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Name: Kol || Orgin: Norse || Meaning: Dark
Kol Mikaelson 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 one thousand 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. It wasn't his fault... It just couldn't be his fault.)
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 what 'it' was supposed to be exactly 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 - willpower 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. 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 had 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.
See, 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 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 on the dirt in front of his younger brother.
“Yes!” Kol had said, grinning with pride. The little boy was quite proud of his work. He was proud that he’d made the whole village laugh.
“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!”
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.
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 others 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. 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.
There was something very wrong with him.
It wasn't his fault - 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 had'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 benifited 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 facade 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? (Why couldn't they understand? Was it really so hard to see? Kol just wanted them to understand! But he was always the odd one out. Because there was something wrong with him. Because Kol was a vile, wicked boy.)
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 his younger brother 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. (Alone to hurt. Alone to grieve. Alone to kill.) 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 did something awful. He did something cruel. He did something vile. He did something wicked.)
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.)
Then, 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.
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.