Chapter Text
The shift through time was sharp and sudden, a jolt of wind and magic that pulled Klaus and Caroline from the comfort of the present into the cold, damp air of the early 10th century.
They landed hard on their feet, the surrounding forest cloaked in mist and silence. The air smelled of earth, pine, and woodsmoke. Everything around them felt dense with age and untouched wildness.
Their clothing had changed with the spell, a side-effect of Freya’s enchantment. Klaus wore a thick linen tunic, dark and belted at the waist, with rough-spun trousers and worn leather boots.
Caroline’s dress was simpler than anything she’d worn before, made of wool and laced at the bodice, her hair braided down her back to match the style of the time. It itched a little against her skin, the fabric heavier than modern wear.
She turned slowly, taking in the rough wooden cottages nestled beyond the trees, the smoke curling from thatched chimneys, the muddy paths carved between them by worn boots and wooden carts.
Chickens clucked somewhere in the distance, and she caught sight of a goat tied to a post near one of the huts.
“This feels like the fair,” she murmured, her voice low and dry, a faint smirk on her lips. “Except now everything’s real. The mud, the cold, and the fact that we’re not exactly blending in."
Klaus glanced around the misty village, one brow lifting. “That hasn’t even happened yet, love. The Renaissance is still a few centuries away.”
Caroline shivered as a cold breeze cut through the trees, stirring the mist around them. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the coarse wool doing little to fight off the damp chill of the air.
Her breath curled in the air, and yet she held her head high, eyes alert and determined as they moved through the forest path.
Klaus walked slightly beside her, his gaze drifting to her profile. Even in these rough, unfamiliar clothes—earth-toned wool and leather, her hair braided back in the style of the time—she looked radiant. There was a quiet elegance in the way she moved, in the way she observed everything around her with curiosity rather than fear.
She looked regal without even trying. She would have belonged just as easily here as she did in a 21st-century city. Her beauty was eternal.
Caroline turned suddenly, catching the look on his face. A knowing smile tugged at her lips as she fell into step beside him.
“You’re staring,” she said, her tone playful but soft.
Klaus didn’t deny it. He offered her a smile that spoke more than words, tinged with disbelief that she was really his. But then he added quietly, “I can’t help myself.”
Her eyes softened, her teasing melting into something gentler, something deeper. But Klaus looked away, clearing his throat faintly as he turned his gaze back to the shadowed trees ahead.
His expression shifted as he turned his attention back to their surroundings. This was no time to get lost in romance, no matter how tempting it was to linger in the warmth of her presence. They had a duty to fulfil.
And a wedding to get to.
His gaze swept across the treeline, sharp and focused. The terrain was unfamiliar, and though the village seemed quiet, Klaus knew better than to trust stillness. He scanned the horizon for movement, for the flicker of a shadow where there shouldn’t be one, for the scent of magic on the air.
"Stay close," he suddenly told her. "These people are cautious, and we have no idea who might already be watching."
The village was simple, surrounded by low hills and dense trees, the type of place untouched by time. They kept to the edge, avoiding direct contact, listening for names or whispers of someone called Lior.
They moved slowly, speaking to no one unless necessary. Most villagers barely looked at them. Some crossed themselves or muttered under their breath. Klaus tried to ask questions, but his presence alone seemed enough to silence people. Doors closed. Curtains twitched.
“They’re scared,” Caroline whispered. “Even of a couple of lost travelers."
Klaus grunted in agreement.
They wandered near the edge of the village where the trees thickened again and the sky overhead was dimmed by overhanging branches. It was here that they spotted movement.
A boy crouched near a snare trap, examining it with practiced care. He couldn’t have been older than eleven. His clothes were made of rough wool and linen, a little too big for his small frame, and his face was smudged with dirt. A small hunting knife hung from his belt.
He noticed them approaching but did not run. Instead, he stood, cautious but calm, watching them with intelligent, wary eyes.
“Looking for someone?” the boy asked plainly, his voice clear and steady despite his young age.
He didn’t fidget or step back. If anything, he seemed to study them with the same wariness Klaus often used himself: a quick scan, quiet calculation, weighing danger without showing fear.
Klaus stared at him, momentarily caught off guard. Something inside him went still, a strange tension crawling up his spine. The boy’s face: the sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way he stood with his weight just slightly forward like he was ready to run or fight if needed, struck something in him.
It was too familiar.
Before he could find words, Caroline stepped forward with her usual warmth, her voice calm and open.
“We’re actually looking for someone named Lior,” she said gently. “We were told he sometimes comes this way. Do you know him?”
The boy hesitated. Just for a second. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. Klaus noticed the shift in his stance, the flicker of guarded instinct in his eyes. He was smart; he was deciding whether or not to trust them.
Caroline caught it too. She offered a soft smile, taking a small step closer.
“I’m Caroline,” she said, her tone easing into something more personal. “And this is Klaus. We’re not here to cause any trouble, I promise.”
The boy’s expression relaxed just slightly at her tone. He glanced between them, lingering on Klaus for a beat longer before replying.
“I’m Ansel,” he said.
Klaus felt the name hit him like a thunderclap. His breath caught in his chest, the sound of the boy’s voice echoing strangely in his mind. He blinked once, then again, like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t want to be understood.
Caroline’s head turned slowly toward Klaus, her eyes wide with realization.
Ansel.
The boy standing before them, no older than eleven, was Klaus’ biological father.
Klaus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he looked at the boy again.
A moment passed before Caroline gently reached out and slid her hand into Klaus’, grounding him. Her fingers curled around his, warm and steady. He didn’t look at her, but the pressure of her touch steadied the chaos brewing behind his silence.
She turned to the boy with a soft smile, her tone light, kind. “That’s a lovely name,” she said warmly. “It suits you.”
Ansel blinked, startled by the compliment. Then he smiled back at her, the suspicion in his eyes melting just a little. Caroline had that effect: disarming even the most guarded.
Of course, Klaus thought. Of course she could melt any ice. She had done it with him. And if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that Caroline Forbes never needed magic to break through walls.
She knelt a little so she could speak to the boy eye-to-eye. “So, Ansel... you said you know Lior. Is he a friend of yours?”
