#kolvina headcannons

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Err on The Side of Awesome

(Not my gif)

Kol Mikaelson's Daughter Headcanons

Requested by: @katherinereilly19

Here lies my Masterlist

You were adopted by Kol and Davina Claire-Mikaelson at age six from a Catholic orphanage run by nuns who all thought you were some sort of demon child.

See, like your adopted father, you were a witch and had come into your power rather early. Davina had been sensing some odd power flares in the area and, when she and Kol had gone to investigate, there you were - a sweet, little bundle of mischief with more power than you knew what to do with.

To say that you had Kol wrapped around your little finger from the first second he saw you would be no exaggeration. Seriously. 

Kol had never thought himself fit to be a husband, let alone a parent. It still baffles him some days that Davina agreed to marry him - most days in fact - it just seemed too good to be true. They traveled the world for a while and then… Well, Davina, she…

She said she wanted kids.

She didn't say that she used to want kids or that she would have wanted them had she married someone else. Davina said she wanted to be a mom. With him. She said she wanted to have a kid with him and she wanted Kol to be that kid's dad.

At first, he almost thought it was a joke. Who in their right mind would trust him with a child? But no, Davina was serious. 

And it terrified him.

Kol is well aware of just how miserably his parents screwed up their job and he's pretty sure he couldn't do any worse but that doesn't mean he'd do well.

But the guy took just one look at you and he knew without a doubt that there was no alternative realm, no obscure future, and no minuscule probability in which he could cause you any harm.

For the first little while, you were convinced (thanks to the nuns) that you would have to be an absolute angel of a child in order to be wanted by your new parents. You helped clean things, refrain from using your magic, made your bed, brushed your teeth, and never asked for anything.

Three months in, you dropped a plate and broke down crying, begging Mr. and Mrs. Claire-Mikaelson (because you wouldn't dare call them mom and dad) not to send you back.

What began as your average Tuesday afternoon turned into a deeply formative experience when Kol sat you on his knee, looked you in the eyes, and said:

"Y/N, darling, I want you to listen to me very closely, alright? There is absolutely nothing on this earth you can do or say that will make your mother and I love you any less. There is no such thing as good enough - there is no bar you have to meet - only what you are. Now, a plate is infinitely replaceable, but you are our daughter and I will love you until the end of time. That makes you infinitely more valuable than a plate. Okay?"

"O-okay… dad?"

That was a day you never forgot as you grew older. 

Speaking of growing, no matter how old you get, Kol can and will pick you up by the ankle and hold you upside down. It never gets old.

Also, piggy-back rides.

You did go through a phase where you were convinced there was a monster in your closet.

"Dad! There's a monster in my closet and it wants to eat my toes!"

"Really? Well, I must applaud the audacity."

There were quite a few nights you spent cuddled up between them as Davina braided your hair and Kol told you a story until you fell asleep. 

Kol always refers to you and Davina as "his girls".

He's always willing to play with you, whether it be a game of tag or a complex drama plot with your dolls. (His personal favorite was when you decided to reenact the French Revolution in Barbie form.)

Daddy-Daughter Days are 100% a thing. The two of you are huge movie and arcade goers. Not to mention huge fantasy nerds. From Deltora Quest to Harry Potter to the freaking Wheel of Time - your fascination with the fantastical never fades as you grow. You never thought yourself too old to be read to at night, so Kol never stopped the tradition.

You're a little (a lot) spoiled. But not in a bad way. You're not ungrateful but let's just say you have quite a few pets.

Auntie Bex is always more than willing to babysit when your parents want some time to themselves. You remind her of Kol when he was a kid and she adores that.

Play-Dates with your cousin Hope mean quite a few headaches for your uncles Klaus and Elijah. Aunt Hayley thinks you're absolutely hilarious while Aunt Cami is convinced you're like 4 different varieties of insane. She might have a point there.

When you're old enough to be in school, you can always count on your parents to help you with your homework. You never would have made it through middle or high school without your dad, Kol is insanely good at math and chemistry. However, when it comes to anything to do with history or government, he passes the torch to Davina because even though he lived through it, he literally never paid enough attention to remember anything.

Parent-Teacher conferences are always interesting. 

"Y/N is so intelligent. Truly a joy to have in class."

"Is she now?"

Neither of them buys it for a second. You have a mischievous streak a mile long, the teacher just doesn't know that you're the one putting tacks on her chair. Kol is honestly proud and Davina may try to be the voice of reason but she can't help laughing at just how alike father and daughter turned out to be.

Now, if Hope is "miraculously well adjusted" then you're probably something like a thirty-year-old in an eight-year-old body. You're like the most chill child perhaps ever. However, just like your father, your maturity level varies with the situation.

For example, Klaus once decided it would be a good idea to whip out the "You're not even a real Mikaelson" card at a family reunion. It wasn't long before Davina had thrown Klaus into a wall and Kol and Marcel were at each other's throats. 

You honestly weren't even bothered. You knew your parents loved you and that was enough so you simply said:

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

And went back to eating your dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Marcel - apparently still a little touchy on that subject - was the last to sit down again. Little did he know just how proficient you had become with teleporting objects. Naturally, you were smirking when the whoopie cushion did its noble work.

Kol is terrified that he'll lose touch with you as you grow older.

This fear never comes to fruition.

The trust between you and your parents is something every other child ever would envy. They trust your judgment and, in turn, you trust the very few restrictions they put in place for you. It's crazy because they honestly never get mad. Like ever.

However, their disappointment is the worst thing you'll ever endure. 

 They told you not to go out one night because an old enemy of Klaus' was wandering around town. You went out anyway and you were attacked. Now, you were powerful enough to fight off your assailant and kill him, but you didn't come out of that fight unscathed. You had to limp home and tell your dad what had happened. 

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I've done much worse in my life, for much dumber reasons. To be mad at you would make me a hypocrite. I just know you're better than this - Y/N, you've shown me that you're better than this. I'm not angry with you. I'm just extraordinarily disappointed."

It happens only once and never again.

