomach and reached up to trace his jaw with her fingertips. The happy gleam from his eyes and the broad smile from his lips had disappeared, replaced with a hollow expression.

“Klaus,” she propped her chin on his chest lightly and started tracing the old scars over his ribs, “what is it?” Her fingers found a jagged line.

His hand darted, quick as a snake, and grasped her wrist.

She gasped at the sudden movement, but didn’t try to pull away as he directed her fingers to trace the jagged line. From there he moved her hand along a few other lines, some thin and some thick, until together they covered close to half of the marks covering his torso.

“My father,” he breathed, staring at their joined hands, “did this.”

Her eyes widened in horror. She hoped that she had heard him wrong, misunderstood his words, but she knew instinctively that she hadn’t.

Mikael had left the worst of the scars across his body.

And she highly doubted his father was always on his mind.

Mikael invaded his thoughts when he caressed her stomach. Mikael chased the joy from his heart when he covered their baby.

She reclaimed her wrist and covered his heart as she rose up. When he wouldn’t meet her eyes she slid her fingers higher, cupping his jaw. She strung the words together in her mind while her thumb rubbed his cheekbone and the fine line a shade lighter than his skin.

Had Mikael caused the scar that ran from the middle of his eyebrow and over his cheek?

Her blood boiled at the thought of him potentially blinding his son.

His hand trembled on her hip, carefully prodding her stomach with his thumb. She realized suddenly what the problem was and sharpened her tone to get his attention.

The way she said his name made his eyes snap to hers. Her expression softened then.

“You are not him.”

“Caroline…”

“No,” she cut off his protest with a quick kiss, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No; you’re not him.”

His smile started to return slowly and she fully expected some of the earlier happiness to enter his eyes, but when they flashed it wasn’t with emotion.

The grey blue shifted in the dim light, gleaming black and gold. The sudden change in colour so drastic that she sat up and reached for the candle. Before her fingers could curl around the wax base a horrible crack made her jump.

He jerked violently, arching his back, knee striking her thigh.

Caroline gave a short shriek as she fell off the bed.

Bones cracked and popped and above the terrible sound she heard his scream of agony.

“Klaus!” She circled around the foot of the bed, tripping on the chest. She narrowly avoided his body as it crashed to the floor. His spine arched and popped; she could do nothing but watch the muscles ripple in his shoulders with mounting horror.

Whatever gripped him paused for a moment before taking hold again.

“What’s happening?” She sobbed, forgetting everything she had learned of his language. “Klaus?”

His eyes shifted colours as he looked up, but words failed him; she saw her fear reflected there.

Something was very, very wrong, and she didn’t know what to do.

She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the first piece of clothing she could find and raced for the door.

“Caroline…” he broke off in a scream.

She nearly ran back, but the sight of his arms fighting to pull from their sockets steeled her resolve and she yanked the fabric over her head. A tear streaked down her cheek as she apologized and said the one word she hoped was right.

++++

She hugged her pillow tight beneath her head, ignoring the sharp edge of a feather poking her cheek. Her nails grasped at another, working it free of the casing; she twisted it between her fingers close to her face so the soft end occasionally tickled her nose.

Behind her back the door dragged across the floor.

She dropped the feather and stilled, squeezing her eyes shut.

He prepared for sleep, light steps moved around their bedroom so quietly she could hardly hear him over the pounding rain. Taught in childhood how to place his feet for silent hunting it had become second nature to the point where Elena used to laugh because Bonnie, nearly a foot shorter and built like a sprite, made more noise.

She used to laugh. She might still have laughed if she were in a better mood, but a bitterness had descended over her shoulders.

The bed dipped, accommodating his weight as he stretched out behind her. He adjusted the blankets.

Cupping her elbow, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Her entire body clenched in response. She caught her breath and resisted the urge to cry as he pulled away. Pressure built up behind her eyes, growing heavier the longer he remained silent.

Thunder rumbled outside and lightning flashed white beyond the walls.

“How did we get to this?” He whispered, voice nearly drowned out by the storm.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere water dripped; that would have to be repaired before snow fell.

“How did we get to what?” She held her elbows. From the corner of her eye she saw his pensive face illuminated in a flash of lightning.

“How did we get to the point where you pretend to be asleep to avoid me, and flinch at my touch?” He turned his head to watch her. “How did we get to the point where you won’t tell me when something’s bothering you?”

“Nothing…”

“Please don’t lie to me darling,” he smiled sadly. “I know when something’s bothering you, and I know now that it has something to do with your injury. Does it still hurt? Is that the problem.”

“No,” she closed her eyes. A single tear fell into her hair. “At least… at least not a lot.”

“Then it does hurt?” Kol asked, propping up on his elbow. The candles flared to life in every corner of the room, casting an orange glow across her skin. He pulled away the furs and reached for her shift.

“No,” she said, snatching his wrist. “It’s just a little pull. You don’t need to look at it.”

“If you’re in pain then I need to see.” He twisted free from her grip.

“It’s fine.”

“Elena…”

“I said it’s fine.” She sat up straight, moving away.

“Will you just…” He grabbed at her hips.

“No,” she pushed his hands, cheeks flushing.

“I can help.”

“No,” she snapped. “I don’t want you too.”

He froze and she fell silent, pressing her lips into a thin line, but her chin trembled. Her wet eyelashes fluttered, glinting in the light.

“Why not?” He cupped her cheek and leaned closer, gently stroking her face. She sniffled and focused her eyes on his jaw.

“It’s hideous,” she bit her cheek.

“What?” His eyes narrowed, for a moment he wasn’t certain he had heard correctly. A dozen fine marks littered her body from a dozen battles, marks she took complete pride in. Never in the time he had known her had she shied away from him because of how something looked.

“It didn’t… its…”

“Darling,” he slid his hand down, tipping up her chin, “since when does my fearless Shield Maiden care about a scar?”

“Since this one’s ugly,” she shook her head.

“Nothing about you could ever be ugly,” he whispered, reaching for the strings at her throat.

“Kol,” she blinked and a tear trickled over her cheek.

The material came loose and shifted catching on her arms. He worked the shirt down and off until it pooled around her waist. Cold air swirled around her upper body, pebbling her nipples, but his eyes remained on her face as she crossed her arms over her belly.

“Kol, please…”

He reached for her wrists, carefully moving them to her sides and urging her to lay back.

“I don’t want you to hide from me, not ever.”

++++

She burst from the house in a flurry of golden hair and white linen; both whipped around her body as she ran blindly in the direction of the river and veered where she knew the path to be.

The cold became irrelevant the further she ran, each step sending jolts up her legs.

She pushed her body to her limits, running faster than she ever had. Her lungs burned and her bare feet were numb by the time she lost sight of the road, but she knew the path from days of walking it; it was a straight dirt road with minimal turns.

She raced faster under the flashes of lightning.

++++

“Does this hurt?” Kol’s fingers danced over her stomach, lightly tracing the jagged line. The skin around it puckered and stretched, leaving thin white lines running along either side.

“Does my pride count?” She stared steadfastly at the ceiling.

“I was looking for physical pain right now,” he chuckled.

“The baby’s getting bigger,” she blinked, glancing at him.

“I can see that,” his eyes sparkled, shining with happiness. “Is it causing you pain?” His mouth turned down.

“A little at first,” she shrugged, working her jaw. “It might when I get bigger.”

“I can make an ointment for that,” he caressed her stomach.

“Can you make one to get rid of the scar?” She blinked fast.

“It might fade a bit,” he nodded, “but you’ll always have it.”

“Great,” her voice cracked. A fresh wave of tears flooded her eyes.

“Don’t cry love.”

“It’s… it’s…” the word ‘hideous’ stuck in her throat.

Kol shifted on the bed and hovered over her stomach.

“It’s beautiful,” he kissed the top of her scar, softly brushing his lips over her skin. He followed the line from under her breast to her hip, glancing up after each gentle kiss to catch her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” she swallowed.

“I’m not.” He worked his way back up, moving between her breasts as he did until he reached her jaw. “This scar,” his fingers danced over the skin, “is a reminder that you survived. You came back from the brink of death, my love.”

He met her eyes.

“What about the stretch marks?” She shook her head.

“You’re both survivors, fighters,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “you kept yourself and our child alive. Every mark you bare shows just how strong you are. Strong and beautiful.”

“You’re not disgusted by it?” Her lip trembled.

“Never,” he swore. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I might be a little when you give birth, but that’ll be because of the mess.”

“Neat freak,” she laughed, tossing her head back. A few tears leaked out. “You’re still in the room.”

“Of course I will be,” he laughed softly. “Only death could keep me away.”

“It better not keep you away,” she pushed up on an elbow. She slipped one hand around his neck, playing with the hair at the back of his head and chewing her bottom lip; her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Are you still cold?”

“Now that you mention it, I am a little chilly.” His warm fingers splayed across her ribs. He met her halfway in a kiss, parting his lips for the sweep of her tongue.

His heart pounded in his ears erratically and it took him a moment before he realized that the pounding came from the main room of the house.

“Do you hear that?” He broke away, breathing against her lips.

++++

Something about spending the day indoors always left her more exhausted than one outside. The tasks were nowhere near as physically demanding as those she would have partaken in under the open sky, but by the end of an evening spent knitting, weaving or preparing spells she could barely keep her eyes open.

It might have been the dark or the smoke, or it might have been a strong, unfulfilled, desire to see the sun and feel it warm her skin.

She was always exhausted, but that night she wasn’t asleep.

She lay on her bed, curled beneath her blankets, and watched the flames long after Kol followed Elena to bed. And when the fire dipped dangerously low she poked her fingers out and directed a fresh log into the hearth.

Unable to get comfortable, she shifted in place and glanced at the line of light under the bedroom door. Low voices drifted out, too quiet for her to make out their words. That was good, she thought, because if their voices were low he had to be making progress; she had to be opening up.

That, or he had lost his nerve.

She hugged her blankets closer, shivering and clutching at the material; she hoped for the first scenario. She would hate to see their marriage devolve into one similar to his parents.

Thunder rumbled outside in a quick succession: thunder, lightning, thunder, lightning.