Ansel hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “He’s my cousin. He lives near the edge of the forest, with his wife.”
Caroline’s smile widened gently. “His wife? Is she from the village too?”
Ansel shrugged. “No. She’s quiet. People say she’s strange, but Lior says she’s the only one who really understands him. He calls her his moon.”
His voice dropped slightly, almost conspiratorial.
“I think she’s a healer... but she does things no other healers do. My mother says not to talk about her too much.”
Caroline and Klaus exchanged a quick look. A witch, most likely. Hidden in plain sight.
“Do you know where they are now?” Klaus asked, his voice calm and measured, though there was an edge beneath it. The knowledge that he is speaking to his father had thrown him off a little bit.
Ansel nodded and pointed toward a sloping path just beyond the tree line.
“There’s a place deep in the woods. Big rocks in a circle. Lior says the stars speak clearer there. He goes there with his wife. They like being alone there. Nobody bothers them.”
Caroline stood slowly, her hand still wrapped in Klaus’, and smiled at the boy. “Can you show us the way?”
Ansel glanced between them again. His eyes lingered on Klaus, as if trying to place the quiet weight behind the man’s gaze. Then he nodded.
“I’ll take you,” he said simply.
Klaus met his eyes and gave the faintest nod. “Lead the way.”
Ansel began walking, weaving confidently between the trees with the ease of someone who knew the forest like an extension of himself. His small feet moved lightly over roots and damp leaves, each step sure, each turn purposeful.
Caroline and Klaus followed close behind, staying quiet at first, the sounds of the forest filling the silence: the crunch of twigs, the whisper of wind through the canopy, the distant caw of crows.
Caroline glanced up at Klaus, searching his face for a read. He hadn’t spoken since Ansel introduced himself. His jaw was still tight, his expression unreadable, but she knew him well enough to see where his focus was. He wasn’t scanning the trees for danger, not anymore.
His eyes were fixed on the boy.
She followed his gaze, watched how Klaus studied Ansel’s movements: the way the boy held his shoulders, or the way he glanced over his shoulder occasionally to make sure they were still there.
Klaus wasn’t just watching. He was memorizing. Quietly observing the boy who, one day, would father him…and probably never know.
Her grip on his hand tightened gently, reassuring him that she was there, that they would get through this. He didn’t speak, but he gave her hand a subtle squeeze in return.
A few minutes passed before Ansel broke the silence. “You still haven’t told me why you’re looking for Lior.”
His voice was curious but not accusing. He turned his head to glance at them over his shoulder as he stepped over a low, mossy log.
“What do you want from him?”
Caroline opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, Ansel’s foot caught on a tangled root hidden under the leaves. He stumbled forward with a startled yelp, arms flailing to catch his balance.
Klaus moved without hesitation. In a blur, he lunged forward with his vamp speed, grabbing the boy by the arm and pulling him upright before he could fall hard onto the rocks below. Ansel landed against Klaus’ side, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.
“You all right?” Klaus asked, his voice low but steady, though his hand still hovered near Ansel’s shoulder like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Ansel blinked up at him, a little breathless, his eyes wide from the near-miss. “Yeah. I didn’t see it.”
He turned instinctively to Caroline, like he needed confirmation that what had just happened really happened, that Klaus had moved with inhuman speed.
Then Ansel looked back at Klaus, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You move fast.”
“I’ve had practice,” Klaus replied lightly, offering a flicker of a smirk, careful not to reveal the truth of what he really was. A hybrid.
There was a flicker of mischief in the boy’s eyes, a spark of boldness just beneath his calm demeanor, and Caroline couldn’t help but smile.
There was something unmistakable in it: something that made her think Klaus hadn’t inherited everything from his mother. That glint, that quiet defiance, that charm laced with trouble… it had to come from him, his father.
They continued walking, a little more carefully now. The tension had cracked slightly, and Ansel seemed less guarded, his shoulders looser as he asked again.
“So… why are you here? What’s so important about Lior?”
Klaus walked beside the boy now, his eyes on the winding path ahead. “I’m here because someone I love is in danger.”
Ansel tilted his head toward him. “Who?”
“My child,” Klaus said simply.
Ansel looked surprised. “Your child?”
Klaus nodded. “Not born yet. Will be, somewhere in the distant future. But already more important than anything I’ve ever known.”
Ansel was quiet for a few steps, thinking that over. Then he glanced up at Klaus with a small, honest smile.
“You’d make a good father.”
Klaus slowed slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity of the comment. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond. He looked at the boy, and saw not just who he was, but who he would never get to be.
His voice came quiet, almost reverent.
“So would you.”
***
They found the clearing just as twilight began to press down through the canopy, staining the forest floor with long shadows. Smoke curled from a small fire in the center, and above it, symbols drawn in ash and crushed herbs floated midair, pulsing with magic.
Lior stood at the edge of the circle, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration as the woman beside him (dark-haired, dark-skinned, graceful, and serene) moved her hands through the air with purpose. The magic rippled in response to her movements, forming into geometric patterns that shimmered and spun.
She held a polished stone bowl filled with a silvery liquid, muttering under her breath as she tipped a few drops onto the ground. The moment the liquid touched the earth, the runes flared brighter.
It was clear they were deep in a ritual.
Caroline tightened her grip on Klaus’ arm, and he instinctively stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of her as they approached. At the edge of the clearing, Ansel slowed, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He stopped there, choosing not to follow Klaus and Caroline any farther.
Lior looked up the moment he sensed them. His expression shifted instantly, from focus to alarm, and then to something harsher. He straightened with tension in his shoulders and took a step toward them.
“Ansel,” he said sharply, “what are you doing? You know better than to talk to strangers.”
The boy flinched slightly but stood his ground. “They weren’t dangerous,” he replied. “They needed help. I showed them.”
Lior’s eyes darkened, and he stepped forward as if to take the boy by the arm. But Klaus moved faster.
“Leave the boy out of this,” Klaus said, his voice calm but firm. “We didn’t come for him. We came for you.”
Lior turned his focus to Klaus, his expression wary and defensive. “You know my name. And you come into sacred ground during a ritual. So either you’re fools... or something worse.”