Growing up with those two for parents ensured that you quickly mastered your magic and became one of the most powerful and skilled witches of all time. But don't think for a second that you would ever be used. They would never allow that to happen.

As you reach middle and high school, a rumor begins going around that your dad is a vampire. You just snort really loud and make no further comment. It leaves everyone wondering.

First boyfriend?

Heaven help the poor sod. 

"If you ever lay your hands on my daughter against her will, you will find that you no longer have hands. I will use the bones of them to fashion myself a new pen, with which I shall write your death certificate. Do I make myself clear?"

Once you're old enough, the basement becomes something of a witchy lab space.

Explosions are… frequent.

*Coughing* "Thank goodness your mother wasn't home for that one."

"Think again, Mikaelson."

"Oh shi-"

"Uh… Hi mom!"

You're probably the healthiest Mikaelson.

When the time comes for you to graduate, it's a hard dose of reality for Kol. He understands he has to let you live your life and he would never dream of taking that away as it was taken from him, but it's just hard.

You'll never stop being his little girl.

Special thanks to: @her-violent-delights

[k-o-l-v-i-n-a-blog]

ESSENTIAL ORIGINALS

OK! STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND THINK! I WANT TO MAKE SURE I’M NOT JUST PSYCHO!

DOES ANYBODY ELSE WANT TO SEE DAVINA’S MOMMY AND DAVINA MAKE A COMEBACK? BECAUSE I WANT DAVINA AND HER MOTHER TO HAVE LIKE A HORRIBLE RELATIONSHIP AND HER MOTHER BE A TERRIBLE PERSON. THAT WAY KOL,MARCEL, AND KLAUS ALONG WITH THE DEVIL SIBLINGS. ELIJAH AND FREYA TO FEEL HORRIBLE FOR DAVINA AND THERE TO BE THIS HUGE FIGHT! THEN IN THE END DAVINA WILL JUST LIKE TAKE THE WITCH CUFFS, ASSUMING MUMMY DEAREST KIDNAPS HER, and LIKE I JUST WANT TO SEE HER GO PSYCHO AND SUFFOCATE HER MOM WITH THE CHAINS.

OKAY END MINI RANT!

😍

[a-decent-writer]

Kolvina headcannon

Imagine the Mikaelson family getting into some deep shit or something and Davina has to come in and save their asses and low key gripes about it and Kol’s like

“You’re a Mikaelson Darling, comes with the territory”

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Davina Claire: The Locket

Medium: Graphite Pencil

(I have a head-canon that after her death - her natural death - Kol keeps a picture of his wife in a locket. He never opens it. If he opens it the picture will fade, just like everything else in his long, long life.)

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Southern Nights

Title: Southern Nights 🌃

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: Nightmares, talk about death

Summary: The first night they ever spent together went a little something like this... || Kolvina Short || Here lies my Masterlist

A/N: Here by popular demand on Wattpad. I might do more of these. if requested. Sorry, it's a little short.

The dump motel had been entirely Davina’s idea, thank you very much. Although seeing as she was the one with the credit card - courtesy of an unwitting Marcel - and considering the fact that he had spent the last three months lying to her about his identity, he didn’t feel all that inclined to argue. Hence why he sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, right next to an extraordinarily dirty window, watching the lightning bugs blink through their midnight waltz. 

See, Kol Mikaelson had a fondness for New Orleans nights. Eventide in the Big Easy was one of the few things about Louisiana that he wouldn’t complain about. (Although that certainly isn’t to say he couldn’t complain about it. Kol could always find a reason to complain, much to his sibling’s chagrin.) The days he’d spent in New Orleans as a vampire hadn’t impressed him. Aside from the shroud of magic that enveloped the city (a quality as torturous as it was enrapturing because while he could practically taste the sparks of sorcery dancing on the thick summer wind he remained utterly incapable of connecting to it - so close yet just out of reach) and the constant roar of Jazz thrumming through the streets like the boisterous laughter of an unhappy man, days in the Crescent city really didn’t have all that much to offer. 

The nights, however? Well, New Orleans nights were something special. 

It was after the sun went down that the little city by the river came to life. On nights like this one when the sun’s heat took its leave and all the wild things crept from their holes to party the night away in rhythm with the ever-flowing Jazz under the light of the bayou stars. The magic in the air was palpable - thick enough to taste - and now that he was a witch once again he could feel it pulsing in his bones. He had missed such a feeling more than he could say. If it were up to him, he would be outside, simply basking in the connection he’d been deprived of for so long. But it wasn’t up to him. Instead, he was stuck inside a filthy motel room because of bloody Claire witches and their fire-inclined temperaments and Davina Claire had spelled the bloody door shut. 

What a woman. He couldn’t even find it within himself to be annoyed. Of course, he could easily undo the spell she’d used to lock him in, but that would be a moot point as he was actually a willing prisoner in this instance, and leaving this nasty - although admittedly extraordinarily well-warded - room would only make it easier for his mother to pin down his location and attempt to drag him back into her barmy-brained schemes. (That was a big ‘no-thank-you�� in his book. Alive or dead, Kol would not be his mother’s puppet.) The attention of good ole’ mother dearest was the last thing he needed. Besides, betraying his companion’s albeit minimal trust wasn’t going to do him any favors in the eyes of one Davina Claire. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping form of the Claire witch curled up on one of the motel’s twin beds, the one closest to him - and the door but that was only natural. He turned his eyes away from her rather quickly, gazing back out the window. For the love of Thor, he wasn't a complete degenerate; he wasn't going to watch her sleep no matter how adorable she may have been in her unconscious state. She'd had a hard day, used up quite a bit of magic, not to mention the minor head injury. The same could be said of him. Kol had no business being awake at such an hour anyway, but he'd always seemed to function better at night. He wasn't a morning person, that was for sure. Falling asleep at one in the morning wasn't uncommon for him, though he considered it an achievement if he managed to drag his corpse out of bed before noon. On the other hand, Davina, at least from what he'd gathered, was more of an 'early to bed early to rise' sort of person. Although one would certainly have to be in order to get the jump on his brother. He smiled softly at the thought. He was glad she'd finally drifted off to sleep, though it had taken him pretending to be unconscious for an hour before she dared to close her eyes. Not that he could blame her; he'd have done the same thing had their roles been reversed.