Bang, flash, bang, flash, flash, bang.

Bonnie jumped when she realized that the banging was closer that it should have been. She shot up, eyes snapping to the door as it shuddered and warped, vibrating in the frame.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She fought through the exhaustion and stumbled in her bare feet, lifting the bolt with a wave of her hand.

The wood swung inwards before she could reach it, propelled by the force of a fist. Bonnie stepped out of the way, reaching to steady the woman who fell inside.

“Caroline?”

“What’s going on out here?”

Bonnie’s eyes flitted from Kol’s face to Elena beside him and finally back to Caroline.

The blonde took heaving breaths and pushed her soaked hair from her face, gesturing wildly with her other hand as she did so. The words that emerged were an unintelligible wheeze, and while Bonnie instructed her to calm down they all took a moment to really look at her.

They took in the mud splattered halfway up her legs, and the clinging white linen that could only be Klaus’ shirt. Some of the filth around her feet glistened with crimson, betraying more than one cut on the soles.

Kol moved towards a shelf for healing gel.

“You need to sit down,” Bonnie said, trying and failing to pull her into the house.

“No, nei,” Caroline gasped. The words that fell from her mouth came in a jumbled mix as she tried at first to direct them to Kol, but made absolutely no sense.

Elena stepped up to Caroline’s other side and gently took her arm, rubbing one hand between her shoulders.

Caroline’s wide eyes darted around the room. She stammered and gasped, and after a moment finally relayed the message to Bonnie whose eyes bulged in response.

“What did she say about Klaus?” Elena’s gaze flickered to her husband and back to Bonnie.

“He’s hurt…” Caroline pulled away from both of them and bolted back towards the door, cutting off Bonnie for a moment with a sentence that ran together. “And we need to help.”

++++

Kol had taken Bonnie and ridden ahead, uselessly instructing Caroline to remain behind with Elena. They weren’t gone five minutes when she started back down the path after them; luckily, Elena recognized a lost battle when she saw one and saddled the second horse.

By the time they reached the house Bonnie stood outside of the stable casting some type of spell while Kol held the door to the house shut and shouted instructions over his shoulder.

Caroline didn’t get a chance to ask before everyone piled into the stables.

“What’s going on?” She fought against Elena’s hold. “Why aren’t you helping him?” She shrieked the questions again and again, watching as Kol abandoned his post.

He sprinted towards them, fumbling for Bonnie’s hands when he was inside.

Caroline’s questions cut off as a new sound rose up over the rolling thunder. For one desperate moment she thought the wind howled around the house, but then the door splintered and something that was most definitely not Klaus bolted out.

She watched with mounting horror as the dark shape darted towards the stable, not bothering to stifle her shriek when a flash of lightning revealed sharp teeth.

The dark shape stopped short, slamming into the open door without entering the stable.

Kol abruptly stopped chanting and dropped Bonnie’s hands, slamming the door shut as he did, but that didn’t put a halt to the sounds.

The animals inside pawed at the ground and reared back, attempting to put as much distance between them and the door as they could. Over the snorts and squeals and heavy breaths came a low growling that set the tiny hairs on the back of her neck on edge.

A chill that had nothing to do with cold swarmed over Caroline’s jiggling legs. She crossed her arms and focused on Kol, putting as much vehemence behind her words as she could; it was no easy task as she struggled to pronounce through her jittering teeth.

“What was that thing? Where’s Klaus?” Her brows rose up as her heart pounded. She tasted fear on the tip of her tongue; hysteria twisted in her lungs. “What if it hurts him?”

Kol glanced at Bonnie and over to his wife’s wide eyes. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and swallowed, jumping slightly at the sound of nails scrabbling over wood.

“You need not worry about him, Caroline-“

“He’s out there,” she said, stomach churning violently.

“He’s in no danger.”

“Kol,” Elena rubbed Caroline’s upper arms.

“Why not?” Elena’s question came too fast for Caroline to catch, but she suspected her own question was a simpler echo.

“Because,” he whispered around a shaking breath, glancing again to the door. A flash of lightning illuminated the shock in his eyes.

“Because it is Nik.”

@kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @cry-btch​ @geekofmanyfandoms​ @morsmornte​ @xanderling​ @bellemorte180​ @iw1shiknew​ @blndbandt

AN: Language learning. When fully immersed in a language as Caroline is it should take 48 days to learn easier languages and 72 days to learn a more difficult language and achieve basic fluency. This is assuming that 10 hours a day are devoted to language learning. Since during the journey Klaus and Elena were the only ones really talking to her she had the minimum practice for the first month or so, but in the weeks since they returned to Klaus’ home she has had more opportunity to practice with both Klaus and Bonnie in an immersed environment. So that’s halfway through those 48 days when added to everything she would have picked up on the journey. Plus Caroline is one of the most driven people out there, so you know she’s practicing even when nobody is around to converse with. I’d say at this point she is halfway to being fluent and within a month will have the language down. At least as far as daily conversation goes.

Seasonal: Currently it’s late summer/early autumn. The leaves are changing, the days are growing shorter and a late summer storm has hit the area.

Familial: Vikings typically all lived in the same household to the point where a single household could have near a hundred individuals once you included family, servants, slaves and the families of servants and slaves. For the purposes of this story I chose to have Klaus and Kol outside of the main village. In Klaus’ case it’s because he hates his father and wants to spend as little time in Mikael’s presence as possible. For Kol and Elena the choice to begin their own household had a lot to do with a few mixups in the early days of their marriage when Elijah or Kol would go to greet their wife only to accidentally wrap their arms around, or kiss the cheek of, their sister-in-law. In a smoky house it was easy to mix them up, especially if Elena was wearing a dress rather than trousers. Elena and Katerina always laughed when their husbands would turn bright red.

She stirred, snuggling closer and sliding her hand up his chest.

Sleep clouded eyes blinked, struggling to focus on his features.

“Good morning,” he smiled. Since their arrival at his home she had taken to sleeping later with each passing day and more often then not he woke to find her sprawled atop his body.

“Good morning,” she mumbled. He remained unsure if she fully understood the phrase or if she simply repeated his words back.

She covered her yawn with a hand and sat up, bending down to kiss him lightly.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss, catching the back of her thigh to pull her atop him.

++++

She hummed to herself as she bustled around the yard, and adjusted a thin layer of berries under a pane of glass. She poured the dry ones into a jar and sashayed inside, storing them on the shelves before twirling back outside.

She felt certain she walked on air as she scooped up a clean bucket and glided towards the well. Her body had been boneless since rising from bed when they had finally decided they could put off daily work no longer.

The bucket of water drew upwards with a soft grunt of exertion, but not even the physical strain on her muscles proved capable of dampening her spirits.

She carried it back towards the house. Water sloshed over the lip, splashing her skirts and leaving dark spots on the ground. The door yawned ahead and she paused. Her stomach shifted violently.

The ground turned to mud as the water fell out of the overturned bucket. Her feet slipped in it; she grabbed a tree for balance just as she threw up.

She straightened up and wiped the back of her hand across her brow.

“Caroline?” Bonnie called, eyes wide with concern.

++++

Elena snapped the fabric, knocking loose any insects that had made a home in the drying laundry before folding a neat square. She did it again and again until everything lay in the basket at her feet.

She bent to lift it and gasped as her belt shifted, digging into her stomach.

“Are you alright, darling?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Of course you heard that.”

“What?”

“I love you,” she amended. Her lashes fluttered open, allowing her eyes to focus on his abandoned task. She straightened her spine.

“I love you, too,” his hands settled low on her hips, “now answer the question.”

“I’m alright,” she smoothed a palm over her naval, reaching for the leather around her waist. She unfastened it, letting it fall open as she dropped the belt into her basket, so her dress became shapeless. “I think that… that I might be a little farther along then I thought,” she shrugged. “My belt pushed against the scar.”

“Shall I take a look at it?” He reached for her elbow, laying one palm over her stomach.

“No.” She caught his wrist in a vicelike grip. “I’m alright. It just startled me.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes narrowed.

She nodded, offering a strained smile.

“At least let me carry this inside for you,” he bent for the basket.

“Because you don’t think I can do it myself?” She tilted her head and crossed her arms.

“Of course you can do it,” he got a grip on the basket. “That doesn’t mean you have to. Let me help you.”

She lifted her chin.

“Besides,” he smirked, looking down, “with your hands full you’re liable to trip over that hem.” He backed away towards the house before she could snatch for the basket.

Elena watched him go and lowered her hand to her stomach, brushing the tender skin before lifting her skirts.

++++

Dampness clung to the night, drifting low on northern winds, it sank through clothes and hair with the promise of rain, ready to burst through the heavy clouds before the moon reached its apex.

Then again, the moon could have been there already; it rose upwards beyond the pulsating cover of the storm a while ago.

She caught the briefest glimpse of a near perfect circle as she lay in the grass, but now the only light came from the flickering candle that she possessed the foresight to light.

Would she see the roiling clouds if she extinguished it? Would she still have a place in the dark?

Or would she melt into the night as a part of the landscape?

She left it lit.

Klaus was gong to need some way to spot her when he returned from escorting Bonnie over the path. She had tried not to jump on the gentle suggestion that she remain behind, not wanting to appear eager to avoid him or his brother because she wasn’t - not anymore - but the chance to be alone with her thoughts held some appeal.

She could think without him questioning the deep furrow between her brows, or teasing her about overthinking whatever it was she was thinking about. His laughing voice and that sinful twinkle in his eyes did things to her; he would have ended up distracting her, and then she would have had to start all over again.

Alone was better for her thoughts.

Alone allowed her to count back.

Unfortunately, she lost track of the days or weeks somewhere between the old village and her new home. It had to be approaching two months; she distinctly remembered a full moon through wavering smoke the first night they did more than sleep.

She bled sometime before that.

Sometime, though she wasn’t sure how long before, but it had been sometime. She knew it had been sometime.

“Esther taught us what to feel for,” her dark hand reached for Caroline’s abdomen.

The spark of power shocked her from inside.

“… like me…” Bonnie’s smile lit up her eyes, “… like his mother.”

