His eyelids felt heavy, and he was lightheaded. Once more, he splashed some water onto his face, leaning by the washbasin in his room. A loud sigh escaped him, because he did not manage to soothe the sudden cold shudders he was feeling.

His vision was growing foggy, like if he had not slept in days. Due to it, he finally moved away from the basin, ignoring the mirror that hung over it. His reflection was not flattering at all, for he was slightly pale.

Maybe he had been neglecting himself. He always let Nerys take a lot of blood, assuring her that it was fine, hiding his lightheadedness as much as possible. She always stopped as soon as he hinted faintness, and she needed all the blood she could get.

What he was feeling now was just tiredness, for sure. He was fine, he had it worse. This feeling always went away with time, it was nothing, and he could take it.

I’m just… tired.

As he walked towards his bed, Nadiya flew down from a shelf, to land onto the headboard. She let out a faint croak and eyed him down carefully, like if she could notice something he could not. Sadly, he did not acknowledge her insistent stare tonight. Every day, he would pet her feathers, but now he did not even look at her. He simply sighed and helped himself to bed, pulling the blankets close and over himself.

The window was closed and the covers were thick. Anyone would feel warm in the room, a comfortable sleep easy to achieve. He did not feel warm or comfortable, however, not tonight. A strange coldness flowed through him, preventing him from resting.

What he could not know was that he did not feel weak and cold due to blood loss… but because of poison. Only a small quantity was needed. It flowed dormant hours before, to awake now, pulsing in his veins. It was meant to be deadly, and it would have been if it had not been shared. There was only a faint trace of the venom now, yet it was still vile, in a different way.

Bastian eventually fell asleep, a grimace tainting his habitual peaceful expression. Nadiya soon croaked in worry, seeing him begin to tremble and fidget. His mouth opened to let out raspy breaths. If he was awake, he would recognize that his mind was pounding, victim of a strong headache.

He shivered, for there was only blackness. The only thing he could sense was coldness, all around him. Something in him was not right. He felt like if he had been beaten up and dragged along, numb but sore.

It was not easy to think. His thoughts were clouded, foggy. Somehow, even if his skin was cold and he kept shivering… he felt heat.

He tried to open his eyes, and all flickered in black for a minute. The first thing he saw was a… lantern. He tried to look at it, fighting the fogginess of his vision. Its dim light pierced the darkness, his sight seeming to bend and twist around it.

Eventually, his gaze managed to focus slightly, even if something felt off with it. Deep inside, something in him was screaming in alarm, but he could not hear it. He just stood there, in the dark. His eyes were fixated on the tall lantern, which lit the stony path of the gloomy street.

All ever slowly, he looked around himself. A gasp escaped him, and he quickly held himself, haunted by the sight. There were old houses, familiar doorsteps, and calm streets. It was a small village. He cried there, while the light of the lantern seemed to intensify, the metallic pole from where it hanged looming over grimly. The heat he was feeling was rising, almost scorching, yet he still felt cold.

A breeze seemed to brush him, and he finally took notice of the fact that he was not alone in the street. There was someone standing in the shadows of the path. He sobbed and took a step forward, which he did not feel. His eyes were seeing something that would have terrified him in any other moment, perhaps enough to make him scream. Someone was there, yet it should not be.

His grey eyes widened when he saw the figure begin to walk away, blending slightly with the shadows of the road. It made him move and chase, call, not wanting to lose sight of him.

“Wait!”

The figure did not turn around with his call. He reached him, halting sharply behind his back. His eyes showed nothing but pure confusion, dazed. His father stopped walking, but he could not understand why he had ignored him. When he was acknowledged, it was with a slow turn of head. He was given a glance full of hate, disgust… and he could not comprehend it. So he raised a hand tentatively, whispering in doubt.

“F-fath-?

“I’m not your father.”

He took a step back, because his hand was almost stricken with a strong swing of fist. His heart almost broke when he heard those words, which he never thought possible. He found himself stammering while he recoiled from that hateful glare, confused and afraid.

“W-why-“

“You dare ask why?!” His father snarled and pointed a finger at him, showing nothing but loathing when there had always been care. “Look around you, and tell me… why would I call you my son.”

The heat now felt like fire, all over his skin. He shuddered as he did as told, taking in his surroundings. His eyes widened, seeing that the lantern was broken. Its metal was slashed and torn, allowing its oil to drip down onto the path, where small flames were tangling… over everything.

