Southern Nights {The Originals Shorts + Preferences}

Southern Nights - Kolvina Short

Title: 🌃 Southern Nights 🌃

Requested by: Nusqueen1 and OzzchelleRichozzy1

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: Nightmares, talk of death

Summery: The first night they ever spent together went a little something like this... || Kolvina Short||

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and that it's kinda short. As you'll probably be able to tell, this short takes place just after Season 2 Episode 5 "Red Door". There were other episodes I thought about basing a short on, but I thought that it would be best to start at the beginning so that if you, the readers, enjoy this one then I could write more "Southern Nights" shorts in chronological order. This is kind of an experiment for me so if you could tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it! Thanks for being here!

🌙🌙🌙 Story Begins Below 🌙🌙🌙

The dump motel had been entirely Davina's idea, thank you very much. Although seeing as she was the one with the credit card - courtesy of an unwitting Marcel - and considering the fact that he had spent the last three months lying to her about his identity, he didn't feel all that inclined to argue. Hence why he sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, right next to an extraordinarily dirty window, watching the lightning bugs blink through their midnight waltz.

See, Kol Mikaelson had a fondness for New Orleans nights. Eventide in the Big Easy was one of the few things about Louisiana that he wouldn't complain about. (Although that certainly isn't to say he couldn't complain about it. Kol could always find a reason to complain, much to his sibling's chagrin.) The days he'd spent in New Orleans as a vampire hadn't impressed him. Aside from the shroud of magic that enveloped the city (a quality as torturous as it was enrapturing because while he could practically taste the sparks of sorcery dancing on the thick summer wind he remained utterly incapable of connecting to it - so close yet just out of reach) and the constant roar of Jazz thrumming through the streets like the boisterous laughter of an unhappy man, days in the Crescent city really didn't have all that much to offer.

The nights, however? Well, New Orleans nights were something special.

It was after the sun went down that the little city by the river came to life. On nights like this one when the sun's heat took its leave and all the wild things crept from their holes to party the night away in rhythm with the ever-flowing Jazz under the light of the bayou stars. The magic in the air was palpable - thick enough to taste - and now that he was a witch once again he could feel it pulsing in his bones. He had missed such a feeling more than he could say. If it were up to him, he would be outside, simply basking in the connection he'd been deprived of for so long. But it wasn't up to him. Instead, he was stuck inside a filthy motel room because of bloody Claire witches and their fire-inclinded temperaments and Davina Claire had spelled the bloody door shut.

What a woman. He couldn't even find it within himself to be annoyed. Of course, he could easily undo the spell she'd used to lock him in, but that would be a moot point as he was actually a willing prisoner in this instance, and leaving this nasty - although admittedly extraordinarily well-warded - room would only make it easier for his mother to pin down his location and attempt to drag him back into her barmy-brained schemes. (That was a big 'no-thank-you' in his book. Alive or dead, Kol would not be his mother's puppet.) The attention of good ole' mother dearest was the last thing he needed. Besides, betraying his companion's albeit minimal trust wasn't going to do him any favors in the eyes of one Davina Claire.