WARHAVEN

Twenty

A man walked in. Walking was an understatement. He commanded nothing but absolute power from the room, and terror from me. I tore my eyes away and stared at my hands. I felt such fear at this man, and such terror at the fact that I wasn't sure anyone here would find me worth protecting. I went over any defense tactic I knew and prepared myself, just in case his presence was unwelcome.

He was huge. Just from what I saw, I could tell that he was bigger than King Augustus. his chest was bare, apart from one shoulder, which was clad in a large, detailed brass chest plate. It wrapped around his shoulder and his bicep. His left shoulder was bare. I could see battle scars littered across his chest, although they seemed much more brutal, then the King's.

His abdomen was also bare, I could see muscles that went on for miles. The animal felt and leathers that wrapped around his waist and hung to his knees, were a gorgeous brown that went marvelously with his near black skin. He had large boots on his feet that were made of the finest leather. Both his wrists had genuine leather straps wrapped around them.

His eyes were a fiery red. They almost leaned toward orange. He had a large beard that seemed to reach mid chest. The black hairs coiled tightly and showed a little. His hair was in braids that reached his waist. The few framing his face were pulled back, leaving the rest hanging down.

He had several different scars across his brown skin, one that went from his hairline on the top, right of his face through his eye, down to the bridge of his nose. If he was not so terrifying, I would think he was quite attractive.

I did not let myself look at him any longer. He was a warrior at minimum. He seemed designed to kill. Although I kept my eyes on my fingers, I could feel his gaze on me, I could almost feel him deciding whether or not I was a threat.

He approached the table and pulled out the chair, straight across from me, to the left of the King.

Before he sat down, he spoke. "August, my brother. I see you are back from your escapade. And you've bought a souvenir?" His voice was like the rain. It thundered down and cascaded through the room, coating everything.

My body tensed at his words. I was bought. I needed to remember that. I hope he wouldn't be enraged at my place at the table. I could tell that he was of extreme importance. I probably belonged at his feet in his fucked up mind.

"Marcellus, welcome to breakfast." The King responded, utter coolness in his tone. Although it was not a tense response. He seemed simply relaxed at the warrior before me.

"How glad I am that you've decided to grace us with your warming presence." A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he raised the glass to them and sipped.

Marcellus made a small humph sound, a little grumble as he filled his plate. A servant set a chalice the size of the King's to the left of his plate and quietly dismissed herself. He ate and drank for what felt like an hour. I still ate nothing.

I could feel his eyes on me at once, then the King's as well. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to deny food in someone's home?" He was rude. I met his eyes and slightly lifted my chin, carefully.

"I'm not hungry at the moment, sir. But I greatly appreciate the offer." I was respectful, but dismissive. His eyes widened then turned into small slits as he looked at me like a spider. A bother. I was proud of myself for the small strength in my voice, despite the small waver.

"She's quite fucking bold, brother. Seems like your type." He spoke to King Augustus, after taking a bite, "Don't you know it's custom to consult with those who come before you, prior to creating a royal sire?" He asked the King, who eyed me closely. A royal sire? How did that differ from a regular sire?

He smirked at the man and said, "You know I do things a bit differently than those who've come before us, but my older brother, it was quite spur of the moment. She's marvelous, isn't she?" I could feel him admiring me. It made me uncomfortable. Like I was a painting on the wall. Too bad he couldn't see all the peeling paint.

"Who? Me?" A voice called from across the hall. My head snapped and my mouth fell open. I'd never once seen a woman so stunning. Her whole being seeped with grace and strength as she entered the hall. Her footsteps were silent as she made her way to my side. I watched her the whole thirty feet. It almost seemed like she was floating, that was how gracefully she glided along the floor.

She had gorgeous brown skin, like the man across from me. It was so dark, but it shone from deep within. Her skin was flawless. A large black afro, the same texture as the man across from me, sat atop her head like a crown. Her coils were so tight, her hair so dense it seemed to soak up all the moisture in the room and claim it as its own. Her hair was so juicy and it was heaven sent.

This woman before me had to be at least 6'5. Her legs were so long they went on for miles. They were hairless and they shone. She smelled of oils that the soap maker would use. Not the common ones, the most expensive. She smelled of rose and a sort of butter. She wore different gold jewelry everywhere. Her neck, ears, wrists, ankles. She wore an elegant mix of gold and wooden waist beads. She had a large golden ring hanging from her nose.

She wore a light brown strapless top, the bottoms of her breasts barely poked out from the bottom. Her skirt - if you could even call it that, hugged her wide hips perfectly. It split into three sections, one between her legs, two on the sides, I just hoped there was enough fabric to cover her backside. The skirt was the prettiest of maroons.

She wore sandals that were a bright gold and they wrapped the span of her calves to her knees.

She was beautiful but she seeped stealth, deception, and death. Like she could kill with her mind. The only visible weapon I saw was a large dagger strapped to her right thigh. It was obvious that it was made with care. The metal blade curved side to side and came to a striking point. The hilt was golden. The base was a clear glass that held...blood.

It took me minutes to realize that I was staring. The room seemed to sing in her presence. A low, peaceful vibration. I dragged my eyes away and to the floor, shifting in my seat. Her gaze was terrifying. It was alluring.

Her eyes were the most delicate shade of green, and her irises seemed to almost be serpentine, if you looked close enough.

Though I had been staring, I knew she was too. I felt her running those eyes over every inch of my skin. It was like she was reading my soul. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable and would've asked to leave if I had the guts.

"She smells of your venom, brother," She turned to the King, "A royal sire, it's been centuries since I've seen one." She leaned closer to me, hands clasped behind her back, and smiled, it was heartbreakingly beautiful.

I leaned back and made eye contact with her. I was really done with this. "I am not a new toy for you to inspect. I am a person." My voice was barely a whisper but I knew everyone heard me, clear as day.

The room seemed to go still and silent. The woman before me, her face began to shift, her eyes even more serpent like. She leaned closer, and her smile widened. As her teeth separated, a long forked tongue shot out and whipped toward my face. I physically recoiled and got as far as my chair would allow.

Although I did not break eye contact.

I was so sick and tired of everyone acting like I was nothing. I was my own person. I was allowed that luxury. At the very least. And I realized what King Augustus had said in the room before.

He said that if one of us died, the other would feel eternal pain. This filled me with a new bravery. I realized that I could use this to my advantage, to craft my escape. And I would escape. One way or another.