“We know what you’re trying to do,” Klaus said, stepping closer. “The relics. The experiments. You think if you create the right kind of magic, you can elevate your people—give the werewolves control over the supernatural balance.”
Lior’s jaw tightened.
"How do you know about that?"
But Klaus ignored his question. “There’s a line,” he said, eyes sharp. “And you’re about to cross it.”
There was undertones of violence in his tone, and Caroline sensed it immediately. So she stepped forward, trying to ease the tension a bit. Her voice was way gentler than Klaus’.
“We know what comes next, Lior. We’ve seen the cost of this. We’re not here to accuse you—we’re trying to stop you from becoming something you don’t want to be.”
Lior’s gaze flicked between them, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “I’m not the enemy.”
His voice wavered slightly, like he was trying to convince himself. Then he added, more firmly,
“I’ve also seen what will come. Creatures that walk in daylight but aren’t alive. Beings that don’t age, don’t die. They’ll look like us, speak like us... but they’ll feed on blood. I cannot let that happen.”
The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows beneath his eyes. His shoulders were tense, his fingers twitching as if bracing for a threat that wasn’t there, yet. There was no mistaking it now: he was afraid.
Caroline took a slow breath, calming the spike of anxiety within her. She had to choose every word carefully.
"I know the kind of beings you’re talking about.”
She knew he was talking about vampires, there was no doubt in her mind. But she couldn’t tell him she was one of them. All she could do was try to ease his fears, to make him see that not everything unknown was dangerous.
"I know how easy it is to paint something unknown as evil. But the world doesn’t work like that. People aren’t just good or bad. Creatures, whatever they are, aren’t either.”
“You’re asking me to trust them?” he said, incredulous.
“I’m asking you not to judge an entire kind based on the worst of them,” she answered. Her voice softened further. “You’re afraid of what might happen, but fear isn’t the same as truth. Just like not all werewolves are noble, not all of these future beings are monsters.”
She was lying by omission, dancing around the truth with every sentence. But she had to. Telling him outright would only push him further into the fear he was already drowning in.
"How do you know?" he simply asked.
But before anyone could respond, the woman beside him, the one who had been quietly continuing the ritual, looked up.
Her voice was soft but carried weight, and when Klaus turned to look at her, he felt a chill run through him. There was power in her eyes, and something ancient beneath her calm exterior.
“Because they’ve seen it” she said to Lior, though her eyes were fixed on Caroline. “You’re not from here. Your magic is out of time.”
Caroline inhaled sharply, realization dawning as she stepped back and looked at the woman more carefully. The energy around her felt familiar. Old. Rooted in something she had felt before. She even looked a bit like Bonnie.
“You’re a Bennett,” Caroline whispered.
The woman smiled faintly. “My name is Alia. Alia Bennet.”
Klaus’ expression turned cold, his voice dropping with quiet intensity. “You’re the one,” he said, almost in disbelief. “You’re the one who curses him.”
Lior’s brows furrowed. “What?”
Klaus didn’t hesitate. “You damn him. You make him the Guardian. Bound to eternity. Bound to balance. Doomed to outlive everything and everyone.”
Lior turned sharply toward Alia, confusion tightening his features. “What are they talking about?”
Alia didn’t answer. Not right away.
Lior’s eyes widened, face draining of color, as he pressed further. “Alia?”
Alia’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried with terrifying certainty. “I cannot stop the bloodsuckers from happening, Lior.”
He looked at her, stunned. She never used that word, never acknowledged the nightmare by name.
“They’ll be created by a powerful witch,” she continued, her eyes locked on his. “And I can’t interfere with her magic, it is beyond me. But I can stop you.”
“You were going to curse me?” Lior whispered, stunned. “You? You—of all people?”
Alia’s face wavered, torn between conviction and pain. Her eyes, once calm and wise, now shimmered with an undercurrent of fear. She gripped the edge of her cloak as though grounding herself in the weight of what she believed had to be done.
“I don’t want to,” she said quietly, her voice cracking at the edges. “But I don’t see another way. If not me, you’ll find another witch. Another way to mess the supernatural balance."
Lior looked like the ground had been pulled out from under him. The betrayal etched across his face was raw, and Caroline’s heart ached for him.
Alia looked at Lior, pain flickering in her eyes. She stepped closer, her voice softer now.
“Look at it this way: you don’t want the bloodsuckers to wipe out werewolves or humans. So you’ll become the one who makes sure that never happens.”
Lior stared at her as if he no longer recognized the woman standing before him. The betrayal carved deep into his features.
“You truly believe that binding me is the only answer?”
Alia looked away, but she didn’t deny it.
Caroline felt her heart twist at the sight. She glanced at Klaus, who remained silent. He wasn’t interfering, yet. He was watching it all unfold, letting it play out. But she could feel the weight behind his stillness.
Then her gaze flicked back to Alia. This wasn’t just heartbreak. This wasn’t just a fight between lovers or leaders.
This was the moment.
The moment to shift the future.
Caroline stepped forward, her voice calm, steady, but laced with urgency. “You can stop this, Alia,” she said, her tone no longer accusatory, but imploring, “You have a choice right now. We’ve seen what happens if you go through with it. He becomes something more than immortal, more than any of you can imagine."
Alia’s gaze snapped back to her. “The supernatural world doesn’t learn. You think they’ll just coexist? That bloodsuckers, witches, and werewolves will simply hold hands and sing chants in the moonlight?”
Her voice was bitter now, laced with frustration and a weariness that came from watching history repeat itself.
“They will always fight. Always try to rise over each other. That’s why there has to be balance. And balance doesn’t happen by chance. It has to be enforced.”
Klaus let out a slow, low chuckle, dry, but not mocking. It was the sound of someone who had lived through centuries of exactly what she feared—and yet, had witnessed something different.
“What if I told you that in the future... there are hybrids?”
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Alia’s brow furrowed, confusion knitting her features. “Hybrids?”
“Beings who carry the blood of more than one species,” he said, stepping forward, his tone steady, each word carefully chosen. “Vampires who are also werewolves. Witches born from both human and supernatural lines. Creatures that, by your logic, shouldn’t exist. And yet they do.”
