Court Of The Immortals

Chapter One • Bow To Your Princess

Tap taptap. Tap taptap. Tap taptap. Her fingers hit the table rhythmically, she makes no effort to hide her impatience. Her crimson eyes flick around the dimly candlelit room.

"Demonia." Her head snaps to the head of the table, her father sitting with his head resting upon his closed fist, supported by his elbow on the arm of his elegant dinner throne. "Whatever is the matter, youngling?"

"Nothing, father, it's nothing." It wasn't nothing. Of course, it never was. Nothing was ever that simple.

What had been stealing her attention and instilling anxiety into her was the upcoming threat of war. Her father didn't agree with his frequent rival, as per usual. The matter of it that was unusual, was her newfound attraction to the Count Valrius' son. Prince Keiran. His black hair was often messy, his mother usually found attempting to tame his unruly locks.

"My dearest daughter, I've known you all your life, there is nothing you can hide from me." A soft chuckle left his gut, pure care in his voice.

To give background, the young vampire was soon to undergo her coronation, her claim to the throne of her father's kingdom. Her mother had passed at the hands of a vampire slayer, who met his own demise via her father's rage. Since then, the truce between humans and vampires and all creatures alike was declared. Often, the court would see to it that the vamperic youth see the human world every now and then, to learn and gain a somewhat respect, more so trust, of the mortals. It had been instilled into every undead creature of the kingdom that violence against the truce would most certainly not go unpunished.

Demonia was stubborn, but valued her father's opinions and rules. They were all she knew. The only thing she disregarded when it came to her father, was Keiran. She didn't see the potential problem with crushing on the son of the man threatening war upon her father. In her mind, as long as Keiran wasn't supporting this threat, it was alright. Wasn't it?

In the end, it wasn't really her choice. Her mother held the ideal of marrying for love dear to her heart, whilst her father agreed, but prioritized the kingdom's strength and well-being. Had her mother been alive, she would've changed his mind on this matter. She'd always had a way with words. Her tender and loving voice, persuading words, stubborn yet wise way of life. Reina De León was a woman many admired, the queen they would never forget. She was like a peacemaker, her softness against her husband's brute and oblivious mind and attitude. Even the king yearned for her calming touch to soothe his unrelenting anger.

Her portait hung upon the wall behind King De León, the feeling of her soft eyes, even in paint, burning into him, making him gentler. His care with his daughter was usually stern, but the though of his wife's loving gaze turned his hot head dizzy with consideration and sweetness.

"My darling Demonia." The king frowns slightly at the sight of his eldest daughter in such deep anxious thought, her struggle made obvious by the gnawing of her bottom lip as she stared into nothingness. "Whatever it is that is on your mind, you can tell me. I am your father after all. I shan't ever cast you out of my affection."

Alas, she couldn't bring herself to speak of the capturer of her thoughts, the boy whom she fancied. Instead, she chose to enlighten him on another topic that had plagued her mind. "The coronation. What if they don't like me, father?"

For the first time that evening, her eyes met his own, genuine nervousness and fear making his cold undead heart melt for his daughter.

"They will adore you, my dearest daughter. You take after your mother, and you will rule just as well as she did. Of that, I have no doubt."

"How can you be so sure?" Demonia furrowed her brows, "she was perfect."

A mighty chuckle left the king, "she was just as nervous as you. Thought the kingdom would dislike her, appose our marriage. However, she couldn't have been more wrong. They loved her, even voted to build a statue in her likeness."

The statue he spoke of was outside the front of the palace, the vampire queen Reina, arms in front of her, both hands clasping a dagger with a drop of blood running down the blade. Demonia felt heavy with the weight of the responsibility her mother left for her to figure out on her own...for the most part. While she had her father, there were things her mother did better, both of their efforts raising the bar of expectations higher than Demonia's confidence.

"See? Perfect. So what if she was a little nervous?" Demonia grumbled into her fist as she lifted her arm and leaned her cheek into hand.

King De León sighed, his best efforts having been made. "One day, dear daughter. One day you will have this kingdom, and rule it well. They will bow to their princess just as they did their queen. I promise you that in my name," he softened his gaze on her fidgety form, "and in honor of your mother's."