WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

THE ONE WHERE HE DIED

•••

Mystic Falls, 2013

An old boarding house — dusk clinging to the windowpanes — shadows long and uncertain.

The golden hour filtered softly through the dusty curtains, casting stripes of warm light across the old wooden floorboards of the boarding house. Outside, the world was quiet, deceptively peaceful—a lie wrapped in sunlight. Inside, tension buzzed like electricity beneath the skin.

"Kol, I wish you'd just give this Silas thing a rest."
Rhea stood at the edge of the room, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her tone was casual, teasing even—but her eyes told a different story. Worry clung to her features like a second skin.

She watched as Kol paced the room, eyes wild with determination, lips already forming the next argument before she could finish her sentence.

"Let this stupid little group of self-righteous supernaturals play hero," she went on, trying to pull him back with charm. "Let them chase their cure for poor little Elena Gilbert." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just leave, Kol. Let's disappear. Get up to no good like we used to."

Her smile faltered.

Because she knew he wouldn't.

Kol Mikaelson's recent behavior had unsettled her deeply. It was one thing to be reckless—he was always reckless. But this... this was different. Obsessive. He was consumed by the idea of stopping Silas, spiraling deeper into paranoia, into desperation.

And Rhea had only just gotten him back. After all the centuries apart, all the daggers in his chest and the years robbed from them, he was finally here. Alive. With her.

She wasn't ready to lose him again.

"I cannot let them raise Silas!" Kol snapped, halting mid-step. His voice cracked with vehemence, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes burned with intensity. "You've read the same legends I have, Rhea. You know what kind of hell he would unleash. He isn't just myth—he's a plague wrapped in flesh."

Rhea exhaled, jaw tightening. She crossed the room toward him, hands brushing over his chest before gripping his collar gently.

"But why does it have to be you who stops it?" she whispered. "Why can't someone else carry the weight, just this once?"

He said nothing.

So she kept going.

"You've spent your whole life chasing your brothers, trying to prove you're just as capable. And the moment you do, they put you back in a box—literally. I waited years for Klaus to take that dagger out of you, Kol. Years."

Her voice cracked.

"Who's to say he won't do it again?"

Kol's face softened as he took her cheeks in his hands. They were so close, their foreheads nearly brushing. She could feel the tremble of his fingers even as he steadied her.