Bloody hell, she must hate him now.

Kol sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He could picture the hurt in her eyes when she'd finally seen past his lies. For the record, Kol had never wanted to hurt Davina Claire. If he'd been ready, then maybe he would have been able to keep her out, but she had connected to him faster than he could react and viola, there you have it: Kol Mikaelson's Greatest Hits - The Double Feature. All his secrets, all his lies, all his worst deeds - all arranged on a silver platter. What a lovely way to start a friendship, ay?

"You're one of them," She'd seethed. It was the way she said it and the way she'd looked at him - as if he were the most revolting thing she'd ever seen.

Not that he could blame her. 

He was a screw-up, plain n' simple. That was all he'd ever been - all he ever would be - just some sick, twisted reject that nobody in their right mind could ever want. A thousand years was a long time and all he could seem to do was fail. Then by some bloody miracle, he'd finally met the girl of his dreams and he'd screwed that up too! Davina Claire was so extraordinary and all he'd wanted was for her to see something - anything - of value in him. That was all he'd ever wanted anyone to see, just something worth holding on to - something worthwhile. Kol wasn't like his siblings, he didn't need all that much, just a little bit - just one person to say one thing to let him know that all his pain, all his torment, all his thousand years culminating with his bloody death - for crying out loud - that it all hadn't just been for bloody nothing! That he hadn't been for nothing. There had to be a point to it all - there just had to be.

And, you know, he'd really tried this time. He'd tried so hard for Davina, because he’d seen her smile from across the street and if there was a point to all his everything, then she was it. If anyone on the planet was ever worth being good for, it was that lovely little witch. Maybe it was a little pathetic of him. After all, he'd seen her smile one bloody time, but that was all it took. Because Kol had died one thousand years before, and there was no magic that could bring him back to life - no magic except for Davina Claire. He wanted to be the reason Davina smiled. He really wanted to be worth that. 

And he'd tried.

"You liar!"

One thousand years was a long time to spend screwing up. Failure, it seemed, was his specialty.

But for however spectacular he was at failing, he was an expert in trying again. He’d spent his whole life getting back up and brushing himself off because that was all he could do. Checking out had been fun while it lasted, but at the end of the day, Kol had always been left to ‘figure it out’ because the worst thing about being human was a little thing called hope and Kol knew from experience that screwing up could never hurt as much as giving up. He'd already died twice. What more did he have to lose?

That was just it. He had nothing.

Nothing but himself, and something to do with that sick, twisted reject.

Davina murmured something in her sleep. He ignored it at first as he still liked to consider himself a gentleman and giving her the privacy to talk in her sleep was the least he could do. A few moments later, the girl made another small noise - it sounded more like a whimper this time. Kol frowned. Checking over his shoulder, nothing seemed to be amiss, but appearances could be misleading. Davina turned over with a tiny moan, then she huffed and turned back.

"Davina?" Kol hissed, weary of waking her. "Davina, are you awake?"

The girl gave no reply, at least not one he could understand. She huffed again, and then another time and Kol realized her huffs were actually small sobs. Davina was crying. He didn't want her to cry.

"Davina?" He raised his voice just slightly in hopes of somehow being able to soothe her. "You're alright, darling. Just go back to sleep."

The young Claire witch whined and gasped, kicking a little and gripping the sheets with enough force to tear through them. "No…" She choked out, her peaceful expression contorted into something pained. "No, stop it! Stop it! Stop!" 

Kol caught the strain of panic rising through her voice and felt the charge of magic begin to build in the room. He was up and moving in the next instant, rushing to Davina's side. 

"Hey! Hey, Davina! Wake up, darling!" He shook her shoulder once gently, unsure of what else he could do. She just looked rather small in her vulnerable state; he didn't want to do something that might hurt her. Although, as her thrashing grew more intense he was forced to reconsider. Gripping both her shoulders, he shook her firmly, raising his voice quite a bit this time. "Wake up, Davina, you're dreaming! You need to wake up!"

Davina managed to free one arm from its entanglement in her sheets and she used it to bat his hands away. "No! Stop it!" Davina screamed. "Let go of me! STOP!" 

Haunted witches were dangerous things - experience had taught Kol that much. For someone so young and so powerful, Davina's control was impressive but she was vulnerable in this state, and whatever terror was stalking the Claire witch's dreams would drive her magic to react. He was lucky he sensed the burst of magic before it came. 

Davina shrieked and an invisible force tore from her chest - a magical discharge powerful enough to cause the ground beneath them to quake. Throwing his arms up to shield his head, Kol murmured a protection spell, gritting his teeth in his effort to hold it as the veritable tidal wave of Davina's magic crashed into this body's meager capacity. (Once again, Kol cursed his mother. Esther knew of his knowledge and capabilities, she knew he was a threat and had placed him into one of the weakest vessels she could find.) The blast from Davina's magic receded, leaving him stumbling as he paused to catch his breath. He glanced around the room, assessing for damage. Aside from exhausting his reserves, Kol had managed to remain mostly unscathed; the motel's mirror, however, was less fortunate. The chair he’d been sitting on only moments before had also been obliterated - blown to bits and he was glad he’d managed to avoid the splinters.

Davina continued to thrash about wildly as if fighting for her life. (He knew what that looked like, he’d seen it thousands of times.) Kol struggled to his feet and moved back to Davina’s side, shaking her again. 

