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“We’re here,” announced the coachman.

The words prompted the guards to haul the captive away from the carriage and towards the stale yet towering castle before them.

Amidst their move, the captive regained a little bit of his consciousness after being jostled by their harsh manhandling. The rhythmic sound of footsteps filled his ears next as they moved and being continually dragged along as if he weighed nothing. Realizing the situation, he attempted to move his body but found himself unable to.

Those glacial eyes blinked open albeit the heavy lids threatened it to close again. Losing control of his inhibitions sobered him up as he realized his predicament.

Recalling the incident for the past few days, he was arrested for something he never committed; now a man accused of an injustice. An unfortunate incident that led him to wherever he’s currently being brought to right now.

“I’m never expecting a guest,” said a baritone voice.

He was thrown to the floor falling nearly face first if not for the muzzle around his face. Wriggling, he found his wrist cuffed behind him and without his inhuman strength, he struggled to even break it. He attempted to sit down but something ached on his stomach and the faint metallic smell in the air flooded his senses.

“Apparently, he was surrendered by his own kin after we threatened them to reduce their numbers after they killed two of our men, monsieur.”

“Oh? And what did this man do for him to be their sacrifice?”

“From what we’ve gathered, he’s been the one opposing the wolvendom’s authority lately. But, as he’s a man not in power, he was easily singled out.”

He hummed. “An internal conflict?”

“That’s as far as we’ve gathered, monsieur. Do we need to gather more additional information to proceed?”

“Well, why don’t we ask him instead?”

The heels clacking against the tiles rang aloud in the room, moreso, in the werewolf’s ears. The sound moved closer and his head angled up by a soft hand. It cradled his chin and he forced his eyes open despite the blurry eyesight still adjusting to the surroundings.

“Hello there,” said the same voice, a cadence similar to a soothing breeze.

The werewolf perceived the intense amethyst eyes staring into his own a few seconds later. An unfathomable depth drew him in as they peered onto his own glacial ones and one wrong move could drown you.

Instinctively, the werewolf gnarled to fight back but his body couldn’t move the way he wanted.

“Monsieur?” asked the other voice, a hint of anxiety underlying it.

“I believe he’s a victim, my dear. So, tell the others that this man will be under my care in the foreseeable future.”

“Are you certain about this, monsieur?”

“Why not? I have my little fairies. What’s another race added to my collection?”

There were rustles as the other voice replied, “Then, I’ll have your words conveyed, monsieur.”

As he succumbed to the darkness once again, the last words he heard were: “Now then, mon loup. Can you stand?”

He never slumbered for that long, nor was it dreamless. Once the ghosts of his past emerged in the dreamscape, he thrashed everything in reality, oftentimes waking up to torn sheets or butchered pillows, even the fiber fills flying off. For the first time in a while, he finally slept well.

As he slowly regained consciousness, something floral wafted in the air and it undeniably soothed him. A faint singing came from the distance, melodious yet serene. It carried the calmness of the forests—the rustles, the whistles, just nature itself.

It was the soft sheets covering him that he noticed next, although his body heavy like led when he moved ever slightly, realizing something ached on his stomach. As he took in his surroundings, he also noticed the sunlight now spilling into the room through the sheer curtains, softly billowing with the morning breeze.

Turning left, he saw a pair of gleaming amethyst eyes staring right at him. He immediately recognized them, that unfathomable depth even he won’t be able to comprehend. Catching himself, his fight-or-flight response triggered, he scampered back in alarm and ended up banging the back of his head onto the tall headboard.

In one fluid movement, the silver-haired man sitting a few feet away on the armchair moved closer, hovering to check on him. “Are you alright?”

The werewolf shuddered, his body trembling lightly as he curled to himself.

“I won’t hurt you. Tell me, are you feeling any pain?”

“I’m fine… I guess…” he muttered shakily.

The man then moved away. “It’s a good thing that you can move already. You’ve been passed out for four days ever since your arrival here.”

The ravenet asked him a question in response though: “Who are you?”

“You can just call me monsieur, mon loup.”

“Name.” He hissed when he moved again, feeling another ache on his abdomen. “I mean, what’s your name?”

“I go by the name Neuvillette.”

Now, dread settled into the werewolf’s bones. He glanced at him warily through hooded eyes, body taut at the spoken name. He could only mutter, “That old vampire?”

Neuvillette scoffed then sat back down on the armchair. He replied as he crossed his legs, “I’m not that old.”

“Someone who fought in the Great War is old.”

He leaned back onto the chair, crossing his arms too. “And what’s your name, mon loup?”

“Do I need to tell you?”

“Of course, you’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future after all.”

“And if I don’t want to stay?”

“Well, your kin might come and get you instead if you leave this place,” he mused, gesturing his hand. “Tension is high right now in the wolvendom.”

“Did you lend a hand to it?”

“Do I look that bored to you, mon loup?” He smiled a little. “You have an internal struggle as per what they told me. It’s a common thing to happen. Even the ever secluded vampires face those problems.”

The werewolf huffed but didn’t pry any further, so did Neuvillette. The vampire just observed him, as if waiting for something.

Amid their silence, the door eventually opened, revealing a small creature flying towards the bed.

“Sigewinne, you’re here. Our guest is finally awake.”

“I’m glad!” said the chirping voice and the little, flying fairy then turned bigger until she’s the size of a human child. She beamed at the werewolf looking at her in awe once she stood. “Hi, wolfy! I’m Sigewinne. It’s nice to meet you. Firstly, I need to know how you feel.”

Those glacial eyes blinked. “What are you?”

“Oh, I’m a fairy.” She twisted on her position, her cute dress twirling in tandem, translucent wings even fluttering along. “But, I’m sort of special and can transform into this as you can see.”

Wriothesley furrowed his eyebrows.

Right, this was an old castle owned by a very old vampire, he thought to himself while peeking at Neuvillette. He returned his attention to the little fairy as she asked, “So, can you answer my question now?” and he didn’t expect that threat underlying her menacing smile.

“I feel fine aside from my body feeling heavy, I guess. Unlike when I was first brought here.”

“What do you remember before and when you were brought here?” asked Neuvillette with a serious expression on his face.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Your case has been given to me, mon loup. As much as I hate to have my peace disturbed, I cannot turn a blind eye to the concerns of my people. I’m still their Elder after all.”

He nearly snarled if not for the little fairy observing him, “I cannot trust you.”

Neuvillette huffed. “Fine, do what you want. In the end, I can still get it out of you.”

His hackles raised instinctively at the thought of being violated. “What do you mean by that?”

Smugly, he replied, “I have my own ways to have the answers to the questions. Do you want to try?”

“Monsieur!” called Sigewinne, pouting and unamused. “No stressing my patient! I’ll kick you out of here instead!”

“Alright. I’ll leave it to you, Miss Sigewinne,” remarked Neuvillette as he patted her head. He then turned to Wriothesley before exiting the room. “Recover first then we can talk about your predicament later on.”

“By the way, I have never heard of your name yet. Can you tell me?” asked Sigewinne once Neuvillette left the room.

Those magenta eyes stared at him, so clear and vibrant. It held no malice nor mischief unlike before, only genuine concern and care.

“I’m Wriothesley. A werewolf.”

“Can you tell me what still ails you aside from feeling like a ton?” She asked while climbing his bed, forgetting that she has wings. “Oh, I also stitched you back. They almost got you if the wound was slightly to the left.”

“No, I’m good. I guess the sedative is already out of my system seeing I’m not dizzy or nauseous.”

“Good!”

A comfortable silence followed their conversation as Sigewinne checked on him, pressing onto his muscles then checking his pulse.

