17 | The Red Fox

TW: mentions of suicide

"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 are you up to?" Kol questioned.

Dakota was in the middle of a guest room in the Mikaelson Mansion, which she has turned into her own already, and was sitting in front of a table cluttered with pots—broken and whole ones.

They had already returned from Detroit and the trip was uncomfortably quiet. But along those few days, they had managed to converse with each other civilly. Just like right now.

"This is Kintsukuroi or Kintsugi." Dakota answered, not sparing the original vampire a glance, "Your brother asked me what I wanted to do in my spare time. So..." she trailed off.

Kol narrowed his eyes at what she was doing, intrigued by the matter as he entered the room completely and approached her. He grabbed a nearby chair and placed it beside Dakota. The chair was on backwards and he sat on it with its backrest in between his legs, leaning forward to rest his arms on top of it.

"It's a practice in Japan that repairs broken ceramic vessels by piecing them back together using gold lacquer." Dakota further explained. Kol found it fascinating how she looked so passionate doing this. Ever since they met, Dakota never really showed any interest in something other than in the Tale of the Foxes. This was the first time he had a glimpse of her interests.

"So, you spend your free time repairing pots?" Kol said. He was interested in what she had to say, but he couldn't help but feel surprised by her interests. And that reflected on the tone of his voice, which caused Dakota to look at him for a moment only to roll her eyes at him.

"Yes. It sends a very good message." She responded.

"And what message is that?" He asked.

Dakota looked at him and tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. She then turned to one of the ceramic bowls on her table and took it to place it in front of Kol. It was already broken and a bit crowded with paper tape. He furrowed his brows as he stared at it, not knowing what exactly Dakota was trying to say.

"When people are broken, most of the time, our first instinct is to pick up the pieces and desperately try to fix everything." Dakota started, explaining its importance. "I glued and taped it together to hold it for a while. It looks like a mess. It supposed to be."

Then Dakota removed the bowl and replaced it with another. "This is what it looks like when the tape is removed and the edges of the broken shards are smoothed over and filed. You can still see the cracks. That means that even if you have succeeded in getting your shit together, those things will remain with you."

Kol watched intently as Dakota once again switched the bowls, replacing the previous one with a successfully repaired bowl. It was a blue and white bowl, the colors half-mixed like paint on a pallet. Then it had lines all over it—gold lines like road maps decorating the inside and the outside of the bowl.

"This is what happens when you fill those cracks with gold lacquer. You're aware of your cracks, what you've been through, but you didn't let it define you." She said. Her eyes were fixed on the bowl, tracing the lines of gold, admiring them as she spoke. "Instead you turned it around and made something beautiful out of it."

The original vampire looked at the bowl, now appreciating its beauty before his eyes locked onto Dakota. He witnessed how deep she was in her mind, perhaps recalling her own cracks. Then she looked up to meet Kol's gaze.

"That's the message. Even though you're broken, you can still be pieced back together and become even more beautiful than you originally were." Dakota muttered.

Their faces were inches from one another. Suddenly, they were very much aware of the heat between them. Dakota could see her own reflection in Kol's brown eyes. She had never appreciated his eyes this much before. His brown eyes the unlatched windows to his rogue spirit and unholy soul, she remembered Klaus wrote. She could see a little bit of that while she stared. The wildness in him. The ferocity. But at the same time, she saw vulnerability, pleading...longing.

When she saw Kol's eyes drop to her lips, she suddenly jumped up.

"I-I should go." She excused. "I need to get some things back at my house to get ready for the decade dance tonight."

Kol took a few seconds to himself to recover from what happened before he stood up as well. "I'll come with you. Your serial killer history teacher is still out there."

"I'm fine, I'll be quick." Dakota said as she slipped on her jacket and attempted to walk past him until Kol held her arm.

"Dakota." He called out.

"Don't." She warned...or rather, begged. "Please."

The original vampire clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose before letting her go. Instead of waiting for her to walk past him, he took upon himself to turn on his heels and walk out of the room—leaving Dakota on her own.

She closed her eyes and ran a hand down her face in frustration while she waited for Kol to put as much distance between them before going out in fear of bumping into him after that exchange.

"Since when did that happen?" Rebekah's voice earned a look from the redhead, seeing the blonde Original sister walk into her room.

"What?" Dakota asked, even though she knew what Rebekah meant.

"You and Kol." Rebekah cleared up.

Dakota rolled her eyes and walked past her, not wanting to discuss it or anything related to it anymore. Rebekah let her walk past her until she spoke up, causing Dakota to stop herself before she reached the door.

