This is just something that popped into my head after I watched Ben Hur the other day. It's a little weirdly set up, but bear with me.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries
In their first life together, they had met as slaves of the Roman Empire, both ripped away from their homes and families, to serve their master. It was forbidden, their love, for she was the master's favourite, his to do with as he pleased, and he belonged to the mistress. Still, they could not help but fall in love, a love so strong and deep, they would do anything for the other.
Whenever he was injured from the whip, she was there to clean the wounds, and would lie with him until his pained body finally rested. She would stroke his hair, humming sweet melodies from her home in the hills, which had long since burned in the wake of the Roman army.
And whenever she let her tears fall, and she finally let out her feelings of disgust and hatred for the world they lived, he was there, holding her close. He would rock her back and forth, and did not say a word, for, even he, could not give reassurance of what was to be. They were slaves after all, the property of their master and mistress; their lives would never be certain.
Their first kiss happened on an eve where the entire villa was in an uproar; the master had died, leaving his home, estate, and, indeed, even slaves to his kind and just son, whom was well loved, even amongst his 'property'.
The son had allowed the slaves a night and day to rest and mourn and so the two of them spent their time together. He had still been recovering from a whipping, and she still ached from the master's abuses; they were broken things, used and defiled, but, when their lips touched for the first time, they both felt like human beings that belonged only to each other. Two parts of a whole.
It took many years, years filled with hardship, joy, and laughter, but, eventually they managed to obtain enough money to buy their freedom, and their new master was happy to let them have it. They lived out the rest of their short lives in peace, living humbly in a small hut on a hill, a hill that reminded her of her home and family, and a hill that became the place of his, and indeed, her new home and family… and, when they died, they did so together.
In their second life, he was a soldier, the son of a famed chieftain who was conquering areas of the fallen Roman Empire. As the son of such a man, he had become tough and strong, less gentle that he had been many ages before.
In this life, she was an orphaned girl, who lived with her uncle and aunt and their children in a small village. A small village that was later sacked under his command; his army burned it down, with him at their forefront. One of his men had spotted her, running away, clothes tattered and stained with blood and ran after her. Before the man could harm her, however, he rode him down, sword swinging through the man's neck.
He hadn't known why he had done that, to save her, this girl he hadn't met before, in this life. But when she turned her blue eyes on him, full of pain, he knew why. He recognised her, somewhere deep inside himself, and, though she tried to hide it, she recognised him just the same.
So, when he had held his hand down to her, she couldn't do anything but reach up and take it. He had lifted her up on his horse and rode off with her clinging tightly to him.
There had been much conflict between them, at first, he had been part of taking away her home and the only family she had, and she was a girl of lower birth than he. Still, they could not leave one another, and though they often fought and shouted, they found themselves in each other's arms more often than not.
His father told him to abandon her; he did not listen. Instead, he married her that eve and they left together before anyone knew they were gone.
They spent the rest of that life, traveling from place to place, always fighting and always loving one another. After many years had passed and went, they settled down and, many moons after, departed the world together.
In their third life, she had been born in the New World, which still lay undiscovered by the human population of the Old World. She had been born to an ancient, savage bloodline, and it thrummed in her, though she never activated it, being the gentle soul she was.
He had traveled to the New World with his family, after losing a brother to one of the many sickness' that plagued the Old World. He had been shy, shier than in any other life. They were but children when they met, and yet, they knew one another immediately and were the strongest of friends.
As they grew in adults, this friendship turned to a beautiful, young love. He knew what she was, or, rather, what she could be, but they were still they were inseparable. His father hated her and her father hated him, but they stayed with each other, meeting in secret.
Things took a turn for the worse when his brother died at the hands of one of her people. She had watched from the trees as he broke down, not being able to go to him, but wanting nothing more than to do just that. However, she had no choice but to turn around and walk away.
That night his life ended, forever to be his last one, and he was reborn into something terrible and much more dangerous than her own people.
He soon found out many secrets that his mother had kept from him, who later bound him, keeping him from becoming what he truly was. In his rage, magnified as it was after becoming this new thing, this vampire, he killed his mother. His father, having seen it, swore revenge on his son, and in retaliation killed her, his love.
