#totally inspired by cupcakemolotov and something wicked

[honestgrins]

The Floral Stench of Death || Klaroline

Klaroline AU Week Day Five: Mythology and Creatures

The old gods had fallen into mere myth, relegated to a muted life among the mortals. Sometimes, one needs a reminder of what it means to rule the Underworld. (Hades and Persephone AU, with an American Gods bent)

Klaus was busy with the books when a ringing bell broke the austere silence of his funeral home. His eyebrow raised at the interruption; few bothered to cross his threshold anymore, not without a corpse to visit. Only his closest family made the effort, which was why he was surprised to find a great nephew loitering in the foyer.

“Anteros,” he greeted with suspicion. “I’d thought you long forgotten, unlike your arse of a brother.”

The gods of old were a scattered bunch, but a few of the Greeks had managed to remain a part of human knowledge. Eros made an annoying resurgence every February, his name invoked too often for Klaus’s liking; the popularity made him cocky. But sexual attraction was an easy thing to celebrate, and Anteros encouraged a deeper love meant to be requited in full. Klaus always found that to be more interesting.

Shuffling uncomfortably, the younger brother even seemed to hold a proper respect for the power Klaus still held in the world. “I go by Stefan,” he explained carefully, knowing the importance of names among their kind.

His real name had been rendered unusable by unfriendly myths and ridiculous cartoons, an unfortunate problem that irked Klaus to no end. Persephone chose well for its replacement, but he missed the reverence of those terrified of Hades himself. This Stefan was a delightful memory of eons past. “Why are you here, Stefan? Not many would dare to ask favors of the Underworld.”

“Eros- Damon,” Stefan cleared his throat, concern furrowing his brow. “My brother has gone missing.”

Lips pulling into a smirk, Klaus’s head canted to the side as the boy squirmed. “I fail to see why that is my problem,” he responded cheerfully. “These days, I’m a simple estate lawyer who happens to run a successful business providing mortuary services.”

Stefan bristled. “You’re the god of death,” he accused, though his voice was strained with the effort to sound polite. “I would hardly belittle your influence in this world, and I think you know what happened to him.”

“He hasn’t fallen under my purview, if that’s what you’re asking.” Klaus shrugged, taking great pleasure in the obvious irritation Stefan poorly hid. “Perhaps it is for the best. Your brother’s not a favorite among the old guard, I doubt many would miss him.”

“My wife is worried, as am I,” he countered, ignoring the gleefully curious look on the god before him. “Certain friends directed me here, loathe as I am to discover why. Have you seen him?”

Klaus dragged his tongue across his lips, hands folded behind his back as he stepped into Stefan’s space. “It was my duty to take stock of a man’s life,” he all but purred, a thrill of power firing through his veins. “To lay judgment for his actions and to decide the course of his eternity in the Underworld.”

Hazel eyes wide with a lack of guile, Stefan fought not to lean back from Klaus’s intrusion. “So?”

“So,” Klaus mocked, “there are no secrets that can be kept from me. I see it all. Your wife, Stefan, does she love your brother?”

Fists curling in his Henley, Klaus smiled, a ferocious thing as Stefan shoved him against a wall. “Where is he?”

Chuckling, Klaus easily broke the finger that held a shiny silver ring, forcing Stefan to release him. “A human, too.” He clucked his tongue in faux remorse. “Imagine Aphrodite’s sons, torn between the same woman. She loves you, but she lusts for him. Think of the stories that would be told.” But his smile turned wicked, a hand reaching up to grip the boy’s throat. “If we weren’t dying out, that is.”

Stefan squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a silent goodbye to Elena, only for them to fly open as the god of death released him from his fate.

“Try next door,” Klaus dismissed with a wave. “You can buy your wife some pretty flowers, so she can properly mourn your brother.” Without bothering to watch Stefan leave, he went back to his work. Some luck, and he might not be late for his evening plans.

“And you’re going to grow deep,” Caroline whispered to the rose cactus, “just be sure to remain moist.” She ran a finger along one of the plant’s spines, coating it with the viscous blood that ran from the man’s thigh it pierced. “I want the pain to last.”

There were days that Caroline missed the simple life of tending her mother’s garden, but Persephone’s botanical prowess still thrived as a florist in the modern world. What lacked were the opportunities to punish those who wronged her, with their behavior, their attitude, their disregard for her position.

As Eros - or Damon, as he preferred to be called, the douche - had committed all three wrongs, she delighted in the angry hiss that came from her favorite plant box.

“I already apologized,” Damon spat, though breathless with contained agony as a stinging nettle wound around his neck. “You were just a cute blonde at the bar, how was I supposed to know who you were?”

