---
Chapter Two — The Treaty Hall
The war had gone on for years. It had drained the kingdom of food, money, and hope. The royal vaults were nearly empty—most of the gold had been spent on weapons and armies, yet the enemy still stood.
From the frontlines, soldiers sent desperate messages. Their armour was damaged, their supplies running low, and their spirits breaking. Some were even talking about leaving the fight.
Inside the council chamber, the nobles sat around a huge oak table. They spoke in low, nervous voices. Everyone knew the kingdom was in trouble.
Suddenly, the heavy doors burst open.
A man walked in—tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with the steady confidence of someone who feared nothing. His long silver hair framed a face that looked ageless. Rumours said he was over a hundred years old and had survived battles that would have killed any other man.
His eyes swept across the room, sharp and cold, and the nobles instantly went silent. Chairs slid back as people moved away from him—not because they wanted to, but because they couldn't help it.
The king's face stayed calm, his hands resting lightly on the table. But the same could not be said for the rest of the council. Some lowered their eyes; others clenched their fists under the table to hide the trembling in their hands.
They all knew the stories.
Stories of how this man—this ancient warrior—had once walked alone into a battlefield and left it silent within an hour. Stories of how he had cut through enemy lines without mercy, his blade not stopping even for the wounded.
It was said he never spared a foe, not even those who begged. The enemy called him The Winter Fang—cold, sharp, and unstoppable. Parents in far-off villages used his name to frighten children into obedience.
Now he stood here, in the king's own council chamber.
His gaze passed over each noble, and they swore it felt like being judged by something older than time itself. Even the bravest among them felt their throats dry.
The king held his composure ,but in the silence ,it was the warrior who spoke first .
"Let us begin".
The tension in the great hall was thick as iron. Flickering torchlight painted long shadows across the marble floor, and the air smelled faintly of blood and old stone.
The human king sat stiffly upon his throne, his crown gleaming but his jaw clenched. Across from him, the Vampire King lounged in his chair, posture relaxed yet eyes sharp—like a predator in no rush to pounce.
A human minister broke the silence first, voice careful but urgent.
"We must find a way to end this war, Your Majesty. Every day, our soldiers—our families—bleed on the frontlines. A treaty with the vampire kingdom could—"
"A treaty?" the Vampire King's deep voice cut through, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I've heard this from human tongues before. And I've seen those same tongues twist truth into betrayal."
The human king's brows knitted. "You doubt my word? I have kept every accord signed with your kind."
The Vampire King's smirk faded into something colder. "You have broken more rules of war than you care to admit—ambushes during agreed ceasefires, slaughter of wounded prisoners, poisoned wells. You speak of honor, but your record drips with treachery."
The human king's ministers shifted uncomfortably, but their master leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "And yet, you too have taken my people captive, drained them, tortured them—"
"War is cruelty by nature," the Vampire King interrupted. "But I do not pretend otherwise. You, however… demand trust while standing on the bones of your broken promises. Tell me, human king—why should I believe a single word you say?"
Silence stretched. The human king's gaze flickered toward his ministers, then back to the immortal figure before him. He knew the truth—without a gesture of trust, the vampire would never lay down his sword. And with his armies weakening and prisoners still held, he had little choice.
"Then tell me," the human king said slowly, his voice tight, "what would earn your trust?"
The Vampire King's crimson eyes glinted, though his tone was deceptively calm. "A guarantee that cannot be forged or undone. Something you treasure—placed in my hands."
The hall felt colder. The human king's breath slowed. And then, after a long pause, he spoke words that made his ministers stiffen in shock:
"My daughter. She will be wed to you. As long as she remains under your roof, you will have no cause to doubt my loyalty to the treaty."
The Vampire King studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Then we have an understanding."
A few murmurs broke the silence ,but the
Minister's face stayed unmoved in their mind , the princess was expendable ; she was not the heir ,not the one whose life could alter their succession . If her absence
Bought the peace ,then so be it.
The vampire king leaned back , studying the human king for a long , unreadable moment, a faint cold smile ghosted across his lips .
"Then we are done here "
The door swung open , and the meeting ended without another word .
The palace hallway was quiet except for the faint echo of the princess's footsteps. She turned the corner too quickly and..
Thud.
She stumbled back, her hand instinctively going to her chest. "You—!" she blurted, eyes wide. "You're the man from last night!"
The tall figure steadied her with one hand before letting go, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice a mix of suspicion and confusion. "This is the royal palace, not…" she hesitated, still catching her breath, "…whatever dark place you came from."
A slow, almost teasing smile curved his lips. "You think the palace is free from darkness?"
She frowned, glancing at his clothes, his posture. Something about him didn't fit — yet he stood here as if he belonged.
He lowered his head slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Perhaps I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, princess."
Her heart skipped, but she lifted her chin. "You still haven't answered my question."
"And you," he replied softly, "still haven't asked the right one."
Alright, here's your hallway scene continuation with the soldier revealing his title and the whisper moment:
Before the princess could press him further, a sharp set of footsteps echoed from behind.
A man in dark armor appeared at the end of the hallway, bowing deeply.
"My king," the soldier said firmly, "the carriage is ready."
The princess froze. Her eyes darted from the soldier to the man before her.
"…King?" she repeated under her breath.
The tall figure remained still, watching her reaction. His silence was almost louder than words.
Her pulse quickened. "You… you're the vampire king?"
He stepped closer—so close that she could feel the faint chill of his presence. He bent his head until his lips were just beside her ear.
"Kael," he whispered, his voice low and smooth. "That is my name."
Before she could speak, he straightened, gave her one last unreadable glance, and turned away.
The soldier followed him, their footsteps fading into the distance, leaving the princess rooted in place, her mind spinning.
The hallway fell into silence after he walked away, his name still echoing in her mind.
Kael… the vampire king.
Her thoughts twisted sharply. Why would he come to our lands last night? The image of their brief encounter replayed in her head — his quiet steps, the way his eyes had scanned the shadows.
Was he here to spy on us?
Her pulse quickened. If the vampires are sending their king himself to prowl our grounds, then the peace treaty is nothing but a mask. He wasn't here for diplomacy… he was here for secrets.