Chapter 4: He is awake

[Music Recommendation: Abandoned Cathedral ~ Paths of The Eternal]

Inside the old walls of Morville Castle, a mournful melody played from the worn-out recorder, its soft tunes echoing through the room as it sat on top a wooden coffer.

A century-old vampire king lounged in a gray bathing tub, surrounded by flickering candlelight, his slender fingers grasping a glass as he sipped a rich, crimson liquid with ease. He hummed along with the melody playing.

When the door creaked open, the night king's eyes lazily opened, his gaze moving towards the entrance. With a languid motion, he twirled the glass as if to discard the drink but didn't.

"Welcome back, Master. The castle hasn't been the same without you. I do hope you had a good rest," Ballister said, his voice tinged with excitement.

A hearty, mirthless laugh escaped Kael's throat. "Ballister, dear Ballister. Staying with me for centuries and yet you know nothing," he sighed. "Why is it just the castle? I'm sure the humans and their king lived in sorrow, plunged into a sea of despair as they waited for my return. Their feeble mortal skin wilting like forgotten vines."

As Kael relaxed his back against the worn, gray stone of the bathing tub, he raised a hand to his ear, his slender fingers brushing against his lobe as he listened intently to nothing.

"I can hear their sorrowful wails of anguish, waiting for the day I return. My castle gate must be filled with tributes and offerings. I'm sure you understand nothing about being adored so much, Ballister. Which is why you confine my magnificence to just this castle."

The young boy, who looked like he was no older than ten years, subtly raised his fingers, mentally tallying the number of visitors his master had received. His count ended at one; himself.

Kael's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through the dim light. "What are you doing?" his voice low with suspicion.

Ballister shook his head vigorously, his brown hair rustling softly. "Nothing, Master. I am very happy to see you back."

A sinister grin danced on Kael's lips as he slowly rose from the bathing tub in his full majesty. His pale, porcelain skin glowed like that of a newborn baby under the flickering flames of the old melting candles.

Ballister quickly grabbed a velvet jacket and rushed to drape it over his master's dripping body, at the same time relieving him of the wine glass still clutched in his hand.

Kael walked into his chamber, his bare feet making soft slapping sounds on the cold marble floor. He snatched a plush towel from the nearby wooden rack and began to dry his hair, sending droplets flying.

"The human king, he doesn't happen to know that I'm awake, does he?"

Ballister's brow furrowed in concern as he replied, "You had asked me to send a letter that—" But his words trailed off under Kael's piercing stare.

"I mean, yes, Master. King Everard cannot wait to see you, and I even heard they have prepared a bride for you," Ballister quickly corrected himself.

The vampire's face lit up with feigned surprise, his chest heaving in mock astonishment, as if the ritual of sending a bride wasn't a customary obligation for every generation of kings. "He shouldn't have, that's so sweet. I should cut my hair and get more oils for my skin. Also, quality blood, Balli dear. What do you say we go out and shop today?"

Ballister's eyes widened in helpless dismay as he watched his master, who abhorred anyone touching his hair, despised human contact, and had a knack for sending to their maker every human bride betrothed to him due to their "stupid decisions." Now, the young boy was forced to witness the same person eagerly preparing for an event he had no interest in. Poor Ballister just knew immediately it would be another year of woe that only his Master would bask in.

. . .

Meanwhile, back at Stormont Palace, King Everard slumped in his throne, his trembling hands clutching a faded vellum, its yellowed parchment crackling with each tremor. The king's face was ashen, his skin sallow and drawn, like someone who had lost the will to live for years.

"Your Majesty, we should prepare to welcome the Great King of the Night properly. I have assigned the best governess to get the curs-" The new consul, who had replaced the old, cleared his throat, his eyes darting up to gauge the king's reaction before continuing.

"I mean, Princess Jacquelyn ready. Since she is the last unmarried princess." The consul bowed.

Everard sighed deeply, his elbows on his knees. "There's no way out of this, is there?" he whispered, his voice laced with despair as he fixed his eyes on the floor as if searching for an escape.

"Your Majesty!" The consul started with a firm voice, only to be cut short.

"I know, I know." Everard muttered, his words barely audible. With dropped shoulders, he continued. "What type of king am I? One who has cursed his own daughter, making her live in isolation, and now I send her away to her grave. I have nothing it takes to be a king. I can't even look at my child's face because I cursed her with this mouth of mine."

The consul shook his head, his expression somber. "Your Majesty, this is the weight the one who holds the crown bears. You did the right thing."

Raising his face, a wry, sorrowful smile crept on the king's lips, his eyes clouding with pain. "Right? One life to save an entire kingdom," he nodded to himself, reassuringly, trying to ease the guilt he felt.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sure the princess understands too," the consul continued.

Everard exhaled heavily. "Where I have failed, I send my own daughter, whom I abandoned for years. How I long to see even what her face looks like," his voice cracked at the end.

"Forbid it! Your Majesty. You will only bring a curse to the kingdom." The consul grimaced.

The king's hand went to his chest, and he squeezed it tightly. The memory of that fateful night when he lost his right-hand man and his beloved queen, and also cursed his own daughter, haunted him. He had become a shadow of his former self, haunted by the ghosts of his past.

"What right do I have to face my queen in the afterlife?" he whispered, reclining on his throne. He turned to the consul, his eyes pleading for reassurance. "You're sure the preparation is made perfect now, even if I've cursed my daughter, at least let her come out alive."

Though it was a feat that had never been accomplished; a bride escaping the vampire king's castle alive. King Everard just hoped for a miracle to appease his guilty soul.

The consul nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I have made sure to use the best governess. Lady Beaufort knows how to send secret instructions like this one. We already know the Night Ruler hears from a distance; this time we are well-prepared and very much ready. Nothing can go wrong this time. The cursed Princess shall be the downfall of the Vampire King's reign of terror..."

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