He began to cower, shaking like a leaf, seeing the street in a different light. Everything was covered by smoke and embers. Doors were broken, roofs had crumbled, and claw marks adorned every corner. All was red, blood poured over shattered glass. Many figures laid around, no longer alive, still bleeding slightly. A whimper escaped him as he tried to contain a gag with a hand. He shook his head, backing away from the sight. Those hateful eyes were piercing him, questioning him.

“I don’t unders-!”

He was cut off again. His father dashed towards him, to loom threateningly and accusingly, uncaring of his frightened gasp.

“You never understood why I died?!” He stared frozen, for he was seeing what he saw when he crawled out of that cellar… a bloodied face, clawed and mangled, empty of life. “I died for you! I let my blood pour while you hid, to let you keep on living! Yet you scorned my sacrifice, ungratefully!”

He could not move. His body was not answering him, when he needed it to. The only thing he could do was tremble, feeling the unbearable burning of the flames around him, freezing as the memory of that night sunk back into his mind…

The fear was strangling him, the one that he had denied fervently for years. He had dreaded failing his father, wondering constantly if he would be deemed a coward if he could perhaps see him. He could not even cower while the family he lost roared down at him, opening his arms wide to display the bloodshed that surrounded them.

“You survived this! You saw it all! Yet you…” The words stabbed deeper than a knife, for they held nothing but truth. “You stand between the very beings that took my life! They showcase their decadence clearly, yet you accept and allow it! You have forgiven my murder, turning a blind eye to all who fall around you!”

“I have n-not forgotten! I would never…! P-plea-!”

He raised his hands onto his ears, sobbing as many screams echoed, growing louder every second. His head felt like it was about to crack open, pounding as much as his heart. He could swear he was being twisted inside out, not only due to the yells of his father, which brought nothing but guilt and shame.

“You do not only submit under their rule, but you see it as just! Those beasts now receive your admiration, you traitor! You will stay idle while others bleed, maybe even assist the deed! There is no doubt in you when you give out your own blood, for you are glad to surrender it! You are remorseless!”

“S-stop…!”

“You have always been uncaring, unloving! Always passive, evasive, too cowardly to face the horrors that surround you! If you have ever fought, it was to deny and hide from your faults! In your selfish complacency, you have betrayed us all! You would even give your life to one of them now! One who has shown you what they truly are, nothing but heartless monsters! She is one of the beasts that-!”

“STOP IT!”

He swung one of his hands in front of himself, unable to keep on listening. There was a thud, then silence. No more words echoed. He panted, opening his eyes slowly. A shaky cry escaped him, seeing the unmistakable outlines of a corpse at his feet. There was a deep claw mark, which was what brought it down.

The body looked like it had been lying there for a very long time. There were no more flames around him, only darkness. The chaos he had seen was gone, replaced by decadent ruin. All the structures were rotten or broken, bones and dust adorning every corner.

The air was cold as ice; he could feel it seeping through his skin. The scorching sensation he had felt was gone, leaving him to shiver due to his own fear. He took multiple steps back, clenching his teeth. That simple act startled him, for it brought a faint sting and warmth with it. All ever slowly, he raised a hand to his lower lip. His fingers…

His eyes widened as he wheezed, realizing that he had bitten his own lip. The blood was now on his hand, if it could be called that. There were nails, small, but sharp and inhuman. He could not cower away from himself, nor ignore the voice he heard, for it was his own.

You’re just like them…

“N-no!”

He bolted away, from everything. His steps were fast, yet the path did not seem to ever end, always surrounded by debris and death. There were too many derelict streets, all painted with blood, empty of life. He just ran, faster than any time in his life. His breaths were shallow, yet he kept going. There was no end to his flight; he could only see blackness in the distance. He closed his eyes, wishing everything would stop.

His legs soon failed him, and he fell onto his hands and knees. He laid there on the ground, wide-eyed, right beside a trail of blood. His tears mixed with it as he stared at his own reflection. The scars were there, but there were things that brought him much more grief. His eyes were sharp, and they almost gleamed in the dark, unnatural.

Everything around him seemed to twist and crumble while he contemplated his own features, feral and inhuman. He was looking at a beast… himself. And he could only scream.

His cry echoed loudly, terrified. He jolted strongly, moving a hand to try to push himself away from the sight. His legs kicked as he recoiled, his back slamming onto something behind him.

He opened his eyes again with another loud gasp, realizing that he could not keep backing away, for he was leaning against something. He trembled and stopped cowering, even if he still panted in fright.

