*King Alexander*
"I want to make an announcement." Alexander's voice carried over the grand room, echoing against the high ceiling like a thunderous clap of lightning. He could feel its effects instantly, as silence spread like a ripple in still water. Suddenly, red eyes turn towards him in curiosity, fear, and apprehension.
One which Alexander almost smirked at as his sapphire eyes caught the shift at their table. The 19-year-old vampire, who had been all smirks and arrogance a moment ago, suddenly stiffened in his chair. That damned smile of his had fallen away, leaving panic pulling at his thin lips. Alexander watched how the vampires' vermilion eyes darkened nervously. His pale hand twitched where it rested on the table, and his shoulders locked into place.
Then, just as cautiously, his gaze flickered toward his parents. As if in question what could be written across their face. But of course, they wouldn't know. Lady Funda could only tilt her head, shifting her hair from her updo, strands falling out of place, her eyes narrowing in confusion as her thin lips twitched. Her portly husband licked his, forgetting to push up his round glasses that had slipped down his fat nose. His face frozen in a wary expression, but there's no recognition in his face—no sign that he expected this.
No one did, and that was precisely what Alexander wanted—finally gaining the upper hand. It was time to turn this whole thing around.
His eyes fell to Anastasia, and he found his daughter looking up at him, her doe-like eyes wider with confusion. He was not sure what he was doing, waiting like the others. But for that, Alexander felt his heart shift with anticipation. She wouldn't know it yet, but things would finally change for her.
Because Daddy was back, and he would let them know it, too. Things were going to change here on out. Alexander tucked the emotion down and turned back to the room. His head lifted higher to appear even taller.
"Everyone," he continued after a pause, pulling on a toothy grin to show his support. "First, I propose a toast to my daughter," he lifted his glass of wine, the slight slosh of sour grape filling his nose as he waited patiently, but demanding the rest to follow. And they did. Unable to deny him, even if he was human and a foregingor, he was a king. Nocthen's precious sense of decorum and procedure forced even the most sour-faced vampires to follow along at his will.
They took up their goblets after a moment, but not before he could hear the soft grumble from the room. A quiet hiss that even he could hear against the roar of the fire pits busy burning between the aisles.
"Damn foreign King," A male voice croaked within the tables as another coughed shifting uncomfortably
A Lady griped lowly. "Just like a human, trying to steal the attention."
Alexander couldn't pick exactly who said it. Standing at the table, it was hard to discern the sea of red-haired vampires. But he heard them all the same. This only made him smile wider, enjoying the sensation. He was glad to upset them, and he couldn't wait to do more.
Because he was sure they'd fall head over. And he couldn't wait as he saw them all finally lift their glasses, a begrudging unison of lifting arms as heads turned to regard his daughter.
"To my daughter and Empress of Nocthen, may your reign be peaceful and your wealth double. Long reign, Empress Anastasia." Alexander announced purposefully, moving the glass to his lips to take a solid drink, filling his mouth with the fine wine. The rest of the room followed. Joining him in unison, they called the expected.
"Long Reign, Empress Anastasia." The room followed, taking their drink before moving back, assuming that was all he was to do. Ready to return to their festivities, but Alexander was still standing. And his presence was only making them more unsettled as he could see the flush of nervous glances come back up.
"What now?" a young lady whispered lowly, slightly annoyed. "Why is he still standing?" Curious stares turned shapelier and more hostile as he continued to watch.
"Just sit down, human." Someone grumbled, making him nearly want to laugh, enjoying this all too much. They had no idea what bomb he was about to drop on them, did they?
No, and that's why Alexander had to fight back the laughter. He suddenly felt giddy at the prospect. But he forced himself to look calm, at least on the outside, because it wasn't solely for them.
"Papa?" Ana, meanwhile, seemed to stare after him, clueless. He couldn't resist reaching for her cheek, his touch warm against her cool skin. A gentle but confused smile spread over her face as she tilted her head. Trusting but unsure, "Papa, what are you doing?"
"What I should have done long ago," Alexander whispered just for her, meaning every word before looking at the room again. He raised his glass again, seizing the silence as he spoke clearly.
"In honor of my daughter's 13th birthday, I will bestow a gift."
"A gift?" Ana blinked at him as the rest of the room grew confused. A low and uncertain murmur spread through the tables. Mykhol was among them, flicking his vermilion eyes toward the king with suspicion, his expression darkening. His parents stiffened beside him, equally uneasy, their faces paling as their confusion turned to wariness.
Then, a hesitant voice called out from somewhere in the room—soft, unsure.
"Was it the Empress's birthday?"
Someone else hushed them, but it was too late. The words hung in the air like a crack in glass.
Alexander froze. His fingers twitched at his sides.
