kol mikaelson.

question prompts.

"For you to leave Alexandria, forever." Amy sighed, knowing that so long as the Odairs were around, that'd never happen. "But I'm not stupid. So all I want is for you to avoid asking me how I found out. No questions, or no deal." Henry had time travelled to the past, requiring information that Kol just so happened to need. It was the only favour she'd ever do for him. "You're lucky I hate those acolyte witches more than I hate you."

Kol’s hoarse voice broke the silence and Finnick jumped, startled from his daze. Eyes snapping straight back onto his brother, he lifted his head to get a better view, his heart wrenching in his chest at the sight. Somehow, he looked even worse than he had only a few hours ago.

After their earlier argument, Kol had made his decision on the matter clear, so the pair were still on opposite sides of the cell. But hatred and desperation sunk in once more as Finn’s gaze took in the grey hue of the vampire’s skin, the protruding veins. He was truly bewildered as to why Kol wouldn’t let him help, especially when he was the only one that could. It wasn’t like any of the others would offer themselves up, and especially not with the little strength they had left.

“I’ll kill you. I won’t be able to stop, I can never bloody stop —” he spoke, the already strained words muffled by his fingers. It was more honest than he usually allowed himself to be when it came to his vampirism, but he felt as though it were already out in the open anyway, considering his recent string of attacks against the Capitolites. “I’m so hungry. I’m so hungry,” he’d stopped talking to Finnick directly, quietly mumbling to himself, trying to redirect his mind to images of their family, but failing every time another wave of pain passed over him. “I can’t do it,” Kol repeated, as if to convince himself. But it didn’t stop the desire to try, the want. 

“I’d start, and I wouldn’t stop until I killed you. You don’t know what I am, Finn. Not really. If you’d seen what I’d done. What I’m capable of —” Kol shook his head, completely lowering his guard, despite their location. It was an unsettling and enraging realisation, that Wanda had been right about him. Maybe the vision she’d forced him to endure was a prediction, opposed to a warning. Perhaps she’d seen this coming. As Kol considered it, his eyes stung with tears that were unable to properly form, sickened by the memory of Finnick’s limp body in his arms. It felt like an upcoming possibility, a very real threat. “All in the name of bloody hunger – I never cared to get it in check. Now look what’s become of it.” 

He hated Mikael. He hated Esther. He hated the sickness that threatened to control him. So much so that he’d murder his own brother to satisfy it. He considered kicking off again, slamming himself against the vervain bars, but none of his pleas so far had been listened to. Emily had used up all of her favours, and further help from her would only increase the suspicion they’d already caused. It threatened to expose them. Bad behaviour would draw the same conclusion, it wouldn’t get him thrown out of his cell; Coin’s followers would much rather cause Finn to bleed to bring forward the inevitable. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you. But it’s what Mikaelson’s do, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter if you mean to. It doesn’t matter how much you lov —” Kol stopped himself, head shaking again. With what little strength he had, he pounded a fist down into the mattress, his already greyed knuckles beginning to bruise despite barely tearing into the fabric. “What else can I do? Tell me. Tell me.”