A sigh escaped him as he glared at the tray on his hands, which was full of goblets of wine. After a few seconds, he contemplated the messy kitchen again, grimly. The servants were working arduously and begrudgingly, hurriedly. This time they showed dislike for their servitude, an uncommon feeling for them. Strangely enough, now he seemed more eager than them.

It was important to note, however, that he did not wish to serve the noisy gluttons that plagued the adjacent great hall. They were the reason the servants were running in and out with food and drinks, which never seemed to be enough for their guests.

He still loathed vampires, much more those. If he was wearing red robes and handling a tray… it was to aid her. She needed all the help she could get to fend off the chaos that settled into her castle. He couldn’t stand doing nothing while she dealt with those bastards.

As much as she objected, he had to be a servant, at least a fake one. To be fair, he could just stay in the quarters and wait it out, but he did not like that idea. At least he wanted to be nearby, to send her his silent support from a distance, any time she felt down between those fools.

Close yet far. He would display an apparent subservience in the background, without ever nearing and attending as others did. That would keep appearances, without much effort from his part. Both knew they had to hide that he was treated almost like a vampire, for its discovery would bring scorn.

He really considered vampiric law senseless and repulsive. Yet there he was, waiting in line to carry out more drinks. Luckily, unlike others, the goblets he carried only had wine. There was no blood mixed in them, intentionally. Those fools loved blood, and they would choose any other chalice before his.

While he arranged the tray and waited for his turn to walk out of the kitchens, he could hear the chaos in the great hall. It was not caused by her underlings, at all. Her brethren stood with tired but firm expressions in the room, refusing to sit with the other clan, who crowded without hesitation the huge long table. They kept taking for themselves all the drinks and food they could, loudly.

There was only one area that was spared of their greedy swipes of claw. The far end of the table was overseen by the two lords, who stared down at a map laid on it. One was more eager than the other, their debate almost one-sided.

Nerys sat there, with her head leaned against a claw. She watched blankly while Idris trailed the map with a nail insistently, waving a chalice of blood in his other hand. He had spent two days bragging and proclaiming vainly, and he was not desisting in his efforts.

“How many times must I say it, Nerys?” He smirked again, snarling faintly. “Believe me, you should send some troops. They are troublesome, and they need to be stopped.”

She glared, not knowing how she could be so patient.

“If they are a real threat, why don’t you deal with them yourself? Why should I endanger my soldiers defending clans that have never stood for mine?”

He grinned, seeing well through her faked indifference. All knew of her concealed benevolence and altruism.

“Oh please, you have already shielded those clans before. There is no denying that you have garnered a reputation, which I find… admirable. You always stride against danger, as soon as you perceive it.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could shut him up, even if he had a point. “Look, both our lands are side to side, facing the outer domains. There are only a few clans between us and those disputed regions, plagued with human vermin. What do you think will happen if those disgusting insurgents go through them?! We will be the first to see fire consume what is rightfully ours. I’ve always done well in killing those pesky evasive worms… but too many crawl around this time. To make things worse, they carry better equipment with them. For once, they are showing a trace of our sharpness.”

She felt nothing but exasperation, hating to be patronized by older vampires. He leaned close, and she could smell the blood on his fangs with every word.

“Nerys, listen to your elders. You are young, you have not even lived a century, so-“

“That does not matter.”

Idris raised his claw, dismissive of her growl.

“Right, sure!” He waved his nails, continuing as if she said nothing. “What I’m saying is that you still have a lot to learn. When you grow older, you will see that humanity does not deserve any kind of lenience! Their only worth is their blood. They are animals, and some of them are wild, in need to be tamed. If you don’t brand them, they will bring you nothing but trouble. If you let them have any trace of freedom… they get ideas, dangerous ones. That is why we should address the root of the problem. See, you are quite valuable in battle, thanks to his gift. If you led against those insurgents, no fire they raise would halt us. With my help, we could push them back to where they came from, and maybe even claim some land. We could take for ourselves all that they have stolen, with no puny lords to oppose it…”

She despised his greed. All warlords were like that in one way or another; with time, all ended up plotting against each other for petty reasons.

Idris stopped smiling slowly, seeing Nerys scoff at his proposal. Her eyes narrowed, and she soon proceeded to point at the map herself.

