Note: this is nowhere near as polished as I would like it, but I wanted to get it done before Klonnie week ends. This is my first Klonnie fic and I'm really fascinated by the dynamics of this ship. I truly wish I had time to explore this story in a multi-chapter fic, but alas. Part 2 will be up in the next couple days. Review if you have a moment, even if it's just a word or two. Enjoy loves xoxox

"The impulse to possess is alive in every heart, and some people choose vast plains, some people choose high mountains, some people choose wide seas, and some people choose husbands; I chose to possess myself. I resembled a tree, a tall tree with long, strong branches; I looked delicate, but any man I held in my arms knew that I was strong. My face was beautiful, I found it so." - Jamaica Kincaid

The dream is always the same.

She runs across a rolling plain of grass. Runs against the howling wind. Runs to the figure beckoning on the grey horizon. Runs to her mother.

And her mother turns to face her. And her face is the face of Death.

She was a daughter of war and sacrifice. Since her foremothers were driven from their homes, forced to seek refuge in desperate places, they had bartered with their powers for their lives and the lives of their children. Such was a Witch's destiny.

Prince Niklaus wants a trade. He will release the Salvatore brothers.

As an orphan, as Princess Elena's closest counsel, Bonnie had buried the dreams of girlhood early. Only nineteen Suns old, she had already witnessed more bloodshed than many hardened soldiers, had brought powerful Vampires screaming to their knees, had looked Death in the eye without flinching.

She expected they would ask her to die.

It is you. No one else. Bonnie I beg you

She looked at Elena's tearstained face. Her imploring, helpless eyes. Saw their girlhoods laid out together, pretty as a picture.

Bonnie, I know you're strong enough.

They demanded her life instead.

I am marrying Klaus.

The wedding is a brief, somber affair. There are no songs or loud jests, no dances by torchlight, no flowers cast before the newly-wedded.

She feels like a corpse. No food has passed her lips for almost two days.

How many nights had she lain, consumed with thoughts of outwitting him, nursing an anger so deep it tinged her dreams with blood?

Klaus, the dreaded Hybrid, the silver-tongued villain who was everything she was not. She tries to find Elena's face in the small crowd gathered for the ceremony, but everything is a grey haze, like part of her life is already over.

In the bridal chamber she waits for her new husband. A tray of lavish fruit and bread sits untouched. Her attendants - for as Klaus' wife she would have attendants - had rubbed her with oil, their cold vampire hands making her shudder. A fire roars in the hearth, but her fingertips feel like ice.

She stands when Klaus enters. His face looks the same as always: smooth, masculine, deceptively handsome.

"I must say, love, I didn't expect you to comply," his full lips twitch in a smile as he swaggers over to the table, touching the uneaten fruit, "Although -"

Her skin is glowing, woven jewels shimmer in her dark hair, and soft layers of gauzy gold silk pour over her curves. She has never looked more beautiful.

"- I can't say I'm disappointed."

Bonnie curls her fists, feels the magic heat her skin.

"If you think I'm letting you lay a finger on me- ,"

Hands behind his back, he looks over her body in slow, appreciative scrutiny. A strange thrill slithers down her spine.

"You always were incandescent when you're angry."

A blast of magic sends him flying across the table. The tray clatters to the ground. Oranges roll in every direction.

"Why?" she pins him against the tapestried wall, using all her power to maintain a choke-hold on his throat, "Why me?"

His smile is half-demon, half angel, and fully infuriating.

But suddenly she's dizzy, and her extremities feel numb. Bonnie knows she's weak, her body needs sustenance. All the suppressed anger and grief of the last two days crash over her in wave after wave. The room tilts and blurs. She tries to push another bolt of power through her veins but shudders, feels her magic cave in on itself.

Her knees buckle.

Swifter than an eyeblink, Klaus is beside her. Bonnie collapses into his arms like a flower cut from its stem. Words of protest rise to her lips only to die there. She is being lifted, it's like floating, and she can't remember the last time someone carried her, held her, and she wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all except tiredness weighs her down, her muscles are water, and they melt into the plush bed-furs. She thinks he whispers something, just before sleep pulls her under. It was always you. But she is far away, and the night melts around her, and the only sound is silence.

