Millennium | Kol Mikaelson

The air in the cavern was thick with the smell of damp earth and something else, something ancient and metallic. Kol Mikaelson knelt, his hand gently cupping the desiccated face of the woman before him. Her skin was like parchment, her lips a thin, dry line, but to him, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
"There she is," Klaus's voice echoed, devoid of remorse, as he tossed a blood bag at Kol's feet. "Go on. Wake her."
Kol's fingers trembled as he tore open the bag, pressing it to her lips. He watched, breath held, as a flicker of life returned to her eyes. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she greedily devoured the blood, her hand snatching at the bag, drawing it closer. He whispered her name, "It's me, love. It's me."
Her eyes, now wide and unfocused, slowly settled on his face. "Kol?" she rasped, her voice hoarse, like rustling leaves. "What are you doing here?"
He wanted to embrace her, to explain everything, but her next words, sharp and venomous, pierced him deeper than any dagger.
"What the hell is this? Why am I in here? Why are you in here?"