“Davina!” He called. “Bloody hell, Davina! Come on!” All he got for his efforts was a solid kick to the side as the air in the room began to swirl around them. He swallowed his pain with a curse and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Unsure where he pulled the strength from, Kol channeled all the power he had left into reaching out to Davina - into her mind, swirling with fear and chaos. He could feel them - the ancestors of New Orleans - stalking her dreams, keeping her trapped. Esther had corrupted them - they coveted Davina’s power as did she; they continued to torment the girl for her bravery, hoping to break her. But Kol knew they would fail. Davina Claire was stronger than them; they would never control her again. He could sense her fighting even now, scratching, biting, and clawing her way to the surface. She didn’t need his help, she never had, but he would offer it all the same. It was like extending a hand and she didn’t take it immediately. “Come on, Davina…” His power was waning. “You don’t have to do this alone…” She took his hand

“Surgere,” He muttered.

Davina shot up with a gasp. Trembling and sobbing, her hand flew to her throat as she frantically tried to place her surroundings. Kol raised his hands in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, keeping his voice soft. “Shhh, it’s alright, darling. You’re alright. It was just a dream.” 

"I-I know. I just-" She panted, coughing at the dryness in her throat. 

Satisfied she wasn’t going to blast him to kingdom come, Kol lowered his hands and moved to sit beside her, rubbing circles over her back like he used to do when Rebekah had a nightmare. “It was just a dream, Davina. You’re safe.” 

The girl looked up, those round blue-grey eyes that always reminded him of the morning mist were filled with tears. He saw in her eyes the innocence they both had lost. The tears dripped from her long lashes and Kol caught them with his thumb, wishing he could brush away her pain just as easily. “Kaleb?” She sniffed. And he didn’t even care that it wasn’t his name on her lips. He didn’t care because the way she was looking at him was enough. She looked at him like he was worth something. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” He breathed. “It’s me, Davina. You’re okay.”

Davina shook her head, curling her arms close to her chest. “They-They were slaughtering us,” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Bloody hell…” Of course, she was dreaming about the bloody Harvest. He had figured as much but to hear her confirm it just gave him yet another reason to make sure his Mother’s plans failed. “I know. I’m so sorry had to go through that, Davina. I’m sorry your ancestors abused you and I’m sorry they won’t leave you alone but, you know what? Look at me.” She just shook her head and buried her face in her arms. “Davina look at me.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and guided her to raise her gaze. “You beat them. You beat them at their own game, one you never should’ve had to play, but you did and you won. You won, and because you won, they will never again have any power over you - not unless you let them. You are stronger than they are, Davina Claire, you always have been and you always will be.”

The girl nodded slightly and sat up, moving away from him. He let her go. “Thank you,” She said. Her tone was stiffer than before as she scrubbed her eyes. “You can go back to sleep now.”

“Ah, but we were having so much fun,” He joked, trying to pull a smile from her. She huffed a little but it wasn’t exactly a laugh. “Do you want to, I dunno, talk about it? I don’t mind staying up,” He continued, trying to be somewhat helpful. He'd never been very good at emotions but he could try, Davina was worth the effort.

“No.” She shook her head, her mouth fixing into a firm line. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I could-” He started.

She cut him off. “Nice try, but please just don’t.” Her tone was sour and her eyes were back to steel.

Kol sighed. “Davina, I-”

“You know, I almost believed you just now -” Davina chuckled to herself lightly, wiping the last traces of her tears away. “- But then I remembered that you’re not actually my friend and that you’ve been lying to me since the day we met.

He hissed, frowning. “Friend? Way to hurt a man’s pride, love.”

“What?” 

“Well, flirting isn’t usually a platonic gesture,” He drawled, smirking a little.

Davina rolled her eyes. “You’re still a liar.” 

He was. Kol was a liar. He'd been lying for as long as he could remember. He'd lied for Henrik, for Rebekah, even for Niklaus. He lied quite a lot. He was good at it. But, strange as it was, he didn't want to lie to Davina, he wanted to tell her everything. Even the things that didn't matter - the oddest fleeting thoughts he had, he wanted to share with her and he wanted to hear her's in return. Yes, Kol wanted a lot of things with Davina Claire... and most of them were entirely rated PG.

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve lied more for you than I have to you, darling?” He asked. Though he didn’t let her answer. “And you’ve lied for me too. You could’ve ratted me out to Marcel today, but you didn’t. You trust me, Davina Claire, even if you won’t admit it.”

Her face betrayed nothing. She only sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Just go away, Kaleb.”

“It’s Kol.”

“Kol …whatever, just go.” She turned over, facing away from him, signaling that this was the end of their conversation. Kol stood up rather reluctantly, moving over to the other bed and laying back.

The night was still dark and nature was alive outside, but it was quiet in the room. Kol knew she wasn’t sleeping, knew she didn’t intend to for the rest of the night. He knew she was just going to tough it out because she thought she had to. It wasn’t fair - he didn’t want her to suffer the same way he had. Kol knew what it was like to die - no one in his family had mentioned it after the fact. It was sort of a taboo subject, nobody brought it up and everyone suffered. But Davina shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“I have ‘em too,” He spoke into the darkness. The Claire witch gave no reply but she shifted and Kol took that as encouragement enough to go on. “Nightmares, I mean. You would think that after all this time they would fade, yet I still dream about it. It’s like a loop in my head, can’t seem to make it stop.”

Her voice was so quiet that he almost didn’t catch it. “What do you dream about?”

“The night I died.” A wry smile stretched across his face. “The first time, not the second, mind you.” He heard her laugh just slightly. “I won’t say I know how you feel, Davina. But I remember how I felt. I remember that lingering cold and that sensation that feels as though you’re floating while your body feels like it’s too heavy to bear. I remember that. I told you we're Kindred Souls and I meant it… You’re not alone.” 

“Do you…Did it hurt?” She whispered. He couldn’t see her face but, oh how he wished he could. Her voice was soft, tentative. “Do you remember the pain?”

“Yes.” He replied. The girl was silent for a few moments, and Kol waited, simply listening to the cicadas buzzing outside. He didn't expect her to say anything. She didn't need to. He didn't sleep either, electing to stare out the window instead and watch the stars begin to fade.

“Kaleb?”

“Hmm?"

“How did you die?”