His gaze locked onto hers, unflinching. “And not all of them destroy. Some lead. Some protect.”
He glanced at Caroline, and his voice softened, though the conviction remained. “Some even love.”
Alia stared at Klaus, eyes narrowing as if trying to decide whether to laugh or accuse him of lying.
“That’s not possible,” she said, her voice low. “The bloodlines are too opposed. Their natures cancel each other out. A being like that… it shouldn’t exist.”
Caroline stepped forward slowly, the dried leaves beneath her shoes crunching with each quiet, deliberate step. Her voice was calm, steady, but charged with a deeper urgency. “And yet he does,” she said, casting a fleeting glance at Klaus from the corner of her eye, her gaze softening for just a moment.
Klaus didn’t move, but the way his eyes flickered in return told a silent story.
“And there will be more,” she went on, her tone stronger now. “Because that’s the natural course of things: evolution, connection, unity. You can’t stop it. You shouldn’t stop it.”
She placed a hand lightly over her stomach, her fingers trembling just slightly.
“But if you create the Guardian, you’ll be doing exactly that. You think you’re preserving balance, but you’ll be the one destroying the future. He won’t keep the peace, he’ll prevent it.”
Alia’s mouth tightened. Her shoulders stiffened, but there was something behind her eyes. A crack in certainty.
“When a hybrid,” Caroline said, her voice softer now, but all the more powerful for it, “or even a tribrid," she pressed her palm more firmly to her stomach, “finally comes into the world, he’ll see it as a threat. Even if it’s born from love.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and unrelenting. Then Caroline met Alia’s gaze fully, unwavering, letting the truth land with quiet finality.
“The Guardian doesn’t become a savior. He becomes a threat.”
Alia’s face remained hard to read; her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and resistance. She looked at Caroline as if weighing her every word, searching for cracks in her story, something to justify the doubt still tightening her jaw.
Caroline held her gaze for a beat, then slowly stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The air between them pulsed with quiet tension. With care, Caroline reached out and gently took Alia’s hand.
“Then feel for yourself,” she said softly, guiding the witch’s palm to rest over her stomach. “Use your power."
Alia didn’t move at first. But then, with cautious resolve, her fingers spread slightly against the fabric of Caroline’s dress. Her eyes fluttered shut. A hum of energy rippled in the air: subtle, ancient, responsive.
Within seconds, her breath caught. Her head jerked slightly as if something unseen had passed through her. Her lips parted as her magic brushed against something that shouldn’t have existed. Something impossible… and yet undeniably real.
The child inside Caroline radiated a soft but immense power, unlike anything Alia had ever encountered. It was whole, balanced. Not torn or unstable. Not dark or cursed. Just… alive.
The magic resonated with a strange harmony, a fusion of bloodlines and forces that should have clashed, but instead, pulsed in unity.
Alia opened her eyes slowly, visibly shaken. Her hand trembled slightly against Caroline’s stomach as she stepped back, looking between her and Klaus.
“You’re them,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You’re the creatures...the bloodsuckers."
Caroline nodded, calmly. “Yes. We’re the future. And as you can see, we’re not a threat. We’re just… people. Trying to live in peace.”
Alia’s brows pulled together. Her gaze drifted from Caroline to Klaus, whose expression remained unreadable, but whose presence was steady, grounded.
The witch hesitated. Her worldview was cracking beneath her feet, everything she thought she knew now blurred by the weight of truth. Slowly, her eyes turned to Lior. The man she loved. The man she almost cursed.
“I won’t do it,” she said quietly to everyone, and then addressed only Lior.
“But only if you promise me you’ll stop. No more artifacts. No more rituals. No more attempts to shift the balance in favor of the wolves."
Lior’s gaze shifted slowly to Klaus, as if compelled. Klaus, still standing silent beside Caroline, tilted his head slightly, and in that moment, his eyes flashed golden, his veins darkened, and the sharp ridges of his hybrid face began to surface.
The forest seemed to go quiet.
Whether it was fear, awe, or something else entirely, Lior’s expression changed. His eyes stayed locked on Klaus, but he said nothing.
Perhaps it was the beauty of it, that terrifying, raw convergence of power. Or perhaps it was what Caroline had said about his future. A life of eternal isolation. The weight of a curse he could never escape. Maybe he just knew that this fight wasn’t worth the cost.
After a long pause, he nodded.
“Fine,” he said quietly. He then turned to Alia. “Bind it with magic. My promise. So you can be sure I won't try it again."
Alia stepped forward, drawing in a steady breath as she lifted her hands. She whispered an incantation in an old dialect, her fingers glowing with soft light. The spell wrapped around Lior like a thread of gold, sinking gently into his skin. A promise sealed by magic. One he could not break.
When it was done, she lowered her hands, her face pale but calm. It was over. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, the future no longer hung by a thread.
Lior's features softening as he looked at Alia. Whatever sting her betrayal had left behind was already fading. His eyes held no bitterness, only understanding.
Perhaps he realized that her actions, however misguided, had come from love and fear, not malice. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.
Alia’s expression wavered. The tension in her shoulders eased as she met his gaze. There was a silent apology between them, followed by something a deeply felt relief and forgiveness. There was something undeniably romantic in the way they leaned into each other.
Caroline watched them, a small smile touching her lips.
Then Klaus cleared his throat loudly.
“As much as I hate to interrupt whatever touching reconciliation is happening here,” Klaus drawled, voice laced with dry sarcasm, “but would it be terribly inconvenient to save the eye sex for after we’ve been sent back to our proper century?”
Lior arched a brow, clearly amused, but said nothing. Caroline rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the arm, but couldn’t suppress her laugh. Even Alia let out a quiet, surprised chuckle as she stepped forward to prepare the return spell.
As the spell began to hum through the air, golden threads of magic curling between Alia’s fingertips and the stones surrounding the clearing, Klaus turned his head slowly, his eyes falling on the small figure standing a little apart from the rest.
Ansel stood quietly, arms folded across his chest, his expression curious but calm, as if he sensed the weight of everything that had just transpired, even if he couldn’t fully understand it.
Klaus studied him for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken in his expression. Then, with the barest smile, he inclined his head slightly and said, low and steady,
“Until next time, Ansel. If fate permits.”