“Am I really in the castle of that vampire? I’ll also be in his collection?” he asked in a whisper, disbelieving that he’s in that notorious vampire’s castle.

Sigewinne hummed in contemplation. “The others call us that because they thought the monsieur was collecting the other races for his collection.”

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “And he’s not actually doing that?”

“He’s not, alright? I can attest to that.”

“What does that mean then?”

“Well, he rescued most of us and we decided to work for him. This castle may look gloomy because, well, he’s a vampire and apparently hates the sunlight but we actually like it here.”

He squinted as those little hands hovered over him, a certain power emitting from her. “It seems like you’re covering for him.”

Sigewinne laughed, her voice tingling like a chime. “You have to see it for yourself, but for now, you must recover first, Mister Wolfy.”

His recovery fared well. Not that he’s complaining though. But the little fairies—he was told that they were sisters of Sigewinne–kept on visiting him everyday one after another. They brought him anything from food and concoctions to aid his recovery to clothes he could wear.

Able to stroll now, Wriothesley wandered around the castle, touring alone and often greeted by the busybody fairies. The other races, surprisingly some elves and vampires, nodded at him in acknowledgement. Thankfully, they showed no hostility as he initially assumed. They let him wander around to familiarize himself and even Sigewinne encouraged him since it would be good for his health.

While standing in the wide garden, the reality of his situation sunk in. The old stone castle stood in the heart of the forests owned by the vampires. While its towers stood above the thickets, it couldn’t be seen outside the periphery. It’s ensconced with ancient magic to hide it away from prying eyes.

Wriothesley frowned, thinking that it actually felt more like a prison now that he realized it, and aside from the fact that it’s well-maintained, it’s too secluded, colder and stale. If not for the greenery surrounding it and the garden taken care of by the elves, it definitely posed as something from a horror story he heard as a child.

Walking some more, he realized that the main city of the vampires stood in the same thickets. These lands belonged to the territory ruled directly by the Father Dragon—the very ancient being who perished a few years after the Great War of the Races millennia ago. With his absence, the other races began to worship their own idols and reestablished themselves in the aftermath.

The werewolves were no exception. They left the Father Dragon’s territory in the wake of the war, crestfallen about the outcome. They thrived outside though, also rebuilding everything on their own.

And, undeniably so, the vampires remained as their nemesis.

Wriothesley frowned again at the memory of Neuvillette. He noticed the vampire hovered around while observing him from a distance. He never did anything unreasonable towards him at least, but it’s unnerving to know that he’s being stalked as a prey when he’s supposed to be the predator.

He huffed. “Well, this is better than my situation before… I guess.”

“Hello, Mister Wriothesley! Good morning!” greeted a fairy once he opened the door. “I am Kiara. It’s nice to meet you, mister! We finally met!”

He let a smile slip. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Monsieur asked me to come fetch you for breakfast.”

This is becoming a routine now, isn’t it?

Fortnight passed already and despite his apprehension at first, Wriothesley already adapted to his current situation. They treated him too casually, like they’re friends and not of different races, especially Neuvillette. They were supposed to be enemies and yet here they were, eating meals together like they shared an amicable relationship.

As he entered, the usual long, oak table sat in the center, lit candelarias hung above and the chairs now decorated with plushier covers than they used last week. Even the intricately designed vases nearby were changed.

“There you are.” Neuvillette smiled a little. “Come sit to my right.”

Begrudgingly, he acquiesced and once again marveled at the sight in front of him. Reminded that, while the plates remained empty for now, Wriothesley had never eaten fancy dishes before. Soup warmed his stomach enough, a piece of bread too, but the food served on this very table everyday? Everything was too much.

And he’s supposed to be a prisoner.

“Should I really be… eating like this? With you?”

He’s been feasting for days and Sigewinne once again reminded him to eat lots and regain his strength and muscles since he’d been starved during his captivity by the vampires in the city added with the distress he’d undergone in his previous circumstance.

“You’re staying here for the foreseeable future like I said when you woke up.”

“Not as a prisoner?”

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow. “You are my guest, mon loup. Why would I treat you like a prisoner?”

The ravenet glanced away. “Because they told you so?”

He shook his head lightly. “No, you didn’t commit any crimes against me that I would resort to imprisoning you here. So, no. You’re my guest. Now, let’s eat.”

Neuvillette clapped his hands with grace and the helpers, a mix of elves and vampires, filled the dining hall with trays of food in their hold.

Everyone served the cooked food and Neuvillette glanced at him again, “Eat to your heart’s content, mon loup.”

Wriothesley salivated at every dish presented on the table and Neuvillette dismissed the others, telling them to eat too before they exited the hall.

Only the clutter of utensils rang in the room as they ate and Neuvillette focused onto his plate, trying not to make the werewolf uncomfortable by minding his own business. After drinking water, he asked, “Is it to your liking?”

Wriothesley nodded quietly, savoring everything on his plate. He still minded his dining etiquette though but when the sauce was spilled, Neuvillette didn’t even reprimand him and only offered the napkin to wipe the sauce off his hands.

After the desserts were served and eaten, Neuvillette asked, “Are you done?”

Wriothesley glanced at him while wiping his hands with the towel.

Neuvillette insisted on touring him inside the castle and the werewolf was a little bit distracted by how his long braided hair swayed with his movements. The vampire moved gracefully with no movements wasted, akin to a noble drilled with etiquettes from a young age.

“Do you have noble blood?” Wriothesley suddenly asked once they entered the castle’s humungous library.

“Ah,” the vampire reacted, pondering for a bit. “Well, you can say that. My mother was an Elder of the Council after all. Not just your typical courtier.”

“And the title was given to you?”

He nodded then motioned to the library before them. “We’re in the library now. You can read the books that might catch your fancy.”

Only then Wriothesley looked forward and saw the towering shelves brimming with leather-bound books. Marveling at the sight, he asked, “No restrictions?”

“None, but be careful whenever holding them. Some are even older than me.”

Wriothesley looked around, too thrilled by the prospect of being able to spend his time here.

“Do you know how to read ancient languages?” Neuvillette asked as he led him towards the reading area. There were chairs and tables nearby and there were also sunken parts on the floor where mattresses and pillows laid.

“I’ve only known the basics. But I’ve been taught how to read and write the common languages at least. And our own, of course.”

“That’s good.” He then motioned to the mezzanine. “Most of the books here are written in the common tongue. But in any case you are curious about the other books written in another language, you can ask the little fairies to help you. They’re quite the linguists.”

The ravenet nodded.

“Come, there’s another stop before you can spend time by yourself.”

Wriothesley quietly followed and they arrived in the quarters one floor above the floor he stayed in.

“This will be your quarters from now on.” Neuvillette opened the door to a lavishly decorated room. “Tomorrow, the seamstress will come and measure you for your seasonal garments.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Wriothesley in reluctance, eyeing everything with wariness. “We’re supposed to be enemies.”

Neuvillette frowned. “My father had ingrained in me that everything under the skies should be cherished, my kin or not.”

“Even if that’s your enemy?”

“I don’t consider you my enemy though.”

“The vampires are the enemy of my kin,” he nearly snarled saying that.

Seeing his downcast expression at his spoken words, Wriothesley moved a few steps back but Neuvillette perked up, expression stoic again as he said, “Well then, that’s it for today. Settle in this room from this day onwards. Have a pleasant day, mon loup.”

Wriothesley shouldn’t feel guilty about seeing the downtrodden vampire but his instincts had been on alert ever since they finished breakfast.

This treatment felt too surreal. Wriothesley hesitantly accepted to settle into this life of lavishness. The only thing he owned was the clothes on his person before he was captured. He never possessed personal belongings due to the destitution his family suffered. His situation right now was the complete opposite and, even though it’s right in front of him, he still couldn’t believe it.