She awakes to rich, mingled odors such as she's never experienced. Bonnie sits up slow and wonders if she's still dreaming. A feast of feasts surrounds her bed, the silver plates and cups dazzling in the sunlight. She climbs out of bed and walks around. There's platters of fruit: grapes, oranges, apples, pomegranates, pears arranged in enticing clusters. Loaves of bread next to pots of fruit jellies and clotted cream and butter, rounds of cheese ranging from sunny yellow to moon-white. Bowls of fresh honeycomb. Even a box of rich brown sweets she recognizes as chocolate from Turkey.

She has never in her life seen this much food and blinks again.

"You're not dreaming, love." Klaus drawls from behind her. She whips around and sees him lounging against the window, wearing a loose doublet over his white shirt.

"Are you insane? I can't eat all this food."

He saunters over to the table close to her and pours himself a goblet of wine, "Then eat two grapes and throw the rest away, it matters not. But you must eat," he sips the wine, a devilish twinkle in his eyes, "I can't have my wife fainting away every night, at least not from hunger."

"Well, so much for my appetite," she quips, but reaches for a pomegranate and slices it open.

The fragrance is dizzying, the seeds spill across her palm like wet rubies, leaving streaks of red. They melt on her tongue, both sharp and sweet. Fill her throat with sunshine. She can't remember the taste of anything else.

She eats the entire fruit without pause, until only a hollow juice-stained shell remains. Licks her fingers. Then her lips. Closes her eyes and savors the lingering sweetness in her mouth. When she opens them, he is beside her.

His thumb traces her cheekbone, wipes a smear of juice from her bottom lip, "I can give you everything," he murmurs, "everything you dream of, and more."

The words take their time winding through her brain. She pushes away his hand, her mouth tingling where his finger grazed it, "What could you possibly give me?"

Klaus eyes find hers. Her palm rises with instinct but he covers the small distance between them so fast it ends up pressed into his chest. The kiss is brief, just the softest brush of his mouth on hers, the slightest tug on her lower lip. Stubble grazes her chin. Her fingers curl into his shirt.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," he whispers against her mouth.

Her senses return with a chastising jolt, "Get out."

Klaus smiles with a knowing look in his eye, then he's gone, and she shivers from the sudden chill. Alone again, surrounded by a feast fit for the gods, all but abandoned by the people she's known, Bonnie wants to cry, scream, set fire to all the food and wade through burnt mulch.

She feels like her insides are hollowed out, eaten by an endless host of people.

She wonders if she'll ever stop being hungry.

For the next few days she doesn't see Klaus. But everyday, one of her handmaidens brings a new gift. A bolt of silk dyed the most beautiful shade of blue. Combs carved from tortoise-shell and set with rare gems. Bottles of fragrant oil. And pomegranates. Always pomegranates. Ripe and sweet and addictive.

She writes to Elena, tells her she is alive and as well as could be, whispers protection spells before dispatching the ravens.

They always return with nothing.

She spends a few days exploring the castle and grounds. Everywhere she goes, she feels Klaus' hybrids watching her, some hostile, some lustful, some condescending, none friendly. So she starts taking long walks by herself. The moors stretch out all around the castle, broken by craggy rock and and circled by a sea of forest. Something about the wild, desolate country calls to her.

Reminds her of Klaus.

There's no word from Elena, or Damon or Stefan. She spends her time strengthening her magic, practicing spells, drawing what power she can from the cold, bleak land. Ignoring the voices in her head that whisper orphan used pawn betrayed.

One night she falls asleep on top of the bedcovers. The acres of windblown grass stretch out in her dreams. Her mother stands silhouetted against a grey horizon, so far, so intimately close. She runs and runs. Icy wind numbs her skin. Her teeth chatter. Mother.

Finally, she thinks.

Her mother's face shines white, a grinning skull. She screams and clouds scud across the sky.

Darkness drips like oil down her throat. Chokes her. Slimes her skin.

Shh, love.

The voice, deep and masculine, whispers through the shadows. She turns her head, frantic, searching for the source. You're safe now.

A slow, welcome warmth begins stealing over soft brushes her cheek, her hair, strokes her back. Sleep. I'm here.

She wakes up rested and cozy in the pale dawnlight, covered in several furs and a richly embroidered duvet.

The pillow beside her is still warm.

"Do you have nightmares often?"

They are eating supper - well, she is eating, he is drinking wine - in the dining hall. Torch and candlelight casts a golden glow over the rich feast before them. Klaus insists on making each meal such a spectacle, even though she has protested this extravagance numerous times. He eyes her across the long table, "Is it the ghost of some vampire that died at your dainty hands? A jilted lover maybe?," her glare only makes him grin, "or is it me?'