***
Caroline stood in front of the tall mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of her dress with both hands. The ivory satin shimmered faintly in the afternoon light spilling through the windows, and for a moment, she just stared at herself, heart racing, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and joy.
The dress fit perfectly. No alterations, no last-minute changes. It was exactly as she had imagined it would be.
Elena stepped back with a smile, tucking a loose curl gently behind Caroline’s ear. “You look perfect,” she said, her voice soft, eyes slightly misty. “Like you were made for this.”
Caroline exhaled slowly, grounding herself. “Still not over the fact that we made it back in time for this.”
Elena gave a small, knowing smile as she adjusted the last bit of Caroline’s veil. “I’m just glad you two made it back in one piece."
Before Caroline could respond, a knock came from the other side of the door. Three steady taps, unmistakably him.
Klaus’ voice followed, rich and smooth. “Love, everything’s ready. They’re waiting for you.”
Caroline’s eyes widened and she rushed toward the door, still holding the skirt of her dress.
“Don’t you dare open that door!” she warned, half-laughing, half-panicked. “It’s bad luck to see me in the dress before the ceremony!”
Klaus chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk she could practically hear through the door.
“You do realize we’ve cheated death, fate, and time itself—but this is where you draw the line?”
Caroline laughed, her voice light and unguarded.
“Well, I’m not about to risk it,” she called through the door, adjusting a fold in her skirt as Elena gave a quiet laugh from inside the room.
But just as Caroline turned from the door, it creaked open behind her. Her breath hitched, her hands shooting out instinctively to shield her dress.
“Klaus, don’t you da—!” she started, spinning toward the door, only to stop short.
It wasn’t Klaus.
Kol sauntered into the room as if he owned it, one brow raised, a signature grin playing on his lips. His steps were light, casual, almost too casual, especially for someone who had just strolled past his hybrid brother like he didn’t exist.
Caroline blinked. “Kol?”
He was back in his old body, the one she remembered clearly. The original him, sharp-featured and smug, with that spark of mischief in his eyes that never quite dulled. Not a borrowed form or temporary vessel, but the real Kol Mikaelson. Caroline hadn't seen him since the infamous thing at the Christmas house.
He gave a theatrical spin, arms out. “Back in the flesh,” he said cheerfully. “Well—proper flesh, anyway.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, though her smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Back to your old body, I see?”
Kol gave an exaggerated sigh. “I got bored of the other one. Didn’t suit me.”
Elena shot Caroline a knowing glance from across the room, lips twitching. Kol, as always, hadn’t changed. He glanced around the room with a lazy sort of interest, as if trying to hide he was looking for something, but said nothing.
Caroline crossed her arms with mock annoyance. “So… what are you doing here?”
Kol’s eyes flicked back to hers. “Came to check if everything was ready, of course.” His smile widened, a little too quickly. “You know, duty calls."
Caroline rolled her eyes, though she wasn't mad at him anymore. Not really.
“I still have no idea how you ended up as best man,” she said loudly, her voice pitched just enough to drift pointedly through the door, making sure Klaus could hear every ounce of her playful reproach for having picked Kol.
From the other side of the door came a faint, muffled sound—possibly Klaus groaning.
Kol shrugged, unbothered.
“Well,” Kol said with a nonchalance, as if the entire situation made perfect sense, “you lot picked Elijah to officiate, Finn and Klaus aren’t exactly that close, so really, it came down to me or Stefan.”
He pointed lazily at Caroline, continuing without pause, “And you picked Stefan to walk you down the aisle—because your dad’s dead and all that,” he added bluntly, unbothered by the weight of his own words.
Caroline raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but he carried on as if he hadn’t noticed.
“So Klaus got stuck with me as the best man. Simple math, really.”
A brief silence settled in the room, until Kol glanced at Elena with a slight smirk.
“Damon wasn’t even considered,” he added casually at her. “No offense.”
Elena simply rolled her eyes.
“I know how it happened,” Caroline said, arms crossed as she leveled a look at him. “No need for the full breakdown. I meant how can you be the best man after what you did to us at the Christmas house.”
Kol tilted his head, completely unbothered. “That wasn’t personal,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was playing a role. It was all part of the performance.”
He paused, then added with a pointed glance at her, “And especially not personal to you. If you remember correctly, I was nothing but good to you. I even contacted Bonnie for you."
Caroline opened her mouth, then hesitated. He wasn’t wrong. He had been decent to her, even thoughtful in his chaotic way. But still—
“You left us with Mikael on our trail,” she reminded him, arms folding tighter. “That part wasn’t exactly charming.”
Kol gave her a quick grin and shrugged. “Did you die, though?”
He said it so casually, so completely unfazed, that Caroline could only huff in exasperation as he began leisurely scanning the room again, clearly done with justifying himself.
“Look, Mrs. Mikaelson-to-be,” he added, eyeing around the room, “our sibling dynamic is...complicated. You might want to start getting used to it, now that you’ll be spending eternity as part of the family.”
He flashed her a wink before adding, “No refunds, by the way. You wanted Klaus, you take him.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips gave her away. She wasn't planning to. Not now. Not ever. Even eternity, she thought, didn’t seem like enough when it came to Klaus.
“Isn’t your friend Bonnie supposed to be here, by the way?” Kol asked suddenly, trying much too hard to sound casual as he adjusted a cuff on his sleeve and gave the room another pointed glance.
Both Caroline and Elena rolled their eyes in unison.
So that’s what this was really about, the girls thought. This is why he’d come in the first place and spent the whole time subtly scanning the room.
“She’s one of the bridesmaids too, isn’t she?” he added, still pretending his curiosity was purely logistical.
“She’s smarter than that,” Elena said dryly, crossing her arms, clearly seeing through him.
Kol turned to her with a wicked grin, undeterred. “That’s what you thought about Caroline, Miss I-Can’t-Pick-a-Brother,” he shot back, eyes glinting with amusement, the kind that always hinted he knew exactly which buttons to press and just how far to push them. “And look who she’s marrying today.”
Caroline and Klaus, even separated by the door, chuckled in unison at the nickname Kol gave Elena. The timing, the delivery, it was too Kol to ignore.