He slowly looked down, confused to no end by the blankets scattered over him. There was no blood on them, not a single clawing mark. He was in his room, not in the village he once called home.

He slowly moved his arms off the headboard behind him. A relieved sob escaped him when he looked down at his hands, because there were no nails, not a single drop of blood tainting them. He could only cry silently as he touched his teeth softly, unable to feel sharp fangs that could rip flesh easily.

His hands soon dropped at his sides, as he let himself lay there, soundlessly. He had just experienced the worst nightmare of his life, and that was saying something. It was worse than the dreams in which Lyssa would blame him. Somehow, it was more horrible than the ones in which Nerys would hunt him.

This dream hurt too much, for his doubt was there, deep inside. Even if he had proclaimed to let go of his past principles, he felt torn, drawn by both sides. Maybe he truly was betraying his kind, by accepting hers.

Bastian sat there, unable to make sense of his own thoughts. His head was pounding, his throat was dry, and he felt cold. He blinked without emotion when a faint croak echoed. Nadiya flapped down onto the bed by his side, to then nudge him with her beak worriedly. He stared down at her for some seconds, still shaken.

Eventually, one of his hands moved slowly, to then brush her talons gently. She perched herself on his fingers, and he brought her closer to himself, caressing her feathers. He just sat there, staring at a wall while she nested against him. The only thing he could do was ponder weakly, question himself.

In the end, he came to a grim conclusion. He could never judge and take a stand against Nerys. He had a choice… she did not.

————-

Her fangs showed as she took another deep breath, resting on the divan of her alcove. She stared at the ceiling with lidded eyes, keeping her claws together over her chest.

She could not understand why she felt so cold again, not when she had fed very recently. Furthermore, she had taken a good amount of blood, which should keep her sated for some time. Bastian always gave all he could, and it was more than enough.

Somehow, she did not feel as invigorated as she should be. The coldness was there, and she could only dread that she was going to fall into a deep sleep again. She could lose her mind, suffer more changes… Her body always demanded more blood when it happened.

She did not want that, not so soon. Her last slumber was still recent, fresh in her mind. Even if her bloodline was more prone to change, she should not suffer it yet. What she was feeling was not normal. She hoped it was simply a sudden craving, her body perhaps consuming the blood faster due to stress and strain. It could happen…

She just laid there, having felt uneasy for hours. The night was still young, so she had not gone to bed. Her kind felt weak during the day, so she preferred to stay up if the moon was out. Her mind struggled, trying to stay awake. She did not want to fall asleep, in case that what she felt was a sign of another coma, another chance for her to become feral and inhuman.

She did not want to close her eyes, but her eyelids felt heavy, and the coldness was only intensifying. Her head was pounding, dazing her senses. All ever slowly, she surrendered. Her eyes closed, and everything was engulfed by blackness. Nonetheless, she could still hear… and feel.

Her heart was pulsing, at first lethargically. Somehow, it began to beat faster, something that should not be possible. Only the consumption of human blood could bring such sensation, untainted by the ungodly disease.

She felt like if a strong icy wind was brushing her bare skin. There was pressure over her body, however. For it, she opened her eyes, or at least tried. Her claws rose slowly, and she looked at them in a daze. Once more, she was dressed in her black armour, what she donned to bring down her enemies.

She laid her claws over her chest plate, while her eyes narrowed below her draconic helmet. At her feet, there was the grass of a verdant field… which had been painted in red. She began to advance forward, feeling nothing but resignation as she looked at the bodies scattered about. The aftermath of a skirmish surrounded her, fresh, with many humans dead.

Only she stood. Her gaze was fixed ahead, clouded and empty. She kept walking through without emotion, perhaps hoping she could leave the bloodshed behind, spare her soul from yet another haunting memory.

She never managed to forget or ignore the horrors she experienced, it was not possible. Her soul would always be ripped apart, each time she confronted the ones she once considered brothers and sisters. Now she had to serve her new kin, fight for it, be loyal.

Her green eyes cried below her sharp helmet, wishing nothing more than to stop seeing. But she could only watch, for her steps led her to a different view… the other side of the coin. She halted, unable to keep advancing. Tall stakes loomed all over, piercing the figures that hanged from them. There were far too many, the horizon crowded. Smoke tangled in the air, painting the once soft grass black, burned like the ones that had clawed at the ground in agony. Their sharp eyes displayed what they felt in their last moments, fear and pain. It was a human emotion, yet it was there, undeniable.