“I must have been dreaming again.”

But he woke up in the same room the next day though, disbelief painting his face yet again. A weighted blanket on him and a soft mattress beneath him, deep to midnight blue brocade curtains by the large windows and everything just screamed extravagance.

Well, he must get used to it if he’s going to stay here for a long time.

“Mister Wriothesley!” called a sweet voice and honestly speaking, it’s getting familiar for the werewolf.

He opened the door to an enthusiastic Menthe this time, informing him that the seamstress will arrive soon.

“I don’t need more clothes.”

“But, what will you wear when the winter comes?”

The ravenet grumbled in response, finding her argument sound. He ended up relenting and the seamstress did her job quickly and efficiently, aside from the fact that she promised to get it done by next week.

“Come on, Mister Wriothesley,” called Menthe again, cheerfully leading him to the dining hall.

This time, Neuvillette opted for a high ponytail as he sat on the master’s seat, an impassive look on his face.

“Oh, you’re here. Did any clothes catch your fancy?”

Wriothesley frowned. “It’s too much.”

“But, you will need at least much. When winter comes soon, I wouldn’t want you to freeze to death.”

He scoffed. “I can stave off the cold, monsieur.”

“But, even a wolf has their limits.”

“Sure,” he replied, then turned to the other side of the hall, ignoring him completely.

The ravenet left the dining hall quietly after eating his fill, leaving Neuvillette to himself. 

He’d spend the remaining time in the gardens while waiting for the seamstress to arrive, not too keen on spending his time in Neuvillette’s presence. His nerves frayed whenever they spend mealtimes together but thankfully distracted by the salivating food in front of him. 

Those downtrodden amethyst eyes looked at his half-full plate once the ravenet left. Confusion painted his face as to why he reacted the way he did when it came to the werewolf. 

Similar instances happened before when he rescued the others. Instances like of Iaune’s, even Roialte and even Cornelia’s. But this?

It took him a while to realize that he rarely hosted a guest in the castle. Prisoners often arrived to be punished and or executed but not guests, and confusion painted his face as to why he found himself being drawn to the werewolf. Like a moth to a flame, attracted to someone who stood in the light. Unlike him.

Neuvillette discarded the utensils on the table and heaved a breath.

“A repeat of history,” he muttered to himself then snatched the glass of water. Chugging it down, he looked forward with something inexplicable in his eyes, an apparition of a familiar man seemingly smiling at him appeared nearby.

“I thought I had forgotten everything about you.”

After tampering down the memories that came with the sudden reminiscence, Neuvillette asked for the food to be delivered to his quarters instead. After wandering the corridors with no destination in mind, his feet eventually led him to the drawing room where Wriothesley was being fitted.

Dressed down, Neuvillette noticed how bulky his figure up this close. If they stood together, his own leaner figure would be dwarfed by the ravenet. He’s also a tad taller than him, and Neuvillette already stood taller than most of the residents here in the castle.

The seamstress focused on fitting Wriothesley, a serious expression on her face while thinking through what suited him most.

“Light blue, the same color of his eyes suits him,” he remarked, announcing his presence.

He noticed how the ravenet froze hearing him speak up and those glacial eyes peeked at him, still wary and distant. Neuvillette pondered about the werewolf’s abilities as he saw that reaction. He should have sensed him through his scent even with such distance.

“I know, monsieur. But he actually looks good in black and red!” chimed in the seamstress, an excited grin now on her lips.

“Wine red,” he suggested while checking the racks of clothes they bought for Wriothesley.

“Yes, wine red is also good!”

“Can I request silver accessories for him?”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow at that.

“For his protection? Why not monsieur?” The seamstress chuckled as she continued measuring his arms. “You have silvers on your person too.”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened in surprise at that. A vampire wearing silver? That’s unheard of. And Neuvillette was one of the oldest vampires in existence now. When he glanced at him, only then he noticed the silver, dangling earrings on his person. He never wore those before.

“Make him both autumn and winter clothes, dear. Winter is quite unforgiving here after all.”

“Yes, monsieur. How about you? Do you also need more clothes for winter?”

“I’m alright for now. Did the others also order clothes? I’ll pay for them too.”

“Well, the little elves are growing too fast.”

“Ah yes, the little ones.”

Wriothesley just stood there while listening to their mundane conversation and since the seamstress mentioned about the little elves, he already saw them the past weeks and they had been wary of him. They showed curiosity but never really got closer to him.

“Any news in the city?” asked Neuvillette after the silence.

“They are quite active nowadays, monsieur. It seems like your concern beforehand isn’t unfounded.”

He huffed. “I’m older than the Councilors combined, of course, I’ve seen things much worse than they’re dealing with right now.”

The seamstress huffed in annoyance. “And they still treat you like this? They are courting death!”

Neuvillette huffed, a small smile on his lips. “There you are again with those words. I’m actually quite satisfied living here away from their machinations.”

“Can I also live here then?” Those hopeful eyes looked at him. 

“I’m afraid your husband will gut me alive if you do.”

She scowled now. “He would never or else I’ll offer him up to you instead!”

After that short talk, Neuvillette then bade his goodbye, even stealing a glance at the werewolf still observing him.

Once he arrived in his quarters and his appetite now returned, Sigewinne appeared out of nowhere, letting herself be comfortable before his vanity.

“Well, I can tell that you like him,” Sigewinne remarked and cradled her face with her two hands as she leaned onto the table, looking at Neuvillette through the mirror.

“I’m always fond of everyone, my dear,” he replied before munching onto his food.

The little fairy chuckled. “No, monsieur. You’re somewhat… distant with everyone. Even the others knew. But that wolf? You’ve been trying so hard to get him to like you.”

Neuvillette frowned a little. “I am just curious.”

“Did he remind you of—”

“And I promised myself to not love anyone else anymore after what happened.”

Sigewinne frowned. “Monsieur…”

“I’ve already lost enough, my dear.”

A silence descended upon them save for the utensils scraping against the ceramic plates. Neuvillette finished his meal as he reminisced once again.

Neuvillette began to guard his heart after the incident of his former lover being murdered by his kin. For them, the said lover had been a distraction to his duty—which turned out to be an unfounded concern—and Neuvillette ended up heartbroken and mourned for a few centuries. After finding out the reason for their animosity against him though, Neuvillette mercilessly killed half of the Council in retaliation. In the aftermath, he gained his own authority and autonomy, free to operate independently from the Vampiric Council.

Those amethyst eyes stared outside of his window, a distant look on his face.

“You should really be honest with yourself, monsieur.”

Neuvillette forced a smile as he closed his eyes.

After that conversation with Sigewinne, Neuvillette’s attempts of getting closer to the werewolf became the talk of the castle. But in the following weeks, it ended up futile because of the ravenet’s apprehension about him. Still, the vampire hovered when he shouldn’t be, trying to know more about the werewolf but to no avail. The ravenet guarded himself well, too distant for his liking, not giving him any opportunity to come closer lest his throat ended up being slit or bitten by a vampire like him.

Neuvillette sighed at the thought while he bathed in his tub today, looking at the ceiling pensively. He reassured himself that an opportunity would come sooner or later, reminding himself to be patient. He’s a long-lived creature after all, and years were merely a blink of an eye for him.

“Monsieur.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“The seamstress arrived and started to give Mister Wriothesley his new clothes.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a few.”

Dressed in a comfortable poet shirt and slacks paired with his loafers, Neuvillette arrived at the drawing room to a rather surprising sight.

Every little fairy of his hounded the werewolf to help him dress up. The seamstress just stood there in delight about the fussing fairies, observing them while also holding onto the clothes Wriothesley needed to try.