Bonnie takes a sip of wine, ignoring his probing question.

But Klaus is not so easily deferred.

"It must be quite the vision, to have you so terrified."

"A nightmare, that is all," she puts her goblet down and stands, "I think I'll leave-,"

His voice stops her before she's halfway across the room, "Don't you ever wonder what happened to your mother?"

The dream was always the same. She ran and ran until her lungs were on fire. Always her mother beckoned on the horizon. Always her mother's face was the face of death.

"I remember her," Klaus drawls, coming to stand behind her so his breath ghosts across the nape of her neck, "Powerful, just like you. Absolutely besotted with virtue, just like you," he places a firm hand on her waist and turns her to face him, "Beautiful," his thumb brushes her mouth, "though perhaps not as breath-taking as you."

As always, when he talks this way, touches her this way, her senses betray her, her heartbeat gathering speed, her lips tingling. She shakes her head, backs away from him, "You know what happened to my mother?"

He watches her with that knowing smile, "Well, one does hear the occasional rumor-" she slams him into the wall, pleased at her replenished magic.

"What. happened. to. her?" she enunciates each word like a weapon.

Klaus only laughs, "Oh love, it isn't me you should be asking."

She releases him.

"Heard from your precious Elena lately?"

He's immediately re-pinned.

"What?"

"Go on, send her another raven. Maybe this time she will condescend to reply," a hard glitter in his eyes, "She might even thank you if Stefan takes his cock out of her long enoug-"

Bonnie slams him forward against the table, upsetting several candles. But it is a half-hearted attempt. She can't even bring herself to focus the vicious fullness of her power on him.

"You are vile and loathsome and disgusting," she says quietly, "No wonder your father wanted you dead."

As soon as the words leave her mouth she wonders if she's gone too far. His face becomes a mask of stone, and a darkness so deep gathers in his eyes she has to look away, before it consumes her.

He is gone in a heartbeat, before his words have finished echoing in her ear. Sweet dreams, love.

She returns to her chamber and crawls into bed.

Cries until the tears empty her inside out.

Klaus does not return for two weeks.

The castle looms around her, full of shadows and lonely as she is. It is too cold now for her walks to be enjoyable but she takes them anyway. Already the trees are bare, braced for the bitterness of winter. The sun is a ghost of itself.

His gifts keep coming, though he is absent. A silver jewelry box with mermaids carved into the lid. Embroidered shifts of lace and linen so fine they make her blush. Bound manuscripts full of stories and shiny engravings that dazzle her eyes. Pearls. Furs fit for a queen.

Everything you dream of and more.

Her ravens to Elena go unanswered, and as the weeks crawl by worry sets in. She pictures scenario after scenario of her friends' homes burnt to the ground, Elena stolen for some horrible blood sacrifice, Karoline lying in her own blood. She feels guilty about the luxury that surrounds her, even while she savors the lush furs on her bed, the taste of pomegranates every morning, the feel of soft silk against her flesh.

One night she orders a hot bath, and sitting in the perfumed water she remembers the cold washbasin that was her only resort when she lived with Elena. It had never occurred to her to ask for more.

Bonnie soaks her hair then combs it with oil before wrapping it in a thick rag. Dry and warm, she puts on one of her heavy fur-lined robes and decides to check the raven tower once more.

The bird she had dispatched two days go lands on her outstretched hand, head cocked, looking almost sympathetic about its lack of a letter.

More worried than ever, she barely notices the fire-light coming from the Hall on her way back to her rooms.

Klaus sits on a pile of furs in front of the roaring fire, the flames silhouetting him.

An unexpected warmth washes over her. Vaguely she wonders if loneliness is wearing away at her sanity.

He doesn't turn, so she approaches the fire. When she sits down beside him he turns his head at last, that self-assured smile creeping over his handsome face. Firelight throws his cheekbones into sharp relief, shadows his full lips, glitters deep in his blue eyes.

"Missed me, love?"

Torn between slapping him and doing other, far less respectable things, Bonnie huffs and tucks her feet beneath her. "Like a werewolf misses wolfsbane."

"Poetic and witty. Your talents continue to astound." he takes a drink from his goblet.

She takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry...for what I said about your father." He looks down into the wine and says nothing. "You were vile to say those things to me but," she bites her lip, "what I said was just as vile."

