✔ The Way We Burn || Kol Mikaelson (Complete)

Chapter 3

Somehow, his own snores woke Kol up. He sat up straight hastily, a hand on his pounding heart. The last traces of his dream flew away, forever out of his reach. Only the feeling of having run faster than he had ever did and being more thirsty than he had ever been remained.

It wasn't the first time he had this particular dream. Ever since he had done magic for the very first time, he had this dream at least once a week. Sometimes more, but never less. He could never remember the exact details though. They were always eluding him, blending together in a swirl of vague feelings and blurred images. And yet, the race and the thirst were deeply rooted inside his mind. His body, even. Despite being awake, he could still feel the dryness, the ache in his throat, the attempt to drink his own saliva to find some relief, and the desire, the true desire, to drink, drink, and drink until he was full.

The thick bearskin cover which had protected him from the fresh night air fell on his thighs and he shivered despite the fire at the center of the room. Henrik, who until now had been sleeping huddled against him, wrapped his own cover tighter around himself and tried to snuggle against Kol a little more. His nose crinkled when he didn't find his usual source of heat. Fondly, Kol pushed a lock of hair behind his little bother's ear.

His older siblings were still sleeping and Rebekah was curled up on Elijah and Nik, snoring loudly and drooling. Making sure he didn't disturb their sleep, Kol pushed the bearskin off, stood up and spread it on his brothers and sister. A soft smile curled the corner of his lips up as he heard Henrik' sigh of relief.

He walked towards the fire. A large basin of tepid water was standing next to it. With his hands cupped, he collected some water and splashed it on his face. Feeling more alive than a moment before, he swallowed a mouthful and then washed his hands and forearms. Once done, he put his outer clothes on and left the house.

Cold air hit him hard in the face. Without moving, he let his magic embrace him in a warm cocoon and relaxed. It was already late at night. Though there were still some stars decorating the dark canvas between the Earth and one of the so-called gods' realms, Asgard, there were hints of orange on the horizon. Slaves were already working, handling the dirty work for their master.

Close to a fire, his parents were talking in a low voice while Sigr was dressing his mother's hair. Mikael had come back from his raid the day before with quite a lot of loot. Actually, Kol could hear the sniffles and terrified whimpers of the new slaves in the quiet of the night. New people with brown skin, dark hair and more generally an exotic appearance were bustling about the village, head down and a metal collar around the neck.

Victory over a savage tribe had his father in a good mood. For once, Nik only had to suffer barbs from the man. Nevertheless, Kol knew it was only a brief phase and his older brother would sooner than later have to bear new blows. Mikael could never stop hitting Nik for too long.

Just the thought of his brother's cries of pain left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

His parents looked at him. As per usual, Mikael's face was impassive, impossible to decipher. His eyes seemed to sound him out and Kol couldn't help but shudder.

He hated their father.

Esther raised an eyebrow, "Kol? Already up?"

"Indeed Mother. Thought I would already start doing my chores for the day."

He grabbed the handle of an axe leaning against the wall of their home and began walking towards the tree line at the edge of the village.

His mother stopped him though, "Have you made any progress with your project, Kol?"

He knit his brow and turned around to face his parents.

"A project, son?" Mikael mocked before Kol could say anything, "And what are you trying to do?"