Neuvillette leaned back onto the door sill, observing them some more and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the bare back now shown to him.

A lump formed in his throat and he forced himself to swallow, tampering down onto the emerging sensations inside of him.

They managed to dress up the wolf who resigned to his fate today and he straightened up once Wriothesley faced him. Surprise also painted the werewolf’s face once saw Neuvillette standing there.

Those amethyst eyes roamed over his figure without any ounce of shame. He ogled at how those muscles flexed, his pectorals even peeking from the unbuttoned shirt. His slacks appeared too tight on his buttocks, and trepidation slowly arose in his throat.

Everything suited Wriothesley. The fit right, the colors and style even. Everything accentuated his features.

But that collar… Neuvillette resisted the urge to bite his lower lip down at the sight of it. That neck was bare before but seeing it with a collar haphazardly worn, something primal let itself known and it’s not his vampiric side this time. It flowed like a dam broken by the water’s unrelenting force, overwhelming and threatening to drown him. His breaths suddenly turned ragged at what he thought, denying the claims of his kin about him being lascivious replaying in his mind.

Neuvillette caught himself and nodded slightly before turning away towards the racks of clothes. In his panic of being exposed, his heartbeats thundered in his ears, the blood rushed in his veins more than usual and everything around him seemed to swirl. Sweat formed on his back and the thin material of his shirt clung to his skin. With slightly wobbly steps, he moved towards the said racks to distract himself further.

Something dropped to the pit of his stomach once he realized that it might not just be physical attraction at this point. 

Desire.

For the first time in centuries, he desired another person.

“Do you think he looks fine, monsieur?” asked a little fairy and Neuvillette’s hands going through the clothes froze. 

He then turned around and anticipation appeared in those glacial eyes. He resisted the urge to appear more affected, to not let him show that he’s ultimately losing it, being slowly drawn in more towards those blues like the oceans he once loved to see.

Neuvillette put back the hanged clothes in the rack to recompose himself and finally faced them. “It suits him perfectly.”

“I know you have good tastes, monsieur!” exclaimed the seamstress in excitement.

The little fairies also giggled then scampered to the racks just beside Neuvillette and let him try another one.

Both of them stared at each other, Wriothesley still looked at Neuvillette as he meekly asked, “Do you mean that?”

“Yes, mon loup.” He dared move closer this time, to brush his hand against his broad shoulders to brush away the nonexistent dust on it before turning to his face, a hint of smile on his own lips. “You ought to dress more like this in the future.”

Neuvillette then noticed the tie that seemed to choke him at this moment and his amethyst eyes glazed over the choker collar too, aridness returning to his throat. Without any warning, he pulled onto the tie gently, taking his time to loosen it so the werewolf had enough room to breathe. 

That scarred throat bobbed while he did his work and Neuvillette’s fingers tingled, his breathing faster as he continued. Once the tie was loose enough, he stepped back and showed how he’s proud of what he did, not knowing how it affected the werewolf.

“This should be better. You have roguish charm after all.”

Wriothesley glanced away to clear his throat then loosened the tie some more, baring the scarred skin some more. “Is that so?”

The seamstress and the fairies witnessing the scene giggled to themselves, gossiping about the two men in hushed voices.

Neuvillette then turned to the seamstress, commanding, “Give him the best ones. If he declines it, give it to the fairies.”

The little fairies smiled brightly and Wriothesley shuddered seeing their enthusiastic smiles directed at him. In unison, they all agreed, “Leave it to us, monsieur!”

“Alright then. I’ll leave it to you. I need to be elsewhere.”

Contrary to what they thought about his duty for the day, Neuvillette actually locked himself in his room for the rest of the day, attempting to stave off the heat now simmering in his veins. His body temperature soared higher than usual and while he should be thankful for the sudden body temperature regulation, it rendered him uncomfortable instead, knowing the werewolf lent a hand in it. This change, he mused to himself, wasn’t wholly unwelcome but nonetheless strange. For Neuvillette, it’s been a while since such a thing happened.

And it only proved that werewolves remained as the bane of his existence despite his claims that they’re not his enemies.

In the end, Neuvillette laughed to himself as he submerged in his large tub, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated his life.

The others praised Wriothesley for his choice of fashion and the females giggled whenever he passed by them. He heard their murmurs about his physique even back then, moreso now when the clothes fit him perfectly, and how the castle master seemed to favor him the most.

“It’s as if he is Monsieur’s dog,” someone commented and those words befuddled Wriothesley.

After the nth time of hearing such a remark, the ravenet stood in the monsieur’s study today. When he arrived, the castle master parsed through the papers on his large table. Stacks on nearly endless papers on his either side.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, mon loup?” he asked, still not looking at him.

“Have you heard of what the others say about us?”

Neuvillette paused skimming through the papers to glance at him. “The two of us? We really have no relation between us.”

“And yet everyone calls me your dog,” he nearly snarled, holding back a little lest he angers Neuvillette with his words.

The castle master discarded the papers in his hands and circled the table to finally stand before Wriothesley.

“I’m not your dog,” gnarled Wriothesley right in front of him.

“You could be,” enunciated Neuvillette as he ran his finger against his chin then cradled it closer to his face with his forefinger and thumb. With such distance, Neuvillette spoke against his lips, warm breaths fanning it, “Remember, I saved you from your kin and you’re under my tutelage now.”

A glint of the werewolf’s fang made Neuvillette more aggressive, proclaiming right before his lips, “You’re mine now.”

Those wolven fangs bared as he bit back, voice descending to a growl, “I’m no one’s possession, not even yours.”

“Oh, really?” He chuckled, not in mockery but amusement as he moved away, ignoring the excitement now running in his veins at the daring actions he just made. “I can make you mine though.”

“I’ll never—”

Neuvillette slammed him onto the nearby sofa and straddled his torso. His amethyst eyes glowed as they stared at Wriothesley’s glacial ones.

“Do not challenge me, mon loup. I don’t back down when I know I can win,” he whispered against his lips, too close to his face, definitely too close for his liking. As they stared at each other more, the curtain of his silver hair made his eyes even glow brighter than before.

“Release me,” he choked out while looking away. Staring more onto those knowing amethyst eyes might drown him. They appeared too otherworldly and they utterly distracted him.

“And if I don’t?”

He gritted out despite the fight leaving his body. “I’ll make you.”

A soft chuckle escaped Neuvillette’s lips before he moved away. His soft touch  on his skin contrasted the manhandling a little while ago.

Neuvillette moved away, saying to let the tense atmosphere dissipate, “I hope you like the clothes I bought you though. I spoil everyone who lives here.”

Begrudgingly, he muttered as he straightened up, fiddling with his already loose tie, “Thank you.”

Neuvillette chuckled as he returned to his desk and continued his work. “It’s my pleasure to help you, mon loup. If you need more, just tell me.”

Wriothesley panicked a little once he was manhandled by Neuvillette. A shudder ran through his spine at the sudden actions of the vampire. He never expected the boldness of the Neuvillette and it spurred him to let him have his way with him instead, agreeing with his hindbrain that Neuvillette truly looked ethereal when he’s in power, when he’s in control.

Still, he could have defended himself after being manhandled and yet he barely moved an inch to actually fight back. True, no actual and malicious force behind the way he’s wrestled into submission but the show of strength ignited something in him. Wriothesley held his chest, heaving deeper breaths as he realized that while it’s not a show of strength, the words spoken by Neuvillette proved not to be empty threats, but he meant everything he said.

In his stupor, he found himself in the topmost floor where the rooftop garden was located. He plopped onto the grass bed after he transformed to his wolven form to hide. The morning sun shone above and he bathed in it, trying not to overthink about what happened earlier but he couldn’t help but recall it instead.