He sighed. Of all the questions he supposed hers was the only one that mattered. “I died running," He began. "I was running to warn my siblings, and every time I think; if I had only been a little bit faster, perhaps things would have been different… I guess I’ll never know.” His tone was rather calm as he spoke of his death. It was soft and almost detached but reminiscent as well. “My father ran his sword through my back - missed my heart, though. I died slowly. The minutes ticked by and-and every breath was agony. I felt helpless, scared, and alone, unable to move, unable to die - half drowning in my own blood and no one was around and no one knew and I knew that my siblings were only minutes away from the same. Yet, I could do nothing but choke and die… It’s strange to feel yourself bleed out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She said, her voice the same as his. She said: “I didn’t like it very much.”

“Neither did I.”

Minutes drifted on. The sky gained a little bit of light, but only enough to turn the sky from black to grey. Davina still had more questions.

“Kaleb?”

“Yes?”

And she asked: “Did you scream?”

And he said: “No.” He told her: “I wanted to. I tried a few times but all I heard was silence. See the movies have it wrong, you can’t scream when stabbed in the back. I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t. There was no one around to hear me anyway.”

“What did the sword feel like?” She wondered.

“It was metal,” He answered. “It was cold.”

“Kol?”

“Yes?”

A pause. 

“This doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Kol just chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to keep trying, love.”

“Goodnight,” She said.

“Sweet dreams, Davina Claire.”

Kol Mikaelson and Davina Claire would spend quite a few nights together after that, and he'd be saying those words every night for a while, whether the girl herself was there to hear them or not. Though neither of them knew that yet, it was alright, because - be it the magic or the company - those hot summer nights in New Orleans were something special.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid (Tell me if you want on or off the tag list!)

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

🔥By Light Of Fire🔥

A Kol Mikaelson Short

Name: Kol || Origin: Norse || Meaning: Dark

Title: By Light of Fire

Word Count: 3,000 (It's short for me.)

Summary: People in Kol's village said he was an evil boy. So he hid from them. Kol never really stopped hiding.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kinda a make-out scene (Kol being Kol), mentions of arson, mentions of death, ANGST, and just a smidge of comfort there at the end.

🔥🔥🔥🔥Story Begins Below🔥🔥🔥🔥

Kol had always quite enjoyed the dark. He was a creature of darkness and if he were being honest, that darkness had been his most reliable ally for the last 1,000 years. The shadows he'd learned to play in granted him refuge, blessed him with anonymity, hid him from view, and waited patiently with him as that damn constant hunger clawed at his insides. The darkness didn't judge him for it. If anything it encouraged his sinister urges.

But it was more than that too - the darkness was more than just an ally. It was his confidante, his relief. The darkness was Kol's friend. It let him stay within its velvet folds, safe and sound, where he didn't have to look, where he didn't have to see the thing inside him come out and do what it always did. He could just watch everything as if he wasn't really there, as if he had become one with the shadows that lurked in that cold, lonely alleyway behind that pub in London where he'd taken that poor girl and too many like her. 

He could love her - make himself feel loved - at least for a little while. (Kol had never been a firm sort of person. It wasn't weakness, of course. He wasn't weak - he couldn't be weak. He'd just never been good at saying no - not for long anyway.) 

Until it became too much for him. (It wasn't his fault. The hunger was awful and he hated that he'd do anything to make it stop. But it never stopped. Kol couldn't make it stop. He hated it so much and it hurt so bad. He just wanted it to stop!)

Until her heartbeat was all he could hear. (It filled his ears, pounding out a low melody that lulled him into submission. It sounded so pleasant, so delicious, so wonderful, and it sounded like release - like release from that terrible hunger inside him. It was always the same and Kol knew it was a lie - he knew that - but he just couldn't help but listen.) 

Until the moment was perfect. (And, oh, was she perfect. Eyes, lips, hair, skin - all so perfect and he had her all to himself. Kol knew he was losing when he moved on from her lips and began kissing that sweet girl along the line of her jaw. It felt so good and it was almost real and he wanted more, so he fought to keep himself away from her throat. He listened to her moan, trying to focus on that, but it wasn't enough - her heartbeat drowned out all else. Kol pushed her up against a wall, pressing her closer to him and trying to appreciate the way her body felt, but he could smell her blood and the aroma set his throat on fire. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, bruising her, clinging to her like she was a lifeline and maybe the lust would keep the hunger at bay. But it couldn't. He couldn't. Kol slid his lips up and down the girl's throat. He really wasn't weak - she was just so soft and he'd needed to feel her - he wasn't weak. He felt her pulse throbbing just beneath the veil of her delicate skin, leaving a lingering kiss at that spot and savoring the sensation. Her blood smelled so good, and it was so close, and he was so hungry, and no one would see him, and he wanted it so bad.)

Until he lost sight of what he was hoping to find. (He'd always been told he'd never find it. Kol didn't know exactly what it was supposed to be but it was good. At least, that's what everyone had always said. This girl Kol had in his arms - the things he was doing to her - they were just parts of a whole. Those things were just a faded echo of a song Kol didn't know how to listen to. He had never heard what it was supposed to sound like. No one had ever cared to show him. No one had tried to help him understand. Not that it mattered now; he supposed it wouldn't ever matter. He was too distracted by the hunger to listen to anything more than that girl's heartbeat, anyway. Kol wished he could. He wished he knew how to listen - how to regret his actions - but he didn't. This thing others had told him about was supposed to be beautiful, but it wasn't because it felt empty more than anything because Kol was simply going through the motions. He didn't know any better. He didn't know how to know any better. No one had taught him. No one had explained. He was just expected to know but he didn't. Was that his fault? No, that couldn't be his fault. But none of that would ever matter because this condition - this curse - didn't care. That dull echo wasn't enough to stop him. He really wasn't weak - will power wasn't the problem, Kol just didn't know how to care about that girl - he wasn't weak. It was just like all those things the villagers had said as they'd gossiped around the bonfire. They said Kol was a wicked boy. They said there was something wrong with him. They said he liked destroying beautiful things. They said he wasn't capable of love. They said he didn't feel remorse. They said he didn't feel at all. They said he was cursed. It was all so long ago, but as the flickering orange flames had lit up their sour expressions, a six-year-old Kol had thought they looked like monsters. So he had run to Elijah, because his older brother had promised to keep him safe, and he hid from the adults around the fire. But Elijah couldn't keep him safe from their words. Those people didn't seem to care if he heard the things they said. He heard them. Kol heard every word. But they were wrong. They were wrong about him. They had to be wrong. Kol had tried so hard to prove them wrong. But it didn't mean anything now. Because now Kol was the monster and his lips were at that girl's throat and he could feel her pulse throbbing just beneath the veil of her delicate skin. Kol hated that he liked it but that didn't matter because he couldn't stop. Her blood just smelled so good, and it was so close, and he was so hungry, and no one would see him, and he wanted it so bad. All those people - they had been right about him - they had been right all along. Kol was a vile, wicked boy.)

