Kol Mikaelson prized himself for being able to notice details–brief hints of dangers and advantages–faster than most–especially his siblings. He wasn't particularly paranoid, like Klaus, nor overtly trusting, like Rebekah; and followed his instincts–which more often than not turned out to be right.

Now, however, Kol doubted everything. Ever since Mikael walked into Lucian's apartment and saved them, Kol could feel something was terribly wrong. Except he could not say what.

His survival instinct–usually so sharp–didn't kick in at the sight of his father, arguably one of the most threatening man Kol had ever met, and definitely a threat to his safety, at least for the last thousand years. Instead, Mikael made him feel safe, and then he healed Kol from a bite that would lead to certain death. If that wasn't confusing and insane enough to make him doubt every memory and bit of information in his life, once Kol woke up–from the very restorative sleep Mikael forced them into after he healed them–he felt different.

Of course, he couldn't pin-point exactly what was different. His emotions were all over the place; his mind was in shambles. It was far too much for his brain and heart to process. He couldn't tell if he was the happiest man on earth or the most miserable of creatures.

Still, by the time Freya had decided to talk to Mikael, he became aware that it–his confusion, the slight differences–was not just emotional. It wasn't just the shock of it all, blurring his senses and muddying his thoughts.

His body was physically different. It was familiar and so peaceful… It was the thing Kol had missed, starved for, and wanted for ten centuries…

Yet, even when he was sure, Kol couldn't say it, or even think it. He could not dare to hope… But, just like the rest of his siblings, his need for answers overcame his fear of asking for the truth.

"Let's get this over with, then." Kol sighed, getting up. "Someone has to go next…"

Finn and Henrik still browsed some old travel magazines, Henrik talking quietly of all the places he wished to visit now that their family was finally together. Kol smiled, watching them. Henrik raised his gaze and smiled back. His eyes held a knowing light; but whatever terrible secret Henrik Mikaelson knew, he would not tell his siblings, not yet.

His older brothers, Klaus and Elijah, sat together, both staring at the open kitchen doors. Nik's lips trembled, his hands shaking, and tears streaming down his face. Elijah held onto him, his shaking hand on Nik's shoulder. But not even Elijah knew what to say; he had not comforting words, no promises. Elijah wanted to say something, of course. Kol could tell he did.

Kol glanced at them, swallowing and not wanting to be caught in their gaze. They had no encouraging words for him, and Kol wouldn't care if they did. This awful night had changed everything. None of them knew what to do next.

He held on to his left wrist where, while he slept, Mikael had placed a golden arm-ring, just like the one he had. A Viking antiquity filled with a powerful magic that made Kol shiver.

"Hello, Kolle…" Mikael smiled at his son, his voice soft. "You children really are taking turns, then? I suppose that's only fair. This way, each of you can have my undivided attention. Good, too–well, I don't think talking with all of you at once would make thing any easier–quicker, perhaps, but—." he sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair. "I'm rambling, my boy. I apologize. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"You haven't called me that in ages… Since I was a child. Why now?" Kol swallowed. His father's warm greeting was a strike in his heart, to his resolve to get answers out of Mikael no matter what. How could his father be so…tender, after so many years of cruelty? And why did it not feel strange, or out of place, but so familiar…as if Mikael had been a tender father for all of Kol's childhood…His heart told him one thing, while his mind said another, but what was the truth?

Mikael shrugged, still smiling. "You used to like that nickname. That and… My little wizard…you always smiled when I called you that…" he beamed, tilting his head, his eyes teary with soft memories. "But… Well, I figured–you aren't little anymore and, I thought you wouldn't appreciate me calling you little wizard–with all things considered, all I've done… I'm sorry, I keep rambling on and on… I'm sure there's other things–questions…you must have for me… All of you seem to have one thing or another you want to ask me…"

Kol blinked, opening and closing his mouth. He had a thousand questions, a hundred curses to throw at his father. But, in the sight of such tenderness, the caring gaze, the love in Mikael's eyes… No question seemed important enough, no anger was strong enough to force his tongue to curse Mikael, or question his sincerity. Kol wet his lips, biting his tongue. He ran his eyes through the luxurious kitchen. A place so common, so mundane. How could this be the scene of the most important conversation of his life? It was almost a cruel joke.