It shouldn’t be like this. He should have been gathering information about Neuvillette, about his strengths, and even his weaknesses just so he would have leverage once the day they fight one another comes. But, it’s also becoming evident that Neuvillette showed no weakness and held his guards up like he was.

Wriothesley frowned again, whining softly to himself.

Months already passed since he first arrived here and yet he made no progress in learning about his archenemy. He also thought of leaving the castle but even he had to admit that living so carefree like this was something he longed for. He only cared about what to do throughout the day and nothing else. His belly full, his clothes not tattered and he slept in a wide and comfortable bed. He’s also learning more about the world through the books in the library.

In the end, he closed his eyes to savor the morning sun.

I have to observe some more.

There have been far too many guests visiting the castle lately. If not for the frown adorning that ethereal face, Wriothesley would have assumed Neuvillette liked hosting tea parties for his kin.

Not until he saw the familiar man who escorted him to the castle talking to Neuvillette again.

“The investigation?” he heard Neuvillette ask.

“Monsieur, the wolf we’ve put in your custody was one of the men who lent a hand in killing our kin.”

He hummed. “He must have his reasons then. What did those two do outside of our territory?”

“Well, they were drunk in one bar in neutral territory and got caught up in a brawl. They were somehow accused of raping women too.”

“Then, they deserve that death.”

“But, monsieur,” the messenger fiddled with his fingers, “we can’t touch anyone just because we want to, especially when it comes to intimacy, you know that, right?”

“So, there’s an underlying situation?”

“Yes. There’s an unrest sparked by several individuals in the wolvendom and it’s succeeding. At this point, we surmised that they’re gonna use the wolf we’ve delivered to you as a reason to invade us.”

“Although he’s a nobody and of little significance to them?”

“Unfortunately, monsieur.”

He scowled. “Mon loup would be saddened if he heard that, you know. That he’s merely a pawn being played by his kin.”

“But this is the reality of the situation, monsieur. We cannot control what they think and their actions.”

“That’s also true.”

The man frowned deeper. “What will you do?”

“He’s already a part of my household the moment you left him to me. If they have qualms about it, better do it over my dead body.”

“Monsieur! Please don’t talk like that!”

“And what? Take them away from me again? Just like what everyone did before?”

“Monsieur, that’s not what I mean—”

“Don’t they remember that they took everything away from me except this damned castle? And they only gave me the title and duty of an Elder because of my mother’s disposition?”

The air became stale, air cold like the wintry winds breezing through the tundras. A certain force pressed everything down; a display of power, of authority.

And those amethyst eyes glowed, reminding Wriothesley that he’s not an ordinary vampire.

“Have they forgotten all of what they did? To my family? To me?”

The man then buckled under the weight of the pressure, kneeling on one knee. His breaths ragged and eyes dilated, even his fangs now elongated and expression aggrieved.

“Relay my message to the Councilors: Don’t they dare anger me, because no one will like what I’ll do.”

The man stammered to respond before scampering away, leaving Neuvillette standing there. His expression turned solemn as he looked beyond the periphery, towards the direction of the vampires’ city.

“Can you tell me more about the monsieur?” asked Wriothesley that one afternoon he spent with the others.

That incident with the monsieur and the vampire from the city replayed far too many times in his mind. Wriothesley never meant to eavesdrop but he couldn’t help it since he’s the topic of that conversation.

Most of the fairies perked up hearing his inquiry while the elves and other vampires’ impassive expressions turned into grins. Giggles erupted from the group and began teasing him.

“It’s not like that!” Wriothesley defended himself, embarrassed by their reactions.

Well, aside from the fact that he truly looked ethereal even without any real efforts, he found Neuvillette as an enigmatic figure. Sure, he posed himself as a benevolent and magnanimous master, but, just as he knew him as a vampire, he certainly held some secrets of his own.

“Well, monsieur is already a thousand years old.”

“I know that much. When a wolven kin hears the name Neuvillette, they froze in fear. Somehow, it’s an instinctive reaction for us.”

“I see.” Sedene mused. “Then, we should start from the moment he found us?”

Wriothesley furrowed his eyebrows as the fairies began their story.

After the Great War in the realm of the Father Dragon, Neuvillette was confined by the vampires in the same castle. It’s the castle he inherited from his mother known as the strongest among the Elder Vampires, and with a position that’s passed down every generation, they had no choice but to adhere to their own laws and gave the said position of Elder to Neuvillette.

While he fulfilled his duty as one, he never dabbled into politics and his castle became a den of prisoners some time ago. He also often acted as an executioner, especially for crimes so heinous it’s punishable by death. No more prisoners were sent a few centuries prior because of his now notorious reputation. The others had known about it for a while now but they still stayed on their own accord while ignoring what this place formerly represented, that the once stagnant and lifeless castle now bustled with life as everyone still chose to remain.

“When he found us after the war, everything in the fairy queendom was falling apart. The others stayed to repair it but in the end, we couldn’t save it. Most of us have followed him since he offered this castle for us to live in.”

“The others finally found another place to live in though. We visit them from time to time,” Serene chimed in.

“Does that go the same way for you?” asked Wriothesley as he turned to the elves and vampires.

They nodded at him.

As for the elves, Neuvillette rescued them when he stumbled upon a trafficking incident. Knowing their old village was ransacked by the other immortals, and with nowhere to go, he let them stay.

And for the few vampires among them, they were wrongly accused by the Council and ended up serving Neuvillette instead, happy about being able to start again in life.

“We never really had something to worry about here and they called us his collection—”

“But he treated us better than our kin though.”

“That’s true.”

Some told him about their lives while living in the castle. Most of them were happy, the remaining numbers were still apprehensive and never interacted with Neuvillette directly since they still feared him to some extent.

“Well, that’s understandable,” remarked the fairies. “Some sadistic vampires suffered the consequences of their actions when he tortured them in return though. As he said, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

“A life for life,” muttered Wriothesley.

“Does that answer Mister Wriothesley’s question?”

He mustered a smile. “Yes.”

I need to know his weakness.

But Wriothesley found himself at a deadend once again. He sat down on the lone armchair by the window in the library this time, a book discarded on the nearby table. Whenever he stayed here, Neuvillette was nowhere to be seen. Not a sign of silver locks nor that subtle smell of teakwood and rainstorm. The underlying smell of the deep ocean was also apparent in close proximity.

He shook his head to himself, trying not to think of the monsieur. Wriothesley looked at the shelves and while lost in his thoughts, his eyes drooped low until he fell asleep, only to wake up to the familiar scent of the monsieur lingering around him. His breathing slightly hitched at the thought of their closer distance again. He promised himself last time not to fall prey to the vampire’s whims and—

He heard a soft hum. “He’s really here…”

And contrary to what he expected himself to do, Wriothesley began screaming internally, panicking once again once Neuvillette came closer. His body became taut as he felt the vampire pacing in front of him, until he felt a clothing covering his feet.

Neuvillette tucked away the hair behind his elongated ears as he leaned onto his arm on the armchair, his tailcoats covering the werewolf’s feet. Those amethyst eyes starer up to the ravenet’s sleeping face. He smiled a little to himself and reached out but his hand froze midair, realizing what he’s attempting to do.

He stared some more as he retracted his hand, as if memorizing his features. Neuvillette smiled to himself after noticing the werewolf was pretending to sleep. His presence must have woken him up but decided not to reveal his ruse and he chuckled softly to himself.

Won by his intrusive thoughts, Neuvillette patted his head instead and muttered, “You shouldn’t sleep here.”

