Kol Mikaelson-The Wild Original

Disclaimer: I Don't own anything

You may have noticed I didn't post on Monday. I've been busy for the past few days due to real-life obligations. Even on P@treon, I wasn't able to post chapters 19 and 20, as they are still undergoing editing. I've been more occupied recently, especially since I wasn't feeling well for the past two days. Anyway, here's the chapter. I'll post two chapters tomorrow if the editing for P@treon is finished by tonight. And do tell me if you are liking the fic by rolling the power stones or by comments otherwise I cant get the feed back which implies the fic is not that good or boring the fic will be action packed from ch 20 because that's when the ball starts rolling fast 

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As Kol walked back into the ballroom, he was calm. He knew his mother was up to something, but people tended to be blindsided. Interfering with the doppelgänger before Mother acted would be counterproductive. As much as she was a brilliant witch, she also had patterns and an ingrained belief that she could do no wrong. Half the mess we faced was because of her. If she hadn't turned Mikael that rigorous abusive asshole, we wouldn't have had as many problems. But no, she had to use her magic on him and that... well, that witch.

I noticed my mother had formed her court and was starting her speech, ringing her glass of champagne.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Waiters are coming around with champagne. Please raise a glass to toast the reunion of our family in this wonderful town."

As the glasses were distributed, I caught the faintest scent of blood mixed with magic.

"Oh, she did the same thing again, huh?"

As I stirred and tried to decipher the spell, the champagne was almost fully handed out.

So, doppelgänger blood—used to bind us together, making us share grievous injuries with one another.

Hmm... What's this? Oh, this clever bit of spellwork—she left enough of the blood in the binding that, if it fails, she can channel our magic for her own use.

I wonder where she plans to use it, I thought sarcastically.

So, she's harnessing our magic to create another 'super original' like last time.

Mother, Mother... why must you always twist the dagger in your children's hearts?

Even though I felt a pang of pain, it was numbed, dulled by the fact that I'd lived through this same song and dance before. Astonishingly, I still felt bitter about it. In the end, she's still my mother, though it seems pesky vampirism enhances emotions.

Oh well. I met Nik and Bekah's eyes and subtly tilted my glass before raising it, letting them know I wasn't drinking. Instead, I poured the liquid into my sleeve, acting as though the glass slipped from my hand. The distraction shifted our mother's and Finn's focus to me. When Mother noticed there was no liquid on the floor, she would dismiss it as a tantrum or grandstanding.

Nik even signaled Elijah about the ploy—see this bastard dismantling my trick before it began.

Then I heard the voice I hadn't heard in 300 years. It was as sweet and calculated as Katerina's once was, from the innocent act of a thousand years ago, now echoed by the doppelgänger.

"Won't you toast, Elijah?"

Trying to trap us in moral quandaries, are we?

Hah. She doesn't realize Elijah is the biggest monster without his morals. The way he clings to them to avoid losing control—that's when I want to see her face. How many times will she fall for the same trick? And then comes the preaching of "always and forever." Ironic, really. At least I respect Silas for loving one woman for over 2,000 years, even while desiccated and in pain. He never fell for a mere copy.

If only that bastard wasn't so powerful, I wouldn't mind him being released.

That's a thought for later. First, I need to advance my magic enough before considering waking the monstrosities the supernatural world would rather forget.

Klaus and Caroline

"So, what did you want to show me?" Caroline asked. Her curiosity was evident, though she was guarded, as if I might finish her off at any moment.

Granted, the thought crossed my mind. My wolf snarled at the idea. Sigh... being a thousand-year-old hybrid has its own set of challenges.

"One of my passions, love."

As we entered my studio, her eyes widened at the paintings.

"Impressive," she said, tilting her head with genuine appreciation.

"I take it the staff at the Louvre weren't on vervain?" she quipped, her tone sharp, her gaze steady.

"That's their mistake," I replied smoothly.

As she wandered, her attention caught on a specific piece. She pointed at her bracelet, the one I had gifted her.

"What about these? Where did you get them?"

"That's a long story, love, but I can assure you, it once adorned a princess almost as beautiful as you."

She paused, studying the drawings. Realization flickered in her eyes, leaving me puzzled.

"Wait... did you do these?"

"Ah, yes. One of my paintings is in the Hermitage. Not that anyone would notice."

"Have you been?" I asked.

Her expression turned wistful. "I've never really been anywhere."

"I'll take you wherever you want—Rome, Paris, Tokyo."

She stared into my eyes, her guarded expression returning.

"You can't just get everything with a snap of your fingers."

"But you'll find I've done exactly that for centuries."

"Why do you have to control hybrids?" she asked, her tone quiet but pointed.

My anger flared. I almost wanted to silence her for questioning me.

"Well, love, that's quite the assumption. I don't control hybrids. Their loyalty is freely given. I don't demand it, but once given, it's not easily taken back."