Elena shot him an offended look, her brow arching, mouth parting in protest like she had a comeback on the tip of her tongue. But she ultimately let it slide, because it was Kol, and fighting him on sarcasm was like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.
“She’s the maid of honor,” Caroline added, referring to Bonnie, correcting him with a pointed look that dared him to push it any further.
“And I’m the best man,” Kol replied smoothly, flashing a grin that practically dripped smug satisfaction as he stepped backward toward the door, his hands raised in exaggerated showmanship. “Look how that works.”
He gave them a mock-salute, two fingers to his temple and a wink, before pivoting on his heel. Just before slipping out, he tossed over his shoulder with a smirk, “Written in the stars."
Kol strolled out of the room without a care, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just caused mild chaos. He moved with that signature swagger, and his smirk firmly in place.
Caroline called after him, raising her voice just enough to carry down the hallway, “And tell Stefan to come! It’s time!”
They could hear him grumbling down the hallway, followed by a muffled exchange and the unmistakable sound of Kol dragging Klaus away from the door. Something about
"Have some dignity, Nik, she’ll still be yours in five minutes."
The girls burst into giggles.
Once the laughter settled, Elena turned back to Caroline and adjusted the final detail of her veil with a delicate hand. She stepped back, eyes softening as she took in the full picture.
“I still can’t believe I might end up losing both of my best friends to the Mikaelsons,” she said, half-joking, half-stunned.
Caroline let out a quiet laugh, glancing at her reflection.
“Well, if you ditch Damon, Elijah is single... and handsome,” she teased with a grin, casting a playful side glance toward Elena through the mirror’s reflection. “We could all just go full Mikaelson.”
Elena just laughed, shaking her head.
***
The soft melody of strings floated through the garden as guests rose from their seats. Sunlight filtered gently through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the small aisle lined with flowers and white candles flickering in the late afternoon breeze.
It was an intimate ceremony, intentionally so. A gathering of the closest people in their chaotic, century-spanning lives.
Caroline stood at the top of the aisle, her arm linked with Stefan’s. Her white gown shimmered subtly as she breathed in slowly. Her hair was pinned back with delicate crystals, her veil trailing lightly behind her.
Stefan glanced at her, offering a small, proud smile.
At the altar, Klaus stood tall in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, the picture of composed elegance. But his eyes betrayed him: sharp, unblinking, and entirely captivated by the woman walking toward him.
In that moment, there was no one else, nothing else. Just her.
Lined at her side of the aisle were the women who had shaped Caroline’s life in different ways: Freya, Elena, and Rebekah stood as bridesmaids, elegant and radiant in soft, muted lavender.
Bonnie stood closest to the altar, the maid of honor, her presence grounding and fierce as always. Caroline had insisted on it. Bonnie had been her sister in every way that counted.
Kol stood beside Klaus as best man, naturally smirking, his tie already slightly loosened as if ceremony were too much for him to fully commit to. From time to time, he snuck glances at Bonnie that didn’t go unnoticed.
Caroline caught them and let out a quiet giggle, the sound soft under the music as she continued down the aisle, her arm gently looped through Stefan’s.
Elijah was there as well, waiting to officiate.
Liz Forbes sat in the front row, her hand clasping a small white handkerchief. She had chosen not to take part in the ceremony; Caroline understood. Her mother had said, gently, that some things were better experienced from the outside looking in. That today, she wanted to be just Mom.
As Stefan led Caroline down the aisle, the crowd faded. She saw only Klaus. And he saw only her.
When she reached the altar, Stefan leaned in, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “You’ve got this,” he murmured, stepping aside as Klaus took her hand.
They turned toward Elijah, waiting for him to begin. But he paused for a moment, letting his gaze settle on the couple before him, how unexpectedly right they looked together, and how happy they both looked today.
Somehow, despite everything, they fit.
“Today,” Elijah began, “is not the beginning of a love story. It is the continuation of one that has already spanned the extraordinary and the impossible. Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes have seen each other at their worst, and still chosen to love each other at their best.”
He paused, allowing the weight of the words to settle into the quiet. Klaus hadn’t looked away from Caroline once, his gaze anchored in hers like she was the center of every lifetime he’d lived.
Elijah’s lips curved ever so slightly as he continued, “Something in each of them always saw the other for who they truly were. This ceremony does not start their story, it honors what already exists. A connection...a bond,” he let the word linger, the smirk tugging more deliberately at the corner of his mouth.
Caroline and Klaus both chuckled softly, catching the playful reference. It was impossible not to think of the binding spell.
Elijah’s voice softened as he concluded the thought. “One that refused to break.”
His tone regained its formal weight, though his eyes still shimmered with that familial warmth.
“As is tradition,” Elijah continued, voice steady, “should there be anyone who believes these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now…”
Before he could finish the customary phrase, Klaus tilted his head ever so slightly and, without breaking eye contact with Caroline, spoke with dry amusement, “I’ll handle them.”
His voice was low, edged with that familiar, playful menace, mocking a threat only Klaus Mikaelson could make sound almost charming.
The crowd chuckled.
Elijah cleared his throat lightly, allowing a beat to pass before turning back to them, the formality resuming in full.
“Niklaus Mikaelson,” he began, voice calm and resolute, “do you take Caroline Forbes—to stand beside her for eternity, in light and in darkness, through peace and through chaos—as your wife?”
Klaus didn’t hesitate.
“With every part of who I am,” he said softly, “I do.”
Elijah nodded, then turned to Caroline.
“And you, Caroline Forbes. Do you take Niklaus Mikaelson—to stand beside him for eternity, in joy and in storm, through centuries still unwritten—as your husband?”
Caroline’s eyes shimmered as she smiled, voice full and sure.
“I absolutely do.”
Elijah’s gaze swept over the two of them with a softness few ever saw in him. Then, with a subtle nod, he said,
“Now, if you’re ready… let us hear your vows.”
Klaus reached for Caroline’s hands, his fingers lacing through hers like it was instinct. His gaze never left her, not for a breath.