Smiling, she urged the hemlock away from his lips. “You were just to keep him still,” she scolded the poisonous plant. “Any more, and it will be too quick.” Her fingers ran lovingly through the soil half covering his naked, prostrate form.

The chime hanging over her door sang out, jauntily clashing with the pop music playing in her shop. “Just a minute,” she called, clearing her hands of dirt. Standing, she rolled her eyes as Damon greedily tracked her sundress up the line of her leg.

This was just one reason why he was going to rot for as long as it took him to die.

Leaving the refrigerated storage room, Caroline found a pretty young man among her more exotic lilies. “You have good taste,” she greeted approvingly. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.”

She frowned at the hesitant, almost fearful tone of his voice. Hardly anyone would fear Persephone at first sight, let alone her persona of Caroline Forbes. While she enjoyed the reminiscence of her old reputation, the suddenness of it all put her on edge. Her head canted to the side as recognition hit. “I know you.”

Stefan nodded, not bothering to deny the Olympic blood that tied them together. “I suspect you know my brother as well,” he answered instead. “Klaus sent me here. Do you have Damon?”

“He’s asked for you.” Determination in every step, Caroline walked through the aisles of her shop, plucking cut flowers and greenery to some unknown rhythm. “Well, he asked for Elena, but your name was sprinkled in there, too,” she explained, nonchalant.

Sighing, Stefan ran a hand across his face. “Dare I ask what he did to offend you, your grace?”

She positively preened at the use of her former title. To reward his manners, Caroline decided to grant him peace of mind. “I happened to run into your brother last night while having drinks with a friend,” she explained. “He seemed to think a pleasant conversation was an invitation to drug my margarita.”

Like a light had been extinguished, his shoulders sagged in resignation. “Please, I know he doesn’t deserve mercy,” Stefan begged, “but-”

Caroline held up a quelling hand, her glare deceptively friendly. “And when informed of his mistake in attempting to take advantage of the queen of the underworld, he laughed.” Her expression hardened, making Stefan wince. “In my face.” But as quickly as it came, the stern frown left and a bright smile was in its place. “You seem nice,” she told the young god, bouncing on her toes as she went about wrapping the bouquet she had gathered. “I’ll let you say goodbye.”

Before Stefan could follow her nod to the back room, though, her eyebrows raised in warning. “If you try to free him, you’ll pray my plants kill you before I do.”

With an audible swallow, he left her alone. She set the bouquet in a lovely crystal vase, and she was busy arranging it for perfect balance when her door chimed again. Glancing up to the clock on her wall, she shook her head. Even with a cheerful smile on her face, Caroline’s voice fell flat with disappointment. “You’re late.”

“My apologies, love,” Klaus answered lightly, careful not to brush the vines slithered up the doorway on his way in. Leaning on the countertop, he watched her murmur encouragement to a too small flower until it grew to her satisfaction. “I’m afraid I suffered the same distraction of Stefan’s brotherly woes.”

Caroline shrugged, fondly patting the display before setting it aside, just outside his reach. Reaching across the counter, she welcomed her husband with a kiss. “Unfortunately, it takes more than a few growing buds to sap a god of his energy,” she sighed, brushing through Klaus’s brassy curls. “But I hope a few months in my planters will teach young Damon a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

Turning into her touch, Klaus pressed a kiss to her wrist. “I wish you would let me take care of him.”

“And I wish you would let me enjoy hunting him down over the centuries when he surely does this again,” she sighed, adopting what she called his patronizing tone.

Klaus knew better than to keep up the fight, so he held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Happily, she let him lead her toward the door. “Oh, Stefan,” she called. The god returned obediently, looking worse for the wear. “Mythic Florist is closed for a standing dinner date, but that arrangement is yours, on the house.” Caroline winked at his utter bemusement. “It should go where Elena sleeps. Hyacinth to promote her grieving process for your brother, hyssop for the sacrifice you both make for his foolishness, and forget-me-nots to remind her of the true love she still has in you.” She leaned into Klaus, her own love that had sustained her through the ages. “Rot and ruin like Damon is only as good as the healing it can provoke.”

Tense with anger, Stefan moved to throw the vase. Klaus, however, laughed. “My wife is a generous soul,” he said, kissing her temple. But turning back to Stefan, his smirk turned dangerous. “Don’t test it.”

As Stefan stalked out of the shop, still clutching the vase and powerless to challenge them, Caroline laced her fingers with Klaus’s. “He’ll be back.”

Klaus smiled, squeezing her hand. It had been so long since their status had been recognized, even mere acknowledgement a powerful taste of addictive belief. “We can only hope.”

Links: FFnet and AO3