Kol Mikaelson-The Wild Original

The updates on WN will always depend on stones. For every 100 stones, there will be a new chapter update, continuing until it matches what paid members receive on my Patreon.

So, start voting! If you were lucky, in the previous post, I held a giveaway—you might have gotten it. I also posted a discount code in the previous post.

If you're still not satisfied, I want to stress that my free patrons—can usually read one more chapter

Free members can read one chapter ahead of all other platforms.

Paid members can read two chapters ahead, regardless of the pledge amount.

Barons will have access to any and all chapters as soon as I bring them to life.

Thank you again for your generous support. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Goodnight

You can support me at [email protected]/LUCIFER482 ( replace @ with a)

-----------------------------------------------------------

Niklaus' POV

As my younger brother sits there, mocking us all with his usual flair, I realize how much I've missed him. This is why I waited for Mikael's death. Yet, as he sits there quietly, making no moves, something feels... off. Kol isn't the type to drink rum quietly without a quip or prank in sight. The stillness in him unsettles me.

Elijah, ever the mood reader, sighs and pours himself a drink from a new bottle of rum. He hands one glass to Bekah after adding blood from a bag to it. He even pours some into the bottle before sliding it over to Kol. Pulling out chairs for himself and Bekah, Elijah joins us, the very picture of composed concern.

It seems I'm not the only one who has noticed the shift. Even Bekah is stealing uneasy glances at Kol. Only Finn, that sullen fool, skulks off in his corner, completely oblivious.

Kol drains his first bottle with practiced ease and reaches for the second. As he takes his first sip, I sense it—something changes. His posture shifts, his eyes gleam with a sharpness I haven't seen in centuries, and there's fire in his smile.

Impossible. How?

Kol notices me staring, and with deliberate slowness, he turns to meet my gaze. That look in his eyes—it says everything.

He knows something.

Before I can react, he hurls the empty bottle at the doorway with such force that the sound of shattering glass leaves us stunned. Elijah and Bekah exchange confused looks, while even Finn snaps out of his sulking to glance toward the commotion.

And then she walks in.

Our mother. Drenched in rum, her fiery gaze locked on Kol.

"Ah, Mother," Kol says, standing and flashing across the room until his nose is inches from hers. "How I have longed for this day."

His tone is deceptively calm, but I know better. Kol never did things calmly—not when something big was about to happen.

Kol was always different from us. He didn't linger under Mikael's yoke like the rest of us. Even as a mortal, he was independent, raiding seafaring villages and learning magic wherever he could. He had his own land by the time Henrik was sixteen and had even brokered Henrik's betrothal. For a moment, we had all dared to hope that someone in our family might live a long, happy life.

Then Henrik died.

Kol was a shell of himself after that. At Henrik's wake, his eyes were lifeless. And during that cursed dinner where Mikael struck him, Kol wasn't even paying attention. He never expected the blow.

But now? Now, the Warlock of the Millennium stands before our immortal mother, and I can feel the tension in the air crackling like lightning.

Kol speaks first, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"How was the other side, Mother? I hope they welcomed and cherished you for a long time."

The glee in his tone makes my blood run cold.

Mother's fiery gaze falters, her expression shifting ever so slightly to fear. The air stills.

Kol continues, his grin widening. "Ah, it seems my instructions did reach the other side. Good. You see, I made sure the punishment for the message not arriving was... severe. So, tell me, how much did Ayanna help with your resurrection, Mother? I'd love to pay a visit to those witches and covens involved in this little scheme. They must know that bringing you back is very much against nature."

The sadistic gleam in his eye grows brighter, his voice sharper. This is the Kol that the world whispers about in fear.

While I am known for my ruthlessness, Kol's reputation is one of calculated madness. He doesn't just distinguish between allies and enemies—he punishes betrayal with unimaginable cruelty. The stories say his vengeance feels swift, but some claim it stretches into eternity. He barters spells and curses with witches, inflicting punishments so creative they've become legend.

And now, it seems, we're about to witness why he's called Kol the Crazy.

"You know, Mother," Kol continues, his voice almost conversational, "I wanted to punish you myself. Oh, how I longed for it. When Nik killed you, I thought I'd be satisfied. And for a time, I was. A whirlwind of rage coursed through my veins, but as the years passed, it cooled. I knew you'd return one day. That's why I prepared."

He leans in closer, his smile chilling. "You see, I know more about witches than you or Ayanna ever did. I knew the witches would punish you on the other side. So, I threatened, charmed, and struck deals with witches around the world to make sure your punishment was... exquisite."

The room feels heavier with every word he speaks.

"And now that you're back," Kol says, addressing the invisible witches he knows are listening, "this is my deal: bind her magic to her. Curse her with a life bond to her dearest son, Finn. And if she so much as lights a candle with magic, I will personally eliminate every Bennett witch—or anyone connected to them—on this earth. Choose wisely. Refuse, and the Bennett line will have no dealings with me for the next millennium. This is an oath made before Gaia and Odin as my witnesses."

Kol steps back, his smile unnervingly bright. "Ah, Mother, I almost forgot to mention—don't dagger me, Nik, you idiot."

-----------------------------------------------------------