“I have lived a thousand lifetimes,” he began, his voice low and clear, the old accent curling around every word, “and walked through centuries filled with chaos, war, and solitude. I was born in betrayal, shaped by vengeance, and ruled with an iron fist… until I met you.”
Caroline’s breath caught in her throat. Around them, not a sound stirred.
“You were light,” Klaus continued, “in all the places I didn’t believe light could exist. You challenged me. Infuriated me. You saw through me, when no one else dared.”
His thumb brushed across her knuckles.
“You never asked me to change,” Klaus began, his voice low but unwavering. “And somehow… that made me want to.”
He paused, eyes locked on hers. Then, softer,
“I don’t promise you peace, Caroline. With me, you’ll probably never have quiet.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the small crowd, and Klaus gave a crooked smirk. He turned his head slightly, casting a glance at their guests as if acknowledging their laughter, then added with dry flair,
“I’ve got a long list of enemies.”
That earned him a louder round of chuckles, including one from Caroline herself, before his expression turned tender again, his focus returning solely to her.
"But I promise you honesty. Loyalty. And a love that outlasts time. I will protect you, choose you, and if the world tries to tear us apart… I’ll burn it down before I let it.”
Caroline’s lips parted in a trembling smile, and for a moment, Klaus looked almost overwhelmed. But he held her hands tightly, as she stepped closer.
Her voice rang clear, laced with warmth and feeling.
“I never thought I’d fall in love with the man EVERYONE warned me about,” she said, drawing a quiet stir of laughter from the crowd. “But the truth is, Klaus Mikaelson… you were never the villain in my story.”
Klaus’ breath hitched. His hand tightened slightly in hers.
“You’ve been the storm and the shelter,” she continued, eyes shimmering. “The challenge and the calm. You saw strength in me when I doubted it, beauty in me when I couldn’t see it… and something worth loving when I wasn’t sure I was ready to be loved.”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat.
“We’ve been bound together before—by magic, by fate—but today, I choose to be bound to you by choice.”
There was a shift in the space, a collective stillness.
She smiled up at him, her fingers resting gently over his heart.
“So here’s my promise: I’ll be your partner in chaos, your anchor when you need grounding, and your match in everything—light and dark. For this lifetime… and every one after.”
There was no music, no cue, only the sound of held breath and hearts racing, the sense that something irrevocable had just been spoken into being.
Elijah cleared his throat, but not before discreetly brushing a single tear from his eye, pretending it hadn’t escaped. He straightened his posture, gathering himself with practiced composure.
He turned slightly. “The rings, please.”
Kol, still visibly caught up watching Klaus and Caroline with a soft, almost surprised look on his face, didn’t react.
It took a sharp nudge from Stefan at his side to jolt him from the moment.
“Oh—right, the rings,” Kol muttered, patting down his pockets as if they’d somehow disappeared, before finally producing the small velvet box.
He handed them over to the couple with a flourish that only mildly masked his embarrassment.
Klaus took Caroline’s hand, slipping the ring onto her finger with a quiet reverence.
“With this ring,” he said, his voice low but steady, “I take thee, Caroline Forbes, as my wife—and I vow to love you through every century, every challenge, and every version of myself.”
Caroline’s fingers trembled slightly as she took his hand in turn. Her voice was soft, but sure.
“With this ring,” she said, eyes locked to his, “I take thee, Niklaus Mikaelson, to be my husband in this life, the next, and whatever comes after.”
Their fingers lingered just a beat longer than necessary, and Elijah, watching them with the faintest glimmer of something warm in his gaze, knew there was little else left to say. But he needed to say it anyway.
“Then by power invested in me, I now pronounce you—” he began...
“I’m going to kiss her now,” Klaus interjected, not bothering to wait, causing the crowd chuckle, as Elijah finished his sentence.
“—husband and wife.”
Their lips met in perfect time with Elijah's final words, and their family and close friends burst into quiet applause.
***
The moon hung high over Mystic Falls, casting silver across the porch where Klaus stood, glass of red wine in hand, watching the quiet hum of the town he once haunted.
The wedding was over. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses, it had all faded into soft memory, like a melody played once and lingering in the air. The house behind him was quiet. The lights were dimmed.
And for the first time that day, Klaus found himself alone with his thoughts, on the wraparound porch of the house they had chosen to begin forever in.
The house was a white-painted beauty nestled just on the edge of town. Not too large, not too grand. A place with history in its walls and still enough space for new memories.
Elijah had handled the logistics while Klaus and Caroline traveled the world. They had only seen glimpses of it over blurry video calls and grainy photos. Now, it was theirs. A home. A strange word for Klaus Mikaelson, but no less real for it.
The porch boards creaked softly under his shoes. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. The cool night breeze brushed against his skin, but it didn’t chase away the warmth sitting in his chest.
Behind him, the door creaked open. He didn’t have to turn to know it was her. He could feel her presence as keenly as the wind, as naturally as the rhythm of his own thoughts.
Caroline stepped out barefoot, her gown traded for a simpler, soft white dress that swayed gently as she moved.
Her hair was down now, falling loosely over her shoulders. There was a pink flush still on her cheeks, not from nerves anymore, but from the sheer high of the day. Klaus simply stared, letting the sight of her anchor him.
“I can’t feel my feet,” she said, dramatically, though a smile adorned her face. “I have a love-hate relationship with heels.”
Klaus smirked, eyes glinting as he took a slow sip of wine. “Then why wear them at all?”
She collapsed onto the bench with a dramatic sigh. “Because I looked amazing in them. Obviously.” Her gaze dropped to the glass of wine in his hand. “And of course you get to enjoy that."
Klaus arched an eyebrow and offered her the wine. “One sip won’t do any harm. Especially not to our tribrid. I’m sure she, or he, has already inherited your stubbornness and my recklessness.”
Klaus’ gaze lingered on her with that quiet, reverent awe he’d never fully masked around her, not since the moment he realized she wasn’t just someone passing through his eternity.
Caroline chuckled but waved off the glass he offered. “No wine for me,” she teased, gesturing toward her stomach.
Klaus smiled, then followed her eyes as they drifted across the porch, lingering on the wooden railing, and the warm light that spilled from the windows behind them.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She meant their new home.