"But why?" she pressed, her voice soft, her gaze troubled.

"Since you're asking something so personal, isn't it fair for me to ask something of you in return?" I flirted, tilting my head.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"Honesty, love. If you want honest answers, then you'll need to be honest too. Answer for answer—deal?"

She nodded.

"Why do you want hybrids sired to you?"

I exhaled sharply, irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Well, sweetheart," I began, my voice clipped, "the sire bond isn't something I create. It's their gratitude. They owe me for sparing them. They're wolves at heart, and wolves follow an alpha. I'm the oldest wolf, the apex alpha. That's why they form the bond. It's not compulsion. It's loyalty. For example, Tyler bit you simply because I suggested it—not compelled it. If I'd told him to kill his mother, he wouldn't have done it. But his loyalty to his pack outweighed his regard for you."

Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I'm sorry, love," I said softly, handing her a napkin.

She wiped her face, then asked, "Your question?"

"No need, love. We can continue another time."

She looked at me, her gaze filled with unspoken emotion, and left.As I made my way back to my room, I saw Kol, Bekah, and Elijah already inside. My temple twitched when I noticed Kol lounging on my bed.

"Of course, Nik always gets the best products for himself. Damned arse," Kol said, smirking.

"Well, Kol," Elijah remarked oh-so-formally, "if you're this enamored with the bedding, I'll arrange for it to be sent to you."

Kol groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the bed.

Ignoring the theatrics, I walked to the drinks I'd kept in the room, grabbing the rum bottle I'd stashed away—knowing Kol would sniff it out eventually. I poured bourbon into glasses for the rest of us. Kol, as expected, grabbed the rum bottle and started drinking directly from it.

"So," I began, swirling my glass, "why was it so important that we shouldn't have drunk the champagne?"

Kol looked up, serious for a moment, before grinning mischievously and collapsing back onto the bed.

"Kol," I warned sharply, "if you don't tell me now, I swear I'll make sure you get the Prometheus treatment for the next week."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. "Oh my, someone's feeling brave."

I groaned inwardly. Why did I help him get his magic back?

"Well?" I asked again, my patience wearing thin.

Kol finally sat up, sighing dramatically. From the nightstand, he grabbed an empty glass, poured champagne from his sleeve into it, and held it up.

"Hmm," he began, "Mother's gotten clever. She used the doppelgänger's blood—must have struck some sort of deal with her. Then she masked the bloodied hand using sage in the room, and the hand healed quickly. Afterward, she cast a binding spell on us all. If one of us is harmed, all of us feel it."

Alarm shot through me, straightening my spine. Elijah also stiffened, his usual calm replaced by an edge of tension. Bekah's face mirrored my concern, her eyes sharp and serious.

Kol groaned. "You've ruined my prank on Elijah as well. I was going to use this," he gestured to the glass, "and make him so disgusted with the doppelgänger's charm that he'd see her for what she is—without any rose-tinted feelings. I wanted to see his shocked face."

"Kol," I interrupted sharply.

"Ah, yes," he continued, unfazed. "The spell would have been highly effective on all of us—though marginally less so on you, Nik. But her plan wasn't just to kill us. No, she wanted to eliminate the entire vampire species. I'm thinking that was the price she offered for being resurrected. And we know our dear mother well. Once she gets an idea..."

Kol trailed off, smirking. "She's a Mikaelson, after all. She's just trying to fix the 'mistake of the millennium.' Amazing how she can deliver chaos like that."

"And your plan?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Kol's smirk widened. "Oh, you'll love this. Do you remember the Wickery Bridge? The wood used for it was entirely white oak."

I froze. "Are you telling me—"

"Yes," he said, cutting me off with relish. "I recently burned down the bridge, but not before saving a single thick branch. I cut it into five stakes and offered the remaining white oak to nature, ensuring that only these stakes would exist."

Hearing him casually discuss weapons that could kill us all made my hackles rise. The wolf inside me snarled, ready to protect my pack.

Sensing my reaction, Kol continued nonchalantly. "Before you get your panties in a twist, Nik, the stakes are secured under a blood lock. Only the original Mikaelsons can access it, and the intent to open it must be to protect our lives and safeguard the family."

He leaned back, smirking. "What do you think, Nik? Should I try being the head of the Mikaelsons for a while?"

The blood in my veins chilled at the thought. Kol, as head of the family? The image of him discovering some nonsensical trend, like karaoke, and forcing it on me made me shudder.

The growing horror on my face must have been a dead giveaway because Kol burst into laughter. "Oh, Nik, such a worrywart! No need to fret. I'll remain the 'young one' of the family while you play the grumpy old man."

Still chuckling, he signaled to Bekah and strolled out, laughing a full-bellied laugh.

"Bekah," he called, "why don't you join me? I want to show this doppelgänger gang who they're messing with!"

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