They didn't know? His breath hitched as his gaze swept the room. It wasn't just one person—it was all of them. A sea of blank, uncertain faces. Not a single one had known.
Not even the ones who had just boasted about how well they had treated his daughter. His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists. Spoil my daughter, my ass.
Alexander turned his glare toward Ana's aunt and uncle, the ones who had dared to sit there in smug comfort while pretending they had done right by her. The color drained from their faces as they shrank into their seats, their pretense shattering under the weight of his fury.
Liars.
The word seared into him, pulsing with the raw, barely restrained rage clawing up his throat. For how many years did they let her go unnoticed? Uncelebrated. Like she was nothing.
His breath came in uneven, sharp bursts. He had to force himself to exhale—slow, controlled. He couldn't lose his temper now. Not yet.
But he would change this. This moment, this decision—it would be his first step in erasing the years they had stolen from her. From HIM.
"Ahem." Alexander cleared his throat, pushing a smile onto his face, though the fire in his eyes didn't wane.
"As I was saying," Alexander continued smoothly, "the Bulgeons continue to wage devastation on the poor colony of Pave. They are scorned not only by the empire of Nochten but also by the kingdom of Dawny. But Nochten will not wage this onslaught alone."
The crowd stirred in the room as others exchanged looks. Their irritation subsided into genuine confusion. Some people exchanged a slight look of panic as others looked from Alexander to Mykhol and his parents, who, in turn, looked at their son, as if he could explain this.
But for once, the teen couldn't muster up his charming smile. His expression of confusion and darker fear, dwelling inside him, caught him off guard as he looked back. It was a sight Alexander would relish for years to come.
Because now was the big finale.
"I, King Alexander Brokenoff, King of Dawny, vow to support and aid in the fight to purge these vagabonds from what should be peaceful lands."
"What?" An audible cry came out of the crowd as heads turned to look over each other.
"Is he serious?" Others grew pale.
"Does that mean Dawny now supports her Empress as well?"Another piped up.
"Doesn't she already have Queen Hildenberg's support?" The words rang out with a startled clarity, as a lord whipped his head toward the table. Eyes then turned to the trio, demanding answers—answers that none of them had.
"Mykhol?" Lady Funda's hand flew to her throat, her nervous tick betraying her inner turmoil, while her husband only grew paler by the second. Mykhol's parents turned to him expectantly, but the young lord had no response. His mouth opened and closed, his usual confidence utterly absent. He was grasping at straws, and he knew it.
But at last, he seemed to manage a slight smile as he stood up. "Yes, of course, the issue with Pave and the Bulgeons. Just like her Majesty Hildenberg, your aid will be more than appreciated." His voice was smooth, growing firmer as he spoke. Growing bolder by the minute as if he could take back the moment, somehow finding the space to maneuver himself in like the craft little devil Alexander knew him to be.
His eyes narrowed on the teen as he dared to straighten to his full height. His vermilion eyes started to clear from the fog of surprise to that of control. His courtly smile already baring his fangs like he could change the course of this to his favor as he spoke on, gaining everyone's attention.
"We of Nochten will certainly appreciate the support and–"
"Since when does a lord speak over a king, Lord Mykhol?"
The room fell silent. Mykhol froze, and the weight of Alexander's words hit him like a punch to the gut. Connecting, and making the blood drain out of his clever eyes. Mykhols' confident little smilewas already falling, with words drying out in his throat. His face unmasked to show Alexander exactly how unprepared he was to a real challenger like him.
And he was going to make sure he knew it for good. Alexander's voice was as sharp as the sword he once held to his throat all those years ago. Commanding, cutting through him like a blade.
"Sit down."
Mykhol stiffened as he was, opening his mouth but in the end, snapping it shut. His vermilion eyes fell to the floor as he, for once, could do nothing but obey. His attempts to manipulate unravel before him. Leaving him to grip his tunic under the table as shame clearly burned up his cheeks. But for the moment, he was powerless.
Lady Funda's eyes bulged as she turned from her son to Alexander, her lips quivering. "What is the—Your Majesty?" she stammered, her voice a nervous squeak. She looked utterly lost, stuck in the middle of this shifting power dynamic. Her gaze flickered between the two men, finally falling to the one person she should have addressed from the start.
"Your Empress, what is his majesty speaking of? Did you know—"
Ana, of course, only looked confused. She was in the dark most of all. Her eyes only looked from her aunt with a wag of her head, shifting the silver crown, as she darted back to look at him.
"Papa, are you sure-" He silenced her with a gentle finger and a wink.
Hush, my baby girl. Alexander could only speak with his eyes. There was still more—the best part of all. Just wait.
