Masks and Misdirections

A King's Burden

TW// A LOT OF DEATH. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Chapter 1: A King's Burden, Unveiled Faces!!
Vairan stood before the floor-length windows of the royal chambers, gazing out over the moonlit city below. Moon beams bounced off the snow-capped rooftops of the ancient vampire capital, its spires and battlements aglow in an ethereal light. While the scene below appeared peaceful, a heaviness weighed on Vairan's mind.

As the King of the Vampires, he bore sole responsibility for safeguarding his people. The burden of rulership pressed down upon slender shoulders still young. It had been ten years since he reluctantly accepted the throne upon his father's passing. King Armand's ruinous rule had left the kingdom weakened and in turmoil.

Vairan sighed, pale fingers tracing idle patterns upon the frost-encrusted glass. The eastern human territories had grown increasingly hostile of late. Raiding parties testing the borders with greater brazenness. Their belligerent king sowing fear and propaganda among Vairan's subjects. He feared a stray spark might ignite the tinderbox of tensions into open conflict. His people were still licking past wounds; they couldn't afford another war.

The king turned from the window, moonlight casting his features in a spectral glow. Ruling proved a greater challenge than any faced in his two centuries of life. But he would move every stone to broker peace, guided by his unwavering conviction that vampires and humankind could overcome past prejudices, if given a chance. The night itself seemed to hold its breath, awaiting Vairan's next move in the deepening political game. A knock on the chamber door startled Vairan from his thoughts. "Enter," he called.

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Many, many years ago the rain pattered against Onyx's window like whispered secrets begging to be told. He leaned against the sill, watching droplets race each other down the glass, glad for any distraction from his confinement within the estate walls. A pair of robins had taken shelter beneath an oak's outstretched boughs, ruffling their feathers in the drizzle.

How Onyx envied the robins their freedom—to come and go as they pleased, to feel the wind in their wings carrying them far from here. He was not so fortunate, his father Lord Armond's hawk-like gaze ensuring Onyx remained caged within these gilded halls just as surely as iron bars. His chambers, though spacious, offered little reprieve from the oppressive gloom that permeated the manor.

Since infancy, Onyx knew only isolation and his father's stern edicts. Armond ruled his estate and family with an iron fist, brooking no defiance from servants or kin alike. Onyx's mother, Lady Cordelia, kept to the shadows, her rare words as cold and aloof as the pale red of her eyes. As a child, Onyx would clutch at her skirts, craving the warmth of her smile, but she withdrew further with each passing year until she became a phantom drifting the corridors.

On this dreary eve, Onyx wondered what freedom tasted like beyond these walls—to feel grass between his toes rather than marble, and breathe air untainted by his father's perpetual scowl. At five-and-ten, he'd seen more of the stables than the village at the estate's edge or lands beyond. Armond ensured his heir received only instruction befitting a lord—politics, histories, arithmetic—nothing as 'common' as companionship or leisure interests outside the manor.

A raven alit on the windowsill, dark feathers dripping. It cocked its head, studying Onyx with beady intention. He offered a tentative hand, heart soaring when the raven nuzzled its feathery head against his fingertips. A knock came then from the door. Onyx snatched his hand back just as the raven took flight, disappearing into the downpour.

"Enter," said Onyx, adjusting his expression to one of cool indifference as his father swept inside. Armond's graying hair and immaculate clothes spoke of his status, while rage simmered behind pale eyes so like Cordelia's yet devoid of her vacancy.

"The weather does not suit riding today." Armond's tone brokered no argument. "We will continue your etiquette lessons in the drawing room."

Onyx nodded, steeling himself. Since boyhood, these "lessons" meant enduring his father's criticisms and insults under the guise of instruction. To defy was to invite punishment, so Onyx had learned silence, obedience—and hatred of the gilded cage Armond had crafted around him with tyrannical finesse.

They took their places by the fire, Onyx ramrod straight upon the settee as Armond paced, hands clasped behind his back. "In a few moons' time, you shall join me at court and prove yourself among the nobility. I expect nothing but excellence from my heir—you will comport yourself with dignity, authority. You will not vex or embarrass me."

His father's disapproving glance roamed Onyx's slender frame as if finding him wanting. "It falls to you now to uplift our family's esteem from the lowly roots your mother dragged us into. Her birth may have ennobled our blood, but she pollutes it with her indifference." Armond sniffed, turning away from Onyx's silent scowl. "Take care that you do not emulate her weakness."

Onyx swallowed his retort, knowing it would only invite the back of his father's hand against his cheek. Cordelia's lineage indeed elevated their fortunes through strategic marriage, though fame and prestige meant little to her solitary soul. But defending her now achieved nothing—and Onyx had survived this long avoiding direct confrontation with Armond.

The lord resumed his pacing. "Your duties shall be extensive at court. Noblemen and dignitaries will expect cordiality, wisdom, charity befitting your station. Remember that our name is all; I will accept no failures. Your birthright is to serve our house's glory above all else."

Armond faced Onyx then, hawk- eyes boring into him. "I trust I have made myself perfectly clear, son. Do not disappoint me."

"Yes, Father." Onyx kept his features schooled to neutrality with effort. "I live only to uphold our family's honor."

Armond nodded, seeming satisfied his message was received. He took his leave without further niceties, sweeping from the drawing room as abruptly as he'd come. Onyx let out a quiet breath, tension uncoiling from taut muscles. He saw little honor in the cold reception Armond expected him to offer at court, but defiance invited only wrath. So Onyx would smile thinly and play his father's games, as always—at least, for now.

The rain had ebbed to a drizzle when dusk fell. Onyx stole from his chambers under murky shadow, hoping to glimpse those envied robins once more before dinner. He padded silently through forgotten corridors long since abandoned by living souls; only ghosts of happier times dwelled here now. His skippered feet carried him, but halted at raised voices drifting through a half-open doorway.

"—cannot let the boy continue defying me, Cordelia. Soon he must make his own way without coddling. My way is for the best."

Armond's severe tone carried easily. Onyx's breath caught to realize his parents conversed mere yards away, unseen in a forgotten parlor. He edged closer against the wall, ears straining. His mother did not respond.

Armond scoffed. "His duties begin in earnest on the morrow, and softness has no place. I will forge him strong as heir befits—the rest concerns you not."

A tense silence followed before a rustle of skirts signaled Cordelia's retreat. Onyx listened raptly, hoping for some sign his mother yet defended him, but none came. He crept away. His parents' marriage seemed more alliance than affection—but what did Onyx truly know of love within these walls?

His chambers, cold and unpleasing to the eye, left Onyx alone with warring thoughts and no comfort save the stars peeking through shifting clouds through his window. Quickly, he had fallen asleep. It wasn't long before Onyx  jolted awake as a bloodcurdling scream shattered the predawn silence. Throwing back his furs, he lit a lantern with trembling hands and grabbed his sword, still unfamiliar on his hip. Another scream echoed through the stone passages as Onyx raced from his chambers, lantern held aloft to cast leaping shadows on the walls.