“The other clans are fending well for themselves for now.” She trailed her nail, motioning at the borders. “The main army of rebels has settled in the domain they managed to purge, and they are not advancing much more. I know how the insurgency operates. After claiming that region, they will do their best to secure and keep it. If they ventured forth, they would have far too many fronts to fight in. It is a risk they can’t take. So, they will send small incursions against the nearby clans instead, simply doing small but continuous damage. It will be like that until they find a weak spot or they are sure they can’t lose what they have won.”

Idris raised an eyebrow at her, letting himself lean on his seat.

“My, you aren’t only a fervent leader, but cautious too…”

Nerys crossed her arms, eyeing him sternly.

“Perhaps you think I only rose in power because I was sired by him, but I would have perished without my own merit. I had to fight for this land, take it from savage unruly rogues, which lords like you don’t bother to deal with…”

Idris laughed, hiding the disdain in his eyes as he took another sip from his goblet.

“He let you spend your first days dealing with a messy region, to see if you were worthy. It was a good test.” She caught well the mockery, even if his tone hid it. “You did not disappoint him. Those loners did not deserve to exist, for their bloodlines could not be traced like ours. Only the grandest and their descendants should-”

He halted, both hearing a loud thud, followed by drunken cheers. Most of her brethren frowned or scowled, seeing his spawns shout and cackle when one of them slammed an empty barrel off the table. They had drank too much, and no more blood was left. It was like they thought it would never end, taken glass after glass. Even the food was becoming scarce, and they did not need it to sustain themselves.

Nerys clenched her teeth and took deep breaths. After a few seconds, she stood from her chair, coughing to announce her intentions.

“Excuse me for a moment, Idris.” She sighed under her breath, slightly relieved to leave for some minutes. “I will return with another barrel. Bigger.”

He shrugged, not bothered by her departure if it meant there would be more blood. His argument could wait, for the time being. With that thought, he looked again at his goblet, noting how it was empty. He snarled and left it harshly on the table, to then lean back on his seat.

He eyed her as she walked towards the exit of the grand hall, keen on her return. Something caught his attention, however. She diverted her steps all ever slightly, to pass near the kitchens, just as one servant walked out of them. She halted in front of that human, who seemed to glare defiantly when she raised a claw for him to stop advancing. Both seemed to exchange some words, far too whispered for anyone to hear.

In his eyes, it was shocking that a human would dare speak up to a vampire, much less a lord… but there was something much more surprising than that. He had seen that human before, once, somewhere. Every victim he targeted was engraved into his mind, even if in a subconscious manner. He never forgot any of his prey, much less an enemy.

This human…

Idris sat there, watching as Nerys scolded and urged him to stay put in one spot, far from the table and near some of her guards. He held the tray of drinks angrily, glaring while she walked out the hall with a scowl, his grey eye showing nothing but rebelliousness.

There were scars on the right side of his face, and that eye was clearly blind… but there was no way he could not recognize him. It was the same human that had glared at him when he delivered those forged letters, the one that almost saw through his disguise and lies. He was an insurgent.

Idris snarled silently, preventing himself from hinting surprise in his expression. He leaned slightly, trying to conceal himself from the human’s sight. His presence was troubling, for he recalled that he was a strategist. Somehow, he was now in her domain.

He knew that his actions led a human general to those ruins; to be precise, that Nerys was there that night. She failed to kill Lochan or Alaric, what he had wished to happen in order to raise in power. Still, her defeat proved useful to all, for many rebels died and a successor was spawned.

She had fallen in combat due to his doing. He had been in that camp that day. He had lied to that human, who now stood there, alive and under her service.

Idris sat there for a minute, dreading that he could be recognized. He soon calmed down slightly, because that grey eye glared at every single figure in the room, including him… and it did not hint any trace of recognition.

He raised his claw slowly, contemplating his small nails. Not too long ago, he had been able to conceal his vampirism, but no longer. He had changed at last, gloves no longer suitable. Still, he was the same vampire. His features had not diverged that much since that day, and that posed a problem. If that human were to recognize him and alerted Nerys of his doing, he would lose her as an ally. Perhaps she would even turn against others. Her kin needed her, and her strength.

His sharp eyes moved subtly, fixating on the threat. He found comforting that neither knew anything, more so that she didn’t. She had always been merciful with her enemies, capable of sparing them… but he wasn’t.

