The Vampire King's Bride (boyXboy)

ONE

A/N: So, I'm finally getting around to posting the first chapter, which really gets things started...anyone want to tell me what they think?

Pic: Rupert Friend (Ancelot)

~Saya

~*~

One

                "So."

                His voice stopped the boy in his tracks.  He hoped he wasn't mistaken; this person looked like the description he'd been given, and his smell was similar to the one his king had shared with him.

                "Who are you?" the boy asked.  Most people would be wary when stopped by a stranger in the dark, but this boy simply crossed his arms over his skinny chest and raised one dark eyebrow.  Points for courage, even if it was based in stupidity.

                "It's polite to introduce yourself before asking another for his name," he answered simply.  Much to his well-hidden amusement, a faint blush spread over the other's cheeks.

                "I'm Blaise Tristan," he grumbled.  His attitude screamed his embarrasment, but his determination to hold onto his pride shone in his dark eyes.

                "Ancelot," he replied, hiding his relief at finding his mark with his offhand tone.

                The boy raised an eyebrow.  "Ancelot?" he repeated, "Not Lancelot?"

                The man in question frowned, irritated by the boy's attitude.  "Yes, Ancelot," he snapped, his voice turning frosty.

                He approached Blaise, ready to leave.  The wide, dark blue eyes widened fractionally, indicating the beginnings of the boy's unease.  Good, Ancelot couldn't help but things.

                "What are you do think you're doing?" Blaise hissed as Ancelot's hand suddenly closed on his upper arm.  He tried to pull away, but the older man's strength was greater.

                Ancelot's silver eyes narrowed.  "Long story short, you're coming with me," he snapped.

                "I'm not going anywhere," the boy returned in a growl.

                "Are you going to come willingly, or do I have to drag you?" the other countered.

                For a moment, neither of them spoke.  Sparks flew between blue and silver as the two stared each other down.  Blaise crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to one leg.  Ancelot held his arm with one hand, while the other clenched  into a fist at his side, his nails biting into his palm.

                Finally Ancelot sighed.  "If I tell you why I'm taking you on the way, will you come willingly."

                Blaise eyed him warily.  "Start talking."

                "I don't believe you," Blaise informed him.  The boy's arms were crossed over his thin chest again, and he continued to eye his captor.

                "Yet here you are, three towns away from where you started out and still following me," Ancelot responded indifferently.

                The two had ended up in a small, dingy hotel room with one grime-coated, flickering light and one narrow bed.  Blaise couldn't understand why, as Ancelot's sleek, black Ferrari--parked right outside their room, no less--in such a disgusting place should've been a dead giveaway that something strange was going on.