She had once believed that vampires were unlike humans, in every aspect. Yet they were still similar, in many ways. All could die, still mortal. Their lives and hearts were as fragile, even if they were stronger.

This fight had no end. It was senseless, and at the same time full of meaning. They needed blood, but the ones who could yield it struggled against it. Some took it by force, prompting many to wish to erase the hunger from existence.

All wanted death, lost in a vicious circle. Her kind needed humanity to exist, but humans would never truly surrender their will. Vampires were not easy to purge, for they were many. Still, that did not mean they did not suffer great losses, killed constantly by their supposed prey.

Her eyes sharpened, seeing a figure in between all the corpses, alive. She could hear a heartbeat, faster than hers. There was blood ahead, untainted. She found herself walking towards it, even if the sun shined brightly above, casting great shadows over the human that looked down at her from the top of the hill.

Their eyes finally met. Those ochre eyes were glaring down at her, narrowed. The smile she had always loved was gone, replaced by a cold scowl. Her stance was firm and proud, hinting her readiness and hostility. Still, she called to her.

“Lyssa?”

She did not answer back. Her heart was twisted when she heard her scoff, with disgust.

“Vampire…”

A shiver ran down her back, seeing her rise the sword she once wielded as a human. The blade was pointed at her, yet she could only shake her head, taking a step closer.

“Lyssa, it’s me.” She raised her claws to her helmet and took it off, but those ochre eyes showed no care when it was thrown to the ground. Her face was exposed, much like her tears. “I’m Ner-“

“Nerys is dead.”

She flinched, her eyes widening as the tip of the sword brushed her chest plate. Fear struck her when her love spoke starkly, her voice hinting nothing but conviction.

“You are not her. Not anymore.” She could only stand frozen, unable to step away while she renounced her, all the affection she remembered gone. “The Nerys I knew would never let herself become… this. What I am seeing is nothing but a reflection of what she was, what I cherished. You are nothing but an empty shell, a beast that maintains itself with death, the suffering of real living beings.”

One of her claws rose again, to rest shakily onto the edge of the sword. She did not mind the cut she got when she pushed it down gently, to try to lean closer to her, call for reason. Her words did not soften the coldness in those ochre eyes, yet she still tried.

“I am alive! I am still myself! Nothing can change what I feel! I would never harm you! P-please, I-“

“You hurt him.”

Those three words were fast, harsh, and firm. She let out a huff, for Lyssa swung the sword to push her back. A cry escaped her as she stumbled backwards. She only avoided hitting her shoulders on the ground thanks to the fast moves of her claws, which slammed down behind her.

She raised her gaze slowly, seeing her former lover step downhill towards her, to loom darkly over her. Her whole figure was shadowed by the blinding sunlight above, which felt as scorching as the very fire she defied. Still, she could still see her ochre eyes, narrowed at her with distrust and hate.

“Don’t try to dismiss what you are, not when you made him bleed. You know you enjoyed the fear, you sought it. There was no doubt in your eyes while you tormented him, ignoring his words! You did not wish to listen to reason, for you only wanted blood. To this very moment, you try to lie to yourself, vainly. You pretend that there is some humanity in you, when you fight to bring us all down.”

She maybe had hurt him… but she was sorry. She truly was. There was nothing that she despised more than her own actions, which she committed due to blind anger.

Lyssa snarled when she sat up to her knees. She stayed still like that, without trying to stand or move away from the sword. Instead, she whispered, begging her to listen with her gaze.

“I was not thinking clearly, my rage was born out of grief… Perhaps I lost control, I may be… I am sick! B-but I swear I’m still human inside! I regret my mistakes! This war tears my very soul, but I have no choice! I- I do feel sorrow and love!” She sobbed and leaned her head up to meet her eyes, daring to grasp her free hand with one of her claws. Those ochre eyes answered her hold with a cold glare, and that made her let out a choked truth. “I still love you… I promise I do.”

Her green eyes lost all emotion, for she saw none in her. She was stared at with indifference, not even with hate. In her eyes, she was nothing.

“How can you possibly love?” Her frame shook, for Lyssa pressured the tip of the sword against her chest. “You don’t have the heart to do so.”

She did not move, bowing her head instead, unable to bring herself to stop her. The sword pressured more, pushed by her smoking hand, yet she could only focus on the words that dismissed her existence and memory.