Her fingers twisted over her stomach, tugging at knuckles and dancing over wet wool. To know so soon, to take pride in otherworldly power, was beyond her comprehension, but it was alright here, acceptable. Worthy of praise and excitement and celebration.

Like his mother, Caroline mused. That would take some adjustment.

Wind whistled in her ears, whipping loose strands of hair across her face. A few caught between her lips and she lifted her hand to carefully pull them away. As she tucked the hair behind her ear she spotted movement out the corner of her eye.

Turning her head she squinted beyond the small circle of light. Tension gathered in her shoulders.

Long legs came into focus first and then she was staring up at Klaus’ shadowed face. Even in the darkness she saw his dimples and knew he was smirking.

“What are you doing, love?” He arched an eyebrow. The common question was one of the first she recognized before knowing the words.

She did a lot of things differently. Part of it was the way she had been raised, and part of it was just her desire to have everything a certain way; he never minded her rearranging or alternate methods of doing just about everything, but more often then not her answer remained the same because more often then not he was questioning the furrow between her brows.

“Thinking,” she shrugged one shoulder and lowered herself back down, hardly feeling the damp grass. She formed the words carefully as she folded her hands over her stomach. “Will you join me?”

He tilted his head, considering for a moment; she almost thought she had said something else, but then he moved and stretched out beside her, leaving just enough room for the broad candle.

Off in the direction of the village lightning flashed, lighting up the distant sky and giving enough light for her to catch his pensive expression.

Clearly he needed to think about something too.

She wondered what was on his mind, and though she could have asked she doubted she had the vocabulary to fully comprehend whatever response he would give her. Instead she moved her mouth, forming without sound the words she had been practicing since he left her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his head to watch her.

“What?” Her eyes narrowed.

He said something further, gesturing with one hand as he did. She knew enough of his words to understand. He had been worried that the storm would break and catch them, and that was why he suggested she stay behind.

She pushed up on her elbow and lifted the candle, moving it above their heads. Then she moved closer, laying a soft kiss on his cheek.

“It’s alright.” She stretched back out, this time taking his hand in hers. Their fingers threaded together.

Distant thunder broke up the silence and every once in a while she would look up through her lashes and watch his thoughtful expression. At last she could take the silence no more and squeezed his hand.

“Klaus?”

Her voice startled him, making his grip on her hand momentarily tighten.

“Yes, love?”

She chewed her bottom lip, practicing the words one more time in her head before shifting and sliding her fingers around his wrist. She held his gaze as she lifted his hand to her flat stomach.

“I’m pregnant.” She saw the steady rise and fall of his chest falter, betraying the surprise. Her own breath caught. She waited for him to say something, to breathe, to understand the words she knew she had gotten right.

Had she gotten them right? She had practiced them over and over and over.

Had she practiced wrong?

Had she messed up a syllable somewhere?

Had she forgotten the carefully enunciated words Bonnie taught her less than six hours before?

Had she told him she was a purple leprechaun?

He wasn’t teasing her though, and if she had said something truly crazy he would have jumped at the opportunity to make her blush until she broke out in giggles.

He was staring at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.

“Klaus?” She pressed her lips together, swallowing heavily.

He shifted onto his side and moved his hand from her stomach. She didn’t get a chance to mourn its absence before he replaced it with the other, palm spanning the width of her stomach.

“þú’st heill?” A flash of lightning illuminated his eyes.

She struggled to find a word capable of describing the emotion in his gaze, but could only come up with tentative wonder.

“Ek em heill,” she said again, nodding and enunciating each word carefully.

“Heill,” he breathed.

Caroline nodded again. Her mouth shifted, mirroring his smile.

A rush of joy she had spent hours suppressing swelled in her breast. It bubbled up and out of her in a rapturous laugh that cut off when he kissed her, although between her happy giggles and his broad smile it hardly counted as a kiss. Still, they persisted in exchanging them until the first drops of rain fell.

She felt the water on her hand, rolling off her skin and soaking into his shirt. Cold surrounded her when he pulled away, but he helped her up and bundled her into his arms, leading her towards the promised warmth of the hearth fire.

++++

Torrential rainfall drummed over the roof and turned the floor nearest the doorway to slick mud that she slipped in every time she ventured too close. Occasionally the heavy winds buffeted the house and sent fat droplets of freezing water through those high vents and onto the benches below; she wiped up what she could before finally losing her patience and shutting as many of the vents as she dared, leaving only two open on either side of the roaring fire so the smoke filtered out.

The one time she had ventured near the outside was when he ran towards the small barn to check on the few animals. For the length of time he was gone she had stood at the door, squinting into the dark day, unable to spot more than the outline of the outbuilding; her favourite sight laid far beyond and out of the question, and with the wind she doubted a single orange or yellow leaf would reside on the distant mountains.

By the time he returned he had been shivering and soaked to the bone.

He had laughed through chattering teeth when told him in no uncertain terms to get out of his wet clothes, but he had obliged eagerly. That was how she found herself ringing out sodden wool and shaking her head.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, sighing. The words came in her own language as she was too annoyed to think in his, but her mood was easily read.

Dry arms snaked around her waist from behind, but the chill persisted in clinging to his skin and raising gooseflesh on hers. His cold nose brushed her jaw before he pressed a single kiss to the column of her throat and she had to force herself not to melt so she might understand the majority of the words breathed against her ear.

“I had to seal the doors.” He said something else that her language skills didn’t allow her to decipher.

She tossed the shirt on the bench and twisted around before it could thud, laying her hands flat on his chest. As she pushed he walked backwards, guided by her small hands towards a stool and when the back of his legs knocked the wood she slid her fingers up to his shoulders.

“You’re cold as ice,” she said in her sternest voice. The tone wasn’t hard to achieve in the heavy syllables. “Sit,” she tugged the fabric until he gave in and dropped onto the stool.

Firelight made his hair glow golden and brought a healthy pink to her hands. Her fingers tangled in his hair and combed through, gently working out knots formed by wind and rain.

His eyes drifted shut as she worked, and his hands settled on her legs; long fingers curled around the back of her thighs, matching the small circles she massaged into his scalp.

“How do you get so many…” she tilted her head, thinking back to when he taught her how to loop the string around the tent poles. What was the word he had used? “Lykkja…” she gave a soft tug on the small mess she worked on. “Knots?”

“I always have,” he chuckled, turning his head to kiss her wrist.

When she spoke again it was in halting syllables as she carefully formed the words.

“I do not think… I can handle this each day.” She freed the final tangle, running her fingers through his hair as she pursed her lips; amusement twinkled in her eyes. “If it understands what is good for it, our baby will have my hair.”

“Our child will have your everything, love.” His dimples deepened as he smiled and leaned forward until he brushed a kiss over her flat midsection.

Not everything, she bent and kissed the top of his head, some of it comes from you. At the very least the child had already inherited something from his mother.

“You have to warm up.” She gave him a small push, urging him to sit closer to the fire. His fingers tightened, yanking her forward. Her knees bent and she fell, one leg on either side of his lap.

“I can think of a gøra lund for varmr up,” his voice lowered to a guttural growl as he skimmed his hands over her legs and stopped at the curve of her behind. He squeezed the firm flesh through the layers of material and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping gently.

An almost painful throbbing began between her legs, pulsing with each beat of her heart. The guiding hands he utilized were unnecessary when she rocked forward in search of the sweet relief she knew only friction would bring.

It wasn’t enough. She tugged awkwardly at her skirts, desperate to have the fabric out of the way, but she made no headway until he offered aid and together they piled the skirt over her upper thighs. Without the linen layer of her underdress in between, the wool trousers prickled her sensitive skin, but it was no worse than his stubble. She always got a thrill when the coarse hairs scratched her thighs. After experiencing the heights of pleasure he could lift her to with just his tongue, she often wondered why such acts were banned and punishable by imprisonment where she had come from, but she couldn’t believe she was to be eternally damned for enjoying it.

She quivered atop him and tried to shift closer, scratching her nails down his stomach in route to the hardness she now needed to feel inside her. She wanted him then and there, but he stopped her fingers progress with a gentle push at her wrist.

One hand at the small of her back steadied her as the other disappeared under her bunched skirt. She felt the living pulsing cold seconds before and tried to jerk away, but he made contact.

The cold bit at her, filling her hot passage in a smooth thrust.

Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream. She gripped at his shoulders and arched her back, unsure if she was trying to get away or impale herself further.

He bit at her hard nipples where they poked through the front of her dress and worked her with his hand until three icy fingers plunged in and out while his thumb found her engorged nub.

She felt his fingers warm inside of her until her walls fluttered sporadically. On the brink of bliss he took his hand away. She wanted to groan in frustration but before she had a chance he altered his arms positions, slipping the hand slick with her arousal over her hip and replacing his now warm hand with the one at her back.

The sudden shift back to cold made her arch. Her head fell forward on his shoulder as she cried his name and dug her nails into his upper back. Her thighs trembled on either side of his legs, coated now in her sticky release.

Her legs refused to hold her anymore. She slipped down to shaking knees, forcing his hands to release her as she did so and reached for his waist line. She tugged at his trousers with one hand and dipped her fingers inside, curling tightly around the base of his shaft. Thunder rumbled in the distance as she freed him from the confines and pumped up and down, jerking his hard cock the way he had shown her he liked.

As she tugged she couldn’t get the voice of Leticia from her mind. The one time she had opened up about her nightly experiences had been to say that Heimir forced her to her knees and fed her his manhood until he shuddered and released in her mouth; Leticia claimed that was the act that officially told her she was nothing but a whore.

Bonnie had later told her how open these people were about sex and sexuality and about the time she had accidentally caught Kol and Elena in a compromising position that neither had felt any shame in; one that had allowed them to taste of each other at the same time.

He had never asked anything like that of her, in words or actions, but wasn’t that something all men were supposed to enjoy. Prostitutes were supposedly frequented for the sole purpose of sucking cock.

And how could she not think of such things when his throbbing length was at eye level?

She found a growing curiosity as she worked him with her hand, and she decided then and there that she would satisfy it. She watched his face through her lashes as she leaned in, wanting to see his reaction.