Idris looked around himself, pondering deeply. A few servants roamed the room, and her underlings kept a close eye on them. All watched while his brethren made a fuss, complaining about the lack of blood, not contented with the wine that was available. There were too many people for him to kill directly. He could not hunt any of her humans without a reason. Still, that little issue could be fixed. If he was one thing, it was resourceful.

Bastian let out a silent yawn, bored out of his mind, tired of holding the tray at the far end of the room. With the other servants roaming by the table with other drinks and him having non bloody ones, he was not approached once.

He had been calm, even when the hall was full of nasty bloodsuckers. Sadly, that serenity did not last forever. He soon awoke from his lethargy, when the obnoxious lord spoke up loudly, causing his spawns to shut up and listen to his words.

“Brothers, be quiet!” His fangs showed as he waved a claw, motioning exaggeratedly at the mess they were causing. “There is no need to fret; I know you have not fed as much as you’d like since we left home, but Nerys intends to keep us sated! Her hospitality and generosity are to be commended!”

Her brethren seemed to tense, not liking how his spawns smiled, all listening as their sire boasted blatantly.

“I’m sure that she would even allow us to have fresh blood, the best she can offer, for such offerings sustain the bonds of us proud clans.” Bastian blinked, finally realizing that something was wrong. That bastard had looked at him, subtly, and all eyes had followed suit. Many hungry gazes were fixated on his neck, and he could only shiver as a laugh echoed, sickening and suggestive. “Traditions are to be followed…”

He slowly paled, noticing clearly how all vampires in the room tensed. Her progeny growled silently and let their claws open faintly, reacting to the ravenous smirks and leans of the other vampires.

It was common knowledge that vampires usually hunted in packs, and that they typically targeted the same victim. They loved easy prey, and by how they were looking at him…

“Oh lord…”

Nerys was not around.

———

Her green eyes showed nothing but pure exasperation. She walked slowly while she carried the heavy barrel on her shoulder, heading back towards the great hall through the west wing.

She was not hurrying, not really wanting to be in there again. This small departure to the storage was letting her calm down, something that would help her endure the future ramblings of that bastard.

Her steps were slow, and she would have kept that pace… if not for the fact that she heard a noise. The more she neared the room, the more an echo would reach her, one that no human would hear where she stood.

She blinked, hearing growls and yells. There were also thuds. Such sounds made her claws twitch and her body tense. She bolted into a run, unable to not recognize the noise of a brawl.

———

Her progeny growled loudly, while the other clan laughed and hissed. All vampires were clawing at each other, lost in a chaotic messy fight. They kept circling and pushing, punching to intimidate and make way.

The quarrel was not dangerous for them, but it was for one. There was a much more chaotic crowd at the end of the room. Her soldiers were shoving Idris’ men off, as best as they could, because they were trying to snatch and bite a human; keyword trying.

Bastian huffed, struggling wildly as a vampire yanked at one of his arms to try to keep him down. His eyes narrowed, seeing two others flanking him, hissing in annoyance. He was not giving them a clear opening, constantly kicking and punching around him, not allowing the one holding him to restrain his moves.

The bastards had managed to shove him slightly away from the guards that had been by his side. Her clan kept trying to push their way to him, but the room was engulfed in chaos. Their detestable guests were demanding blood, like if they were playing a mere game. Meanwhile, two of her officials were yelling at them to not set a claw on him, for it was not to happen without her word. It was something they knew she would not allow, because they all had seen how she treated him by now.

He was the only human in the room at the moment. All the servants had run off, shielded by her court, which now focused on saving him. Their jade eyes showed nothing but anger, because they saw another of those fiends manage to grip him.

Bastian hissed, feeling how that vampire pulled at his hair, leaning his head to expose his neck. His eyes widened when he saw a third one get closer, showing his fangs in a laugh. That one looked like an official, judging by his mocking gaze. It was clear he wanted to be the one to take the first bite.

Hell no.

All around him blinked, because said vampire whimpered suddenly, to then bend onto the ground with a thud. Bastian spat down at him, having hit his groin squarely with a quick swing of leg.

“Keep your damn fangs off!” He kept on pulling at the ones holding him, angered by their entitled hisses. “Let go of me, you bastards!”

He gasped, feeling how one released him indeed, wincing in pain. A faint smile grew on his lips, because he saw Martha dash to his side, clawing at the fool who held his hair. She had pushed her way through the crowd, to then lunge in his defense.