"It's only a matter of time, you know." Rebekah mentioned. Dakota furrowed her eyebrows before glancing back at the blonde.

"Before what?" The redhead questioned, actually curious about what she had to say but also nervous because of how she was looking at her—like Dakota had done something bad.

"Before Kol finds out." Rebekah said.

Dakota's forehead creased at the blonde's accusation. Rebekah wasn't accusing Dakota of anything yet but she felt like she was on trial right about now.

"If he found out what happened to you and what you did, do you think he'll be pleased, let alone forgive you?" She asked the redhead.

The young woman narrowed her eyes at Rebekah as she tilted her head and took a few steps toward her. Something was wrong. Dakota could feel it. Not only was Rebekah usually not interested in her, but she hadn't said more than five words to her since they met and now she acted as if she knew everything about her.

"You're not Rebekah." Dakota assumed.

"I'm not but I'm someone who has watched you since the day you met him and even long before that. I know your past, your traumas, your wrongdoings, your...nightmares." Dakota flinched when she mentioned her nightmares. "I know that you are not good for my son...which is why I require your help." Rebekah—or rather someone who was inside her and using her body, vaguely explained.

Her son...Esther?

Dakota felt her body go numb at the realization that she was talking to the original witch. With the way Esther was talking to her, Dakota would say that she was trying to threaten her.

"I have a dance to prepare for." Dakota only said before whipping around and taking long strides out of the room and toward the front doors of the mansion.

Dakota didn't know why Esther let her go when she said she needed her help, but all she knew was that the Mikaelson siblings were in danger now that their mother dearest was back.

• ─────────────── •

To say that Dakota Grant was frightened was an understatement.

She had already phoned Kol and told him to meet her at the dance. He noticed the sound of her voice carrying impatience and alarm. He told her to tell him already but Dakota insisted that she tell him at the dance where they were not alone, where a certain someone could not easily reach them.

But when Dakota hung up, she proceeded with her true purpose. She went back to packing her bags, taking all the things precious and essential to her. She needed Kol at the dance so he'd be waiting there while she made a run for it. Dakota wasn't going to risk it. She didn't want to stick around to see the look on Kol's face once he found out about her past.

It wasn't worth it. The pain wasn't worth it. She'd already endured enough of that to last her more than a lifetime.

She brought her bags down the stairs—one suitcase and one duffel bag—and placed them in the living room. She left the duffel bag open to proceed shoving some of her things in there that she needed from downstairs.

That was when someone knocked on the door.

Dakota whipped around and stared at the door, contemplating whether or not she should open it. It could be Esther coming back for her. She'd know where she lived, of course she would. But even if it was Esther, she was inside Rebekah's body. And Rebekah, unlike Klaus and Kol, had never been invited into her home.

Dakota didn't know the purpose of taking steps light as a feather when vampires' enhanced hearing could hear her heartbeat. But she still did it until she had reached the door. With a deep breath, she held the door knob and pulled the door open.

"Dakota, are you all right?" Kol appeared on her porch, worry written all over his face as he panted, like he literally ran to her house.

The redhead furrowed her eyebrows at the original vampire, agitated by the fact that he was here instead of at the dance. How was she going to flee Mystic Falls now?

"What are you doing here? I told you—" Dakota tried to remind him but Kol cut her off before she could.

"I know. But I heard how afraid you were over the phone and I couldn't risk leaving you alone given the last time you were alone in this house." Kol explained.

The original vampire hid the fact that he was relieved Dakota was still in one piece. Though that was short lived when his eyes landed on the packed bags in her living room. He squinted his eyes at them before he let himself in.

"Were you going to leave without telling me?" Kol said as he entered the house and made his way to the living room. Before he could reach those bags, Dakota ran in front of him in a panicking manner. Though Kol spoke once again before Dakota could. "You were going to leave while I was at the dance. So I would not be able to stop you."

"Kol, let me explain." Dakota said.

"By all means!" Kol exclaimed as he settled his gaze on her. "Make this make sense."

Dakota fiddled with her fingers as she swallowed hard, anxious and distressed about the turn out of the whole situation. He watched her with anticipation—no, impatience. He needed answers now.

"Your mother is back." Dakota said.

That was the least problem Kol was expecting. Esther was supposed to be dead according to Klaus and Rebekah. "What?"

"She's using Rebekah's body." She told him.

But that wasn't even the worst part. Dakota just took a pause from explaining to give Kol a little more time to breathe before she continued.

