The Vampire King’s Captive

BRAN

He moved on auto-pilot, tracing Maria to his room, then tracing to meet Edgar outside.

When he’d seen Edgar’s text, he’d only been able to think about two things; getting Maria to safety-as far away from whatever was happening as possible-and hurrying to meet Edgar.

From the tone of his message, this was urgent and therefore should be treated as such. This was the message he’d sent:

Edgar: Something is happening downtown and it demands your attention. We’re outside the castle.

The reason why Bran kept his phone on him always, was because of times like this. When he was far away from the easy reach of messengers and it could take them a while to get to him. He didn’t have much use for the phone-apart from when he wanted to send texts or make important calls-but having it on him always, had proved helpful more times than he could count.

Like now.

Chaos.

Utter chaos.

That was what Bran met in the yard of his castle and he had never been more thankful that his room didn’t have a front view of the castle, else, Maria would have been able to see that something was wrong. He was still in the process of learning her, but he knew for a fact that she would want to know what was happening. Always curious.

A small woman sat on the ground, an unconscious little body lying on her outstretched leg and surrounding her, were a few of Bran’s men. They were shouting and so was she. As Bran drew closer, he saw that they were not just shouting at her-they were trying to get her to calm down. To get her to stop shouting and drawing attention, because that was exactly what she was doing.

The men standing far from the woman saw him and bowed, creating space for him to pass as he made his way slowly to the woman, trying to listen to her hysteric ramblings so that he could make sense of them. But it was as if the closer he got, the more unclear her words became.

When he finally made it to the front of the crowd of his own men, he saw that Edgar was standing in front of the woman, his face smoothened into a blank, yet alert mask. The little figure on the woman’s leg was a young girl that could not be more than eight or nine years old, her hands stretched out on both sides of her and her eyes, shut.

A sense of foreboding gripped Bran.

The woman’s eyes were wide, panicked and red-rimmed with just a little hint of madness in the hazel-orbs. When she opened her mouth to talk again, her sharp fangs made an appearance.

A vampire.

What exactly was going on?

Edgar did not show any signs of surprise when he saw Bran standing next to him. He simply turned his head and levelled those serious eyes on him, taking a few steps closer. When he spoke, Bran knew it was so that no one would hear what he wanted to tell him.

“Who is she?” Bran asked before Edgar could speak, hushed so that the woman wouldn’t hear. She was a vampire so she could hear them, but she probably wouldn’t right now because she was mumbling to herself.

“Unknown at the moment.”

“Then what is she doing here?”

Since when did his men at the gate start letting just anyone into the castle? Had his warnings the last time not been sound enough?

“She was causing a scene outside so we had to bring her in. There’s an ongoing attack downtown and her husband has been killed while fighting for her and her child.” Bran’s eyes flitted to the little girl on her legs. “The child was hit but she wasn’t harmed much. She’s still alive.”

“Then why is she still here?”

Edgar glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the woman as though he didn’t want to let her out of his sights for a minute and not because he was taken with her, but because he wanted to be able to gauge her movements.

“Action couldnt be taken until you ordered it. It’s one of the reasons I said you needed to be here.”

“What is the other reason?”

The woman’s head lifted then and her eyes locked on his, cold and very very angry. Her once worried expression morphed into one of pure hate and disgust, and she bared her teeth, shooting her head forward and snapping.

Bran barely held himself from stepping back. Barely.

Why did this woman look at him with so much hate?This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“The other reason,” Edgar whispered into Bran’s ear, reminding him anew that he was still there. Still, Bran had difficulty taking his gaze off this woman that hated him so much for reasons unknown to him. “Is that the people behind this attack, are the Sorceri.” At the mention of that word, Bran’s eyes flew to Edgar, shock making them grow wide. Edgar nodded. “They know.”

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Now, he understood the woman’s hatred for him. But… how could she have linked the attack to him? Surely, they had to think it was just Ariti making trouble.

Then he remembered what Elijah had told him, that the people knew, and there was no hiding from the truth anymore.

“King Bran, is that you?” The woman sneered, eyes filled with malice. It was obviously a rhetorical question because she didn’t wait for anyone to answer her. “How easily you sit in your high chair while your kingdom is being burnt to the ground. How happy you are while your people are dying, trying to fight for their lives.” Bran’s hackles rose as she turned her manic eyes on his men, pointing at him. “This is the man who is supposed to protect us, yet he is the cause of all evil that is befalling us.” Then on a scream, she yelled, “He is the reason my husband has died! My husband is dead, my child, near-dead! Why not just take my life? Please put me out of my mystery and-”

Bran turned on his heel, giving his back to the woman as he waved for Edgar to follow him. His gut was churning and his blood was heating.

To think that Ariti would dare enter his realm and kill his people…

Had the sorcerer not taken enough from him already? He had Bran’s sister for fucks sake. His sister, who he had been trying every possible way to get to, and now he was killing Bran’s people. An obvious insult to Bran and a slap to his face.

He could not let this go. He wouldn’t.

Ariti had bitten off more than he could chew by turning Bran’s own people against him by making them think that he was bringing danger to them on purpose.

Bran was going to show him that he could bite back. And his bite would be far more deadly, drawing blood and leaving scars.

“Where is the attack?”

“Around the area of the bar you frequently visit.” Edgar’s face was tight, his movements wooden. “I hear he has killed a great number of people, and some, injured. Do you want some men to come with us? I believe it would be easier to take more people to the physician that way.”

Bran nodded. Then with a, “Grab your weapons,” to Edgar, he traced into his own armoury and collected his sword, shoved a few daggers into his boots and two into his pockets.

Done, he traced back outside a split second before Edgar appeared in front of him. He waited for Edgar to clear out the men surrounding the still-shouting woman and assign some to stand with Bran.

Bran should have been the one doing that, but he was too angry, too ashamed to face his men and say something that wouldn’t come out as a bark or an insult to himself-because he very much, in that moment, felt like cursing himself for doing this to his own people. People that his father, the late king, had done everything he could to take care of. His father, with his mother by his side, had gone out of their way to make things easier for their people and that was why the vampires, out of all other factions of the lore, had lesser to no people living in poverty. Because there were opportunities for everyone.

His father had done that. He’d made sure of it.

Now look at Bran.

Instead of him to pick up where his father had left off, he was doing the opposite. Burning all his father’s hardwork into the ground and bringing harm to innocent people.

His own people.

This couldn’t be the life that his father had envisioned for him-and it wasn’t the life Bran had envisioned for himself either.