He found her later, as she lay, dead, life faded away from her. He held her tight, shouting guttural cries of utter despair, his agony soul deep. She had died alone, and he was not to join her. He sobbed and shouted to the heavens, begging for her to be let back. He needed her, just as he always had.
He was not whole any longer. And she had died alone.
They were meant to die together, always.
And thus her life ended once more, and he was frozen in his.
Her fourth life was spent solitary, empty for she could not find him. She spent her days living quietly, her heart aching for something more.
She died alone.
In her fifth life, she was in the New World again, by now called the Americas, when she found him. She had been dancing, the jazz music surrounding her, when she spotted him, watching her awestruck from a corner. His gaze had fallen on her heavily, filled with a pain that had been there for a long time.
She did not know him, nor did she remember him, but she recognized him, who he was, inside. As he watched her, she watched him, and without realising it, she had stopped her slow movements and headed towards him, her steps fast and true.
Only when he was sitting right before her did she notice she had moved away from the dance floor, but she still did not move away and simply stood, waiting. There had been several moments where neither said anything, where there was not a single movement.
They would never be sure who moved first, but only a moment later they were in each other's arms. And wrapped in his embrace, she finally felt whole. They spent weeks together, eventually joined by his sister and her companion. Their love was stronger than ever before, and he was immensely protective over her, just as she was over him.
When she found out what he had become, she did not run, she did not even flinch. She knew she could not be parted from him. He was overjoyed at her acceptance, and the happiness they projected intensified.
It was not to last, however. Soon, they were found by his father, her already once-murderer and he knew she was not safe with him… that she would never be. He did not want to be the cause of her death, nor could he bear to take away her humanity, her goodness. She was light, kind, gentle and not the monster he considered himself to be.
So, he took her memory and it shattered them both. With a heavy heart, he told her to find all that she desired and deserved. Little did he know that, to her, he was everything.
He loved her with all of his undead heart, and though she no longer knew him, she loved him with all of her human one.
They never saw each other again, in her lifetime.
She died alone.
Her sixth life was her very last one. She was turned into the very thing he had tried to protect her from but, the first time she grew fangs, she knew it was right for her, though she had yet to know why.
She adjusted quickly, and tried to find a way to fill the mysterious hole in her heart, the one where he belonged.
The first time she saw him, he had just turned the very person she had tried to replace him with. He had stood, monstrously beautiful, a killer. But he was still him, and she saw it through the all death and pain he brought with him.
And she remembered everything.
The sight of him brought upon her the memories of many ages passed. She remembered being a slave, an orphan, a werewolf, and being all on her own. But, most of all, she remembered him, how they had laughed together, how they had fought, how they had loved. She saw him as human, as vampire and now, as werewolf.
He was the same and different and she loved him still. He had done many horrific, terrible things over the centuries, but she could not help but to keep loving him.
And when he walked away from her, without saying a word, without admitting their connection, her heart had broken into a thousand pieces, but she had followed him anyways.
He had walked deep into the forest, his steps frustrated and angry. When he finally stopped walking, it was only to yell out his frustrations. His cries brought her agony, for they were filled with grief. When she could take it no longer, she stepped out into the moonlight.
"Klaus." She had called, her voice soft and sweet but full of pain. He had turned to her, his eyes red, hands shaking. She did not hesitate and walked to him, lifting her hands to his face, thumbs tracing the veins that had popped under his eyes. Her own eyes started to water, her throat clogging. "Klaus." She whispered again. "It's me, Klaus. It's me."
His fangs faded at her words, eyes returning to their sky blue, and, with more feeling than she had ever seen, he pulled her closer, his forehead falling to hers.
"Caroline." He whispered, his voice sounding utterly broken and at the same time overjoyed. He closed his eyes in relief and smiled genuinely for the first time in near a century. "My sweet Caroline."
His kiss was gentle and full of a love that had spanned more than a millennia. With her lips on his, and his arms holding her close, she knew they would never be apart again.
They were together again, and this time she had all of eternity, just like him.
They were whole and this... this was meant to be.
And they both knew it.
I know I don't mention the names like at all until the end, but I wanted focus on their story together and not them as individuals. I thought it would make the end result more beautiful, I guess.
I don't know if I will do anything more with this idea, but it may happen.
Anyways, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!