His eyes, which had fluttered shut, flew open the moment her mouth closed over his swollen head.

Her name was a strangled cry on his lips.

Now that she had him in her mouth she was mortified to discover that she had no idea what to do next. He was supposed to go in and out though and she used that as a starting point, bobbing her head up and down. When his cock hit the back of her throat she gagged and pulled up, taking care from that point to only fit what she could and use her hands on the rest.

She knew exactly what to do with her hand, and between that and her thirst to please she worked. Listening to the soft instructions he got out between grunts: suction, lick, deeper, no teeth…

She struggled each time he hit the back of her mouth to fit more of him until she reflexively swallowed and felt the head slip into her tight throat. Her eyes bulged as he swore and his hips pushed upwards of their own accord, forcing more of him in.

“Sorry,” he lowered his hips back down. Strings of saliva glistened on his shaft.

She wasn’t having any of that though. Now that she knew she could take more she was determined to swallow every inch of him. She worked up and down slowly and then faster, taking more of him on each downward pass and circling his head with her tongue on each upward one until he was completely engulfed in her mouth.

She found as she continued bobbing her head up and down that she didn’t mind the taste. It wasn’t her favourite, but he was clearly enjoying himself so she didn’t mind too much and bringing him pleasure was making her aroused again; beads of it were rolling down her thighs.

He called her name with a hint of desperation in his voice and she looked up, but the warning came too late. His cock was halfway down her throat when she felt the tell tale swelling - different while surrounded by her mouth. 

The first burst went straight down her throat. The second coated her tongue as she pulled back. The third and forth flooded her open mouth and the last of his semen spattered over her face.

She rolled the warmth over her tongue, contemplating the salty taste she hadn’t encountered since the first time. Like then, she swallowed it down and even parted her lips for his thumb when he wiped the mess from her face.

“How was that?” She sucked on his thumb.

“Amazing.”

She squealed when he stood, yanking her up into his arms and carrying her in the direction of their bed.

++++

Katerina flexed her dry fingers and set the wooden combs on her skirt, allowing her stiff hands a well earned break before she could succeed in working them to the bone.

Her eyes rose to Rebekah when her sister-in-law held back a painful grunt. She surveyed the thin fingers and found more than one crimson crack in her alabaster skin.

“Perhaps a break?” She suggested, gently working the straightened wool fibres from her comb.

“I’ve hardly done half the work you have completed,” Rebekah said, shaking her head. “I’ll never hope to catch a decent bride price if I can’t produce at least the average amount of cloth.”

“If you don’t set the combs down for a bit then you won’t have to dye that wool.” Katerina rolled her eyes, nearly laughing at the dryness in her own voice. “Besides, if they can get around your father and older brothers they won’t care how much cloth you can make.”

Rebekah wrinkled her nose and tossed the combs into a basket, slumping against the bench as she did so with a long suffering groan. “I’m going to die an old maid.”

“With withered hands,” she smirked.

“Aren’t you supposed to defend me?” Rebekah grumbled, reaching into the small bag at her belt for a jar of beeswax. She rubbed a generous amount onto her hands, spreading it thickly over her broken skin.

“Do you want me to talk to your brother and get them all to permit a suit?”

“That would be wonderful,” Rebekah winced, glaring through narrow eyes at a particularly long crack in the crease of her finger that stung beneath the cold cream. “They really overdid it last year with Leif and now no one will even consider me.”

“Have you forgotten which sister you speak to, Rebekah?” Katerina arched a smooth brow. “I had thought such instances of mistaken identity were over now that they reside in another house.”

“I suppose that means you won’t speak to Elijah,” she sighed. “And there is no mistaking you for Elena, Katerina, not after a moment of conversing.”

“Even if I did speak to him, he would never listen to me,” she picked up a chunk of wool and placed it on one comb, “at least not about this. You are their little sister, and they will protect you from any potential harm they see.”

“Freya never receives this kind of treatment,” Rebekah crossed her arms, feeling the beginning of a pout forcing her bottom lip forwards.

“Probably because not many men are eager to marry a witch,” she said, gritting her teeth and yanking hard on the combs. Wool fibres stretched and straightened with each pass back and forth.

“How are you still working?” Inadequacy bloomed in her breast. For a moment she felt all of four years old again, when the combs had barely fit in her hands and her sister guided her movements; Freya had been the one completing the actual work then, with a child’s hands acting as hindrance.

“I have to do something,” she jerked her elbow back, nearly hitting the thin wall by the bench. “If I stop working too long I will remember that I am confined to the house, and I have never done well with the idea of being trapped.”

Rebekah leaned forward and patted Katerina’s shoulder, knowing how she tended to get when held in one place too long. The urge to run and breathe and taste freedom would overwhelm her to the point that Elijah would only get her inside again when she inevitably fell asleep.

“I’m certain the rain will let up soon.”

++++

“Are you distracted Elena?” Bonnie’s quiet voice broke her from her revery and she twisted her head around, stilling her hands as she did.

“Not at all,” a tight smile flitted across her face. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you just wove red into a white stripe,” Bonnie tilted her head and raised her brows, angling a pointed look to the loom where a new sail stretched across the frame.

Elena turned back and shut her eyes upon seeing the mess of heavy wool pulled tight in the wrong place. Tears stung her eyes; it would have to be worked loose thread by thread.

“Perhaps you should let me take over,” she suggested, gently prying the tapestry needle from her fingers.

“I can do this,” Elena protested in a strained voice. She tasted salt on her lips and fought down a hysterical sob.

“But you hate weaving?” Bonnie frowned.

“Not as much as I hate being completely useless.” Elena’s shoulders slumped.

“You’re not completely useless.” Bonnie slid onto the bench and nudged her elbow. Her tone took on a teasing note as she lifted her fingers and started to work the threads backwards with magic: “you’re just useless at weaving.”

She snorted, feeling a smile reluctantly lifting her lips. “You’re very cheeky for your position,” she shook her head.

“You need someone to be cheeky with you,” Bonnie said, laughing softly. “Besides, I don’t think I would be able to keep up with the pair of you if I were anything else.”

“Kol does like pretty little things with sharp tongues,” Elena said, rolling her eyes.

“Does that mean you think I’m pretty?” Bonnie tracked the threads movement with her eyes, tracing the path with her fingers.

Elena wiped at her cheek with one hand and brushed against Bonnie with her shoulder. Her wet eyes sparkled as she spoke. “If I wasn’t completely convinced about how much my husband loves me I might see you as a threat.”

“Then I’m happy you’re convinced,” she said, grinning suddenly as the stripe returned to its proper state. “I would hate to be on the wrong side of your sword.”

Kol returned to the house at that moment after catching the end of their conversation. He pulled off his wet shirt as he crossed the room, dropping it on the stones by the hearth as he went.

“That will never happen, Bonnie,” he came up behind Elena, placing his hands on her shoulders. “She’d come after me with a sword first,” he teased.

“It would be a knife actually, and don’t worry my love, you’d live through it,” she teased right back and shivered, looking up through her lashes. “You’re freezing.”

“The rain is cold, my darling,” he chuckled, bending to brush an icy kiss over her cheek. “Would you like to help me warm up since you are the only one I ever want for such activities?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I thought I wasn’t cleared for such activities,” she tipped her head back, watching him from upside down.

Bonnie focused on the loom. After a year she had stopped blushing at such talk and after her embarrassment upon finding them together the first time they had been more considerate about engaging in their marital activities in places she wouldn’t find them; usually by mentioning such activities in her vicinity so she knew not to go looking for them. That hadn’t stopped her from catching them outside a few times back in the spring.

“I can think of few indoor activities that you truly enjoy,” Kol continued, oblivious to Bonnie’s thought process. He kissed a soft line over her cheek and down her throat until his teeth scraped over her shoulder and a different shiver traveled down her spine. “You’ve said repeatedly that you feel much better. I can take a look and clear you right now.”

Elena swallowed and shut her eyes, tilting her head to give him unrestricted access to her throat. Her pulse quickened, spreading heat through her body from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. He could examine her, approve amorous activities and proceed to bring her pleasure that would be heard in his father’s house, but first he would have to thoroughly examine her stomach.

“I… I… I…” She whimpered when he nipped the spot below her ear, making it increasingly hard to think. She might have lost her train of thought altogether if not for the hands that snaked around her waist and flattened over her stomach close to the wound.

Too close.

She jerked out of his arms and stood abruptly, slowly turning to see his shocked expression. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she fought to regain control of her breathing.

“I’m…” she swallowed and tried again, lowering her eyes as she spoke softly before either of them could say a word. “Its getting late and I’m… tired,” her voice rang false to her own ears.

She spun on her heel towards the bedroom, leaving them both gaping after her.

Kol’s eyes darted to Bonnie when the door shut.

“Did I misread that situation?” He frowned, feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms.

“How should I know?” She picked up the correct needle and began weaving the yarn into the cloth.

“You could see her face.”

“No,” Bonnie sighed, letting the needle drop. She thought of the way Elena had leaned back and moved with him, motions dictated by the same desire that made her bite her bottom lip and whimper. “No, I don’t think you misread that. Something has been bothering her.”

“I know,” he snapped and then lowered his eyes. “Sorry. I’ve been a little frustrated.”

“I gathered,” she nodded, picking up the needle again.

“Did she say something to you?” He glanced towards the bedroom door. “I know that something has been bothering her for a while but she hasn’t told me, and I can’t help her until I know what it is.”

“She hasn’t spoken to me about it,” Bonnie worried her bottom lip. “And she seemed fine until…”

“Until what?” His eyes narrowed.

Bonnie fiddled with the long needle, running the thread between her fingers. She stole glances towards the door before meeting his eyes.

“Until you touched her stomach.”

AN Seasonal: Currently it’s late summer/early autumn. The leaves are changing, the days are growing shorter and a late summer storm has hit the area.

