Checkmate (Book I)

Chapter 2

"Fight so dirty, but your love got teeth

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never, never,

Let go"

- Teeth by 5SOS

~Chapter 2~

Selera paced around in her chambers, biting her nails furiously. Just a few hours ago, the servant had arrived with a heart-wrenching message: the expectation of the Blood King's arrival. He had also brought an array of dresses with him, using the aid of her darling maid-servant.

The Blood King's arrival was unanticipated but Selera learned the true intent of his advent when she had walked into her father's courtroom. "The Blood King and his kingdom have been under attack for the past few months. We reached out a hand in hopes of pledging an alliance between the two kingdoms."

That was all Selera needed to hear. Alliances were quite common in the four lands but Elavia had always stood still as an independent region. Although Elavia taking part in an alliance was unforeseen, the willingness of the Blood King to pledge this alliance was beyond mystifying.

Selera sat on her bed, hunching her back in perplexion, the nails on her fingers reduced to bits. She hopped off the bed, the mattress creaking slightly under the sudden intrusion, as she raked her fingers through the dozens of dresses, inspecting them closely. They were traditionally adorned, some more revealing than others. There was a multitude of colours, arousing more of suspicion in her as she looked through. Why did she have to wear such dresses for a man known to kill anyone who crossed his path? Rumours had it that when he had gotten married, he had cut off his visor's head as a gift for his beautiful bride. If this was what had the girl committing such traitorous acts as plotting against the king, Selera would have wholeheartedly believed it. Why did she have to present herself in such a lavish way when he would not even look her way? With these questions brewing in her head, she dropped her hand to her side, strolling out of her chambers.

༻༺

Drakin walked out of the hall, blood decorating his armour with his sword hanging loosely in his hand. He sported a black eye with blood dripping from the wound beside his upper lip, courtesy of his father and his men. Drakin had perhaps never been scared of anyone, albeit he gave off that kind of vibe. He had only ever feared his father and his emotional frenzies which lead him to doing unspeakable things to his only son. Even after years of torture and abuse, Drakin's father had always had the same effect on Drakin, no matter what the situation. Although the man had never considered himself messed up in the head, or lunatic as the citizens would say, Drakin had suffered enough to understand the pain and angst of others. Yet, he knew who he truly was. It haunted him throughout his days as he rampaged all over the kingdom, hurting and murdering whoever that had the gall to mess with him, no matter how sorry they were.

Although he would never show it, Drakin adored their fear. He was a sarcastic bastard, he knew, but there was nothing to justify. There was just something about the terrifying desperation that caught him, he lusted after it more than any maiden in the Four Lands. Their screams as he carved insults and curses into their skin with their blade, their pleas as they prayed for their lives; it lodged the breath in his throat. During those times, Drakin felt the most powerful and the most immovable. That feeling of power surged through like prickling fire, igniting fire in his veins. There was no better drug in the world than the one he was addicted to; it was power. He got high off of it, higher than the cocaine that was smuggled by the palace soldiers and servants.