Circe was dragged to her father's throne room and was forced down to her knees. She bit back a wince as her skin forcefully made contact with the hard floor. She knew who she would find when she looked up, so she intentionally kept her gaze down. She refused to acknowledge the person she was brought in front of.
She was nothing but a trophy to them, spoils of war. A man stood on the dais in front of her father's throne. She stared at his boots instead.
Rowen was dropped down just as harshly next to her. Fat drops of tears spilled down his cheeks as he crawled on his hands and knees closer to where she knelt. No one bothered stopping him as he clung onto Circe's arm in fear.
" We found them hiding in one of the rooms." Said the man that manhandled her. " She was the one who killed Harkon, your highness."
" Is that so?" The man on the dais, who she assumed was their prince, finally spoke. " She must have been a trained warrior to be able to achieve such a feat."
Every member of the royal family of Westeria began mandatory combat training from as young as age ten and at twenty, Circe was just as skilled as any trained soldier in her father's army.
She felt the intensity of his gaze on her skin.
" What she is, your highness, is a threat."
The prince didn't dignify the words with a response.
" And the boy?" The prince asked.
" He is her brother, your highness." Said one of the soldiers in the room with them.
" I was under the impression the former king only had two children."
Almost no one outside the palace knew about her little brother's existence. Her father kept Rowen hidden for a reason.
Circe heard the prince descend from the dais. She still refused to look at him. His footsteps drew closer and closer until he stood right in front of her.
" Circe of Westeria." He said and his voice sent shivers down her spine. " Are you aware that I hold your life in my hands?"
Circe remained silent. Her brother tightened his hold on her. He was shaking and Circe didn't know what to do at that very moment to calm him.
" Aren't you going to beg for your life?" The prince asked.
Circe finally met his gaze. Her eyes were as cold as his.
" What's the point? If you are heartless enough to murder a castle full of people then my pleas wouldn't stop you from doing the same to me."
The prince gave a derisive laugh. His hair was as dark as hers. A scar stretched from his brow down to his cheek, marring features that on anyone else would have been seen as handsome.
" She's not only strong but smart too. The princess seems to be full of surprises." He mocked. He then turned to one of his men. " Have her bound and toss her on one of the horses. We will rest tonight and begin our journey back home tomorrow night to celebrate our victory over the king of westeria. I'm sure our queen will be in need of a new serving girl."
The prince turned to walk away, stopping when someone called out to him.
" What about the boy?"
The prince looked contemplative for a few seconds before answering.
" Have him tied up as well. We will use him to make sure his sister cooperates and doesn't try to escape." With that, he walked out of the throne room.
Circe's heart still beat a frantic rhythm. Her hands instantly went around her brother.
" We're fine. We're going to be fine." She whispered to him over and over again throughout the night until exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell asleep in her arms. It was then she felt the full weight of the entire day boring down on her, threatening to crush her. Even then she refused to cry.
The night went by fast and before she knew it she was bound and thrown onto one of the horses, just like their prince had ordered. At sunset the next day, They galloped down the road leading out of the sprawling lands of the palace. Circe turned her head to see the castle behind her, to take one last look at her home that she was being forced to leave.
When she looked back, she didn't see the tall architecture, instead she saw images of her life flashing behind her eyes. She saw her mother's kind eyes and imagined the sound of her voice. What would her mother say if she could see what Circe had become, reduced to a mere prisoner of war. Her mother would tell her to never give in, to fight until she no longer could.
Dying in battle would be a fate better than whatever torment that awaited her where they were taking her. For a second, she entertained the thought of flinging herself off the moving horse, consequences be damned. But then she thought about Rowen. She remembered the sight of his tear stained face.
Circe shook her head. If there was a chance her brother's life would be spared, it didn't matter how small the chance of it happening was, she was going to take it. Even if it meant willingly giving herself up to the enemy.
They rode all through the night and as the light of dawn streaked across the sky, Circe expected them to stop and make camp to avoid the sunlight. To her surprise, they didn't stop. The early morning rays of sunlight shone down on her face but yet she saw no signs that it affected the vampires she rode with.
All her life she was taught that vampires were creatures of the night that couldn't stand the sun and until now she had never had a reason to question those tales.
What other things had her people been wrong about when it came to the vampires?
Her body was jostled whenever they made a turn, to the point that she almost threw up the meager scraps of food she was able to shove down her throat the night before.
Their war steeds were faster than any she had seen before. Any other horse that tried to run with this kind of speed would simply collapse in exhaustion. Not only had the enemy's horses maintained that speed for hours but they didn't look to be slowing down anytime soon.
It took them four days to finally reach the border between Lamora and west of kova. The troops, bathed in moonlight, became rowdy as they pranced through the streets of Lamora. Civilians lined the cobblestone roads on both sides, throwing their hands in the air and screaming chants in a language Circe did not understand.
A procession was formed as the people marched through the capital city alongside the soldiers on horseback. The prince rode at the very front. The volume of their chants rose to the point of being deafening. Among the many words that Circe couldn't understand, there were a few she could decipher as they were spoken in the common tongue, a language they all knew.
' Victory over Westeria! Victory over our enemies!'
The horses came to a halt. In front of them, Circe spotted a massive brick structure, it was even bigger than the
castle she grew up in. She was soon hauled off the saddle. Her hands were still bound behind her back.
A hand from seemingly nowhere shoved her forward, causing her to stumble. She found her footing and glared at the group of guards surrounding her. Circe scanned the many bodies until she found her brother's small frame.
He was being thrown over a guard's shoulder.
Circe was blocked when she tried moving in Rowen's direction.
" Where do you think you're going, little fighter?" It was the same vampire that had disarmed her and pulled her hair back in her room.
She sneered at him but the sound of the prince's voice broke through the retort that sat on the tip of her tongue.
" Bring her to the throne room. The king and queen have requested to meet our prisoners."
A lump formed in Circe's throat. She was pulled into the massive building without any warning. The interior was much more extravagant than she had anticipated. Lit sconces illuminated their path. Every surface was polished and gleamed to perfection. The walls were lined in gold and the carpet beneath her feet was made from an expensive silk only made in Azaire, a country that bordered the south of Lamora.
The excessive display of wealth was sickening, especially because Circe knew how they were able to amass so much of it. They did so by pillaging nations they invaded and taking century old treasures belonging to the people for themselves.
Upon the dais in the throne room sat two massive golden thrones. Perched on the thrones were the king and queen of Lamora. Both were said to be the strongest and most bloodthirsty vampires in Lamorian history. Together they made a dangerous pair, an unstoppable force.
Their presence was stifling.
Once again, she and Rowen were forced to their knees before the throne.
The king was the first to speak.
" Whom have you brought before us tonight, Ragnar?" asked the king, his voice like rolling thunder.
Prince Ragnar, the one who led the invasion, stepped forward.
" Your majesty, the two before you are the princess and prince of Westeria." Ragnar said.
There was a gasp from some of the lord and ladies in attendance.
" Prisoners of war, " the king said. " If that is so, why then do they still live?"
" They killed Harkon, your majesty." Ragnar responded. While he spoke, Circe noticed the heat of the queen's gaze on her skin. When Circe met her gaze, she caught a faint smirk on the queen's lips.
The look alone was enough to let Circe know that this meeting wouldn't bode well for either her or Rowen.