AN Familial: Vikings typically all lived in the same household to the point where a single household could have near a hundred individuals once you included family, servants, slaves and the families of servants and slaves. For the purposes of this story I chose to have Klaus and Kol outside of the main village. In Klaus’ case it’s because he hates his father and wants to spend as little time in Mikael’s presence as possible. For Kol and Elena the choice to begin their own household had a lot to do with a few mixups in the early days of their marriage when Elijah or Kol would go to greet their wife only to accidentally wrap their arms around, or kiss the cheek of, their sister-in-law. In a smoky house it was easy to mix them up, especially if Elena was wearing a dress rather than trousers. Elena and Katerina always laughed when their husbands would turn bright red.

The chestnut mare snorted, tossing her mane back. Thick strands of hair whipped Caroline’s fingers. They moved at a sedentary walk to accommodate those individuals still on foot. She suspected a canter would have been preferred by the riders.

She had never ridden a horse before and as such enjoyed the slow pace. There had been no need in the village since women only rode for travel purposes and nobody ever left. Her grandparents had been born in that village and they had died in that village never having traveled more than a day’s walk from the border marked by Aland’s fences.

The only horses she had ever seen were used for plowing the fields, and they were all docile, each and every one; nothing like the stallions and mares these people rode.

She thought she might like it a lot more if she were riding alone, but that option remained firmly off the table. There were only three women riding at all, and of them Elena was the only one to have her own mount.

She rode with Klaus. His strong arms reached around either side of her body to rest on the saddle pommel and hold the bridle in place; the action – or inaction – had the dual purpose of securing her to his chest and controlling the animal.

She shifted uncomfortably, growing sore as they moved.

“How are you so at ease?” She twisted her neck around, catching his eyes. There were moments, accentuated by sudden changes in motion, where she felt the only thing keeping her seated was him.

Her fingers gripped the side of the saddle, brushing against the mare’s soft coat.

“Hafa einn nei rīða a hestr, ást?” He tilted his head.

“Hestr?” Caroline’s brows knit together. She swatted at a fly, disrupting its buzzing path in front of her nose.

He shifted the reins to one hand and caught her wrist in midair. She had no choice but to bend with him as he placed her palm on the animal’s gleaming neck.

“Hestr,” he smiled.

“Nei?” He shook his head.

She glimpsed dimples from the corner of her eye and swallowed, acutely aware of his sun warmed skin.

‘Nei’, Caroline bit her bottom lip as she stroked the horse’s coat. She had worked out what ‘nei’ meant quickly, and she tested the word on her tongue while shaking her head.

“Nei,” she straightened her spine, “no.”

“Einn vera sorg,” he chuckled; the sound carried through her body. “Taka,” he opened his left hand, lifting the loose reins a few inches.

She hesitantly curled her fingers around the thin leather. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring she was doing what he wanted. His answering nod should have calmed her, but her heart pounded as she realized that she was now in charge of the horse and their direction.

Had she misinterpreted ‘nei’?

She swallowed, eyeing the reins as she would a snake and flexing her fingers.

He had held them loosely, right? They had just sat in his hand?

Hadn’t they?

“Einn hafa vaða til the hestr.” His hands retracted, settling on her hips and urging her to move with the gentle sway. “Vaða.”

Heat flared beneath his palms, spreading up her sides. The warmth carried a flush that made her grateful he couldn’t see the light pink tinting her cheeks. That colour deepened to crimson a moment later when his hands slid over the curve of her hip to her thighs.

“Herða einn Þjó,” his fingers tightened, calluses caught on the material and rubbed her soft skin.

Her muscles twitched, clenching tight. If the smile she felt against her cheek was any indication then the action pleased him.

He left one hand on her thigh, reflexively squeezing and releasing, and brought the other back to her hip, urging her to move.

Caroline gritted her teeth, intent on following both directives. The tasks seemed easy enough, but each time she fell into a rhythm with one she forgot the other.

She groaned, dropping her head and hitting his shoulder.

“Einn ætla,” he tapped her temple, “ok mikill.”

Viviane had done that once when she acted as Caroline’s tutor, teaching her the basics of knitting. The single attempt had been a complete mess, full of holes and far too tight.

“I’m not overthinking it,” she huffed, pressing her lips together. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, tugging on the reins.

He chuckled; the sound field her irritation.

“I’m not!”

She straightened her spine, putting as much distance between her body and his as she could. She remained undeterred by the impossibility of such a task. When she set a goal she achieved it; even if it seemed that the only way she could was to move her hips back and her body forward.

The less than ideal position made her back ache, and pressed her lower body against his groin, but at least she couldn’t feel the tingle caused by his rumbling laugh against her shoulders.

She eventually rolled her hips with the horse, subconsciously matching her muscle movement to his. The minimal shifting resulted in reasonable comfort.

Except for that damn ache in her lower back.

“Caroline,” he leaned forward, whispering against her ear. His hand flattened over her belly, pressing into the soft flesh to pull her backwards into his chest.

Could he feel the way her muscles quivered under his touch?

“Caroline,” he repeated.

She pressed her lips together and forced her expression to harden as she turned her head to look at him.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but he was doing his level best to hold a serious expression. He managed it for long enough that Caroline felt her resolve weakening and she had to turn away to hide the smile threatening to lift the corner of her mouth.

“Caroline,” he caught her chin with a finger, twisting her head back around to look at him.

She bit her cheek, hard, but the foolish corner fought to rise.

“Ek epli, Caroline.” He combined the apology with a slight pout that proved her undoing.

She giggled, ducking to hide her head and his answering laugh traveled through her back.

She took a deep breath, releasing the reins into his hand. The rush of air brought the smell of horses and him to her nose. It hadn’t been a thought when Heimir broke into her house, or for any time after but somewhere in the far corners of her mind she had assumed these men, these fiends, who had invaded her home would smell, but he didn’t.

A clean scent clung to him, tinted with the faintest hint of horse. The thought that such brutal people cared about hygiene was shocking, but it didn’t change the fact that he smelled good. Cleaner than any of the men she had ever known, including the monks who would sometimes travel through the village.

There wasn’t much to do on horseback outside of one-sided conversation other than watch the world pass her by. She elected to do that rather than dwell on how comfortable she felt in his arms.

Her entire life had been spent in the village. Never had she ventured further than a day’s walk from the border. And everything had always been the same.

She had always been safe.

She did the same things.

She thought the same thoughts.

She had been safe.

The monotony often threatened to bore her to tears.

In the span of an hour everything changed. Danger invaded her home and she had been forced to flee, inadvertently running into the arms of the enemy.

She should have feared for her life.

Leticia certainly did.

Caroline could see it in her furtive eyes, and the way she tugged at the braided rope attaching her wrist to Heimir’s horse. Her terror split three ways. Caroline didn’t know which was strongestL the murky future, falling behind or getting free.

If she tripped, how fast could those behind her halt?

If she got loose, how far could she run before an arrow pierced her heart?

Leticia was afraid.

Viviane’s terror remained evident in the rigid set of her spine. Like Caroline, she was one of the few on horseback because of her leg, but she didn’t seem as broken as Leticia. Her hands were also bound, holding her in place; she flinched every time the man at her back shifted.

Was it fear, or had she experienced the same treatment as Leticia? She hadn’t heard Viviane scream, or cry, but she also hadn’t heard Cassandra make a sound, and they all knew how that had ended.

She didn’t know what to make of her situation. So far she remained unbound and unmolested.

Caroline turned her head a few inches, catching his eyes for a moment.

She had always thought herself attractive. Several men had approached her father for suit before her marriage was finally arranged, and each of them had looked upon her the way some of the men in her current company stole glances at Elena.

She despised that look, but it sufficed as a measure of desirability. She always knew that if they didn’t desire her company they at least lusted for her body.

Some of the men surrounding them cast hungry eyes her way.

If Klaus looked at her like that she had yet to catch him.

She leaned back, relaxing her spine against his chest; his only reaction was to adjust his hold on the reins.

Maybe he didn’t find her desirable, but then, why had he asked Mikael for her? Or had he been asking his father not to be saddled with her?

Aside from tending her injuries and showing her how to properly ride the horse, he hadn’t touched her.

She fidgeted with her fingers, brushing the folded painting in her belt. She played with the edges of cloth shaking away her previous thought. He had to at least find her attractive. He couldn’t have drawn her as he did if he didn’t.

She lifted her head to survey the crowd again, and spotted Elena several paces ahead riding alongside Kol. She backed into Klaus and against her will her entire body shivered. She barely felt his arms shift as the images played behind her eyes.

Kol attempted to approach her outside the tent, and for every forward step she had hopped one back until she huddled behind Klaus and dug her nails into his upper arms.

There had been plenty that happened outside that tent, but all she remembered was his bloodstained hands and Cassandra’s prone form.

++++

After countless hours of driving their horses further across the land the sun had begun it’s descent. At their current pace it would take days before they reached the water. It would be much longer before they set sail.

Many had thought it odd, but it was a mark of Mikael’s personality when no one questioned his decision to deviate from their routine. Normally the ship was no more than a day’s journey from the village they plundered, but this summer his father had decided to explore the new country on foot, always following the river that was too narrow for the ship.

His father was many things, and pragmatic made his list of attributes. In addition to raiding the three villages they had passed unseen he would ensure that they were prepared for weeks rather than the short length of the journey.

One storm could knock them off course; any shortage of supplies leading them to an unworthy death.

The journey would be long. He suspected she would find it dull. Half of the time he found it dull, though he did enjoy the way her body shifted with his; the continued motion would eventually become rather uncomfortable - especially if he dwelled on the sensations - but for the time being he liked it.

Unlike him, conversation to pass the time was impossible. She was surrounded by dozens of people and practically alone.

He spent the majority of the ride observing, as he often did, and had noted many things about her. Her steady breaths caught in her chest when she shifted and brushed him. Her heart beat fast when he touched her.

And she possessed an inability to sit still that he hadn’t encountered since Kol’s childhood.

Normally motion was a requirement when riding, for if one remained still one would be unable to walk the next day. She had begun to move with the horse, but it was her hands that shifted constantly, slim fingers twisting in her belt and curling around the fabric of her dress. The only time she froze was when he placed the reins in her palm.

