Closer

Origins

AN: Kol begins to explain his diabolical origins and Bonnie questions her sanity.

The Mikaelson's here are the world's first vampires, but vampirism isn't very old here, only about 100 or so years. Also want to note that the brutality takes a backseat in this chapter, (kind of!) We hear from Kol's perspective on what he is and see Hayley's first meeting with the Mikaelson's which through an unconventional job screening 🤣 I know of three songs called Closer, one by Nine Inch Nails, one by Ne-yo, one by Lemaitre and they all served as inspiration for the title of this fic. Fun fact 🤗

New Orleans 1903, 118 years ago

In 1903 my family was two years into our stay in New Orleans. My mother held an annual ball to commemorate our settling into town, and help integrate us into the high society of the time. A new family we had not previously met attended the ball that night. A mother and her young daughter, who took a liking to me. I entertained the company of the girl against Mother's wishes, assuming it was all in good fun. Her company was pleasant and we had a good laugh. I've always loved to entertain and make people laugh. 

Later in the night, I told the girl about my brother Nik's paintings. She expressed an eagerness to see a prized portrait of my sister, intending to apprise the painting to confirm whether or not she'd like her own portrait done. Like a fool, I bade her to follow me on a clandestine detour upstairs to the art room. Nik never allowed anyone in there, he never showcased his work until he'd perfected it. I used to sneak in when he was out to catch some of his works in progress, the process had always fascinated me. I thought I'd share my fascination with my new companion, but as it turned out, the youth wasn't interested in Nik's remarkable talent after all. 

She proceeded to throw herself at me. Mind you, she couldn't have been more than thirteen years of age, while I had already reached my twentieth year. I knew it was wrong morally, as well as in the eyes of the law, so I stopped her. She became cross and petulant with me when I rejected her advances, throwing Nik's tools around the room and ripping one of his paintings. The girl even attempted to throw one of his clay sculptures off the balcony. In my quest to preserve the sculpture, I yanked it from her grasp. The force with which we'd each pulled at it broke the sculpture and thrust us both backward. Except my back was toward the art room, while hers was toward the edge of the balcony.

I'd rushed to grab hold of her, unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough. She was in freefall, watching me with terrified eyes before life left them. The young girl's fall to her death equated to my family's fall from grace and our spot in society. I was blamed for her death due to the state of the art room and traces of her rouge she'd left upon my cheek as she accosted me. I had no evidence to support my claims that it was a terrible accident, aside from my word, but those who'd witnessed our prior interactions all condemned me as a perverse, child murderer and rapist. They assumed I'd forced myself on her and attempted to harm her at her refusal, lost control, and thrashed the art room. 

As a result, I was put on trial, found guilty, and condemned to death for my supposed heinous crime, along with my siblings. They weren't guilty of any crimes, aside from coming to my defense. The townspeople deemed anyone who would vouch for me must be monsters as well. Guilty by association, they wanted to see us all burn but they didn't want the stench of the child rapist and murderer to cloud the skies so we were to be hanged instead. Our execution date was set the day before my twenty-first birthday since the townspeople deemed it unfit I should see another year of life, 'having taken the life of someone so young'.

My mother was allowed to live since she condemned us as well. She delivered us our final meal, as everyone else thought being in our vicinity would bring them misfortune. This sentiment was brought on by the girl's mother, who we quickly found out hailed from a gypsy family. It was always said that anyone who brought injustice upon that family would suffer for generations to come. We were already sentenced to death, I wondered what more could she do to us? To me? The mother of the fallen girl told me that night she became bereaved that I was a deviant, and because of that, I'd spend the rest of my days destroying everything intimate to me, I'd never know love or true intimacy without bloodshed or brutal violence. In those days I believed my curse was to die in a short time.