When the vampire’s steps receded away, Wriothesley opened his eyes and gasped a lungful of air. Ever since Neuvillette observed him quietly, his heartbeats hammered in his ears, panicking at what could have been an assassination.

“What the fuck was that?” Wriothesley grumbled as he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.

A week passed without Neuvillette following the werewolf elsewhere. They still ate meals together but on other occasions? They never saw each other. Wriothesley felt relief at that but he’s used to having those amethyst observing him and sensing him not present in the vicinity made him more anxious than relaxed.

Wriothesley found the notion of being relaxed under the vampire’s observing eyes absurd. A certain wariness crept up his spine every time he’s close enough to touch, yet here he was thinking of him. And it never helped his problem that whenever he thought about Neuvillette, his body responded so easily.

Of course, Wriothesley possessed working eyes and he’s appreciative of Neuvillette’s beauty and that inhuman grace coupled with the stature that screamed his noble origins. That pale and seemingly soft skin, those amethyst eyes he had always wanted to stare at but couldn’t due to the—

“Oh Father Dragon, I think I’m going crazy,” he mused to himself and leaned back onto the sofa, distracting himself yet again from thinking about the castle master. Today, he spent the entire morning in the library again, too engrossed by the book filled with ancient stories about the dragons.

The said race had always been elusive and would only be seen every ten years due to the Dragon Festival dedicated in honor of them. He sighed again and put the already closed book on his abdomen, glacial eyes trained on the ornate ceiling.

Wriothesley huffed a breath as his heartbeats quickened again while trying not to think about the castle master, and well, he’s actually failing miserably. His body temperature began spiking up and turned him lightheaded. Only a few seconds passed, he also doubled over in pain, feeling the blood rushing in his veins, something coiling up in his navel and everything inside of him just blazed, as if burning him to cinders.

“What day was it again?” he muttered to himself as he wobbly stood up. “It shouldn’t arrive this soon.”

Lounging lazily on his sofa while thinking about the werewolf he’s been avoiding after the impulsive actions he did a week ago, Neuvillette heard the running steps nearing his study. The door opened without any preambles and he had to sit up properly. “What happened?”

“Monsieur,” called the elf in concern, “something happened upstairs. Please come see.”

Once he arrived, he found the fairies huddled to themselves while the vampires protectively used themselves as a shield while standing before Wriothesley’s door. Only then he heard the snarls and growls from where they stood.

“Are you really alright, Sigewinne?” asked the others.

“Yes.”

Neuvillette furrowed his eyebrows. “Sigewinne? What happened?”

She worriedly glanced at him then back at Wriothesley’s door. “Mister Wriothesley is showing signs of rut and he accidentally scratched me.”

“Let me see.”

She held out her arm and there’s a red, angry line across her skin. No sign of blood, thankfully. Smiling wryly, he muttered, “It’s small, monsieur.”

He ran his hand on the gash and it immediately healed. “How is he?”

“Well, he shoved me out of the room and locked himself. He said it’s better if he spent his rut alone because of how intense it could get.”

“Then vacate the whole floor. Stay elsewhere until he’s back to normal.”

“What will you do, monsieur?”

“I’ll deal with him. Go.”

Once they vacated the whole floor, Neuvillette heaved a breath before opening the door. It softly creaked while he slowly slipped in. After surveying the room and moving towards the center, everything’s mostly intact save for the blankets now tattered.

A pair of glowing glacial eyes entered his line of sight as he turned, then Neuvillette was tackled then slammed down onto the bed next, their figures bouncing on it a little.

Neuvillette found his voice, muttering, “Feisty, aren’t you?”

And Wriothesley pressed him, trapping him between the hulk of his own body and the bed. The werewolf then nosed the crevice of his neck and warm breaths fanned his ear. Those rough hands roamed his body, groping, caressing, as if sizing him up.

Neuvillette bit his lips to not whimper, at how those touches reminded him of how it was to be loved and to be worshipped. He really shouldn’t be here but as he stared at those eyes darkening by every second, only desire ran through his veins.

Obviously, he knew about a werewolf’s rut because he had dealt with it once. No, too many times to count. And right now, he’s also cognizant that he’s taking advantage of the situation.

But a rut spent alone would be detrimental to Wriothesley’s health—his mind reasoned despite his hindbrain telling that he’s doing it for something else, to ease and satisfy the coiling desire in his guts.

“You always look good, smells good too,” muttered the werewolf beside his ear, snapping him out of his stupor.

“Am I now?” he asked while holding onto the ravenet’s arms.

“You…” He muttered before collapsing on him. “Why are you here, monsieur?”

He embraced him and softly patted his back. “You are in need of help.”

“I…”

He let Wriothesley lie down beside him and carded through his salt and pepper hair. The ravenet glanced at him, still heaving deep breaths while making sense of the situation.

Neuvillette asked softly, “Do you want me to help then?”

“You’re… going to help me?”

“Yes, I know how painful this is for you especially if you don’t have a partner to spend it with.”

He gritted out as his tail wagged in annoyance, “Do you do this for everyone then?”

Neuvillette chuckled and caressed his wolven ear. “Of course not.”

He barked out a mocking laugh. “It’s as if you’re saying I’m special.”

“You are.”

“Liar,” he jeered before doubling in pain again. His body temperature soared up and heaved more breaths. Eventually, his clothes turned tighter, his cock flared to life and Neuvillette immediately noticed the changes.

“So, do you need help or not?”

“Please,” muttered Wriothesley in response, clutching onto himself. “It’s unbearable. But I’m more worried I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, mon loup. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust a vampire,” he gnarled softly and it clearly showed on his face that he’s having an internal fight on how to deal with Neuvillette. He’s slipping again, faster this time as the vampire moved closer, his instincts driving him more feral than he should have been.

In the end, Neuvillette reassured him with a kiss, merely a touch on the lips. “Trust me as Neuvillette, Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened a bit at that.

“Not the vampire you despise, but as an ordinary man named Neuvillette.”

With those spoken words, Neuvillette reversed their position and he removed his own shirt, baring the porcelain expanse of skin to him, unmarred like a blank canvas. And Wriothesley’s body underneath him trembled, his breaths turned more ragged as he stared at him. He licked his lips and showed his fangs a bit longer than its usual size.

“You asked for this,” he mused as he held onto the werewolf’s shoulders.

“Enough talking,” the werewolf nearly scowled at him and immediately lifted him by the waist to put him atop his lying figure, directly on his erect cock.

Neuvillette’s body jolted, his expression surprised as it prodded on his clothed hole.

“You…” Wriothesley’s eyes became dazed again and could only make out the blurry silver of his hair and glowing amethysts. He choked out, “You don’t have…”

Neuvillette rasped out, “What of it?” He resisted the urge to grind onto that cock but his instincts told him to move, minute but undulating. “You only need someone to ease the pain, right?”

Denial hung at the tip of his tongue once questioned but Wriothesley found no answers for it. Another heaved breath filled the silence as he clung onto that sliver of sanity once he realized that Neuvillette was different. That they could be a match—

“I am…” He muttered, still trying to form reason and reversed their positions. The vampire ceased his movements to observe him closely as his back hit the bed, taking note of the changes in his demeanor and behavior.

“You’re worried.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” he rasped out.

“And you’re still coherent? That’s something else.” And that information only fueled the desire now coursing through him. With a prospective partner, the wolf should have been lost in his rut already but Wriothesley remained coherent and it just showed how strong-willed he was.

“Stop talking please,” the ravenet nearly gnarled out, not out of frustration but because he might lose control once Neuvillette took over the reins. The vampire possessed the power to make him surrender his control but he remained calm and laid down beneath him. Truthfully, he found that to be a stroke to his ego though; to be able to let this notorious vampire lay underneath him, to make him surrender to him instead.

