WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

FOR HOPE, FOR FAMILY ↠ EPIGRAPH(S)

5 YEARS LATER

The soft golden light of twilight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the quiet, timeless bedroom. The world outside the window held no real hours, not here in the Chambre de Chasse—but inside this sanctuary of peace and magic, Rhea and Kol had carved out something that almost felt like a life.

A long, long exhale after centuries of war.

Rhea lay sprawled over Kol's bare chest, her hair a tumble of dark curls across his skin, her legs tangled in the linen sheets they hadn't bothered to pull over themselves since they'd woken—or rather, since Kol had declared he didn't feel like waking at all.

She lifted her head slightly, her cheek still resting against the warm curve of his shoulder. Her fingers traced idle patterns along the inked lines of his arm.

"You know, we should probably get up," she said with a soft giggle, shifting just enough to straddle his waist. "It's nearly evening."

Her smile widened when Kol immediately caught her hands in his—one of his many Kol-isms, always needing to be touching her, anchoring himself with the feel of her skin.

His hands were calloused, strong, but the way he held her? Reverent. Like she was something sacred.

"Five more minutes," he murmured, grin crooked, eyes half-lidded with mischief and adoration. "Just five more."

"Kol, you've been saying that since nine this morning."

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real exasperation behind it—only fondness. Endless, expansive fondness for the man beneath her. The same man who, once upon a time, had called love a myth. Now, he was holding her like it was the only truth that mattered.

He leaned up slowly, catching her mouth in a kiss that was both playful and unhurried. Their lips moved in slow, familiar rhythm, a dance choreographed over lifetimes. The kind of kiss that said I know you, I love you, I choose you still.

They stayed like that for a moment—just breathing each other in.

The world outside was unreal, suspended in a magical plane created from blood, memory, and desperation. But what they'd built inside it?

Peace.

It hadn't been ideal. None of it had been. But in the past five years, they'd found something resembling serenity. No curses. No enemies clawing at their door. No daggers, betrayal, or ancient vendettas.

Just each other.

It had taken five years, but the wounds had finally started to scar over. Rhea had forgiven. Elijah. Freya. Even herself. And in those years, the siblings had come to understand something they never truly had before:

How precious it was simply to be.

Kol tucked a strand of hair behind Rhea's ear, his smile starting to deepen—

When the door burst open with all the subtlety of a war horn.

"It's time."

Freya.

She rushed into the room, barefoot and breathless, her dark green robe flowing behind her like a banner. She didn't bat an eye at the fact that Kol was shirtless, or that Rhea was very clearly half-naked on top of him. Five years in a pocket dimension had stripped everyone of their modesty.

"She's done it," Freya said, eyes shining. "Hayley. She's found it. A cure. For all of us."

The air shifted.

Kol blinked, sitting up a little straighter under Rhea. She froze—half on top of him, her heart stuttering in her chest.

"What did you say?" Rhea whispered, breath catching in her throat.

Freya's smile was wide, wild with disbelief. Her voice was shaking now, threaded with joy and a thousand unspoken hopes.

"Hayley figured it out. The ritual is ready. She's calling us back."

Rhea's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes welled, the tears immediate, instinctual—joy colliding with disbelief in the pit of her chest.

Kol let out a stunned breath and cupped the back of her neck, drawing her gaze to his. His voice was low, his tone reverent:

"We're waking up, love."

Rhea laughed—a breathless, stunned sound. Her body leaned into his like gravity had just remembered how to work.

"We're going home."
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