Until he just couldn't control it anymore. (When he'd let his tongue dart out - just for one little taste because he simply couldn't help himself - Kol knew it was over. What a bloody shame it was for the world to lose a girl like her, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do. Because Kol wasn't the one in control and he hated it more than anything. He couldn't stop. At least, he'd made that poor girl happy… maybe… even if it was only the skin-deep sort of pleasure… even if it was merely a flaming lust that was the only thing Kol knew how to provide… maybe he'd given her a good thing… even if it was just a little bit. Maybe if he'd made her feel good then that made him less of a monster. He supposed it was all he could do. Because he couldn't stop. "I am truly sorry, darling," He had muttered against her throat. He wasn’t sorry, though. Kol didn’t know how to be sorry - not for her at least. But she didn’t need to know that. "Please, forgive me." Because once he started, Kol knew he wouldn't stop. He could never stop at just one. Because Kol was a vile, wicked boy.)

That was when the darkness was truly his friend. When he let go. When he lost. When he lashed out and sank his teeth into her carotid artery. The darkness told no one of the horrific things he did, it kept his secret. So, when he'd done those things, Kol ran and he hid. But not literally. No, on the surface Kol pretended to have been consumed by that thrill-seeking monster. See, that was easier than admitting that he just couldn't control it because none of his siblings seemed to struggle with their bloodlust as he did. Even Rebekah, who was younger than him, had more control over herself than he did. Kol didn't understand. Maybe there was just something wrong with him. So on the inside, Kol ran and he closed his eyes and he covered his ears and he hid. Because there was a part of Kol - the human part - that wanted to believe that if he couldn't see what he'd done then perhaps it hadn't happened, perhaps he was still innocent. If nobody knew, if nobody saw, then maybe - just maybe - Kol wasn't quite as evil as the vile things his bloodlust made him do.

The darkness was his friend because it hid him away like it always had. Whether from his father's monster or his own, Kol could always count on the darkness to protect him; he trusted it. Though, there had been a time when that trust hadn't been something so sinister.

The darkness had meant something different all those years ago. Back before his mother's curse had stolen everything Kol had loved about himself and left him only the parts he hated. The dark hadn't been an ally to hide his sins. The dark had meant the coming of night. All those years ago, the night had been his comfort, his refuge, his friend. The darkness had been different then because he had been different then. Kol had been young, he’d been innocent. More importantly, however, Kol had magic. He’d been a witch. And with that came the titles of ‘weak’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘disappointment’ and 'freak' and ‘outcast’.

Kol Mikaelson had never known what it was like to be normal. He had always been an odd child - he had always been a freak. (A vile, wicked boy.) Witchcraft wasn’t exactly a favorable trait for a young boy to be exhibiting, especially in a village of such small-minded inhabitants. As if that wasn’t enough, Kol had never been very good at making friends. Well, no - that wasn’t quite right. Kol was very good at making friends; it was the keeping them part that he had a hard time with. Kol could be unduly charming when he felt like it, which was usually only when he wanted something. More often than not, he was brash and cold. After all, why would he need friends when he had magic? Adults in the village would scowl at him and shake their heads at the lack of sympathy he had for those he harmed with his magic or his troublesome nature.

Kol had been merely ten years old when he’d burned another family’s hovel to the ground. It had been an accident - mostly. It was just a prank and Kol hadn’t meant for it to go that far; the magical fire had spread much faster than he’d expected and, sure, he could have stopped it, but that would have meant getting caught. So, he just stood there and watched it all burn. And while it had burned, Kol had laughed. He had laughed, his eyes glowing with the light of fire. He had laughed and laughed because the flames were bright and beautiful and because it was funny! And everybody else was laughing too.

Hours later, once the fire was out, it was Elijah who’d found him first. Kol was sitting on a charred, blackened stump and he was giggling, his bright eyes gleaming as they focused on the flickering orange flame he manipulated in the palms of his hands. He'd always liked to play with fire. It didn’t take very long for the elder brother to put two and two together. 

“Did you see that fire today, Kol?” Elijah had asked gently, kneeling in front of his younger brother.

“Yes!” Kol had said.

“It grew very big and was quite hot, wasn’t it?” The older brother pressed. Kol scoffed and rolled his eyes, allowing the flames in his hands to sputter out.

“Well of course it was, Elijah!” Kol exclaimed gleefully, “I made it!”

The little boy was quite proud of his work. He was proud that he’d made the whole village laugh.

But Elijah had only frowned. He didn’t seem to find it funny. Kol couldn’t understand why.

Elijah didn't tell their mother and father, for the elder sibling knew what the consequences would be for something such as what Kol had done and he didn’t want to see his precious little brother suffer their father’s wrath. Instead, Elijah gently took hold of his brother’s small hands and carefully explained to him that Kol had done an awful thing.

Turns out, Kol had gotten it wrong.

The people in the village hadn’t been laughing.

They had been screaming.

“You must be more careful, Kol,” Elijah had chastened him, “Your magic is not a game!”

“Why not?”

It was hard for Kol to understand because he still thought it had been funny. He didn’t understand why nobody else thought so. It wasn’t like anybody had been hurt. It had just been a prank, right? He hadn’t meant anything by it.