She let out a hiss and showed her fangs, trying to make the one who held one of his arms back off. He gulped as he tried to free himself from that insistent grip, noticing well that even if she was near, the two were still surrounded by many.

Martha leaned, ready to bolt, watchful of their moves. She raised her claw, intending to push off the vampire that kept yanking at Bastian, for it was what Nerys would do. That was her intention… but then a loud slam echoed, so loud that it made the brawl stop.

All froze. All eyes soon hinted dread, seeing Nerys standing at the door, which she had opened fiercely. Her green eyes were wide, the barrel she had been holding fallen at her feet. Even her progeny cowered under her gaze, which was slowly showing recognition. Her mind was processing what she was seeing: pure chaos. Silverware was scattered all over, some banners had been thrown down from their poles, and her guests looked drunk.

That would be enough to anger her, but it was worse. She felt fury when she noticed the crowd at the far end of the room, and what was in the middle of it. Bastian was surrounded by the bastards, and a claw was clenched tightly around one of his wrists. She noticed clearly that their eyes and fangs were sharp, and that made her grow as feral. All winced when her voice rumbled in the hall, barely sounding human.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Nerys moved fast and with accuracy. Bastian sighed, his arm finally freed, without him getting a single scratch for it. She swung her claw, and it did not fail to send the one holding him a few feet away, making him collide strongly against a wall.

When she stood tall, she made them all cower away, her height seeming to increase as she let out a growled breath. Her eyes were aflame, full of hate for their impertinence. No clan was ever allowed to harm a human without her consent, which she never gave. Perhaps they could feed slightly from willing servants if they behaved, but killing was out of the question. She could see their hunger, sense their ill intentions. It was clear that they had wished to leave no blood behind, drain and kill. It was something she could not allow, much less if it was him.

“What were you thinking? You can’t just-“

“My…” Her cold gaze moved sideways, all ever slowly, hearing that vile suggesting whisper. “We simply believed that our host would share the best she has to offer!”

Nerys trembled and growled silently, her green eyes fixated on those dusky ones, which pierced her. Bastian hid behind her slowly with a dreadful scowl, hearing the next threat, in the form of a question.

“Would you truly not grant us that, Nerys? Such denial would be disgraceful, unheard of. I am sure a lord knows better.”

Damn traditions…

Bastian tensed again, losing the respite that her presence had brought, seeing them all laugh with confidence. Her brethren hinted nervousness in their body language, and even Nerys seemed to doubt. Her green eyes showed nothing but worry.

A human host would be expected to share their best wine… Meanwhile, a lord was expected to present prey a guest would desire. She had not imagined that Idris would invoke such tradition, not when she had been keeping them well sated. Not all lords followed protocol and formalities. Still, all were bound to the code. She did not expect him to be so avaricious, not to this extent. He had made a move as soon as she let her guard down, trusted things would be relativity easy to manage with him around.

You bastard.

Nerys moved her claw slowly, instinctively. Bastian looked up at her with a frown as she grasped his arm gently, shielding him. The two snarled when Idris eyed them inquisitively, stepping closer, knowing well she could not deny them his blood.

She could not say no. That simple word would be interpreted as an insult to their clan, a declaration of enmity. That would in turn bring many more issues, which her people would need to endure. Borders would be closed, and commerce would suffer. As well, other clans would refuse support in case of an assault in her land.

Nerys averted her eyes from the many fangs near her, trembling as she looked sideways and down. Bastian was right by her side, showing trust in his gaze, but also dread.

I can’t let them.

Idris and his underlings took a step closer, and her brethren did not dare step in between this time, unable to fight without her command. Their intentions were clear, and their lord mocked and taunted her reluctance.

“Well?” He raised a claw in question, his spawns showing little to no patience in their expressions. “We’re thirsty. Step aside and-“

“No.”  All blinked, because Nerys suddenly pulled Bastian closer to herself, making him yelp in surprise. She affirmed nervously, but firmly. “You won’t lay a claw on him.”

Idris snarled and glared, revealing his anger for a moment. He hated youngsters who disrespected their elders, for it supposed a dangerous game for them.

“No? Are you really daring to disrespect your guests and superiors, Ner-?”

Idris shut up in puzzlement, because Nerys suddenly stood tall, pushing away all the doubt and nervousness she had felt. Her claws and arms slammed around Bastian, to pull him strongly against her.