Lost in thoughts while admiring the beauty beneath him, Neuvillette tilted his chin in defiance, enunciating his words, “Make me.”

“Don’t regret this, Neuvillette.”

And he only answered with a warm smile before those lithe hands circled around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Wriothesley easily relented, relinquishing his control over his body and let Neuvillette guide him.

The vampire easily lost himself while kissing Wriothesley though and he tasted desire on his lips. But Neuvillette shrugged it off, thinking that he’s driven by his rut and instincts, urging him to desperately desire him.

Both of them gasped for air and Wriothesley leaned back to stare at him, Neuvillette’s cheeks now flushed in pink, eyes even half-lidded, mirroring his own. He rutted against his clothed hole again, grunting in frustration for not trying to get into them sooner.

He chided himself at the thought and realized he’s gradually slipping into his rut’s haze. It might reduce him to a sex-crazed beast with a few coaxing words but he still wanted to retain some of his lucidity just so he wouldn’t hurt Neuvillette.

“Touch all you want, mon loup,” Neuvillette sultrily beckoned, pulling his wrist to guide his hand and touch his chest, sliding it down on his abdomen.

With the given consent, the werewolf nosed his neck as he did that. Like he initially assumed, Neuvillette smelled of rich teakwood reminiscent of the forests, the scent of a raging rainstorm mixing in alongside the salty yet relaxing breeze of the deep ocean he once had the luxury to visit.

His hand reached the waistband of his slacks and Neuvillette helped him remove it, finally baring himself unto him. No signs of a cock, but a woman’s hole instead. 

Wriothesley’s expression became serious once he saw that he’s different and only glanced at the vampire’s face before going down on him like a man quenching his thirst. His wet tongue licked at his slick entrance and Neuvillette shuddered, keening, moaning at the touch.

Clawed fingers spread his folds as his hot, wet tongue swiped against it, wracking the vampire’s body with trembles. Neuvillette gasped at the intrusion then moaned louder when that same tongue licked his insides. But it’s not enough to scratch the itch plaguing him for a while now.

Neuvillette then pawed at his shirt, tugging on them. Wriothesley immediately understood his actions and stripped, making a show of it. 

His muscular back was already a sight to see, but this right in front of him? It only intensified the want simmering in Neuvillette’s veins. When Wriothesley stripped himself bare, Neuvillette swallowed the lump in his throat, salivating at how well-endowed the werewolf was.

Maybe his kin was right after all—that he’s lascivious like his mother who seduced even a creature more powerful than her.

Wriothesley then teased him, the tip of his cock sliding against his folds but not yet breaching his core yet and Neuvillette gasped as heat gradually rose in his navel. Eventually his body sparked to life like a fire lit under the werewolf’s ministrations. Slick flowed from his hole at the languid yet sinuous movements and those glacial eyes became more half-lidded, ravenous upon seeing it. Wriothesley coated his own cock with the slick, even licking the excess off his fingers and it definitely turned Neuvillette on as he watched him do that, whining, calling onto him, pleading to put his cock inside of him.

“Can it fit?” Wriothesley asked with clarity, stroking his cock while also teasing the vampire’s hole with the tip.

Confidently, Neuvillette replied, trying not to stutter, “I’ll make sure I can.”

Wriothesley laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And this Wriothesley in front of him appeared to be the stark contrast of the grouchy ravenet beyond these walls, the one he knew the moment he awoke after falling into his hands.

As the tip of the werewolf’s cock breached his folds, Neuvillette seized up, but immediately relaxed next. He truly missed this kind of intimacy, to be reduced to a mess, surrendering and letting himself be dominated. To relinquish his power and be vulnerable. That he’s not all high and mighty like everyone assumed and deserved to be pampered as well.

Truly, it’s been a while.

While the vampire melted below him as he slowly sheathed himself with Neuvillette’s scorching insides, Wriothesley licked him from his jaw down to his throat, also leaving behind marks. 

Once his cock fully settled in and stretching him to the brim Neuvillette gasped for air and Wriothesley mumbled praises and sweet nothings to distract him.

“I’ll move,” his huskier voice said as his hips withdrew before slamming back in, tearing a loud, shrill moan out of Neuvillette’s throat. The drag of that large, girthy cock felt so utterly delectable against his own walls.

“Oh,” the werewolf reacted, licking his lips seductively. “I guess you can sing for me, monsieur.”

Picking up the pace, the relentless pistoning utterly reduced the vampire to a mess like he initially thought. Tears brimmed in his eyes at the overstimulation, salivating even, at how that cock battered his insides without stopping.

When Wriothesley slowed down, he tucked away the stray hairs clinging to his sweaty face, kissing his forehead, his cheeks and a chaste kiss on his lips like they were fated lovers and not accidental partners for this goddamned rut.

Neuvillette, on the other hand, offered himself for the sake of his self-interest but it seemed like he’s getting more than he offered. Not that he’s complaining though, but he rather avoid complications later.

“Beautiful,” muttered the wolf and Neuvillette reveled in it.

Ah, that’s foul, he thought as a reply to his compliment, also appreciating the ravenet in his full glory above him.

Those hands pawed on him yet again and Neuvillette whimpered at how warm his body against his; at how the werewolf manhandled him onto positions he never knew he could do, tossing and turning around. The vampire couldn’t feel any pain at this point, only desire, pleasure and lust.

Neuvillette prostrated on his knees while face mushed onto the pillow, baring his now abused hole to Wriothesley. And the werewolf gnarled, grabbing his hips with bruising grip to fuck him senseless once again. Wriothesley pulled him back to sit on his cock while he embraced his body against him, scenting his neck while mumbling praises once again on his skin.

It rendered him weak whenever they meld together like this. His breaths and hands warm on his skin, and that cock spearing him open touched his cervix easily, the tip threatening to breach it and spill his seed inside.

And Neuvillette moaned louder at the thought of it, not even worried if he ended up pregnant, which he reasoned to himself to be unlikely despite having female genitalia.

“Can you take my pups?” asked Wriothesley as he helped bounce Neuvillette on his cock.

“Can…” he could only answer in garbles, trying to make sense of the tightness of his insides. Or was it Wriothesley who’s getting bigger?

The ravenet feasted on his jaw again, licking, biting then nibbling onto his ear as he asked huskily, “But can you actually take my knot?”

Oh.

Oh.

How could Neuvillette forget about that? With his cock already bigger than the average, what more if it came with a knot? Neuvillette should be afraid and yet it only aroused him more, immensely pleased him. He glanced back at him, whining, “Please.”

And that definitely did something to Wriothesley and could only mutter after laughing hysterically, “Oh, sweet thing.”

“Please, Wriothesley!”

“Of course, monsieur,” he answered, “I’ll pump you full of my seed. Carry my pups for me, yes?”

It’s just the heat of the moment, Neuvillette knew that but the image of having a family undeniably pleased him. Eventually, he sobered up just by thinking of that, he reprimanded himself again that such luxury was out of his hands. He breathed through his mouth this time, tampering onto those desires while also coming down from his high. He sagged forward weakly only to be caught by Wriothesley. The knot inflated and currently painted his insides white.

Neuvillette heaved deep breaths. His disarrayed thoughts might have been the result of being affected by the werewolf’s rut. He bit his lips, thinking he might have bitten more than he could chew.

I shouldn’t worry, he reassured himself. I can make him not remember all of these.

“Easy," cooed the wolf as he held him up. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you move abruptly.”

Neuvillette hummed, easing back.

“You feel alright?” 

He only nodded and after a few minutes, Wriothesley pulled out once the knot deflated, the semen leaking out of that puffy hole. 