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched her in the stillness. Her hair now fell loosely over her shoulders, catching the moonlight.
She looked so much like the girl he had first met in Mystic Falls and yet nothing like her. She had grown into something more powerful, more radiant. His.
Klaus set his glass down on the small table beside him, never taking his eyes off her. Then, wordlessly, he took a few steps closer and extended his hand.
Caroline raised an eyebrow, amused. “What are you doing?”
“Something ridiculous,” he said, mouth curling into a smirk, “like dancing with my wife under the stars.”
He let the word wife roll off his tongue slowly, with a kind of quiet reverence and unmistakable desire that made Caroline’s breath catch for a second. A faint pink crept up her cheeks before she could stop it, and Klaus, of course, noticed.
She looked down at her bare feet, then up again with a soft laugh. “Out here? There’s no music.”
“We’ve danced to worse, I think we can manage the crickets,” he said simply.
Caroline let out a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she placed her hand in his. Klaus gently pulled her to her feet, but instead of holding her at arm’s length, he drew her straight into his chest, his hand firm against the small of her back.
She landed softly against his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne, earthy and dark, curling into her senses. Her fingers curled around the lapel of his shirt, lips parting slightly as he lowered his head, brushing his nose lightly against her hair.
For a few heartbeats, they didn’t move. Just stood there, breathing each other in.
Then Klaus began to sway, slow and sure, guiding her in an invisible rhythm only the two of them could hear.
Caroline followed his lead with a grace that came naturally to her, her fingertips grazing up his chest before looping behind his neck. She leaned into him, her body molded against his in perfect memory of every time he had held her.
She tilted her head slightly and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, gentle, but lingering. Klaus’ breath hitched against her temple, and his grip on her waist tightened just slightly.
“You keep doing that,” he murmured, voice thick, “and I’ll forget we’re still outside.”
She smiled, slow and warm, lips brushing the curve of his jaw now. “Maybe I want you to forget.”
He laughed, low and warm, the sound vibrating through her as she tucked herself tighter into his arms.
“Careful,” he whispered into her ear. “That kind of invitation is not something I take lightly.”
“I know,” she breathed.
They kept moving, slow and languid, as though the stars above had choreographed every step just for them.
Caroline rested her head against his shoulder again, her lips still tingling from the feel of his skin. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, gently toying with his hair, and Klaus closed his eyes briefly, letting the sensation roll over him.
The way she touched him, familiar and intimate, was its own kind of language. It said mine, it said always.
They moved slowly across the porch wood, the night wrapping around them like silk. Her bare feet brushed against his as they swayed, hips aligned, bodies close enough that even the air between them seemed to hum.
Caroline lifted her head again, her lips ghosting over the edge of his jaw. Her breath was warm, teasing. She kissed the underside of it, once, then again, just enough to make him tilt his head in response, baring more of his throat to her.
Klaus' hand slipped lower on her back, fingertips curving against her waist, holding her in place like she might drift away if he didn’t.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, love,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.
“I know,” she whispered, pressing another kiss just below his ear. “That’s why you like me.”
His chuckle was low, vibrating against her lips where they hovered at his neck. She could feel him trying not to lose control, not yet, not here, but his grip tightened again, like his body was betraying the stillness his mind was trying to maintain.
His smirk curved against her temple, his voice dipping into that dangerous, velvet tone she knew too well.
“Someone’s letting her pregnancy hormones get the best of her,” he teased, the words murmured low against her skin.
When she spoke next, her voice came out low, breathless against his skin.
“I just want you,” she said. “I always have. Is that such a bad thing?”
He stilled. Just for a second. His chest rose and fell against hers, the rhythm uneven now.
Then he exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound nearly a growl as his hand slid up her spine, pulling her fully against him.
“Say that again,” he muttered, the restraint in him fracturing with every breath she stole from his skin.
“I want you,” she said again, softer this time, but with every bit of the conviction that undid him completely.
Klaus didn’t wait another second.
He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was nothing short of reverent and ravenous. Caroline responded instantly, her fingers threading through his hair, her lips matching the hunger in his.
He scooped her up without warning, making her squeal and then laugh, her head falling back as he carried her across the threshold of their home, their home.
The house smelled like lavender and pine and faint echoes of champagne. The candles were still flickering in the corners, casting soft golden halos against the walls. Klaus set her down gently, his hands trailing down her arms.
He kissed her again, slower now, like a vow.
They moved through the room in hushed, intimate steps.
His hands found the zipper of her dress; her fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt. They undressed each other between kisses, between soft laughs and whispered nothings.
There was no grand seduction, only familiarity and desire, like coming home in each other’s skin.
Later, after the passionate tangle of bodies and intimate moans, the world outside fell silent, leaving only the soft cadence of their breath and the warmth of tangled sheets around them.
Moonlight spilled across the sheets, tracing the curve of her spine as Klaus pressed kisses along her back until he reached her shoulders. She turned slightly toward him, her fingers finding his beneath the blankets, lacing them together.
Klaus took her hand out from under the covers, his fingers brushing along hers before his gaze settled on the ring gleaming softly in the moonlight. His name was etched delicately on the inside.
A flicker of pride, warmth, and a gush of love crossed his face as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her ring finger, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth.
“Funny,” he murmured, voice playfully teasing, “we spent all that time trying to break the binding spell... and now look at you. Bound to me anyway."
She let out a quiet laugh. “Well,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his, “this one came with better jewelry.”
Klaus chuckled, his forehead resting against hers. “Better jewelry, sure—but far worse return policy.”
Caroline grinned, shifting slightly to fit herself more snugly against him, skin to skin beneath the sheets. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
He smirked, but it softened quickly, his gaze dipping from her eyes to her lips, then back again, while his fingers traced her face gently.
“Gladly."
She looked at him and whatever teasing lingered in her expression melted into something deeper. Her eyes softened, luminous in the moonlight, filled with a kind of love that settled into his bones.
Her fingers traced a lazy path along his jaw. “Kiss me,” she whispered, the words falling from her lips like a surrender.
He tilted his head slightly, letting his lips hover just over hers, his breath warm against her skin.
“Anything you want,” he whispered softly,
“Mrs. Mikaelson.”