“You are heartless…” She winced, gasping shakily. The sound of pierced metal preceded the one of ripped flesh, which was less haunting than her whisper. “You are a monster.”

Her voice seemed to echo as she took in the scent of blood, which poured out around the blade. It was warm, and it soothed the coldness. For once, her own blood made her feel alive. Tears fell down from her sharp green eyes, while she looked into those beautiful ochre ones. There was no trust, no care, and no love. The only thing she gave her was disdain.

A horrible burning sensation settled in her, as her vision grew red, foggy. The last thing she saw was a smile, from her. Even if it was uncaring, it still made her feel a trace of solace. And for it, she let herself fall, as she wished her to.

The coldness burned her. Her heart was beating very slowly, and she felt dead. She could only see blackness… but she kept trembling, without perishing. Her claws could still feel, she was breathing. The pain was fading, even if slowly. She was not dead… she could sense it.

I am…

Her chest jolted slightly, as she took a deeper and shaky breath, almost growled. At last, she managed to escape her dreams, which she came to recognize. She trembled there, closing her claws around the edges of her divan, clenching her teeth as much as her eyes. After another wheeze, she dared blink, slowly.

The moonlight was brushing her, piercing the window nearby. She stared at it, comforted by its sight. There was no sword stabbing her chest, and she was not lying dead on a bloody field. She was safe in her chambers… far away from her.

She could feel how her body was shivering. Certainly, now it was begging for blood, like if it had endured many hardships that weakened it. But that could not be… she was sure that she had not fallen into a coma. Her brethren would have found out and taken her to the crypt.

It was a nightmare, only that. It felt real, and that was probably what drained her, her sharp senses costly. She dreaded Lyssa’s scorn and hate, greatly. All this time, she had wondered what she would think if she ever saw her like this.

How she spoke in the dream felt all too possible. Her loathing would be perfectly justified, for she had committed unforgivable sins. There should be no care, not from her… nor him. Their hate would be fair, for she loathed herself.

She brushed a sleeve against her eyes, and let it rest there for a minute, because the tears were not stopping. After a shaky sigh, she pushed herself onto a sitting position and then struggled onto her feet. She felt like shit. Her vision was still foggy, and she was tired and hungry. Knowing that, she stumbled towards a cabinet. She opened it rather carelessly, causing some bottles to fall and roll at her feet.

Her claw trembled and closed around a flask, which she raised towards her mouth. She gagged as she swallowed the contents in one go, her fangs sharpening while the blood poured down. It was not fresh, but it was something. With a gasp, she threw the flask away, slamming her claws to lean against the furniture. She stayed there for a long while, grimacing. It was not easy, but she tried to focus on her heartbeat.

She had questioned her life many times, and this nightmare made her do it again, more painfully. If she could be considered a living being, she had to question if she deserved to be. She wondered if she should have died in those ruins, completely, and not only her human self.

Should I just end-?

Something snapped her out of it, making her flinch and gasp. An echo silenced the screams in her head, flowing through her chambers. It took her a minute to relax and let her fear fade; once she breathed in, she realized that she had heard a faint knock on her door.

Her eyes narrowed, fixing on the door tiredly. She would have growled, screamed at whoever stood at the other side to leave her alone… But she could not do that to him. She could sense the heartbeat, fast, accompanied by shaken breaths.

Bastian stood there by the door, hesitant. He held himself dejectedly, staring down at the ground. His gaze only rose when he heard the door creak open, ever so faintly. He gulped, noticing her green eyes in the dark, fixed on him. His next whisper was doubtful and slightly ashamed.

“Nerys… C-can I come in?”

She looked back and forth between him and her chambers, her expression one of fear. The dream was still fresh in her mind, and it kept twisting her heart. Her very presence near him was frightening to her. She could not avoid but glance at the right side of his face, regretfully. The scar that ran from his cheek to his brow would not be there if she had not awoken as a vampire. He should have not lost sight in his eye, not for her blindness.

“Bastian, I-“

“I had a nightmare.”

Her demeanour changed instantly, from reluctant to attentive. She paid him closer mind, not focusing on the scars, but his expression. There were dark circles around his eyes, and he was clearly shaken. She could see the doubt and fear… but most notably, his trust.

Bastian shrunk slightly, because Nerys was looking at him with what he assumed aversion. He tried to excuse himself, knowing she was taken aback by his request.

