Author's Note: Hello everyone!
A lot of us love the (shifting) resident Good-looking psychopath. None other than Kol Mikaelson. Don't we? Oh yes we do!
I really wish he was giving a chance to share more screen space, needless to say they chose well to portray him! Kol is one who is seemingly absolutely unpredictable, scheming and impulsive both at the same time. He can be very gentlemanly and consequently completely cold and cruel. Isn't that why we love(d) Damon? How I wish the Damon of season 1 came back magically!
Anyway. I love characters with so much of self-contradictory traits. While they can be extremely difficult to write, they are challenging and needless to say an author's absolute delight.
This fanfic however is on the darker side and I have no intention of portraying a softer version of Kol for he is an unstable and extremely unpredictable character. I'd recommend the reading of a short Summary that has been posted a few lines below.
Also I'd like you all to know that I am a slow upload-er. I don't aim to post for the sake of posting. I want the writing to be inch perfect (or atleast try to be as close to it as possible) and may have to work on any suggestion offered. I hope you all will be patient! :)
Now, let me not keep you for too long!
Happy Reading :)
- Arnavi.
Disclaimer : Apart from the plot and the Original Character(s) in this story, everything duly belongs to its rightful owner.
Summary:
Kol Mikaelson was a psychopath, a creature of of the dark. His obsession knew no boundaries. He was damaged, and so was Arianna Griffiths. Her opaque eyes gave little away, forming an effective shield to the secrets she held buried deep within the recesses of her being. There was a mystifying yet tranquil aura about her reserved personality. She had an innocence that he spotted, waiting to be corrupted. He had set his eyes on her and was going to pursue her till she was equally damaged, just as much as him, till she loathed herself and turned to a mere reflection of his own. She was his little source of amusement, his play thing to toy with, to break and to fix.. if and when he chose. They were both secretive players in the age old game of cat and mouse. But in the process, could they see past eachother's failings? Could there possibly be an answer as to why Kol had chosen to keep her so long, than claim the blood he so dearly craved running through her veins? And could she tell how she would endure their little game?
For some clarity, this fic picks up after 3X14 with everything continuing in the background as usual.
PROLOGUE.
The countryside seemed to hold in it a charm of its own as the rails of the train carried its heavy carriages forward. England hadn't truly been as fascinating as the young lady now seated at the corner of the small counter would have liked it to be. Sure she had met people and deeply enjoyed the life of a regular varsity student; the weather however always seemed to dampen her spirits. She hated the cold and constantly wet weather that was characteristic of the Island country.
Today however, was different. Lazily slumped across the seat, earphones playing one of her favorite tracks, she looked out the window at the vast expanse of greenery that lay before her. The rain hadn't yet taken to its full course. Drops seemed to merely caress the moist humid air outside, gently swaying with the motion of the wind before they took charge. The sun had yet to fade into oblivion. One could certainly say it was setting and would soon be replaced, but there was time. She felt content even though her mind raced with worry.
She looked at her wristwatch a small furrow appearing on her otherwise complacent features. She hoped the sudden change in weather wouldn't disrupt her travelling schedule. It was pretty tight after all giving her all of two hours and no more to make it from the Kings Cross Station to Heathrow Airport. She was playing on pure luck.
Few things had the pleasure of catching the eye of Kol Mikaelson. One wouldn't expect an immortal that had walked a thousand years (never mind the century for which he might have been daggered) to not have witnessed everything the world had to offer, yet the little brunette slouched on the plush seat of the bogey seemed to have his complete attention. This journey had been an unprecedented one. He had no set agenda, no goal, no boundaries. Kol enjoyed freedom. He enjoyed being a creature of his own will. After having left Mystic Falls, no matter how dramatic life had been and how much he enjoyed living amidst the chaos, Europe had surely been a pleasant change. However, all good things had to come to an end, and so did this expedition.
He however thought of it as a temporary hiatus. With an eternity stretched out before him, he had no reason to think otherwise. He would meet his brother, taunt him, scheme of agendas to be taken care of and resume his tour that had been cut short.
For now though, what interested him was the little mortal. She seemed oblivious of him, of the fact that she was being watched. Every now and then she would glance casually at her wrist watch. An air of tranquility engulfed her. It unsettled Kol. He continued to assess her. She wasn't too tall, he would guess she was about 5'7 at most, slender built. Her shabby, uncombed hair somehow didn't seem out of place on her oval face. She had long curly lashes, of that he was certain considering the way she kept bobbing her head ever so often, her eyes closed. He felt a smile grace his lips.