"She spoke to me, and...she knows things about me, Kol." She said. Her own voice was beginning to tremble at how close Kol was to finding out about her past. "Things about my past, about who I am. Things that would make you hate me even more than you already do."

Kol scoffed at the redhead's statement. "What could possibly make me hate you even—"

He cut himself off when his eyes caught a glimpse of the inside of Dakota's duffel bag. Something familiar, yet impossible. He squinted his eyes at it in suspicion. Dakota followed his gaze and saw what the original vampire was looking at and at that moment, her blood completely ran cold in fear.

"What's that?" Kol muttered as he took steps toward it.

"Wait, Kol—" Dakota tried to stop him by placing her hands on his arms which Kol harshly shoved away. She almost tripped and fell when he did that. It was starting. Just from that shove, he could feel his anger. There was no turning back now.

Kol reached the open duffel bag and reached inside. There, he pulled out two things. A rosary and a prayer book.

He stared at it, unable to decipher what this meant. Because this rosary and this prayer book were the exact same ones that Mary was holding the day of her execution. He couldn't be mistaken. He remembered that horrible memory like it was yesterday. He could still remember the sadness in Mary's eyes, the red dress that she wore, the tears that stained her face, the final words she uttered. He still remembered it as clear as day. These things belonged to Mary.

So why was it with Dakota?

"Dakota." He said, his voice hinting the caged anger that was desperate to be released. "Why do you have these?"

Kol turned around to face Dakota but as soon as he did, she took his face into her hands and every feeling Kol had in his body gradually dissipated. He felt himself going numb and dry. A glow of bright orange was to be seen where her hands met his face, and slowly, grey veins crawled from under his shirt and up his neck.

The original vampire watched the woman in front of her with betrayal and disbelief in his eyes.

"Part of being a Queen is being a very good liar. You'd do well to remember that." Mary said, her glare not sparing the vampire.

"I was dead but only temporarily. I visited Cordelia and the Queen's Crown gave me enough magic for a powerful protection spell, one that could even cheat death." Mary explained.

Dakota arched an eyebrow before turning around, mentally taking a picture of the entire room filled with things inside. "For someone who hates Mary, you sure keep a lot of her stuff."

Kol stared at her and shook his head as a bitter laugh escaped his lips. "You look so much like her." His eyes moved to her scarlet lips, the pad of his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "When you speak, I hear her." His head dropped to the crook of her neck. She swore she heard him smell her. "Even your blood smells like hers."

"You are an anomaly, Dakota Grant." He merely answered.

Kol threw his hands up and leaned back onto the couch before extending his arms beside him, resting them on top of the backrest. "Why do you even want to be my friend, Dakota?" Then he narrowed his eyes on her. "Are you obsessed with me?"

The redhead was now fed up with the guy. She rolled her eyes before shaking her head and standing up to leave the room. "You know, what? Nevermind."

"It was I who had gone too far? Haven't you been listening to me, Kol?" Mary responded. "All I have ever done is counter your moves!"

"If you were Mary, the person I've tormented every chance I got, now devastated and heartbroken from the loss of your love, would you have believed me?" Kol pointed out.

The brown haired vampire waited for her answer. It hit him hard, looking at her face and asking that question. It was like talking to Mary herself and for a mere moment, just for a few seconds, he wished that she had believed him.

"No." She answered. Then she followed it with a subtle shake of her head. "No, I wouldn't have."

"And do you still love her?" She asked.

"No." Kol answered noticeably quickly, which made Dakota question the truth to his answer.

"Do not lie to me, Kol. I beg of you." She pleaded, her voice faint and on the verge of breaking.

"I refuse to die until I have fulfilled my ambition."

"And have you? Fulfilled your ambition?" Kol rhetorically asked.

"That's the message. Even though you're broken, you can still be pieced back together and become even more beautiful than you originally were." Dakota muttered.

"Mary?" He croaked.

No one had any idea how long Dakota—Mary, had wanted someone to call her that. No one knew how much she craved to be her old self again. How much she had gone through before she could hear someone call her that at least one more time.

Not one person in the world could equate their own experiences to Mary's. She had gone through so much, and yet over 400 years later, she was still standing.

"I'm sorry." She told him as she began to lower herself down when Kol dropped to his knees.

Up to the few seconds that was left in the clock before Kol became unconscious, he stared up at her—questioning her through his gaze. Why? He thought. How? He added. He had so many questions but too little strength to say any of them.

And then he dropped to the floor, desiccated and temporarily dead. Mary stood over him and swallowed hard, looking around the room to figure out what the fuck she was going to do next.

