The guards threw Kol down in his cell, not caring for the way it pained him when his back hit the floor. The feverish symptoms had started around an hour ago, so he was unable to pull himself up onto the bed. Everything hurt. Noticing eyes fall on him from around the cells, he muttered, “what the bloody hell are you looking at?”, but his voice was strained from the nausea. At least the hallucinations hadn’t begun yet.
Location: The Capitol.
Characters mentioned: Finnick Odair, (Annie Odair, Ethan Odair), Alma Coin, Rebekah Mikaelson, Scott McCall, Tate Langdon, Emily Thorne.
Kol hadn't been the same since they'd dragged Finnick out of their shared jail cell. Whilst the possibilities of what they'd do to his own self lingered in the back of his mind, he didn't pay much attention to them. Because he could heal. Whether it be emotional or physical, the effects wouldn't last long. Even if they did, he had an eternity to recover from them. But attacking his family was a different matter, because they were mortal. They could be broken. When it came to pain, the Odairs had carried more than their weight in it, and if there were a way for Kol to burden the remainder of it for them, on his own, he would.
But he'd quickly been reminded that bargains couldn't be met by the likes of Coin's followers. He woke alone the morning of Finnick's birthday, and that unfamiliar but prominent feeling of worry was quick to settle over him. Typical of them, to choose such a day to start their twisted games. Kol used to love games, playing with weak minded individuals, but being on the receiving end along with the very few people he cared for had changed his perceptions.
For the hours he spent on his own, Kol had remained silent. Unusual of him to avoid kicking up a fuss, but he knew that whatever pain Finnick was currently enduring would only worsen the minute he opened his mouth. Time passed slowly in confinement as it was, but being without his brother made a second feel like a year, and he ended up counting cracks in the wall at a feeble attempt to pass time. Perhaps this was his own torture, because it was surely painful enough on it's own. And when Finnick returned the next day, sicker than he'd looked in years, Kol realised nothing could possibly hurt him more than seeing his brother hurt. He also realised that Coin had known this long before he’d known it himself, and was now using it to her advantage.
For potentially the first time in his immortal life, he felt powerless. He was in a position where he couldn't save them, not this time. He could only stitch them back together after it had all ended, exactly the way he'd been doing since Finnick's parents died all those years ago. Instead, he was relying on the likes of Scott to rescue them -- possibly the only other person he could trust with such a task outside of himself.
Days passed without much talking, every captive anticipating who's turn it would be next. They knew it was coming. Even those who'd never been in this situation before, such as Tate, knew it was coming. But for some unknown reason, Kol hadn't expected it to be himself. Maybe it was due to the fact Finnick had been first, and they'd done them both enough harm already in choosing so. Maybe he just hadn't been thinking clearly. But when the guards stopped outside their cell, armed and ready, all he could think about was that it was a relief they'd chosen him this time.
Kol remained quiet as they pushed him along like a disobedient dog, but his fangs were bared, veins showing under his eyes. That was just supernatural instinct, he couldn't help the way his body reacted. Especially due to the hunger, his bloodlust had left him over-reactive, unpredictable. If he had the strength, he might have taken a guard down behind him there and then simply to get his next hit, uncaring of the consequences.
There was nothing special about the room they dragged him into, or the chair they seated him in. It was typical Capitol tradition, bright colours and furniture that wasn't shaped the way it should be. But there was a device next to him, and he could practically smell the poison that it held. At least, poisonous for those who had the none exchangeable gift of immortality. Werewolf venom. He didn't need to ask what was coming -- he already knew. Vervain could harm him, certainly, but wolf venom was an entirely different story. His body would begin to react the way it would if he were bitten, an instant rejection to what a vampire's genetics perceived as a virus. Not only was it incredibly painful, it was also incredibly dangerous.
Luckily, the fact he was an Original meant the results wouldn't end in death, but it would not be pretty or painless. Still, if it were a venom attack or watching Finnick die because of his own actions, Kol knew which he'd prefer. He had to remind himself constantly of that, just to control his temper. Because Rebekah had been right when she'd said a vampire's greatest weakness was love. Their emotions were heightened, so what choice did he have? He didn't even blame the Odairs for ending up here, because he'd sworn it upon himself to protect them a long time ago. The only people to blame were the ones standing around him, and the bitch they followed.
One thing that did catch his eye about his surroundings was the camera, aimed directly at him. So this would be broadcast, as tortures had been in the past. Annie would see, if she chose to watch. His biological siblings would see, and at the risk of their own life, would refuse to come to his aid. The witches, too. Everyone would see him as powerless, weak. Alone. A loss of his powerful reputation was just another fear he’d have to succumb to. He chose not to speak, in that moment, not wanting to make a greater fool of himself. Maybe if he remained silent, nobody would be certain it was him.
The guard, who Kol didn't recognise, seemed to get a sick satisfaction out of sticking the needle into his arm and watching the clear liquid seep into his system. Perhaps he had a history with Mikaelsons, and this was his revenge. But that was the last face Kol was able to see clearly, as his vision soon began to blur. The sickness was quick to follow, the area in which he'd been injected now bruised and swollen. The hunger in which he already felt began to increase, making his throat physically burn, knowing he'd need human blood to heal. Only Emily would be able to help him with that, but doing so right now would only lead to her exposure. He’d just have to endure it.
“How the mighty have fallen,” he managed to make out through the haze, igniting a vengeful anger within him. Kol may be subdued now, but he always got his revenge in the end. He was already imagining the vile ways in which he could end this guard -- along with the rest. He was still a Mikaelson, after all.
He expected to remain in that same room for several days, but after around two hours, when the last of the venom had been distributed into him, they were dragging his limp limbs back to where they'd taken him from. Ah. Kol understood it now. The worst part was yet to come, because he'd have to control himself, hallucinations and all, in front of his peers. The thriving bloodlust, the blackouts - Finnick would have to go through them, too. He’d see the worst side of Kol, everyone would.
It would only last a day or so, perhaps two with the amount of venom they'd forced into his system, but those would surely be the longest two days he'd ever experienced in his one thousand years on this Earth. And although he’d never admit it, he was scared. Because venom visions were terrifying, they could make you feral, forget who you are or who you’re with. It wasn’t something easily controlled, even with your loved one beside you.
Yes,I cover our connection with hostility because,yes,I hate myself for the truth,so if you promise to walk away like you saidand never come back,then, yes,I will be honest with you.
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