"And to ensure the union runs smoothly," Alexander's serious tone finally broke, unable to contain his laughter a second longer. It rippled out of him like a weight finally falling off after years of holding it in. Years of wanting to do this from the start, and making it all the more extraordinary that he finally could.
"I will stay on to act in her Empress Council." Alexander then softened his tone as he looked back at Ana. "If that is alright with you, daughter?"
A hush fell over the room, so absolute that it felt as if the very walls had gone still. No one moved, no one spoke, and even the flames in the braziers seemed to flicker softer, as though afraid to disturb the silence.
Then—
A single, sharp inhale. The scrape of a fork slipping from numb fingers, clattering against a plate with an earsplitting ring. A chair creaked as its occupant shifted, the wooden legs groaning beneath the sudden movement.
And then, like a dam breaking— Chaos.
"What did he just say?" A noble's voice cracked, barely above a whisper, yet deafening in the silence.
"He's joining the Empress's Council?" someone choked out.
"First Queen Hildenberg, and now King Alexander?" The rising panic was unmistakable.
All at once, conversations exploded across the hall—overlapping voices, half-formed arguments, frantic calculations of power shifting before their eyes. Lords and ladies leaned toward one another, whispering, demanding explanations, trying to make sense of what had just been said.
Eyes darted toward Mykhol and his family, looking for a reaction once again. As if they could give guidance. But the trio was more lost than ever before. Lady Funda's fingers trembled as they found her throat, her breath coming too fast. Lord Charles was rigid in his chair, his expression frozen in something close to horror.
"Mykhol?" Lady Funda's voice wavered, desperate. "What is happening?" She grasped her throat in a nervous tic, her fingers trembling as her husband only grew paler.
Her son had no answer. His usual air of control was gone, stripped from him instantly. He stared at Alexander, disbelief bleeding into something colder—something ugly. His vermilion eyes sharpened as if to show he realized the king had got him this time.
Alexander could only smile back at him wider before turning his attention to the one he cared for most.
"What do you say, Anastasia?" He pressed softly, watching her with all the love and tenderness he could bring up. Just for her. "Would you like that? For me to help?"
"I—" Ana's voice cracked, barely more than a breath.
She didn't finish. Instead, her throat bobbed as if she had forgotten how to speak, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Her red eyes flickered downward, unfocused, like she was grasping at something just beyond reach. A muscle in her jaw tensed. She seemed too stunned to speak. Perhaps it was too difficult for her to try.
But that only made him want to comfort her all the more. All the years she had been alone until now, it would be over. He was finally going to be there for her like he should have always been."
Alexander watched as she struggled, her shoulders rising and falling unevenly. The flickering candlelight made the wetness in her eyes shimmer, and she looked unbearably young for the first time in years. Not the Empress, not the ruler expected to shoulder the burdens of Nochten alone—just his daughter.
His baby girl.
And I will now. Pressing a kiss to her head. The scent of sandalwood filled his senses, grounding him, making him feel as if he were being cleansed anew. A fresh slate. A restart to all those years he couldn't.
And he would. He would make up for all of it.
Starting now.
"I told you I'd be here for you," Alexander whispered his promise before standing up to find the room stunned, their eyes darting between him and Ana. And then there was Mykhol—white as a sheet, eyes locked onto Ana as though she had just betrayed him.
"You—" Mykhol breathed before quickly darting to Ana. "Anastasia? Did you know about this?" He reached for her hand to try to get her attention back, his voice already controlled and softer, beseeching her with his charm. "Why didn't you tell me?" But his words trailed off quickly when he could see she wasn't turning to him. No. She wasn't listening.
For once, the damn teen couldn't pull her attention. Instead, her red eyes were locked on Alexander, watery with unshed tears. Tears that both broke and filled his heart, because he could see the war of pain and joy within them.
"Don't forget Almony." Hidi slammed her glass onto the table, clearly starting to feel the full effects of the massive amount of wine now even with her giant body becoming drunk—but a fun drunk, as she winked. "We gotcha too."
"You? Papa?" Ana struggled to stay composed, but Alexander only laughed.
"What is wrong with all of you?!" he boomed. "Let us drink and party!"
He grabbed his cup and moved to hand it to Ana. "Here, daughter! Drink."
"But I—" Ana flushed, shaking her head. "I don't want to. I don't like—"
"I'll take it!" Hidi reached over, only for Alexander to swat her hand away.
"Hildenberg," he chuckled, making her pout.
"It's Hidi. HI-DI!" She opened her mouth wide, as if waiting for him to pour the wine in. Then she lunged for the glass again. "Just give me—"
"Not until Ana has a drink first," Alexander insisted, pressing the cup to her. "She's the official Empress, after all."
"But I don't like wine. Please, I'd rather not." Ana pushed it away, but Alexander wouldn't hear it. Neither would Hidi. Someone had to drink the damn wine.