1587

Mary was telling the truth. Just...not the whole truth. When Cordelia cast a spell on Mary to delay her aging, she accompanied that with a protection spell. One with the same purpose as before when she first used it. To cheat death.

Now, she was on her way to flee the Fotheringhay Castle.

She was saddled on a horse, riding through the forest in the dark of the night. The sound of the horse's feet pounding against the ground covered with crisp leaves and her heavy and anxious breathing were all she could hear as she ran further away from the castle.

She was close, she thought. Close to living a life of peace. She loved being a Queen. Yes, it had given her many misfortunes and problems. But that was her birthright. It gave her life purpose. So to be stripped of it was painful. But at the same time, she knew that she would not be alive for another day if she still chased what was stolen from her. No one survived this game. And Mary intended to stay breathing.

Out of the blue, her horse let out a shriek and came to a messy halt, sending Mary off of the horse and toppling over to the road ahead. A pained scream left her own lips when she felt her shoulder blade hit the ground harshly.

It didn't take long before she noticed a group of people emerging from the shadows and surrounding her. As she pushed herself up from the ground, she examined everyone around her. She didn't know these people. But she knew what they were. Because under their breaths, they were muttering enchantments.

Witches.

"Who are you people?" She questioned. She was still sitting on the ground and no one was answering her.

Above them was a heavenly shower of meteors, illuminating the otherwise dark night sky. Mary looked up to watch the meteors that appeared and disappeared above her as she scrambled to her feet.

Mary finally got to her feet only to be kneeled back down by the last person to emerge from nothingness. The mother of Lady Isabella. Just from that alone, she knew who these people were.

The Gemini Coven.

"Sanguinem filio..." The very old woman started chanting and Mary felt the insides of her body shift, causing a scream to erupt from her throat as her legs became weak, sending her back down to the ground. "...sanguinem effurgarex perpetuum."

This was a mother's fury. She chanted those words like it was her dying wish as she held onto an object in her right hand. An ascendant.

"Sanguinem filio, sanguinem effurgarex perpetuum." The old woman continued as the former queen collapsed to the ground, shrieking and crying. She now felt like she was being burned from the inside out. Her insides felt like they were ablazed and were being carved. Painful was not enough to describe it.

"Phasmatos filio, Phasmatos effurgarex perpetuum." These were the last words she heard before everything, even her own scream, went silent.

The pain that sent her writhing on the ground suddenly disappeared. Her eyes were closed, and she was catching her breath. When she peeled her eyelids open, she was greeted by a clear night sky. The meteor shower was done. It was gone, and so were the witches that surrounded her.

With a tear stained face, she observed her surroundings. They weren't here. Even her horse. They disappeared. She struggled to stand up as she paid no attention to her feet. She kept whirling around, wondering where her horse had gone. With the little strength that she had left, she began running.

And running.

And running.

Until she reached a village.

"Hello?!" She exclaimed. "Anybody?!"

Nobody answered. She barged in on every house and bar, searched every stable for a horse. But there was nothing. Mary found herself back at the very center of the village where her knees finally gave up on her. She sat on the filthy ground, panting and confused.

She had yet to realize that there was truly no one in the village, no one in the country, no one in the continent...no one in the entire world. This was her prison, and she had yet to realize it.

• ─────────────── •

Mary spent over 400 years in that hellhole, almost driven to insanity. The first century was still filled with strength and hope that she would escape the prison. The second consisted of her attempting multiple ways of commiting suicide—from slitting her wrists to jumping off the highest building she could get on. But she still came out unscathed—not even a scar left to be seen from them. The third century was her road to insanity. She was beginning to lose herself, her emotions, her very little strength. Then just before century number four came, she held on to one emotion.

One emotion that was strong enough to keep her sane, to keep going, to keep her shit together.

It was her hatred for Kol Mikaelson. It gave her someone to blame. It gave her a purpose in life again.

Just like that, she was playing again.

It's hard to win a game if you don't even know you're playing. Most games require wit and skills. Some only need luck. But all needs to be aware of the rules. One half of the players could not be more clueless.

No one said it was her. It never had been her.

Because it had always been him.

• ─────────────── •

If y'all didn't see this coming despite the little hints I dropped all over the chapters since prologue, then I must have done the plot twist right ksksks. If you did, then congratulations! Anyway, I hope you guys liked the sudden turn of events. From this moment on, Dakota is officially gone. Meet Mary Stuart in the 21st Century! This is gonna be a hell of a ride, if it hasn't been already.