BLOODLINE

CHAPTER 1 - The Beginning of the End

Reader Discretion Warning: This story contains scenes of violence, mature themes, and sensitive content that may not be suitable for all readers. Discretion is advised.

AGE OF KINGDOMS

50 A.C – after the dawn of Kings and Queens

"Rise, dear brother!" A voice rang out, vibrant and full of mirth, echoing through the grand chamber adorned with towering, vaulted ceilings that boasted intricate frescoes. Luxurious, deep blue tapestries, embroidered with golden threads in the patterns of shimmering stars, framed the tall windows, allowing the morning light to spill forth and illuminate the room.

"It is a day of great import!" says Barton Albright-Beresford, the twenty-year-old crown prince and heir to the throne of Nye, as his younger brother remained ensconced in slumber. Barton's stormy blue eyes, usually piercing and intense, glinted with unusual warmth, the familiar strength of his Blackwood lineage softened by a playful smile.

Strikingly handsome, Barton bore the mark of nobility—his sharply defined jawline graced by a neatly trimmed beard, lending a rugged charm to his otherwise polished visage. High cheekbones and a straight, aristocratic nose completed his noble countenance. His broad shoulders and athletic build were evident even beneath the opulent fabrics of his princely attire. 

He wore a tunic of rich, royal blue, intricately embroidered with silver, the proud emblem of his house shining forth. A velvet cloak, clasped with a silver brooch, hung regally from his shoulders, while a circlet of sterling silver and platinum, intricately engraved with dragons and ancient runes, adorned his tousled dark hair.

With a spirited leap onto the grand canopied bed—crafted from dark mahogany and draped with luxurious silk curtains dyed in royal blue and gold—he began to tickle his brother, eliciting a surprised jolt from the slumbering prince.

"Stop!" Byron protested amid laughter, the bond between the brothers evident in their shared mirth. "Rise, then!" He dodged Barton's playful advances, now fully awake. "I am up!" he declared, still clad in his royal night garb, as Barton jestingly pinched his nose. 

"And you ought to tidy yourself as well." he teased, nudging Byron with a grin, well aware it would provoke a response."Oh, brother, we both know that even at my worst, I am still the handsome prince of our bloodline." Byron quipped, running a hand through his hair. 

"Looks may wane, yet wit endures through the ages." The crown prince responded with pride, smoothing the wrinkles from his collar."But it is the fairness that wins the hearts of ladies." Byron countered with a smirk, recognizing the advantage his looks provided in charming the court, prompting an eye-roll from Barton, who was disinterested in his brother's romantic escapades.

"Ladies hold little interest for me, brother. It is the affairs of the realm that capture my heart." Barton replied, revealing his preference for the machinations of governance over matters of the heart. As if recalling the reason for his brother's rousing, he glanced out the window. "They shall arrive soon. We must haste!" he urged, excitement coursing through him as he darted from the chamber.

Thus, Byron was left with no choice but to hasten through his bath. The eighteen-year-old prince of Nye, Byron Tate Albright-Beresford, was often hailed as if sculpted by the gods themselves for his ethereal beauty. 

While Barton was undeniably handsome, Byron's striking features required no additional time to appear magnificent. He blended rugged masculinity with a youthful charm that turned heads.