Bastian fidgeted, baffled, not having expected her to drag him into such a bone-crushing hold. Meanwhile, Nerys raised her voice angrily, drowning all her shame for his sake.

“I am not the one being disrespectful!” She let the words out fast, knowing well she was making a fool of herself. “It would be a disgrace for a guest to lay a claw on a lord’s morsel!”

At first, Bastian had no idea what that meant. However, he began to imagine it as he eyed the room, something he did not enjoy at all. All were staring in surprise, and the whispers soon started. Her underlings either exhaled in relief or paled, while the other vampires glared or cackled. Worst of all, he noticed quickly how Nerys shied anxiously, as soon as she was done saying those words. The last straw was the look her second in command was giving them, like if she had heard the most elusive of secrets, finally in her claws to use as blackmail.

Bastian’s face slowly turned red, while Nerys snarled shakily. She bolted out of the hall with him still in her hold, for the room grew loud again. Luckily, the only harmful thing that befell them was the mockery. The bastards laughed smugly, only those jade eyes holding respect. The hunger was all but forgotten.

Idris growled, unable to stop Nerys from dragging his perplexed target away, his plot foiled with his own methods. He huffed and let himself sit on a chair, slamming a goblet off the table in exasperation. That fool was still alive, and the only thing he managed to do was annoy her, something that would complicate things even more.

He had come to ask her to fight, but a change of plans was needed. That human needed to perish, at all costs. The dead could not speak and reveal dangerous truths. He was really walking on thin ice. Lochan should not discover he had intended to wipe out his clan. And certainly, Nerys should not be given motives to turn against them, for her resistance to fire was essential. He could not let that former rebel live.

While Idris cursed and pondered, his target was being taken far away. Nerys walked fast, never letting go of Bastian’s wrist. She was not looking back while she dragged him along, something that he did not object to, far too bewildered to react much.

Both were red-faced, one more confused than the other. Nerys was afraid of even saying anything, while Bastian dreaded asking what had even happened. He knew that whatever she had implied, she had said as a last resort.

It took a few minutes for her to halt and let go. Her green eyes closed with a grimace as her nails unlatched from his arm, quickly turning away to not face him. Both stood in a secluded corridor, with no one to see or hear them.

There was silence for a while. She kept taking deep breaths, feeling his gaze on her back, surely full of unrest and apprehension. It took her time and she did not turn to face him, but she eventually spoke up, her blush replaced by an ashamed frown.

“I’m… Sorry about that. I should not have left.”

Bastian brushed his arm, looking down and whispering quietly.

“N-no, it’s fine. Those damn beasts are just… They would have bitten me if you had not interfered.” He raised an eyebrow and asked tentatively, his heart beating fast. “S-so… I-if I’m not mistaken, that meant-“

Nerys cut him off, closing her eyes with a nervous scowl, her tone conflicted.

“You’re n-not… that.” Her voice grew firm, yet sad at the same time. “I did not mean that.”

The term she had used was common between vampiric nobility, mostly invoked to denote interest for one specific human. It was not usually a caring fondness, but a possessive one. At best, they were seen as escorts…

He was not her property, and much less an object. Still, she would not doubt to imply it to others if it kept him safe. No one would dare harm him under such notion.

Nerys did not see how his eyes narrowed in realization, or how sorrow crossed his expression. Bastian laughed quietly, to then look away with a small sigh.

“Right, t-thought so…”

It was clear to him that her heart belonged to Lyssa. Nothing would ever change that, and he was glad for it.

Nerys exhaled shakily, clenching her fangs. She pushed away her conflicted thoughts and whispered again, ignoring her strong heartbeat.

“T-they should not see you as prey anymore.” She looked over her shoulder, and neither could hide the uneasiness they felt. “They should not dare, b-but I can’t trust them. I warned you of their malice. Bastian, I beg you to never roam far from my guards… P-please.”

She could not bear the thought of him getting hurt. That was why she sighed in faint relief when he nodded slowly, agreeing dejectedly to her plea.

Her green eyes narrowed sadly, watching as he walked away towards the courtyard, headed for the quarters. She did not fail to notice that he looked crestfallen and shaken, yet she attributed it to the threat he had evaded.

Once he was out of sight, she averted her gaze. She dashed away, headed for her own chambers, wishing to be alone.