Marked
- Reads 154
- Votes 27
- Parts 6
MatureOngoing1h 7m
Last published Mon, Jun 23, 2025
Cursed or blessed? There was no one official view. Marked ones were praised and feared for their differences by the common. Killian always thought one day it would get him killed and after his drafting he only felt more sure- but he couldn't die until he knew his family would be safe. His only escape? The Kingship Trials. Strange, he thought, that a Royal family in need of heirs would have him battle for their prince's hand, but it was of no matter. Killian would either become king or die trying.
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"I don't need a backup plan." Her doubt in him was offensive. Killian would move mountains to get what he wanted. He'd topple kingdoms, thrones and royals without a second thought. So long as he had the means. Forever oppressed as vampire General, the throne he hankered for seemed unattainable. Out of reach. Until her. "That sounds like over-confidence," She tutted, trailing her fingers across his lips. "It's me who'll die if that goes wrong. I'd appreciate a backup plan." Their alliance wasn't born from trust. Or lust. Not even toleration. They were pushed together without choice. Only circumstance called for rebellion. His words were a fluttery whisper against her mouth. "I promise you right now, we don't need a backup plan. Tomorrow, everything I've planned will go accordingly. Have a little faith in me Sinclair. I won't let you die." Separate plans. Separate motivations. Was working together even possible? She pressed her forehead to his, the distance between them nigh non-existent. "I hope that's a promise you're able to keep. If I die, I'll haunt you."Complete
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Without warning, a hand closed around his throat from behind, lifting 11 off the ground and turning him toward the owner of the hand. It was a Trueborn Mog; the others were Vatborn, cannon fodder, grown to die. This one would have been esteemed as royalty by his companions, had there been any more to esteem him. He looked furious, his hatred clear in his sneer and the tight grip on 11's neck. Spots swirled around his vision and he struggled to draw a breath. Is this it? The last Mogadorian and I fail at the very end? Cruel. The Mog opened his mouth to say something, but before he got a word out, a hiss sounded from 11's left and something pierced the Mog's head, killing him instantly. His vision darkening, 11 looked at the object in the Mog's head as it let go of him and fell to the ground. An arrow? And then: nothingness.Complete
"I don't need a backup plan." Her doubt in him was offensive. Killian would move mountains to get what he wanted. He'd topple kingdoms, thrones and royals without a second thought. So long as he had the means. Forever oppressed as vampire General, the throne he hankered for seemed unattainable. Out of reach. Until her. "That sounds like over-confidence," She tutted, trailing her fingers across his lips. "It's me who'll die if that goes wrong. I'd appreciate a backup plan." Their alliance wasn't born from trust. Or lust. Not even toleration. They were pushed together without choice. Only circumstance called for rebellion. His words were a fluttery whisper against her mouth. "I promise you right now, we don't need a backup plan. Tomorrow, everything I've planned will go accordingly. Have a little faith in me Sinclair. I won't let you die." Separate plans. Separate motivations. Was working together even possible? She pressed her forehead to his, the distance between them nigh non-existent. "I hope that's a promise you're able to keep. If I die, I'll haunt you."
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