"Just one sip, honey. It's a celebration," he coaxed, seeing no issue.
Hidi wobbled in her seat, eyes locked on the cup like a starving woman. "No, let me have it! I want it!" she whined, her blunt teeth slightly stained red from all the wine she'd already had.
"But Papa, I'm still too young—" Ana protested, her voice filled with disbelief.
Alexander couldn't help but laugh. It was all the more amusing because, having already experienced her first blood, Ana was technically an adult in Nochten. Yet, she still held such strong beliefs about propriety—where had she gotten that from? Certainly not from his side.
"Young?" He scoffed. "Why, Nicoli can drown three glasses in one sitting."
"He, what!?" Ana recoiled, horrified. "He can drink—No, that's worse! How could you let him do that? He's not even ten. Ten-year-olds don't drink wine."
Alexander only laughed harder. "Ha! Try telling him that."
*Admiral Nugen*
"Well, I'll be damned." The scarred man cracked the barest of smiles in amusement as he watched the room of vampires turn upside down. A welcome sight that he wanted to remember. It was just that good to see them get the short end of the stick for once.
Those once proud and arrogant faces that mocked Ana at court, the ones that talked over her, dismissed her, shunned her-- were gone, replaced with panic, confusion, or flabbergasted looks. If only he could capture the moment. He'd hang it up in his room to revisit every day.
If Par were here, she'd be laughing her ass off. Nugen could almost hear her now, and her voice would bubble up in mirth unguarded. Enjoying the scene.
But the best part was still to come, and all Nugen needed to do was listen. Even from his side of the room, he could hear the fright in their voices, the panic as realization hit the factions.
"Almony and Dawny are uniting with her Empress?" One noble clutched her pearls. "But then, Her Empress will be"
"What are we to do?" An older Lord raised his thick brows. "This changes everything."
"What about Lord Mykhol? Surely he won't let this-"
"What about Lord Mykhol?" Nugen couldn't help but poke the beast. And reminded of him, Nugen shot a curious look over to immideatly relish in delight. The best part of all.
Mykhol was still at the table, but it was like Alexander pulled the rug out from right under him. The once proud and charming boy, the court's beloved and cherished sweetheart, the brazen son of a bitch that was boadly pushing lord after lord away from Ana just moments before– was a pale wreck. He seemed to be shaking in his seat. His vermilion eyes were dull as if this was utterly hitting him from the side, leaving him, for once, bare and raw.
Not that his parents fared better. The news hit them even harder.
Mykhol's Father was staring off into nothing as if dazed. While his mother, Lady Funda, was rolling in dramatics, gripping her necklace, wringing her hands, her hair falling out of that updo she insisted on having, making her look like a pineapple with so much choppy red hair falling out. She was growing paler by the minute. As if ready to faint.
I hope she will. Gods, would he love to see that. It would make the moment even better. Maybe even make him laugh. What a scene that would make? It already was too good.
"It's about damn time he start stepping in." Nugen smiled up at the old servant who stood just steps from Alexander. Johan didn't return the smile, his face stoic and measured, but he knew deep down that he was just as pleased as they.
The scarred man smiled as he turned just in time to see Alexander pull Ana into his arms. His amusement faltered.
The room was still in chaos, nobles scrambling to salvage their power, but the sight before him dulled the victory. Alexander's embrace was steady, protective, instinctive. And Ana let herself sink into it, as if she'd been waiting for it all along.
Nugen's throat tightened.
Alexander looked up, meeting his gaze across the room. The triumph in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something heavier. There was no need for words; the weight between them spoke volumes.
They had won this battle for Ana. But it had never been a battle they could fight for Parsul. Her's was failure they would both carry.
Too late. Always too late.
Nugen clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The memory of failure sat between them like a ghost, tarnishing the moment that should have been pure satisfaction.
And then, another truth struck even deeper.
Every small gesture between them—Alexander's steady hand on Ana's back, the way she leaned into him, seeking the warmth of a father she had been deprived of for so long—only served as a cruel reminder.
What could never be.
He had made his choice, and in doing so, he had placed himself outside of her reach. There would never be an embrace like that for him. Never a moment where she turned to him for comfort, for reassurance.
Only distance. He had no right to want more than that. He had failed. Failed to protect Parsul when she needed him the most. Failed them both in such a way that not even Alexander could know.
Nugen tore his gaze away, turning for the door. "Don't think this means you're off the hook, Alexander," he muttered, but there was no real bite in it.
The hollow feeling in his chest made it hard to breathe. But this was his punishment.
At least Ana would be safe for now. Nugen thought to himself as he took his leave. She was safe. And that was all he would allow himself to wish for.