“Does this make me bad, brother?” He’d asked Elijah, tears slipping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. Elijah wiped them away.

“Of course not. We will rebuild and it will be like nothing ever happened. It’s alright, you didn’t understand. You simply made a mistake is all,” He reassured the boy.

Kol shook his head, sniffling a bit. “I don’t want to be bad.”

“I know.” Elijah nodded. “I know.”

“Next time I do a bad thing and I don’t understand, will you tell me how to stop?” Kol pleaded.

“Of course, I will.” Elijah smiled.

“Promise?”

“You have my word.”

Time went on, as it’s so good at doing, and Kol ended up getting quite tired of that promise. See, his mouth had the unfortunate tendency to run faster than his head, and, according to Elijah, just about everything that came out of it was bad. Everything Kol thought was funny wasn’t. Everything he thought was kind wasn’t. No matter what he tried, Kol just couldn’t seem to do anything right and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

But that had always been the problem - Esther didn't know him. No one in Kol's family knew anything about him. None of them cared to. (No one except Henrik. But Niklaus brought Henrik back from the woods and there was so much blood, Kol almost didn't recognize his little brother. Niklaus brought Henrik back, but their little brother wasn't breathing. Henrick was the only one Kol could ever talk to, but Henrik was gone. For one thousand years Kol yearned to talk to his little brother again. But small, white bones in a small, shallow grave could never be very good at making conversation. Eventually, those small, white bones were gone too. Just like Henrik. Kol couldn't have him back.) He was barely more than a stranger to his own kin. They didn't know anything about him. They just knew something was wrong with him. As much as he didn't want to face it, Kol knew it too.

Kol had been eighteen then, the year their mother had cursed her children to become monsters. Rebekah had just reached seventeen, Niklaus was hardly twenty, Elijah was twenty-four, and Finn had been nearly twenty-seven. But Kol had been eighteen.

Kol had been but eighteen years old, and he had already come to realize there was something wrong with him. (Just like the villagers had always said.) He was just a boy. (A vile, wicked boy.) He didn't deserve to be cursed. (The villagers said he already was.) He didn't deserve to die. (What had he done to deserve such a cruel punishment? He hadn't done anything. Kol was innocent!) He hadn't wanted to be strong or fast. After all, why would he need to be when he had magic? Strength, speed, immortality - those were his father's wishes. It was Mikael who wanted those things, not Kol. They all sounded nice at first, but even as a boy he knew they could never be worth the price they demanded and that price was high indeed. Kol hadn't asked to pay it. He had only ever wanted to play games and have fun. He'd never asked for that sinister appetite. Esther should have known better. His mother should have known her own son better. She should have known Kol couldn't control it.

There was something very wrong with him.

He just didn’t understand people. He didn’t understand emotions. The others in the village called him a vile, wicked boy. They said he was wretched and evil. But Kol didn’t feel that way; he didn't feel very evil at all. He felt merely frustrated. Right versus wrong was a concept he was only just beginning to grasp and though Kol knew he didn’t want to be bad - knew he didn’t want to hurt people - he also knew he didn’t really understand what bad was. 

What made the bad things wrong? What made the good things better? How was he supposed to tell the difference? 

Kol couldn't see a difference. Everything felt mostly the same.

When Kol hurt someone, when he did something wrong, he never really felt much from it. If anything, the things he said and did felt good. Guilt had never really been something that bothered him. It was his family’s reactions that made him regret whatever it was he’d done.

Finn with his disgust. (Disgust that would one day sentence Kol to death. A slow, agonizing death. Kol had never deserved to die - to be run through on the sword of his own father. Kol hadn't deserved to die then, just as he hadn't deserved to die one thousand years later - forced to feel his body slowly shut down while every inch of him burned - all in an attempt to protect his siblings from an unfathomable evil because he loved them, even if they didn't love him. Kol had never deserved to die, especially not when he'd finally found a second chance, especially not when he'd finally discovered what that 'thing' everyone had told him he'd never find felt like, especially not when he'd only just found her - Davina - especially not when she said she felt 'it' too, especially not when he finally realized that the 'thing' he'd been told he'd never find was absolute adoration - it was like love but it was so much stronger that he didn't know how to say it. He loved her - Kol Mikaelson loved Davina Claire - and by some goddamn miracle she loved him too. And it felt like how everyone had always said, it felt like peace, and it felt like wonder, and it felt like joy, and it felt like something he couldn't wait to show her. But what should have been beautiful only brought Davina pain, because Finn had taken Kol's chance away. Kol hadn't deserved to die - slowly agonizingly - and Davina hadn't deserved to watch. But Finn had been disgusted.)

Niklaus with his sadness and fear. (Fear of their father's wrath. Fear that turned to hate. Hate that he only ever seemed to take out on Kol. But woe unto him if he ever tried to defend himself from Nik's rage. If he tried to defend himself then he was a traitor. A traitor to a vow he'd never benefited from - a vow he never even had a hand in making - a vow he'd never even been offered the choice to make. He was a black sheep not a traitor. Not that Nik ever saw a difference.)

Elijah with his disappointment and shame. (The shame of a hypocrite that he would hide behind a façade of clean hands rather than explain to his little brother that it is intentions which give actions context. Elijah was a hypocrite. He never explained. He did awful things - cruel things - yet somehow those things were different than the things Kol did. Somehow, Elijah could murder an entire town and that was fine, but if Kol killed a few measly peasants that was wrong. He was simply following his older brother's example, was he not? Yet when Kol did it, it was wrong. He was wrong. He was vile. He was wicked.)

Rebekah with her outrage. (Outrage so hot it could burn like flames engulfing that white oak steak when it pierced his heart. Outrage hot enough to make her turn her back on him - to leave him to fight alone. To leave Kol to die alone. Outrage that only cooled when she wanted something.)

