The moon was crimson that night, low and ripe in the sky like an omen carved in blood. The dark towers of the Vartheon Citadel cast jagged shadows across the marble courtyard, their gothic arches catching moonlight like the bared teeth of wolves. Elias stood still before the throne chamber's obsidian doors, cloaked in a long coat the color of midnight wine, his raven hair unbound and his expression carved from fury and silence.
The guards bowed as he passed, not daring to speak. Everyone in the citadel knew who he was—the Crimson Prince, son of the Vampire King Lucian. Everyone also knew what he had done: vanished for nearly a year without word, and now returned with fire behind his eyes.
Inside the throne chamber, vampires of high blood and noble ranks lined the curved rows of stone benches. Lucian sat upon his throne of skeletal silver, draped in robes woven with ancient sigils, his hair silver-white, and his eyes glowing like infernal moons.
"Elias," Lucian said, voice like velvet laced with venom. "You return at last."
Elias bowed his head only slightly. "I return because the pact has awakened."
A whisper moved through the chamber like a cold wind.
Lucian's brows lifted. "You mean the sigil?"
"I mean the heir," Elias replied. "The child of my blood. Conceived during the moon of Fenara. The sigil pulsed—Kael carries my child."
Gasps. Hushed murmurs. One vampire noble rose from his bench, scandal clear in his amber eyes.
"That human? The one from the fae line?"
"He's more than that," Elias growled. "He's bonded by pact. His womb has taken my magic—our bloodlines have merged."
Lucian stood. Power poured from his body like ash from a furnace. The throne room grew cold, every flame guttering.
"And you would bring this... abomination into our family?"
"He is not an abomination!" Elias's voice cracked across the chamber. "He is mine. And he will be protected."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "You dare to defy me?"
"I swore to protect him. I will not let your pride cost me my family."
"You are the Crimson Prince," Lucian hissed. "You were to inherit the Covenant. Rule beside the High Elders. Now you speak of love? Of pacts? Of mongrel children?"
The crowd stirred. Some vampires hissed in disapproval. Others watched with fascination.
Elias stepped forward, shedding his coat to reveal the pulsing sigil on his chest—the twin to the mark Kael bore. "The pact is older than your throne, Father. It chooses. Not you."
Lucian descended the steps with supernatural speed, stopping inches from his son. "Then you are no longer my heir."
A breath held.
"Then I'll make my own throne," Elias whispered.
---
Later that night, in his private chamber, Elias stood shirtless before the mirror, his skin still thrumming with the energy of the confrontation. The sigil on his chest glowed faintly, responding to the bond across distance.
Kael.
The vision of him rose behind Elias's eyes—his flushed cheeks, the sound of his breath, the soft moans that haunted Elias every time the night grew too quiet.
He remembered that night in the Velvet Garden. The way Kael had trembled beneath him. How the bond had burned through their bodies, fusing desire with something eternal. Elias gripped the edge of the sink, fangs bared.
"I'm coming for you," he whispered, voice deep with hunger.
He could almost feel Kael's body again—arched and slick, crying his name as the sigil seared both of them. He remembered how Kael had clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, hips rolling with desperate need.
"Don't stop," Kael had begged, back then. "Please... Elias... more..."
The memory ignited heat in his gut. Elias unbuckled his belt slowly, eyes still locked on the mirror.
He didn't care who tried to stop him.
Vampire royalty. Fae courts. Ancient law.
They'd all fall before his vow.
Because Kael—and their child—were his.
And Elias never let go of what was his.