On the morning of the masquerade ball, Elder Theon came to visit the King in his study.
A knock on the door roused Fabio from his work. It was barely sunrise but he still had some work leftover from yesterday. Now he was dozing in and out of sleep, still tired from the previous day's 'nightly adventures.' The young King rubbed his face in slight embarrassment.
"You may come in."
The door opened as one of his guards let in the old man, then it shut softly behind him. Fabio stifled a groan.
"How are you faring, my King?" The older man asked, wrinkled hands gripping his cane. Fabio recalled the last time he was here, in his study, standing in the very same spot as he practically threatened him. Few men wielded such authority over the famed Black Wolf and one such man was Theon.
"Elder Theon. I can't say I am surprised to see you." Fabio said, gesturing for the man to take the seat opposite him. Theon sat, leaning forward on his cane. "Have you truly come to see how I am faring alone, or is there something else you wish to discuss?"
The Elder cleared his throat, "I would be lying if I said this was a simple visit. How is Queen Giselle, your mate? She has been through quite an ordeal these past few weeks alone."
"Yes, I suppose she has."
"You have not claimed her yet, have you?"
"No, and I don't plan to."
Theon sighed deeply, tapping the stick on the floor. "You know, your mother was just like you—reckless and stubborn. She and your father were polar opposites. She never stopped hating him, not until her last breath but she never stopped loving you and your sister either."
Fabio mourned the memory of a woman he couldn't remember. She died about a year after Fabio's birth, her body never healing from the trauma. Leandra was the only one with a true memory of their mother, Queen Freya Castille. She was said to have been one of the most beautiful omegas of her time, with long raven hair that was identical to Fabio's and kind brown eyes like Leandra's. Fabio could only imagine what she looked like, however, as his father destroyed every painting of her likeness after her death. Even after years of her passing, the cruel man couldn't stand the face of the woman he ruined.
"He never told you this, but they were never mates. Your father stole her from her rightful mate because he desired her and forced her to marry him against her will." Fabio let out an audible growl at the new information, one he had long suspected but had never confirmed as no one would speak about the former Queen, for fear of being silenced by his father. Even the circumstances of her death were shrouded in mystery. "Don't make the same mistake your father did, Fabio–"
The King slammed his fist on the table, sending bits of splinters in the air. Rage poured from his scent, choking the room but he wasn't only enraged at the Elder.
The thought of being compared to his father drove him mad.
"If you value your life, Theon, you wouldn't dare utter another word about my father in this room!" He barked, baring his fangs. "I am nothing like that man!"
"Yet you would deprive your former lover of her choice and neglect your own mate? Fabio, you are indeed your father's son but you can forge a path free of the shrouds of his shadow. The Court has been restless for days now; even the Elders have spoken with me. They believe we are at our most vulnerable—our King's heart is torn between two choices while outsiders roam among us. It would be wise to make a compromise now, Fabio, for the good of the kingdom."
"The Court still doesn't trust the vampires? Even after all my father and his father before him did to bring peace between our kingdoms?"
Theon rose to his feet, a resigned look on his face.
"Trust may be earned but it still wouldn't be wise to give it away freely. My King, you must do what is best for the future and stability of Montegnera. Every great kingdom has its foundation built by the people, united and guided by their King. You can't be torn between two worlds, especially not now." He stood up to leave, gray eyes full of knowledge.
Fabio leaned back on his seat; although calm, there was still an air of danger around him, one that threatened to rip whoever taunted him next to shreds.
"You're lucky you're like a father to me, Theon. If it were anyone else, they would be lucky to still be whole and breathing." He exhaled, suddenly tired although the day had just begun. "If you have nothing tangible to discuss with me, leave me in peace. The Elders and the Court may be an important part of this realm, but right now you all are annoying pests in the path of my happiness."
***
The corridors of the east wing were quiet as it was still quite early, barely sunrise. Outside was dark yet the palace still buzzed with preparations for the ceremony, but Lucien's chambers were calm. The fire burned low, throwing soft light against dark wood and stone.
Vivienne entered without knocking. She had learned he didn't mind. Her hood was drawn low, her gown simple for once, but her confidence was unmistakable.
"You keep your rooms too dark," she said, closing the door behind her.
Lucien stood near the window, shirt sleeves rolled up, jacket tossed carelessly across a chair. He didn't look like a visiting king. "I like the quiet," he replied.
She glanced around the room, then back at him. "I was at the Common Hall a while ago. Half the nobles are already awake, arguing about who will dance with who tonight and which visiting envoy to rub shoulders with. You should join them. Stir the pot."
"I prefer to watch the pot boil," he said. "Besides, not all of your kind takes too kindly to vampires, it would seem."
Vivienne smiled, shrugging off her cloak and setting it on a coats hanger nearby. She moved languidly, with the ease of someone who had visited many times before. This wasn't the first time the Countess was coming to see him, either in the dead of night or in the early hours of the morning. Long before he had even received an invitation to visit Montegnera, they had been in touch using encrypted letters. Every rumor, every news that broke in the palace's forewalls were made privy to him by Vivienne. When Fabio had expressed his displeasure with his mate, Vivienne had relayed the news. When he heard of Fabio's plans to quietly depose the queen through Dorian, he nominated Vivienne to play the vicious mistress which she did to a tee.
Inwardly, Lucien was dying of laughter. He'd never met a Wolf so eager to betray her kind.
