𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: NEW ORLEANS—1914.
❝I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea
But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee.❞

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Whether it was obsession that ensnared her impious heart and draped a veil over her eyes or her infantile belief in fairy tales and the promise of true love's kiss, the cause mattered little; she found herself wholly unable to resist it. She yearned for his love—a longing that left her breathless in his absence, adrift without his touch to guide her, utterly alone without his heavenly words to placate her troubled mind and prove to her that, despite it all, Annabel Lee remained deserving of a devotion as rare and steadfast as his.

The very thought of Kol Mikaelson suffused her cheeks with a soft blush and caused her heart to flutter like a caged bird aching for the freedom it could only find within his embrace. To love him was a sensation she experienced instinctively, without deliberate effort or intentional thought. Even so, there were occasions when she had to force herself to take a breath, especially in those breathtaking instances when Kol's dark eyes captured her with a gaze so intense it felt as if it could eternalize her—a gaze that made her believe in the possibility of forever in a single moment.

For him, Annabel Lee would clasp immortality with unerring humility, embracing its curse and all its shadows just to be with him for eternity of this; of being wanted down to the marrow of her bones for the first time in her life.

All was euphoric in New Orleans when she met him.
The days gleamed like scorched diamonds under the blazing sun, while the nights were suffused with a fervor as unquenchable as the ceaseless tide of spirits flowing through the French Quarter. Magnolia perfumed the air; jazz music bled alongside the clamor of the slaughterhouses, and when the Original family returned to the city they once called home, it awakened beneath each of their feet with the pulsing heartbeat of a place that had never forgotten them.

Elijah Mikaelson behaved himself with the utmost courtesy, the stature of a true gentleman in every interaction he had with the locals, charm as intoxicating as the strongest absinthe. Klaus, though appearing no older than twenty, commanded fear and respect with his intense gaze and presence, tearing through the district's hierarchy with a fierceness that left no question of his authority.

Yet it was Kol, the youngest of the brothers, with his roguish grin and sharp mind, who garnered the trust of the witches as the French Quarter crumbled to ash and the streets flowed with blood.

It was Kol, with his tender-knuckled grasp and gentle touch, who became the beacon for Annabel Lee to turn to in the darkest hour of the night—whom she sought out for protection and guidance when all seemed lost.

It was Kol, the so-called wildest of them all, who proved to be the most compassionate and understanding—who embraced her, tarnished and defiled, as though Annabel Lee were the most priceless gem amidst a sea of shattered glass.

So, as she wandered through the City of the Dead with the stars her only guide, fright did not graze her despite the cold stone of the burial vaults surrounding her. Kol's presence lingered in her heart, an fondness that shielded her from the chill of the night—and in the wait it took for his arms wrapped around her once more, Annabel Lee, with her vast necessity for affection and awful need to give it, could only smile as a gloved hand tenderly caressed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Don't smile, darling. You'll kill me." Kol mumbled against her skin, his lips grazing her cheek with a whisper of touch before pressing his forehead to hers. "I stop breathing when you smile."

A lady of the night ought to be unacquainted with modesty; yet, Annabel Lee dissolved into his embrace, her demeanor softened by the timidity of being loved without earning its merit. She closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of his presence. "You are late, Kol," she murmured.

Kol chuckled nonchalantly, the sound low and soothing. His breath warmed her ear as he pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of her neck.

"I would never leave you waiting without a reason," he responded, his voice embellished with teasing affection.

Kol's visage danced with a hint of mischief as he peered down at her, a world of secrets hidden behind his smile. With theatrics, he lifted his hand, and, at once, the necklace emerged from his grasp. The chain sparkled in the light as it fell through the air, each link catching the glow of the moon above.

A playful smirk curved his lips as he guided the necklace to rest around her collarbone, letting it settle softly against her skin. He admired her without shame, savoring the soft awe that unfolded in her eyes as she traced the intricate design with her fingertips.

The pendant, lightweight but intricate, glinted with a subtle shimmer as he adjusted it, allowing the light to dance across its surface. His fingers lingered, brushing gently against her skin, each touch a deliberate caress as he fastened the clasp.

"For you, my love," Kol declared, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Does it please you?"

It was not the first piece of jewelry he had given her, but it was by far the most exquisite.

Annabel Lee, who had long borne the burdens of her meager existence and the heavy hand of men before him, felt a warmth spread through her as she nodded in response, tears glistening in her eyes.

She had only ever beheld emeralds in the jewelry boxes of matriarchs, and true beauty was a belief she had less faith in than the possibility of holding such treasures—until Kol placed jewels in her hands with the kindness of a priest sharing pieces of Christ and dressed her in garments that made her feel as beautiful as she seemed in the reflection of his loving gaze.

"You make me feel like a queen," she confessed, her voice barely above a breath, filled with gratitude and awe.

Kol stepped back with a graceful movement, his posture straightening before he lowered himself into a deep, respectful bow. With an elegant sweep of his arm, he extended his palm toward her, his gesture inviting and sincere. "By my side, my darling, you will become queen in truth," he declared, his voice rich with earnest promise. "It is only a matter of time before we sweep aside those who would stand in our way."

Annabel Lee smiled despite the faint doubt in her heart.
Klaus Mikaelson has haunted the soil of New Orleans since the birth of the city, just as he has plagued his brother like a shadow, ever lurking close by, ready to strike at any sign of disobedience—a senseless monster that shows no signs of abating in his pursuit of power and control.

But Kol had her now. Together they could conquer anything, even a tyrant as ruthless as Klaus.

If only others would see the potential in their unity with the same clarity that Annabel did.

"It is," she agreed, accepting his hand graciously. "Astrid is just afraid—she fears that you, as a vampire, can't be trusted."

"I was once a witch," Kol remarked with a distant tone, his fingers absently winding her hair. His voice, once relaxed, grew increasingly cold. "Perhaps it is time she learned that not all monsters are born from evil. Some of us are simply victims of circumstance, forced to adapt to survive in a world that constantly seeks to destroy us."

"I understand, my love," Annabel Lee said earnestly, clutching his hand with unwavering resolve. Kol's eyes, dark and inscrutable, remained fixed on her; if she possessed the strength now, she would not hesitate to destroy Klaus and anyone else who had wronged him. "I will make every effort to convince the others to join us. The cruel rumors spread by your despicable brother have sown seeds of doubt in their hearts, but I know they will be swayed once they recognize the truth in your words."

Kol's harshness faded as he regarded Annabel Lee. "I would never use you," he whispered gently. "Not you. Surely, you must understand that by now, mustn't you?"

How awful it must be, she thought, to be constantly doubted and betrayed by those closest to you. To live eternally haunted by the past like a rabid dog put to death for daring to snarl at the hand that has abused it.

"I do," Annabel Lee replied.

"I will protect you and those you care for," Kol insisted. "I have great respect for witches. If Klaus gets his way, you'll all be doomed. Vampires will take control of New Orleans. Stand by my side, and you will never face harm from that beast I call my brother or anyone else."

"My love," Annabel Lee said softly, moved by Kol's words. "I will stand by your side, no matter the cost. Together, we will deal with Klaus; once we rid ourselves of his witches, we will rid ourselves of him. Then you will be free to live without fear or threat."

The vampire smiled, a slow curl to one side of his lips, as he took Annabel Lee's hand in his and said, "Come, my darling. We're going to change everything."

Annabel Lee followed.

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

This story is so old it predates my senior dog's birth. I'm still scratching my head over what my younger self was aiming for, but here it is again.