Attuned to her body as he was meant that he noticed in seconds when she stopped moving. And even the thickest of his father’s warriors would have noticed when a woman backed into them and fought back a shudder.

He followed the direction of her head and his eyes landed on his brother riding alongside Elena; any closer and he might as well pull her from the mare to ride with him.

The small cuts on his arms stung as a reminder of the morning.

He shifted the reins and reached, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. Her shoulders lifted in a sudden, jerky breath her head dipped and golden hair slid forward.

“You have nothing to fear from Kol, love.” He leaned forward, murmuring against her ear in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He didn’t know what had happened with the woman outside the tent, but he knew what he told her was true and he repeated the phrase softly while rubbing his thumb over her palm until she relaxed.

He drew their joined hands towards her body and loosed the reins, allowing, the horse to take the lead. They rode in silence like that for several minutes before he felt the slight rumble of her stomach.

He let go of her hand and she twisted to look at him, but her frown melted away as he passed her a skein of water and told her to drink. He watched from the corner of his eye as she sipped, and reached into a saddle bag; his fingers sifted through the contents until he found what he was looking for.

He held the folded cloth in front of her, placing it in her hand when she hesitantly opened her palm. She hadn’t eaten anything the previous night and after the turmoil she had endured he didn’t push it; likewise, he hadn’t pushed when she refused food that morning, but now that he could feel her hunger he had to insist.

“You need to eat.”

Caroline glanced back over her shoulder, slowly unwrapping the folds of cloth. He saw her nose wrinkle when the smell wafted up.

She lifted one small fish and tilted her head. Living as far from the sea as she did he doubted she had ever seen herring, and he knew the smell - not unlike that of a rotting corpse - would be off-putting. The flavour would also take getting used to, but the small fish would be filling and easily capable of staving off her hunger; besides, as a staple of their diet she would have to get used to it.

He plucked the dried fish from her fingers, raising it to her mouth.

“Eat, Caroline.” He felt her hesitation, but then she surprised him by opening her mouth and biting the head off the fish.

She chewed fast, swallowing and pressing her hand to her lips. Her eyes flittered to his face and then his fingers. Carefully she reached for the rest of the fish.

++++

On every other step his knee brushed against her thigh where her hand rested. Strong fingers skimmed over her knuckles and squeezed, pressing gently into her palm.

“I’m sorry."

“Stop it,” she snapped, her eyes lowered. She twisted her wrist, twining their fingers together and looking up to meet his dark eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my knife,” he shook his head.

“And she only had it because I stormed off and you followed,” the fight went out of her eyes; she closed them, seeing again the lifeless form.

“I gave you every reason to walk away, darling,” he lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles, “and if I am forbidden from blaming myself then so are you.”

She swallowed, her thumb smoothed over the leather reins.

“Elena,” he rubbed her hand, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Tears stung her eyes and she stubbornly blinked them away; it had taken too long to gain her clansmen’s respect, and she would not lose it to tears no matter how well they had been earned.

“It is,” he nodded, a sad smile on his lips, “but I know it won’t. You’ll blame yourself until you don’t, and the only thing I can do in the meantime is distract you.”

“I’m well versed in your distractions,” she huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes.

“That is not what I meant,” he smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm, “at least not at this moment.”

“Very well, Kol,” she shook her head, “how are you going to distract me?”

He tilted his head, tracing the curve of her cheek and the slope of her nose with his eyes. “Have you eaten anything?”

She turned her head in time to see his eyes flit to her stomach, and sighed.

“Are you going to hover for the duration of this pregnancy?”

“If you think I’m leaving your side, then you have another thing coming my love,” he laughed, releasing her hand. “You didn’t answer my question,” he reached into the bag hung over his shoulder.

“No,” she breathed in slowly. “I haven’t eaten. I couldn’t think of it after… I didn’t think I would keep anything down,” she admitted in a low voice. “And if you’re reaching for herring, forget it; I can smell it somewhere and it will be going nowhere near my…”

Elena trailed off as a small jar was held in front of her. She took it, carefully pulling off the lid to examine the contents. A creamy white substance greeted her and as she watched a few blueberries were dropped on top.

“Nik found a bush when he was making paint and left a few extra for you,” he explained.

“Where did you get skyr?” She took the carved spoon he held out, dipping it into the thick yogurt. “I thought all of it was left at the ship for the return.”

“And when we were leaving I thought you might like a treat at some point during the journey,” he watched her swallow a mouthful. “Don’t suppose I’ll get a bite of that?”

She grinned around the spoon.

++++

Her head nodded forwards as she fought the losing battle to stay awake. Her eyes drooped under the weight at the end of her lashes. Surely nodding off wouldn’t be the end of the world. She had done it before in the past few days and every time he had held her steady atop the horse.

She had never fallen, and it would have been nice to rest her eyes for a few minutes.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind did it stop, flying away as he pulled up on the reins and brought them to a halt.

Without her knowledge or consent the sun had fallen during the ride and was now kissing the horizon, telling her she had taken a short nap without reaping the benefits. There had been days in the village where she worked from dawn until dusk during harvest and still possessed the energy to dance around the fire with Viviane, but three days on horseback and she wanted to crawl into a warm bed or even a soft patch of grass.

She heard his boots hit the ground and took a deep breath, feeling it expand her lungs. With the rush of air she found the energy to swing her right leg over the horses back. She had watched carefully over the journey, learning that the leather foothold used to mount the animals were used for balance to get back down, but her ankle lacked the strength to utilize the tool. As such dismounting had become something of a routine for them.

She swung her good leg around. Klaus took her hips in hand. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He lifted her down and held her steady until she gained her footing.

Once her feet hit the ground and the damp from the grass seeped into her bones, she shivered, feeling a new energy fill her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, sliding her hands down to his elbows. She tested her ankle, shifting her weight onto her left foot; the joint ached, but her leg held steady.

Her head turned to the side opposite the setting sun. She blinked, attempting to place the sound all but drowned out by the men setting up camp. It was a slow rush of water.

“Where are we?” She licked her bottom lip. As predicted he didn’t answer, at least not with anything she understood. Several words had been picked up, but they were useless in interpreting what he said.

She spun around, unhooking one of the lighter bags from the saddle and slinging the strap over her shoulder. During the first day she had considered running, but her ankle would have never allowed it and the last time she had tried she ran straight into Klaus; that had been when she knew the terrain. There was no point in running. If she did she wouldn’t get far before getting herself killed or captured, and if she were taken a second time she ran the risk of being placed in a worse situation, so far his only downfall was being a part of the group that destroyed her home, and he hadn’t even been present for it.

“Where to?” She patted the bag at her hip.

He said something, offering his arm as he did.

“I’m okay,” she shook her head, flashing a quick smile. She wanted to walk, stretch her legs unencumbered.

He unloaded the rest of the bags, moving away from overhanging trees and setting them down. Caroline followed, limping as she went and waving him off when he cast her an inquisitive look.

She lowered her bag to the ground, huffing as she straightened back up. She leaned on her right leg for a moment while he retrieved the wood she had come to recognize as the tent frame, taking long slow breaths as he worked.

He levelled out the frame on the ground and bent to retrieve a post. She stepped forward, balancing most of her weight on her right leg, and held the post at an angle while he attached the one on the other side. They repeated the process and he was fitting the tent in place while she perched on the chest and untangled the string.

“Klaus.”

Caroline’s head popped up, twisting towards Elena as she approached with a smile. She said something while nodding to Caroline, and motioning beyond the nearly complete tent.

@klaroline-events @kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever@elejah-wonderland @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms@morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180​ @iw1shiknew​

She combed fingers through damp hair, fanning the strands out and holding them closer to the heat that radiated from the fire. A hint of honey wafted up from her clean hair from the soap Elena had offered her at the river.

Normally she bathed in the morning so her thick hair dried by nightfall, but summer air in combination with fire worked almost as well as the sun, and after days of travel it had also been nice to clean up. There had been water every morning to wash her face and hands, and her hair had been combed through each day; her captors were obsessed with cleanliness, and after her short time among them she was just as eager to clean up everyday. But the full bath had been nice.

She tilted her head, trying to remember the exact words Elena had used and see if she could work out which one had meant ‘bath’ and which had been ‘soap’.

Caroline cast her eyes across the crowd, seeking out familiar faces. They were all further away than normal; Klaus had built a smaller fire closer to the tent when she limped back. She suspected it had something to do with Elena hovering very near, prepared to lunge forward and catch her in the likely event that her leg were to give out.

After walking to the river and back, she was ready to stretch out her leg and relax, so she appreciated it.

They were far away from the vast majority of people. She couldn’t see Viviane, but Leticia’s hair gleamed in the light of the fire next to her.

Caroline tipped her head back, tracing the full moon through the wavering smoke with her eyes. She couldn’t dismiss the image of Leticia’s bruises from her head; she attempted to hide them while they bathed, and when questioned on how she had gotten them she had echoed Caroline’s chilling words to Cassandra on that first night.

“You already know.”

Viviane had lowered her eyes, unable to look at either of them when Leticia had continued on in a condescending tone, suggesting that the pair of them had as many if not more that they were succeeding in concealing.

She did know. They both knew. Yet, Caroline had taken more than a small amount of offence at the accusation. She glanced at him through the corner of her eyes and felt a swell of confusion battle with annoyance, and the question that had lingered in her mind for days rose up again.

“Klaus?” She felt his gaze on her cheek, and twisted her hair around her fingers while she stared at the orange flames. A log popped and crackled, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

“Caroline,” he prompted.

She swallowed, unsure why she struggled with the words he wouldn’t recognize anyway, but there was a spark of courage deep in her heart that she fanned into a flame; her cheeks flushed as she forced out the question in a rush.

“Why haven’t you touched me?” The words blended together. She repeated them slower at his confused look, as if that would miraculously make him understand.

“Epli?” His brows knit together as he tilted his head.

She asked again, casting her eyes in the direction of Leticia’s gleaming hair. As she watched the girl she had played with as a young child was led away; the screams ceased after the second night, but that was no indication of anything. Caroline, herself, had gone still to remain alive.