It did help that she was extremely beautiful, with hair like sunshine gold and sly red lips that screamed of temptation.
When she snuck into his chambers on his first night here, he eagerly fucked her like he'd been wanting to since they'd first met. Since then she had been insatiable, sneaking in almost every time he was in his chambers for the past few days he had arrived. Even the way her body moved now, almost too teasing, slender and gold against the dim candles, Lucien knew what she sought.
"I'm not going to fuck you today, Vivienne, so don't even beg for it." He drawled lazily, sinking into the empty couch. "Not in the mood."
The Countess pouted but didn't seem upset. She looked like she could change his mind and maybe she could, who knows. He could feel the tension rattling off his bones—maybe it would do him some good to fuck it out.
"Not one bit? Not even if I rouse you with my lips?" She drew closer, with a smirk. He shook his head, outwardly unimpressed but inside, her charm was working. She groaned, sitting beside him. "You sound too calm for a man walking into the center of a kingdom's politics tomorrow."
"I've walked into worse," Lucien said lightly.
And survived them all, he thought. Even when his uncle tried to keep him from the throne. Even when whispers spread that his older brother would have led better. He'd learned to stay three steps ahead because he'd had no other choice.
Her eyes searched his face. "You're always difficult to read."
"That's the point."
They settled near the fire with glasses of Ravathorne wine. Vivienne perched on the arm of his chair, relaxed and elegant.
"You seem distracted," she said.
"Thinking."
"About tonight?"
"Among other things."
He didn't elaborate. His thoughts had drifted, uninvited, to Fabio. He remembered the day news of his brother's death reached him—how quickly everything shifted. His uncle had stepped in, took the reins, and reminded everyone daily that Lucien was the spare. Not meant to lead. Not ready.
Then came Fabio, crowned young, uniting wolves and vampires like it was inevitable. While Lucien had to wait for permission to claim what was already his.
The bitterness was brief but sharp, like the twist of a blade. He set it aside. Vivienne didn't need to see it.
She took a slow sip of wine, her eyes never leaving his face. "Tomorrow will be crowded. Every noble in the region will be there. Especially that girl that parades herself as a queen. Are you prepared?"
"You would be wise to watch your tongue, Countess. This may be your territory but your tongue is still too loose. A girl or not, Giselle is still a queen."
"I truly don't see what everyone likes about her. A Duke's daughter who spends more time looking at her own feet than ruling over her Court? Not to mention all the times she spends swooning over like a pansy." Vivienne scoffed, toying with her wine glass. "She is weak. I could easily snap her in half even without help from my wolf."
Lucien didn't reply. He knew the type of person the Countess of Hensbury was; she was a woman who enjoyed being close to power, and she thought she understood his mind. She didn't. She couldn't recognize real power if it slapped her in the face.
She continued her rambles as Lucien watched, slightly amused. "She is only powerful because Fabio is a confused fool who doesn't know where his heart lies. If it were up to me, she would be out of the picture ages ago. But I can't, you said I can't."
"Don't worry, Countess. Soon, you'll get your fun but not until I get mine."
Vivienne giggled, planting a kiss on his lips. He didn't ask for it but deepened it regardless, drinking in her sweet scent until she writhed in his arms.
"L-lucien—oh—please–"
He engulfed her lips again, continuing his onslaught as she gasped into his.
He bit down on her jaw, not too firmly to draw blood but hard enough to bruise. Vivienne let out a sharp moan, arching toward him like the masochist she was.
Lucien's mind though, wasn't just in their rendezvous. He saw more than they realized. He saw the cracks in Fabio's carefully polished rule. He saw the nostalgia simmering in some of the older vampire families—the ones who remembered when wolves and vampires were enemies, not uneasy allies. He saw an opportunity.
And beneath it all, he felt that old sting. His father had ruled with respect. His brother had been loved. Lucien had inherited only doubts and comparisons. Fabio had never struggled for his crown. Lucien had fought for every inch of his.
"Bare your neck for me, darling."
She tilted her head without quarrel, exposing her neck to his mercy.
"May I?" he asked quietly. He was no monster; for all his vices, he would never sink his teeth where it wasn't invited.
Her breath caught, but she nodded. "Yes."
He brushed her hair aside and lowered his head. His fangs pierced skin cleanly. Her gasp was soft, followed by a shudder as he drank.
Vivienne's fingers gripped the edge of the table, but she didn't pull away. She liked the danger. Maybe she liked believing he chose her for more than convenience.
When he pulled back, he pressed his thumb lightly against the punctures. Her pulse fluttered under his touch.
"Still won't fuck me, hmm?" Lucien purred, leaning away without a word. She rolled her eyes but didn't look too upset that he'd riled her up yet left her high and dry. "You're going to be late for whatever schemes you're running tonight," she whispered.
"I'm always on time." he said quietly.
Vivienne smiled faintly, gathering her shawl. At the door, she glanced back at him. "Try not to thirst too much when you see what I'm wearing tonight."
This time, he didn't reply, too bored with his plaything. Too bored of everything else.
She slipped out into the corridor, leaving the room in silence.
Lucien stayed by the fire for a while after she left, watching the flames.
His uncle's voice surfaced uninvited. You were always unfit to lead. Your brother was the future. You are nothing.
He pushed the memory down and poured himself more wine.