Julius Flynn flies into a dark cell, the rough terrain digging into his back. Snarling to himself, he pushes off the ground. The guards close the gate with a loud bang, smiling at him through the bars. Blood drips down his cheek, the scratch not healing as fast as it should be. This isn’t normal circumstances. He throws himself at the bars, wanting them to break. They burn as they come into contact with his exposed skin. Hissing, Julius stands back, glaring at the two leeches.
“Aw is the Prince having problems?” one mocks, his voice grinding together.
“Is the King letting his lackies get more room on the leash?” he growls back, his voice deep with hatred.
The creatures sneer through the bars, their eyes sparking a yellow green color. Bastos’s are cruel, inhuman beings. They wore black robes, that seem to melt into the floor. Julius has no idea where his father had the idea to get control over them. The Cruel Fae are not to be used for any situation. Ever since his father has got control on half of the Supernatural Realm, he seems to be taking the rules and breaking them. The creatures growl lowly and back of the bars, letting a hulking figure fill the space.
Julius leans against the wall across the opening, his eyes meeting those of his father’s. His face is pale, drawn taunt with years of stress etched onto his face. His deep, dark grey eyes zoned in on his son. The silver crown rests upon his brow, on top of his black hair. He crosses his arms over his massive chest, his eyes taking in Julius.
“So, you leave the palace, for the village,” his father starts, his voice rough and gravely, “and this is how you look?” He clicks his tongue, a mocking look crossing his face.
Julius bared his teeth at his father, anger rolling through him. “I left the Prisom for a reason, Father.”
His father tilts his head, considering his words. His lips twitch as he leans forward, his skin a breath away from the bars. The Bastos behind him chitter and scuttle away, their laughs echoing the cage.
“Ah, yes,” his father murmurs, clearing his throat, “to be out from under me, am I right?” Shaking his head, he walks toward Julius, his whole-body glides through the cell. Julius scowls and stands straight, his back against the wall. The King looks down on him, his seeming to glow a blood red in the dark cell. “What am I going to do with you?”
Julius looks up at him, the height difference a foot about. “Get rid of me. Kill me.” he snaps.
His father lets out a snort, the air visible in the cold air of the cell. He strode through the cell to a step in the wall and gracefully sits, leaning his back against the concrete walls. His cloak fell to the side, revealing his Vampi Kingdom armor. Julius starts, his eyes roaming the fresh dents in the metal. A sadistic smile came to his lips, making his face seem dark and cruel. Julius feels his hands automatically clench, anger taking over any other emotions.
“War is a gracious thing,” his father states, siting forward to fold his hands in his lap. The king merely looks at him with distaste, his eyes seeping with disappointment. “We come from a long line of War Commanders, Julius. You are my Heir, the one who is to take my throne.”
From you. Julius adds to his monologue. The throne can only be taken by the Heir if they challenge you. But he keeps his mouth shut and keeps his eyes on the black armor, the sign of their kingdom carved into the breast plate. Three circles overlapping with a deeper V in the middle. He hates the fact that war is how his father got control of half the realm. First the war with the Royal Were and then the war with the Fae. He wasn’t there for any of the wars, shipped away to an isolated island to learn the ways of Vampire Kings. He is soft-hearted and weak compared to the other Heirs that studied there.
“So,” the king continues, allowing Julius to come back to reality, “the rebellions you are in charge of, need to be stopped. Your mother may have sworn me to never killing you, but there are worse things, my son.” He stares down his father, never backing down. His hands hold a week-old wound on the inside of his arm; the healing process slowed due to the curse on their land.
“I can not do that. Those people are counting on me,” he argues, the feeling of hatred in his gut, “You started all of this.”
The king stares at him, his eyes going blank. “Excuse me?” Julius bit back any remarks while meeting the eyes of his father’s. He could see where he fucked up. The instant attitude he snaps back with enrages his father, the disrespect that hangs on his tongue. The king stands up, his figure looming over Julius, “Just because I am the most powerful, doesn’t mean they should disrespect me the way they have!”
Julius clamps his mouth shut, his lips tingling with pressure with the force he is using. He keeps his anger in check before he sets the king off further. “I apologize, my king.” he says, loud enough for it to echo the cell. The king backs down, his eyes a bright red, the color of their kings.
“You are my informant as of now. I want you on the Fae territory and giving me the locations of their next attacks,” his father commands, his voice booming throughout the whole prison. Heat snags at his gut, the images of his friends in the Fae territory flow through his mind, “Go to the meeting bridge and find your own way to Silver City. Get them to trust you and then I will bring them to their knees.” The order strings between them, hooking to the connection that is in all of them. Julius’s mind starts to reject it, but he calms the resentment that fills him. His father could feel any rejection or denial.
“I accept.” he forces out, the control over his feelings waivered as the words left his mouth.
His father leaves the cell, his body slipping pass the bars with ease. Julius starts to follow, but the bars became solid again, burning his flesh as he presses himself against it.
“I accepted!” Julius exploded, his anger coiling around him. He slams his palm into the bars, the pain keeping him focused on the male before him. The king froze, his hands stretch out toward the wall. He whirls around, his eyes darkening to a black. He has a dark, cruel smile twisting his face.
“No blood. Let him out in eight hours.” he orders the guards lurking by the dungeon entrance. Chitters of excitement fills the jail.