She stole a glance at him hiding her curiosity behind a wave of waist length hair. He had followed her gaze and as she watched he lowered his eyes to the fire, starring at the flickering flames; his hands, for the first time in days, stilled their constant carving and she got her first good look at the tiny knight.

Fires extinguished at the nearest tents, plunging the world beyond them into darkness.

She ran her hands around her neck, lifting the heavy hair up and over one shoulder. Her fingers worked, dividing three thick strands and weaving a braid that was halfway to her naval when he moved, startling her.

He didn’t say anything, she wasn’t sure she would have understood if he did, but he smothered the dying fire. Without the bright light his skin paled, almost glowing in the moonlight.

She came to the conclusion her question had not been understood.

She stood when he did, limping through the tent door he held open. Inside enough moonlight broke through to illuminate outlines of objects.

“You’re not going to answer me are you?” She glanced over her shoulder. There was a twinge of pain as she lowered herself to the furs, but she kept from vocalizing her discomfort in favour of a wince.

She felt the heat of his body as he sat beside her and went on talking, buoyed by his lack of understanding, yet still mortified by the nature of what she alluded to.

“I’m not an idiot,” she whispered, unlacing her shoes. “I think I know what I’m supposed to be.” Viviane’s silence had confirmed her similar experience to Leticia. “And you don’t understand a word I’m saying,” she sighed.

Her head turned and she caught his eyes; they took the limited light in the tent and cast it back at her.

She twisted the end of her braid, breathing slowly. She went to move twice and froze both times, overthinking the meaning behind any action she might take and fearing the reaction she might get.

Her eyes adjusted until she could see the stubble he would shave in the morning dotting his jaw and lining his upper lip. Knots formed in her stomach, twisting in time with the fingers in her hair.

Her tongue poked out, wetting her bottom lip, as her eyes flickered. She dropped her braid, lifting her fingers hesitantly.

He glanced to her hand quickly but came back to hold her gaze, remaining still as she moved. Stock still. She thought be might have been as afraid as she was.

Her fingers ghosted over his cheek, tingling where his stubble brushed soft skin. She brought her other hand up, cupping his face and shifting to her knees.

He inhaled sharply.

Before she could second guess herself, or let her growing mortification dictate further action, she held her breath and pressed her mouth to his. For one long moment he remained still, and her pulse quickened.

She was just contemplating moving away, laying down and facing the wall for a sleepless night when he responded.

His searing hands circled her waist, pressing to the small of her back. One traveled up, leaving heat wherever it touched, while his thumb kneaded her skin through the dress.

Calloused fingers at the nape of her neck kept her from pulling more than a few inches away to draw in a quick breath.

“Klaus?” Her nose brushed his as she lifted her chin to see his half closed eyes, lowering her gaze to the slow smile. “Kl-“

He cut her off with a kiss, more heated than the first, and she mewled as his tongue slipped into her mouth and tightened her fingers in his hair. He kissed her until she grew lightheaded and then shifted his attention to her jaw.

She took heaving quick breaths as he pressed a line of kisses to her throat, scratching her skin as he went. He found a spot where her pulse slammed against her neck and nipped, tugging with his teeth.

A low moan she never realized she was capable of making broke through her parted lips, and he stopped.

She blinked, bringing the tent back into focus as he straightened up. There was a question in his eyes and the rasp of his voice.

The hand at her waist moved up until his fingers gently traced her face.

She took a deep breath, felt her breasts brush his chest, and realized how close they were pressed. Try as she might she couldn’t remember if she had knelt on either side of his lap or if he had pulled her there.

“Caroline?” His thumb caught her bottom lip.

She slid her hands out of his hair and around his neck, pressing her thumbs to the underside of his jaw. Whether or not he wanted her was no longer in question, she could feel the evidence like a confession against her thigh, yet he had stopped.

The question that lingered, the one she suspected he had asked, was whether or not she wanted it. And that was the very reason she nodded once before meeting him halfway.

Their kisses ranged from slow and drugging to urgent and exploratory. Her heart sped, sending a flush through her body and raising her temperature. His fingers moved down from the nape of her neck, delicately plucking the strings at her back.

Her dress loosened, held in place by her raised arms and his body flush with her chest.

When his gaze met hers, her heart turned over in response.

She slipped her hands from around his neck down his chest and beneath his arms, gripping the sturdy fabric of his tunic. He raised his arms as she lifted. The shirt bunched in her hand as insecurity bubbled up once more.

He tipped up her chin and leaned forward, brushing his mouth against her cheek; the touch was little more than a whisper and she dropped the shirt. He moved in a line across her jaw and nibbled on her ear, fingers dropping to her shoulders.

His lips continued to brush over her neck and she tilted her head. She ached to feel him closer, so she grudgingly ended the exploration of his back muscles and lowered her arms to her sides, letting the sleeves slip down her arms.

The dress pooled at her waist. She didn’t have a chance to linger on embarrassment before he placed a tantalizing kiss on her collarbone and directed her down. Soft fur embraced her back, and she lost herself in the gentle sweep of his hands and mouth.

Hot palms covered her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. His lips touched her nipple, tongue caressing the swollen bud. His hand covered her other breast, fingers rolling over her hard nipple, as his free hand slid across her silken belly.

Her senses were assaulted on three fronts, and she moved impossibly closer, vaguely aware of her dress creeping up her thighs as she did. The light gentle touch sent currents of energy through her.

The desire was strange, as was the sudden awareness of her own heartbeat, but it was not unpleasant.

It was not uncommon for girls to engage in sexual relationships in her village, or any of the surrounding ones, much to their parents warring shame and approval - not that they admitted to knowing of such activities. Men were fickle - that was what her mother had said; they wanted the assurance that their eldest children were their children which required a maiden bride, but they wanted a woman who understood what it meant to be a wife and mother. That experience was something a maiden lacked.

She had experienced such a relationship before, but her partner had never evoked such emotion in her. He touched her and her entire body thrummed, tightening deep in her core; she felt her blood course through her veins like an awakened river. She wondered what would happen when that energy released, and how far he would push her before she couldn’t hold it back any more.

She was more than ready to get rid of the fabric separating them, but he persisted with kisses down her stomach. His stubble tickled her skin and she giggled, clamping a hand over her mouth when he looked up at her through his lashes.

He held her gaze for a moment, lips lifting in a smirk that she didn’t quite understand until he moved his jaw, deliberately tickling her stomach.

“Stop that!” She squirmed, hiding her smile behind her hand and attempting a glare, but her tone betrayed her amusement.

He chuckled and sat up on his knees. His hands skimmed over her hips, catching the dress and pulling as she lifted her lower body. Gooseflesh rose where his fingers teased her legs until he reached her feet and the dress joined his tunic, leaving her in stockings and nothing else.

She pushed up on her elbows, breathing heavily as he untied the ribbons and rolled the material off. When each was removed his lips brushed over her delicate ankles, seemingly pleased with the lack of swelling.

Typically there would have been another layer on her body, a shirt beneath her dress, but the day the village had been raided was warm and she had left it off.

In the dark she reached for him and he caught her hand, running his thumb deliciously up and down her palm. He moved then, laying between her legs and resuming his exploration of her stomach. She felt certain he sought to taste every inch of her body; that certainty grew as he made his way down to kiss the thatch of gold curls.

“What are you…” she gasped as his tongue swept through her folds, gathering slick arousal; she arched towards him, threading her fingers into his hair as her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to push him away or hold him closer until his tongue flicked against something hard above her opening. Stars flashed behind her closed eyes; she forced them open to watch him, though it was a struggle to focus through the unfamiliar feelings coursing through her body. That coil in her belly tightened until she could see the way her abdomen clenched and quivered.

She felt on the precipice of something.

A thick finger circled, dipping slightly inside but moving no further. She forced herself to look down and found his questioning gaze again.

“Vera hann godr?”

She released her bottom lip from where she had been biting it and nodded. She inhaled fast, breath catching in her chest as he pushed forward with first one finger and then two when he found her capable of it; the stroking of his fingers sent pleasant jolts through her. Those pleasant jolts turned to near blinding as he curved his fingers up, massaging a spot that brought the stars back to her eyes.

Moans slipped out of her mouth faster than she could think to hold them in. The pressure built until it became almost too much to bear, and then he added his mouth to the mix, but instead of flicking as he had done he wrapped his lips around the hard nub and sucked.

The coil in her belly snapped, and she cried out, spasming around his fingers. She shuddered and shook, clinging to his shoulders. When her body calmed down she looked to where he was pressing kisses to her thigh. Beneath his lips her skin tingled.

Slowly he shifted to hover over her body, and she wondered why she hadn’t asked her question earlier, but that was shook off fast. She knew why she hadn’t asked. He was one of the many that had invaded her home, and it had taken days to accept his actions towards her as genuine rather than some attempt at trickery.

Her fingers explored his chest, tracing thin scars wherever she found them. There were a shocking number for someone who had stayed behind while his kinsmen wielded swords and fought. Some were thin, and some were jagged, but she traced each with gentle fingers on the path to his hips.

She felt him straining against the fabric and swallowed, pressing her palm to his covered length. He hissed, pushing against her hand.

Her brows lowered as he shifted, until she realized that he was removing the last of his clothes. Her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse as he moved back between her spread thighs.

Flesh against flesh. She chewed her bottom lip. He hovered and slowly she nodded again.

His hand snaked between their bodies to line up, and he pushed forward sinking inside of her.

She relaxed against the invasion, opening to him as best she could. He worked in and out gently, going a little further each time until she felt his pelvis hit hers.

Her moan was swallowed by his kiss. His tongue moved in her mouth in time with his long, slow thrusts. He shifted to nibble her earlobe and whisper words she didn’t recognize that nevertheless made her body tighten.

A hand curled around her thigh, lifting her leg high. She shifted the other and inhaled sharply, grasping the back of his neck. The coil wound quicker the second time around, and her hips began to raise, of their own accord, meeting him thrust for thrust while her hands explored his back.

He sped up, catching her lips in a sensual kiss as her body fell apart. Her walls fluttered, gripping him tighter until movement became difficult and her consciousness ebbed.