The train began dropping its usual pace intimating the arrival of their destination. She began straightening her sweatshirt and pulled her pair of glasses from the front pockets of her sweatshirt and moved to retrieve her bags from the overhead storage space. Kol watched her actions with amusement. Rarely had he seen one so clumsy, least of all a woman. This young lady however did not look to be the ordinary ones he was accustomed to seeing. She was queer. Unlike her peers who had boarded along with her, she wasn't loud mouthed, no. She kept to herself. Her eyes held a distant gaze, her features contented. There wasn't anything striking about her, nothing that a man would consider attractive, but innocence so tempting to be corrupted. Kol's gaze hardened further.
He watched as she stretched to retrieve her stored luggage in the process exposing the supple skin of her waist. His eyes enjoyed the sight of her. She fumbled with her spectacles nearly dropping them on the carpeted floor of the bogey. Kol had the urge to make himself known to her, but refrained. No. He had ideas of his own.
Kol Mikaelson wasn't one who made plans, he acted upon impulse. Why then was he acting differently now?
Oh he knew why! His eyes shone with mischief, an unforgivably deceptively mischievous grin covered his face. He simply sat back and enjoyed what was being offered to him. The girl thanked her helper and quickly put on her spectacles. Boy! They were ridiculous. Large black rimmed glasses covered the majority portion of her eyes, shielding them away from view, as if they knew that those eyes held a secret. An unforgivable secret – the secret to her essence, her innocence. His throat was itching with the prospect of thinking of the sweetness of her blood.
She clearly had a perplexing sense of fashion. While her peers chose to dress in frilly frocks, skin showing skirts and trendy figure hugging attire, she chose a pair ill fitting denims and an oversized sweatshirt complemented by a pair of unladylike sneakers. It seemed like she paid the least attention to her attire as she pulled her wavy hair into a shabby knot which was kept in place with a pencil!
The girl was surely a walking contradiction of Rebekah! Kol thought. She stuffed her earphones into her pant pockets callously and collected her novel from the counter.
"Happy holidays." A blonde haired girl wished her while leaving as their station arrived.
"Thank you. Wish you the same!" She smiled generously, a twinkle reaching her eye.
Kol followed her footsteps as she collected her luggage and headed towards the exit. She walked towards the nearest Underground station – Finsbury Park, once again fumbling with her heavy suitcase every now and then and apologizing. He found her courage and even temper quite amusing. Her demeanor didn't once show any change – any sign of irritation, contemplation, hurt, embarrassment. Was she stoic? He thought.
He followed her now, like a predator his prey. Her hair fell out of its place as the cold London wind kept playing havoc with it and she clumsily tried to pull it back together. Her scent was tempting. It wasn't sweet, no. It was anything but. It was spicy, it was rustic, it was natural; it was his personal brand of cocaine.
Kol couldn't fathom why he was stalking the girl save the fact that his throat was itching for blood. He was itching to kill. His prey stood right there, in the middle of the crowded Finsbury Park station. He didn't bother; he could have murdered the whole lot and stolen her away to his liar to have his ways with her.
He recollected the slight show of skin he chanced on the train and a sudden fit of passion took over him. He wanted nothing more than to uncover the unseen under that hideous attire. He wanted to taste the innocence of those supple lips, feel the fullness of every curve that molded her body, hear her voice call his name, call out to him. And when he was satisfied, he wanted to taste the blood that flowed through her veins. He wanted to consume her blood, corrupt her innocence, possess her being.
The wind once again ruffled through her already messy hair, making her scent more pronounced than it already was to Kol. He let himself enjoy the delectable aroma of her momentarily, closing his eyes; a sinister grin on his lips. He felt himself plummeting into a state of trance.
A vibration in his chest pocket shook him out of his reverie. Dismayed as he was, when he opened his eyes, his little mortal was nowhere to be found. She had seemed to have disappeared. Kol was annoyed, angry more likely. And an angry Kol was a dangerous Kol.
He tossed the annoying object that was vibrating in his hand to the ground in rage. He would deal with the consequences later. For the moment, he knew he would find her. He had seen her, he had smelled her, she lingered in his senses and he would possess her.
His eyes turned to the busty blonde who had been giving him lecherous looks, trying desperately to win his attention. She smiled coyly at him. His deceptively handsome mask resurfaced. His throat itched and his body craved for blood. For now – any blood would have to suffice.
"Hello darling, have you been waiting long for me?" he smirked at her.
"Not as nearly as you'd think. Let's get out of here." She supplied, turning towards the exit, signaling Kol to follow and he did so dutifully not resisting one bit.
Later that night, it was reported that a young woman, aged 27, blonde haired and of a heavy stature named Christa Stevens had been murdered. The police suspected that the Pimp who engaged Christa might have had a hand in the alleged murder case due to continued growing tension between the two. The marks on her neck, wrist, thighs and her mangled body however went unnoticed.
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