“If it’s n-not a good moment, I will leave. I just-“

He blinked, hearing the door be pushed open. She stood aside nervously, with a caring glance. He was clearly being invited in, even if there was a trace of apprehension on her expression. She let out a whisper, stammering slightly.

“I thought you had stopped having them…”

She closed the door gently when he stepped past it, slowly and uncertainly. He answered her words with a sad shrug, which really worried her.

“You are right, I did.” He looked away, admitting. “T-they came back when you left.”

She bit her lip, trembling. There was too much trust in his gaze, something that was painfully familiar. Back then, she would be the one to go by his side to fend off his fears, and it seemed he remembered well those moments.

She had been protective and caring towards him in the past, but she had also been cruel. He was disregarding the memories of her rage, in favour of the ones of her humanity. That was why he was here, without fear. It was foolish of him, but she was the only one to blame. She could only let out a growled whisper, regretting her duality.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt as torn as her, seeing her hold herself, look away in shame. His eyes could see the emotion in her, the sorrow, pain and guilt. Those were supposedly human traits, yet she had them, with no difference. There was no trace of the beast she considered herself to be, what he thought all vampires were. What he was seeing was not a monster. He was not ignoring or forgiving horrors, for he was not aiding a tyrant. He was near someone he cared about, someone that had always been there for him. She was alive, and herself. Her fears and doubts were no different from his, she was as lost…

Nerys had been looking away, lost in her own thoughts. That was why she flinched and huffed when she felt something latch around her suddenly. She shivered, looking down slowly. Bastian was holding her, crying, burying his face against her shoulder. He was gripping her as if she would go away, at any moment.

He needed to reach for her, feel her close once more. Long ago, she had held him back and away from danger, when they were children. Years after, she kept an eye on him, always there when his night terrors struck. He told her many times not to, yet she would never go away, holding him until he calmed down or fell asleep. She never left him alone… until that dreadful day in which he sent her far. He truly could not bear the thought of losing her, so he pleaded with a sob, making her cry as well.

“P-please, don’t you ever leave again…”

He was not letting go, not even as she shuddered. She slowly let down her head on his shoulder as well, returning his hold softly. There were too many contradicting thoughts, so she just focused on his words.

Both tried to drown their loneliness, silently. She wanted to believe she was not heartless, while he trusted he was not uncaring. Their bond could not be wrong…

———-

The sun loomed above, signalling a new day. His dusky eyes glared at the castle ahead with arrogance, slight exasperation. They had seen a few humans roaming in the woods, hidden, closer to the fortress than thought. He had encountered a well-equipped group, which put up a fight. He snarled and glanced down at his light armour, which now had a slash. His claws clenched around the reins of his steed, hating the fact that a human had dared shoot him with an arrow.

They killed quite a few, yet the three leaders of the squad managed to flee into the woods, to reunite with the rest of insurgents that roamed her domain. They searched for them, but they were concealing themselves well, covering their tracks and scents.

Shameful…

They did not deal with them all, but it did not matter. They were only human, and the game was not over. He would not lose, for he couldn’t.

Idris scoffed and glared at their only prisoner, one rebel. The rest had been left to rot under the shade of trees. He did not need to bother with the rest that lurked around. It was not his problem, but hers. He was done hunting for now, and if he kept doing so, it would be in his own land.

He rode his horse proudly towards the castle, hopeful. The thought of seeing that one former rebel dead made him smile, expectantly. He could not wait for that issue to be resolved, leaving her depressed and compliant. Sorrow was easy to manipulate into rage… which he would direct.

At last, he crossed the tall gates. His head rose proudly as he advanced through the courtyard, with his most loyal men. He took a deep breath, believing that it would be a great day… until he saw something. He blinked, and then stared baffled. The fool he had poisoned was sitting under the shade of some arcs, alive. And to make matters worse…

His blood boiled, noticing how Nerys stood at his side with a smile. Both were exchanging caring words, without regard for hierarchy. She should be glaring down at him, enforcing fearful respect, yet they looked at each other as equals.

Somehow, he was alive, and they seemed to have grown even closer. She looked more jovial and hopeful, only having eyes for the human. It took her a while to notice him in the courtyard, and when she did, she acknowledged his return with a simple nod. She then looked away, as if nothing.

Enough…

Idris jumped down his horse, making sure to bump his shoulder against the one who poisoned the food, walking away angrily. He was furious, hating the fact that his claws had failed him, and not even venom had done the deed.

The situation was unnerving. Perhaps he required a more complex plan. He had to hurry, for he was losing time.