She shuddered, arching into him and breaking his kiss. Her cry bounced back from the tent walls, reverberating in her ears as the world shattered, fracturing into a million pieces. The pieces fitted back together until she could see a bit of the picture and feel him again. He thrust into her once, twice, three times before she felt the muscles under her fingers knot and strain.

His release painted her walls, filling her womb with warmth that leaked when he slipped out. A hollow ache was left behind as he collapsed beside her on the furs.

She stared up at the sharp incline of the ceiling, unsure, and shivered as her body mourned his weight. Slowly her heart slowed down.

She jumped when his hand settled on her abdomen, and turned her head. The moon must have ducked behind clouds because all she could see was the light in his eyes and the flash of his teeth. The hand on her stomach hesitantly shifted, curling around her hip and pulling her gently.

She followed the directive until she came into contact with his chest, naked and slick from their lovemaking; his heart beat under her ear, lulling her off to sleep.

++++

Slim fingers danced over his chest, drawing soft lines along his clavicle and over his breast bone, eliciting a shiver. The sensation roused him from slumber. He blinked the sleep away, lifting a hand and rubbing his eyes between thumb and forefinger. The light touch stilled and he looked down.

Golden hair tickled his chin; he smoothed the wild strands away, eyes focusing on where her finger rested. He found the nail moving, barely touching a raised line along his rib. The scar had lost most feeling when it healed, but he still remembered getting it. An echo of his father’s belt bounced through him, searing along his ribs up to his heart that beat faster under her ear.

Her palm flattened, covering the slight shake of his abdomen.

He felt her lifting her head and was hyper aware of her smooth skin rubbing against his chest, but his eyes were glued on the last scar his father gifted him on the day his little sister turned Mikael’s sword on him.

“Klaus?” Caroline dragged her hand up his chest, cupping his jaw. “Niklaus?”

The sound of his given name on her lips sent a chill through him. There were only four people in the world who called him that, and each were in a position of authority: mother, father, older brothers. ‘Niklaus’, when uttered by any aside from his mother and sometimes her as well, prophesied disapproval or outright disdain that was quickly followed by a lecture of some kind. He thought Elijah might have been the only one to keep such emotions out of his voice, but that was only occasionally.

Elijah, and now Caroline.

When he dragged his eyes to hers he saw nothing but concern reflected in the blue, absence of light all but hid the flecks of green.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you all about it,” he managed a half smile, pushing one hand through her heavy hair. He shifted the waves back revealing a milk white shoulder and the top of one firm breast where it pressed against his chest. “One day,” he kissed her brow, “when one of us has the words to understand.”

She sighed, brushing her lips over his collarbone.

She possessed a rampant curiosity, and he knew eventually they would be in the same position again; he had no desire to hide the truth of any scar she questioned, but first she had to understand him. Body language and touch would not suffice in relaying such tales.

She kissed him again, dipping her tongue into the hollow of his throat. His body stirred in response.

Under the blankets her leg shifted, toes rubbing the inside of his calve.

He listened for evidence of the camp waking as she moved. A pebbled nipple dragged over his chest and he shut his eyes, drowning out the sound of distant voices.

Caroline continued on her path, tracing every thin scar with her tongue and peppering gentle kisses to the more jagged.

She held his hips when she reached his naval, smoothing her thumbs over the distinct lines leading under the blankets. The tip of her nose nudged a scar left over from a sparring match with Elijah.

He shivered.

She dipped down lower and he gathered her hair in one hand, holding it aside so he could see her face. As she shifted the valley between her breasts perfectly cradled his growing erection; he groaned, bucking gently.

He felt her still, and internally cursed upon sighting her wide eyes. Surprise reflected in the depths, but curiosity shone outward quickly as well becoming the prevailing emotion as she sat up.

Her weight rested on her hip and wrist as he released her hair. The heavy curtain fell mostly over her shoulder and down her back, but a thin veil dropped to conceal all but a hard nipple. Her other hand hovered above the edge of the blankets and furs that he longed to toss aside so he might hold her without barriers.

He focused instead on the way she bit her lip and tilted her head until she finished whatever internal debate she was in the midst of and inched the furs lower, head moving to follow the path of the blankets; cool morning air circled around his thighs.

Her finger drew over a line that extended from his knee halfway up his thigh - the result of a childhood fall and a wound he had hidden from his mother in a stubborn fit that left behind a raised scar.

The line didn’t hold her attention for long, but she did follow it, drawing an imaginary one beyond its end until she reached the joint. Then her hand lifted, thumb ghosting along the bulging vein.

During the night she had instigated he had decided that she understood the mechanisms of intercourse, and assumed after they were done that she had not been a maiden when he took her, or if she had then she came from a village where they were more open about their sexuality and like his own people young men and women were educated in such manners when they reached adulthood.

Her fingers gently circled him, closing around his cock. His breath hitched, catching as she moved her hand up.

He allowed the exploration, watching the fascination on her face as he grew to his full length.

A grunt escaped and she stilled, asking him something in that strange tongue. He didn’t need to understand her to know it was the same question he had asked her many times the night before: ‘is this alright?’.

“Very good, love,” he chuckled, reaching for the hand still curled around him, “but if pleasure is your aim you might try gently squeezing.” As he spoke he directed her hold, tightening his fingers around her hand and raising it slowly before lowering it back down.

“Herða?” There was an accent around the word he had first spoken on horseback, but it brought a smile to his lips.

“Yes, love,” he tightened his hand again, “squeeze.”

A look of intense concentration crossed her face, deepening the line between her brows; he bit back a laugh as she undoubtedly overthought things.

Caroline shifted up onto her knees, bracing them apart for leverage as she focused on what she was doing. Matching her pace to the one he had shown her, pumping up and down. Her grip tightened as she reached the top, loosening on the downward path. A bead of liquid appeared and she paused, catching the glistening fluid on her thumb and smearing the white. The addition of lubricant made her hand move a little faster, and he groaned.

The sound encouraged her, and he would have been lying if he claimed her smug grin was anything short of arousing.

He was never one to be outdone, so he lifted his hand between her spread legs. Heat kissed his fingers before he felt the slick lips.

“Caroline,” he teased her folds with a nail.

Her breath caught, looking down to where his hand rested. He waited for her nod and then moved, coating his fingers in her arousal.

He found her entrance, pushing two fingers in to the knuckle. Her body welcomed the intrusion, eyes closing as she lost herself in the sensation. He located the soft spot inside and massaged it while locating her clit with his thumb.

Her hips rolled, riding his hand the way he imagined she would ride his cock. He bucked into her hand, reminding her of her current task as he thrust his fingers in and out.

Her eyes snapped open and she resumed, pumping up and down.

He increased his own thrusts, occasionally flicking the swollen nub with his thumb, and pushing a third finger deep into her willing body. Arousal rolled down his hand in beads, splashing his forearm as she shook, trembling around him; on the brink, but not quite ready to tip over the edge.

The steady pressure on his cock suddenly stopped and he lifted his eyes from her heaving breasts to her face, wondering if perhaps he would see her ride him. The anticipation increased as her small hand wrapped around his wrist, but rather than push his invading fingers away she moved her palm up and let go.

He frowned until she curled her hand around his length again, pumping faster with the aid of her own slick arousal.

He tossed his head back, swearing to every deity he could think of until he heard her throaty laugh. He breathed heavily and focused, reading the clear challenge in her eyes.

A smirk tightened one side of his mouth. He propped himself up on his elbow for leverage and thrust into her dripping body hard and fast, making her gasp and moan. Her body rocked down, but her hand kept going pumping faster and faster.

She shook her hair over her shoulder, whimpering when he seized the opportunity to suck a nipple into his mouth. Her thighs trembled on either side of his wrist. It wouldn’t take much. Some well timed acute attention on her swollen clit would break her and he would win. She would fall apart and then he would help her sink onto his straining cock, finishing inside of her and with any luck he’d have enough time to bring her pleasure again before the cry came to break camp.

Just a few flicks of his thumb.

The muscles in his abdomen and thighs strained; their lovemaking would be over quickly. He wouldn’t have much restraint left when he took her.

Just a few flicks.

He moved his thumb into position, pressing upward. Her nipple popped out of his mouth and he dragged his lips to her other breast, grazing the swollen bud with his teeth.

He rubbed once.

Her free hand reached down, lifting his tight balls and squeezing.

He groaned as his body tensed and he released her breast to look down, following her gaze as spurt after spurt of release splattered his stomach and coated her hand; a few spots decorated her flat stomach, one getting high enough to catch on her nipple.

He softened in her hand, breathing heavily as he refocused and brought her to pieces with his fingers. Her legs gave way; she slumped down against the furs, catching her breath.

He brought his hand from between her legs and held her hooded eyes as he licked the sweet nectar from his fingers. He watched her eyes drop to her hand as she lifted it up, inspecting the thick release; she caught a thick line on her fingertip, hesitating for a moment.

“You don’t have to do that, love.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, shaking his head with a soft smile, but that curiosity was in her eyes.

She slipped from his grasp and popped her finger into her mouth. She pursed her lips, but didn’t spit it back out, swallowing instead and contemplating the mess decorating her hand and his stomach.

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, laughing softly as he lowered his head and caught her lips. He deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth and sharing her sweet flavour. Her answering moan traveled through him and he lowered his hand from her face to her hip, pulling her flush and smearing his release over her belly.

He felt his body returning to a heightened state when a loud voice broke the peaceful morning.

The call to break camp.

For a moment he considered ignoring it and enjoying his time with the beautiful woman in his arms, but ultimately decided his father’s wrath was not to be tested; he might not hit, but he could have made both of them miserable with a single word.

So, reluctantly, he pulled away and kissed her nose.

“Time to leave.”

@kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever@elejah-wonderland @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms@morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180​ @iw1shiknew​

Historical note: Sexuality in the Middle Ages was really messed up y'all. Virginity was highly sought after and valued in a bride, but at the same time people wanted wives who understood what it was to be a wife and a mother which meant they wanted a 'woman' and not a 'maiden'.

It's like they didn't know what they wanted O_o.