And Henrik. Sweet Henrik with that horrified look on his face, like he was two steps from retching or sobbing and he didn’t know which one. (And wasn't it funny that Kol missed that horrified expression? Kol did bad things sometimes just to help him remember how sick Henrik would have looked if only he could see what his older brother had become. Kol did it because some days that image of Henrick's fear and innocence was all he had left of him. Over time, even that started to fade. The memories faded away into a blur until they were gone, just like Henrik was. It was almost funny, all the things he missed about his precious little brother. But it wasn't funny because all those things only served to irritate that hole in his heart where Henrik used to be. Kol missed his little brother so much that it hurt. And because it hurt, everyone else needed to hurt as well. It was only fair. Perhaps if other people felt the pain Kol felt then maybe that chasm in his heart wouldn't hurt so bad. Kol tried to make the pain go away - he tried to drown it - but blood or booze it didn't matter. Nothing ever worked. That hole in his heart never stopped hurting.)

Kol just didn’t understand. It was just a game. He thought it was fun. What had he done wrong?

But instead of helping him understand, as an older brother should have done, Elijah was always too busy worrying about Niklaus. Elijah had made Kol a promise but he broke his promise. (He spent so long trying to redeem Nik's soul, but he'd forgotten about Kol completely. Why had Nik's soul been deemed worth saving and not his? What had Kol done to be branded worse than the hybrid? Nik only ever woke Kol from his dagger induced sleep when he was feeling like doing something cruel. So what about that made Kol the evil one? When had Elijah decided that he wasn't worth saving? Kol thought he knew: It was when he was ten and he'd laughed as he burned that stupid hovel to the ground. That must have been when Elijah had realized there was something wrong with his little brother. That must have been when he realized that he couldn't love Kol like he did the rest of his family. That must have been it. Because the rest wasn't Kol's fault. It couldn't be his fault.)

All of his siblings - none of them cared. They never tried to help him. They just left him alone. Kol didn’t understand why. If they had needed it, he would have tried to help. But then again, every time Kol helped he did it wrong.

He couldn’t do anything right. (Because Kol was a vile, wicked boy.)

So, Kol had made a habit of hiding.

He hid from his father. (He had found this enormous hollow tree in the woods and that’s where he would run when his father beat Niklaus. Kol hated to hear Nik scream - it scared him. So he hid in that hollow tree where his father couldn’t find him and it was safe. It was dark inside and if Kol cast the right spell, he could become practically invisible. Wrapping the shadows around himself like a cloak felt much safer than standing out in the sun and those shadows accepted him more than his siblings. He felt like a part of them. He felt like he belonged. The only person he allowed to hide with him was Henrik. Kol would amuse his younger brother with magic so Henrik would stop crying. Kol couldn’t stand to see Henrik cry. The two of them only left that spot when Rebekah came looking. She’d ask Kol if he’d been scared and if he was then that was okay. But Kol gave her the same answer every time. Of course, he hadn’t been scared. Nik’s screams just made it hard for him to think. Bekah was being silly if she thought he was scared. It was all a lie, but Kol was a good liar, and after a while, Kol was sure he'd convinced her.)

He hid from his siblings. (Because if his siblings didn’t want to see him then he didn’t want to see them. After all, why would he need them when he had magic? He had magic, he didn't need anybody.)

He hid from responsibility. (Sneaking out at night was against the rules. On any normal night, he would do it to have fun - to do what he had wanted with his magic and not what his father deemed was useful. The forest at night was Kol’s personal magical playground and there were so many games he could play.)

Sometimes, Kol hid for the sheer thrill of it. (On the not-so-normal nights - on the night of the full moon - Kol would sneak out into the woods and he would hide. He would cast his cloaking spell and melt into the shadows as he watched the men turn into beasts. The adrenaline rushed through him, setting him on a high that, once experienced, he simply couldn’t give up. Kol was an adrenaline junkie and he’d been that way since age five. Adrenaline was his gateway drug. Maybe that was why he couldn’t control himself when something much more addicting came around. So, it wasn’t his fault. Not really. It couldn't be his fault.)

Then, one full moon, Niklaus took Henrik and they’d followed him. He’d lost them quite quickly, of course, thanks to the cloaking spell. He lost sight of them and Kol had been back in bed before dawn as he always was. (Kol had thought the two of them would just turn back and go home. But they didn’t. That wasn’t his fault, right? No, it couldn't be his fault.)

When Nik came home, Henrik wasn’t alive anymore.

Mikael was so angry - Kol remembered it all so clearly - he made Esther do a terrible thing.

And Kol knew it was bad. 

And he knew it was wrong. 

And he knew why.

Kol had tried to hide then.

He had tried to run.

He had run as fast as he could.

But he couldn’t run fast enough.

Mikael caught him.

Mikael killed him.

It was dark when Kol woke up.

That was comforting.

If it was dark then he was safe.

He thought everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn’t okay.

It was never going to be okay again.

Because Kol’s magic was gone.

Kol didn’t know who he was anymore.

He just knew his magic was gone.

He felt so empty.

And hungry.

So, so hungry.

And it hurt so bad.

Then the monster came out.

And Kol started hurting people.

He didn’t want to.

But when he did, it felt good.

It was euphoric.

And that terrified him.

But it didn’t stop him.

Because Kol was an addict.

He’d been that way since age five.

And his magic was gone.

And right versus wrong was something he didn’t understand.

And Elijah broke his promise.

He didn't tell Kol how to stop.

So, the monster didn’t stop.

And Kol couldn’t stop it.

(Cowardly.)

(Good for nothing.)

(Cruel.)

(Cursed.)

So, he did what he did best.

(Evil Boy.)

(Vile Boy.)

(Wretched Boy.)

(Wicked Boy.)

Kol ran.

And he closed his eyes.

And he covered his ears.

And he hid.

But this time, his siblings didn’t come to find him.

The darkness was his only friend.

Until he saw Davina.

Until she made those flowers bloom.

Until he saw her smile.

Until she warmed him with the light of her fire.

That was when something inside him cracked wide open.

All of a sudden, it wasn’t dark anymore.

Kol never wanted it to be dark again.

Tagging: @sam-bloodfreak-lawboy-winchester @gabrielasilva1510 @brown-eyed-babes

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

By Light of Fire is now available to read on Ao3!

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