“Father!” he yells, watching as he stalks away, his cloak flying around him. Julius grips the bars, letting the pain draw a scream from him. He flinches away when his father is out of sight, the creature staring at him, their expressions flat.
∞ † ∞ † ∞
Jacob Lux stands before Julius, his hands clenches at his side as he tells his story. His best friend and second-in-command look at him with easy contempt. Their king is something they always agreed on. His best friend is the shortest of their village, about five foot three. Julius always has to look down on him. He is wearing his training outfit, with their symbol printed on the chest. He looks away as Jacob opens his mouth to speak. They are standing outside the training facility, a wooden building a little outside the village. The trees surrounding them, secluding them. The trees are a darker color, filling with a magic that grows within each tree. The shadows hunker around them, the sky is filling with red, orange and purple. Julius brings his eyes down to meet the dark green eyes of Jacob.
“We haven’t been to Silver City in three years, man,” he says, “How the hell are we supposed to do this?”
Julius groans and shrugs, stomping his feet to shake the feeling of something entirely wrong. “I do not know. I need to talk to them, discuss our options. I just can’t throw them under the bus.”
His friend nods, looking at the building beside them. “I know. They are not going to trust you.”
The male curses, starting to pace. His hands coming behind his back, joining together. “I left them five years ago when my father mentioned to go to war with the Fae. I thought they would be safe.”
“You left because of personal reasons, too,” Jacob points out, his voice edging with ice, “She won’t forgive you.”
Julius waves the warning away. “Mikeal is the only one I need to see about this. She isn’t included in the War Conferences.”
Jacob and him turn to go into the building. When Julius enters, he sees another male hitting a bag in the center ring. Denis looks over his shoulder, his almond eyes flashing with a blood red color that took over his eyes. He grinds his teeth together as they near him, anger pumping into his bloodstreams. Hunger rips across his abdomen, the mark settling for a total of three hours since his last feeding. Denis’s long blonde hair is tied into a bun, nothing coating his skin. He wore tape and he is only in black shorts. The male snorts, taking in Jacob’s anger and Julius’s attitude.
“The King finally caught you?” he asks, his voice filling with a knowing tone.
Denis is the Informant of the king. He was sent to Julius eight days after he ran away from the Prisom. For the last five years, Denis has been nothing but a thorn in his side. And now, standing there in the training building, Julius knows just how the king’s lackies found him.
“Shut up,” Julius snarls. The male raises an eyebrow at him, anger running across his face. He points to the tape, side-glancing Jacob, “Jacob needs training. You are his opponent.”
Denis scoffs, his brown eyes rolling. “A villager? He is training at this age for a reason.”
Jacob bares his teeth at the ignorant male. “Why? Because I didn’t grow up under the Cruel King?”
The male shook his head, his hair flying out of his bun. It settles along the structure of his face. “I’m not trying to be prissy, Jacob. Me and Julius grew up under strict trainers. He’s doing his best to train you, but what for?” he asks, waving his arm around, “You can’t face off the Yelkites, they’ve trained for years. Hell, they are still training. They are the best in the Supernatural World. Why do you think the ‘Cruel King’ stays king?”
The words made sense, but Julius knew once he took the throne, when and if he did, he wants those he trusts to be around him. He needs them trained and know the protocols of the kingdom. Jacob shakes his head and meets Julius’s eyes. He nods and the other male sighs.
“Still, train me. Give us a better education of the trails you endured,” Jacob asks, “We might never be as good, but we can sure try. Julius has a better vision of the world, Denis. Can you seriously be blind to the king?”
Denis whirls around to fully face them, an angry red burn on his chest. He growls, low in his throat. “The king is a cruel bastard. I do not deny that, but what you are asking is treason!” his throat went taunt, stretching the skin over the muscle. Julius listens with an emotionless face, keeping his mouth shut. “I now am bind to tell the king what you have uttered to me.”
Julius took over, knowing that they are losing time. “I can break that. He will have to believe you dead, for any connection he feels severed dies.”
Denis manages to look shocked. “You are not serious. I’m obliged to obey him.”
Jacob shakes his head. “We can make so you do not have to be,” he explains, “We can never severe the ties or orders he bestows on us. He will know if we are not alive. If I get severed, Julius will be asked to return and learn the truth. Since Julius is known Heir, he will be murdered in public.”
“Why can’t Julius be severed?” Denis asks, doubt written on his face.
He sighs, the question is always bound to pop up. “I would lose my place as Heir. That is in the contract and why no one other than the Royal Flynn’s can take the throne. Anyone can challenge, but the crown has to accept you. For decades—”
“They’ve only accepted Heirs. I know,” Denis interrupted. He comes closer and leans against the rope that surrounds him. He looks back at the two males, his eyes blooming with thought. “It would work?”
Julius smirks, his eyes meeting Jacob’s. “Of course. It happened already.”
The male’s brown eyes widen and he straightens. “What?!” he growls.
Jacob nods. “The moment you asked if it would work, the spell acted. The moment you start to accept the possibility, it severs it.”
A genuine smile blossoms on his face, his pale lips stretching. “Okay. Training at high noon tomorrow. You need to start training in direct sunlight. This sun is nothing against the mortal sun. If anything should put you out there, you need thicker skin.”