Klaus is quiet, staring into the flames. She casts about for something else to say but settles for silence, follows his gaze into the dancing, crackling fire. The rag wrapped around her head is cold and damp now, so she pulls it off, shaking loose the dark, wet tresses so the scent of jasmine oil surrounds her. Using her fingers, she combs through the curls, slow and measured, sweeping them off her nape. It's a few moments before she feels his gaze.

Her hand stills on her shoulder. The way he's looking at her makes her throat go dry.

"Klaus-,"

His mouth covered hers, warm and tasting of wine. Swift and strong, one arm encircles her waist, crushes her against him, while his other hand tangles in her wet hair.

Oh, she had lied to herself. Lied about her reasons for sitting next to him. Lied about why she had loosened her hair. Lied about why she really, truly felt guilty: it was this, more than silk sheets and jewels and pomegranates sweet enough for the gods. It was this.

Bonnie wraps an arm around his neck, angles her mouth against his. That's all the urging he needs. In a second she's on her back against the rich furs. His hands tug at her robe while he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses across her throat and collarbone, savouring the taste of her skin, making her shiver and arch her back.

"You did miss me," he breathes against her neck, and she can hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.

She digs magic-seared fingernails into his shoulder in response. Klaus gives a hiss, but his eyes are dark with lust. Swiftly, he pins her wrists on either side of her head. Bonnie wriggles but that only serves to rub her half-bare breasts against his doublet. He smirks. She can feel the magic pooling in her veins, flashing green in her eyes.

"I wanted you the first moment I saw you," he shifts his weight and she can feel him against her thigh.

"When I set you on fire?"

Klaus laughs, licks the delicate shell of her ear, "You were determined, ruthless," his mouth finds the pulse below her jaw, "radiant with power. I couldn't decide whether to snap your lovely neck," his hand brushes her breast, the nipple taut with anticipation, and she bites her lip to keep silent, "or fuck you until you screamed my name."

"Well if you like I can always set you on fire again-"

He cuts her off with another kiss, and this time there's not even the semblance of restraint, just fierce, hungry desire that makes her gasp into his mouth, makes her bite his lower-lip to silence her cry. He growls, tightens his grip on her wrists. Every time she moves, her robe spreads wider and her nipples graze his doublet, the friction setting her breasts aflame, making her writhe against him.

"I can smell you," his voice is rough against her throat, one hand skimming the inside of her thigh. His fingers brush her soft, slick folds and she can barely swallow the moan rising to her lips, "you smell good enough to eat."

She had a sudden image of his face between her bare legs, eyes flashing yellow as his tongue slid her close to maddening ecstasy, just before drinking deep of the artery in her thigh.

She wants him to fuck her, she wants to fuck him, ride him, make him wait on her pleasure. She wants to see her blood on his mouth.

"No, NO," her voice rises, echoing through the room. Wrenching her hand free, she pushes him off and crawls away, gathering her robe in her hands. Firelight and shadow dance off her skin. Klaus rolls back on his haunches, eyes devouring the exposed flesh of her shoulders and legs.

For a moment they stare at each other, breathing hard.

"Klaus, I have to go home."

Bonnie hears her voice from far away, detached from the heated, rebellious pulsing of her body.

She stands with effort on shaky knees. "There must be something wrong or Elena-,"

His hand on her shoulder is like iron, pinning her against the wall before she has a chance to blink. Bonnie presses palms of fire into his chest. Veins cord against the skin of his neck and his jaw tightens in pain, but his grip barely loosens.

"They would eat you alive, love" he hisses in her ear, "every glorious inch of you. And you would hand yourself to them on a gilded platter."

Her searing nails gouge his flesh and he releases her, stumbling back with a growl, clutching his side. A perverse smile twists his mouth.

Bonnie runs before he has a chance to recover. Her breath is erratic, her heart pounding a drum in her ears. She hears a crash behind her. Wood splintering, a sound not-quite-human, the echo of something like anger and despair that twists in her heart.

The shadowy hallways seem to stretch and recede in mockery of her senses as though she's treading the landscape of a nightmare.

Klaus does not follow her.

Not when she finally reaches her chambers, dressing through a haze, stuffing fruits into a saddlebag.

Not when she grabs a torch from the wall-scone and navigates through the maze of passages.

Not when she finds the stables and mounts her horse.

Not when she gallops off into the shadowy moors.

Not even when her eyes turn away from the horizon to throw one last glance at the lone castle receding into a starless night.