The Vampire's Luna

Luna felt her chest tighten. "And when I die?" she asked, not as a question, but as a challenge.

"That’s enough," Damien snapped. His eyes flicked to hers, burning with grief. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Luna wasn’t angry at him. She understood how much pain he was trying to keep buried beneath that hard, royal shell. But she also knew she needed to understand what was at stake. She pressed on, ignoring his outburst. "And when I die?" she repeated.

"That’s enough. Veyron, come...I’ll take you home...Now," Damien insisted.

Luna stood. "Damien..."

He stopped, only halfway turned, but he didn’t meet her gaze. His shoulders were rigid, his breath uneven.

"I’m not mad at you," she said quietly. "I get it. This is a lot to face."

"You think I can’t face it?" he snapped, whirling around for just a moment, eyes gleaming. "Watching you talk about dying like it’s already decided? Like your life is some price tag we’re supposed to haggle over? That..." He broke off, jaw clenching. "That I can’t do."

Luna didn’t say anything else. She could feel the war within him. So instead, she let him go.

He turned again, helping Veyron along even though the old man clearly didn’t need the assistance.

*****

King Lucivar stood at the edge of the forgotten courtyard. The castle loomed before him. He refused to go further. He wouldn’t set foot inside.

He folded his arms across his chest. He knew Morvakar could feel him, he could always feel him. So Lucivar waited.

Eventually, as expected, the doors groaned open. Morvakar stepped out.

"Hello, old friend," Morvakar greeted, spreading his arms. "I wasn’t expecting you so soon."

Lucivar’s jaw twitched. He didn’t respond with warmth. "I got all your messages, Morvakar. You could have just written a letter. But cursing a werewolf princess just to get my attention? Bit much, even for you."

The sorcerer chuckled. "What can I say? I’ve always had a flair for drama."

"Besides," Morvakar said with a half-smile, "why is everyone so certain I cursed the princess?"

Lucivar’s eyes flared with rage, and disappointment. "Because it smells like you," he said tightly.

The smile dropped from Morvakar’s face. "My problem, Lucivar, has always been with you. That hasn’t changed. But others? They’re just... unfortunate casualties. A means to an end."

Lucivar took a step forward now, fury barely restrained in the lines of his posture. "She’s a child. An innocent."

"She’s a pawn," Morvakar countered. "A perfect one."

Morvakar’s grin returned, crooked and bitter. "Why are you here, Lucivar?"

The cold wind swirled around the crumbling remnants of the forgotten castle. Lucivar stood tall, unmoved, every inch the immortal vampire king, despite the disdain etched into the tight line of his mouth. His silver hair gleamed under the sallow light, and his crimson eyes gleamed with fury. He looked at the sorcerer before him.

"I came here to threaten you," Lucivar said.

Morvakar threw his head back and laughed. "Threaten me? With what?" he mocked. "You stripped me of everything. I’m already a ghost in your world."

Lucivar’s lips twitched. "Exactly. Which means you should have stayed a ghost."

Morvakar’s grin never faltered. "Oh, your highness... You still don’t get it, do you?" He stepped forward. "You’re so used to battles you can see. But this? This is artistry. My masterpiece is slow. You’ll be back. And when you come, you’ll crawl."

Lucivar raised a brow, amused despite himself. "You always did love monologues."

Morvakar turned toward the ruined archway, the sharp scent of rot and decay clinging to the shadows behind him. Then, he glanced over his shoulder with a look of triumphant glee. "And the best part? You can’t kill me."

He laughed as he vanished into the darkness of the ruined castle. The doors groaned shut behind him.

Lucivar exhaled slowly, fury simmering beneath the calm veneer. Everyone was being manipulated, and the one with the bloodied board was still ten moves ahead. And gods help them, no one else could see the full picture. Yet.

*****

In a pristinely polished wing of the Royal Clinic, Seliora was having a full-blown emotional crisis with a smile glued to her face and a foot that hadn’t stopped tapping since sunrise.

Every second that ticked by felt like a hammer pounding against her ribs. She sat perched on the edge of her seat.

It had to be positive. It had to be.

She’d done everything right. If the gods had even a shred of kindness left in their ancient, hearts, this was the moment to prove it.

The prince was getting more and more distracted by his infatuation with the werewolf princess, and it was starting to make Seliora feel... irrelevant. And if—heavens forbid—the princess decided to give in to the bond?

Then Seliora was completely, royally, eternally screwed.

All she needed was to get pregnant. With the prince’s heir. A royal baby. Something no one, not even that little moon princess, could take from her. She wouldn’t just be the Royal Concubine anymore. No, no, she’d be the Mother of the Future King. The power behind the throne.

The door creaked open and the medic entered.

Doctor Mira sat down opposite her. "I’m sorry, Your Grace," she said. "It’s negative."

Seliora stared at her. Then slowly slumped, her shoulders collapsing in a cascade of bitter disappointment. She let out a low groan. "Why? For the love of the Goddess, why? Are you sure you have the right date? Maybe your chart is wrong. "

"Your Grace," Mira said patiently, "it’s not just about the date. Conception requires timing. The days leading up to, the day itself, and even the days after. One day per cycle... it’s just not enough."

Seliora dragged her hands down her face and groaned into her palms. "One day. One bloody, begrudging day a month and I have to beg for it." She peeked through her fingers, eyes narrowed in frustration. "Do you know how humiliating it is to seduce a man who is mentally dry-humping someone else?"

(Shout out to @Jennifer_Toney, @Rininwonderland, @lexii_smith)