"The arm-rings." Kol said at last, willing the words out of his mouth, soft and shy, like a prayer to an angry god. "Just like the one you have. You gave one to each of us. Even Nik, and Freya…" he swallowed, raising his gaze to Mikael. "You–you said to Freya that the arm-ring, somehow, brought you back–raised you from the dead?" Kol tried to keep his voice steady, his tone defiant and full of confidence. But his voice trembled, his hands shook, and he could barely hold his father's gaze without quivering.

"Yes, my boy. That's all true. But," Mikael nodded, studying his son's tense posture. "You don't truly care for any of it, do you? You were always curious–too curious for you own good!–but, that not why–it's not what you came to ask me, is it?"

"My magic…" Kol whispered, fighting tears. "I can feel it. After all these years, I can bloody feel it again in my body. It's mine, all mine. Just like before…" he cried, smiling through the tears. Kol shook his head, too dazed to believe his own words.

"Oh, my boy…" Mikael muttered, so low and softly Kol could hardly hear him. "I'm so glad…I'd give anything…Your face, now–my son…I'm so glad…"

Kol stared, his mouth half open, into his father's eyes. Mikael was as happy as him, if not more… He could not believe it. Why would he? But there was no point in doubting Mikael's sincerity. It was not a matter of faith; it was there, stamped on his father's shining, teary blue eyes: Mikael was truly glad for Kol's happiness…

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," Kol laughed, crying and smiling. "Is it–is it permanent?"

Mikael nodded, smiled. "As long as you wear the arm-ring, yes."

"What if someone tries to steal it?" Kol said, his voice and fear rising. Such a precious gift, the only thing he had ever wanted since becoming a vampire; he had to protect it. "Or-or can they take it from me? What if–" In his desperation, Kol hyperventilated, his emotions and tear muddled his vision.

"Easy, now, my boy…" Mikael said softly. He crossed the distance between them, moving away from the counter to hold Kol's shoulder and stop him from falling. "You are the only one who can take it off, and only by your choice. Compulsion doesn't work, not for that. No one can take your magic from you now, my little wizard..." Mikael promised, his voice and touch so very calming. "You are safe now, my boy, all of you safe now… I'll make sure you have all the pieces to build yourselves back from the broken mess I caused... But," Mikael pulled Kol into his arms, in a tight hug. "You must choose to be happy, to heal. Can you do that for me, Kolle? I'm sure your siblings will do it too. You all need to forgive and trust each other. It'll take time, of course. But you can do it, can't you, my sweet boy? Yes, I'm sure you can... Now…You'll do wonders with your magic, like you were always meant to do..."

In spite of his better judgement, his rage and past sorrows, Kol hugged his father back. Crying into Mikael's shoulder, he wondered how could any of it be real.

"Why couldn't it be like this before?" Kol cried, hitting Mikael's back with all his strength. "When we were children—why couldn't you be—be this? To us? To me? I always thought you didn't care about me—no one did... You never cared before... why—why now?"

The words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and tugged at his heart. But even as he said it, Kol knew it was a lie. Mikael always cared and loved them.

"Ah, my boy... I wish—I truly wish I could tell you. But," Mikael sighed, drying his own tears. "It's too late for that... Does that matter, truly matter, now?"

"Yes," Kol cried, numbly letting go of his father. "It must matter...it must..." he mumbled, his quivering legs slowly dragging him out of the kitchen.

His brother stared, but Kol marched on. Finn passed him, going in the opposite direction. But Kol was too tired and dazed to listen. He went to an unfamiliar room, sat down on the floor, hugging his legs and cried.

His father cared about him. Mikael loved him enough to give him such a precious gift. It shouldn't make sense. Kol should never believe a word from his father. But it was never about faith or belief. It was about truth; and the truth was that Mikael gave Kol back his magic. Kol had no idea how it worked, but he would have plenty of time to try out a new spell with Davina once she woke up, because his father also brought her back from the dead...

Kol laughed, sobbing. Mikael was always a man of actions, not words. But Kol could not stop asking why, why, why...

Fortunately, Mikael had prepared answers for his children. He would give them the truth once morning came... but by then, it would be too late.