Thinking of a momentary respite, Wriothesley maneuvered him around instead, trapping him on the bed as he hovered above him next. “You consented to this, monsieur.”

Surprise painted Neuvillette’s face before his lips contorted to a warm smile.

And the pain that comes with it be damned.

By the third day, Neuvillette opened the door to the concerned fairies and gave him their necessities. They even gave extra mattresses and blankets since Wriothesley tore them off in times he’s overtaken by his rut and whenever he turned into a frenzy.

“Are you going to be alright, monsieur? Is Mister Wriothesley doing fine?” they asked, trying to take a glimpse of the werewolf behind him.

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll leave the castle to you in a while, yes?”

“Of course, monsieur.”

He went back inside and saw Wriothesley still asleep and already passed out from the hours-long intimacy they shared. He ran his finger through his hair then petted his ear.

A million things ran in his mind as he stared at the werewolf and found no energy to pick them apart and try to understand what the fuck was happening between them. He plopped beside him and closed his eyes.

“I guess I need to nap too.”

It took five whole days for Wriothesley to regain clarity. He never remembered what happened during his rut though, except for the fact that Neuvillette was there before the peak of it while trying to reason about the vampire spending his rut with him. And only to wake up to the said vampire being cocooned in his embrace.

And it didn’t help that there were bruises on the vampire’s porcelain skin, traces of punctures on his shoulders and, to his mortification, love bites. Neuvillette couldn’t do that to himself, and with the vampire in his arms right now, it would only mean it was him who inflicted those.

Wriothesley found that appalling as it dawned on him that he really slept with his enemy!

But, he immediately piped down at the thought. He actually found the idea of sleeping with Neuvillette not a concern and—

The vampire then turned around to face him, and Wriothesley couldn’t help but stare at him with wide eyes. Up this close, he’s more ethereal, gentle, those sharp yet eyes with an unfathomable depth unseen and only his soft features shown.

Wriothesley’s hand twitched, trying not to reach out to caress his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself not a minute after and let the intrusive thoughts win.

He tucked away the hair from his face behind those elongated ears. His breaths turned ragged instead as he observed him more and could only embrace him tighter, kissing the crown of his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered again in defeat.

This is not how it’s supposed to be.

After that incident with his rut, Wriothesley became less aggrieved whenever dealing with Neuvillette’s presence lingering near him. He never really understood his reactions when it came to the other man. Not when he remembered nothing about what happened during his rut. He was lucid in between, he knew as much, but whenever he tried to recall them, the memories seemed cloudy, as if something obscured them.

Can Neuvillette tamper with memories?

But, that’s unlikely. Unless the vampire sucked his blood and used a spell but he found no traces of such. His hand ran against the skin around his neck and nape but found no punctured wounds, even on his shoulders. On the contrary, if anyone looked at Neuvillette, he’s the one actually mauled by a beast.

Wriothesley huffed then closed his eyes in guilt. He also wanted to ask Neuvillette but when he did the first time, the vampire smiled at him awkwardly, as if trying to hide something from him. But, he couldn’t ask once again, afraid of what he’d know or whatever happened might change something between them.

He huffed. But, something definitely changed between them.

“Oh, you’re here, Mister Wolfy!” Menthe called.

Wriothesley perked up then discarded the book to the side. “Hello, Menthe.”

“Monsieur called for you.”

“You called for me, monsieur?” asked Wriothesley once he arrived in the gazebo.

“Yes. Come, sit opposite of me,” and Neuvillette motioned before serving them tea.

A few moments of silence passed while Neuvillette held onto the earring on his right ear before removing it. He looked at it for a few seconds before turning to Wriothesley, saying, “I’ll give this to you.”

Wriothesley quietly received it and noticed that it’s a silver earring, and Neuvillette’s a vampire—

“I’m no ordinary vampire—you must have known it already. I have those silvers on my person to protect myself from my kin.”

“If not a vampire, what are you then?”

But Neuvillette only smiled and shifted the topic to another, “There had been movements in the wolvendom and your apparent surrender orchestrated by your kin might lend a hand to the already tense situation.”

“You have no connection to it?”

“Like I said before, I’m not that bored to wreak havoc, mon loup. I value my peace like you saw these past few months.”

“What if it’s just your act?” He asked. “To let me lower my guard around you.”

“An act?” He frowned. “I could have killed you during your rut under the pretense that you’re driven by your instincts and even endangered Sigewinne.”

Wriothesley wondered how he could even say that with a straight face, like a vampire spending a rut with a werewolf wasn’t something absurd, a taboo. He cleared his throat, replying, “But you didn’t.”

He nodded. “I didn’t.”

His callused hand tightened its hold onto the earring. “What do you gain from this then?”

“My peace.”

The ravenet remained quiet, pondering over his words.

“I know you have your reservations when it comes to me but I need to tell you this,” he looked him in the eye and remarked, “It was your kin who started the Great War ages ago.”

He scoffed. “That cannot be.”

“From what I also gathered, your ancestors must have concealed the real reason behind their actions.”

Wriothesley looked at the earring in his hold and Neuvillette also glanced at it.

“As you’ve lived here for quite some time now, you must have already known what my character is. I don’t act as long as I’m not provoked. And the slaughtering of your kin…” He paused to heave a breath then looked away. “I had a reason why I did it.”

Silence descended upon them since Wriothesley found it difficult to process his words.

He possessed beliefs of his own, and wholeheartedly upheld the teaching of his kin but at the face of this old vampire, Neuvillette began to shatter everything he knew about his own bloodline.

In his silence, Neuvillette could only say, “Keep that on your person. It doubles as a weapon and you only need a trickle of blood to activate it, then it will be detached from the earring itself.”

He eyed the stake earring intently this time. “Going as far as this?”

“I gave everyone talismans and taught them protective spells. As for you, you’re known for your strength, so…” He leaned his chin on his knuckle. “I think it suits you.”

Wriothesley heaved a breath, muttering a soft, “Thank you.”

Smiling, he replied, “It’s my pleasure, mon loup.”

The ravenet then walked away after attaching the earring onto his right ear and something stirred in Neuvillette’s chest witnessing that.

His former lover Vautrin was also a werewolf. A stray, just like Wriothesley. And he never judged Neuvillette for who he was and accepted him wholly, wholeheartedly. Most of them said they were lovers who defied fate, knowing those two races were sworn enemies, that their union was accepted by every resident of the castle, and everyone was even happy for Neuvillette who once a taciturn became the cheerful one.

And how short-lived their relationship was.

Perhaps, that’s the thing that had drawn Neuvillette in when it came to Wriothesley. The ravenet was thrown at his doorstep, like how he found Vautrin bleeding to death near the castle.

He’s attracted to both, not only to their looks but their conviction, how faithful they were to their beliefs, and for staying true to who they were.

And Wriothesley resuscitated those primal urges and instincts he thought he had buried deep after losing Vautrin.

But, he’s wrong. And ultimately so.

Wriothesley was no Vautrin though. The similarities overlapped sometimes but he clearly distinguished who was who. They were two different people and he still cherished them, he still loved them. He’d been over his deceased lover, finally accepting that they weren’t meant to be together, not with the circumstances the vampire was in.

Neuvillette sighed at those thoughts.

Love.

He dared use that as a label for these feelings he’s not even certain with. But, at this point, there’s no point in denying his desires—that it morphed into something like fondness at first, adoration at most, and now love…? 

He barely knew the ravenet but through the windows that were his clear, glacial eyes, he’s just drawn in somehow. His intention of winning the ravanet over became a challenge and in the end, he could only laugh at himself since he seemed to be the one who’s falling for the ravenet instead.

He looked at the skies from his seat, leaning back now.

The fate of his parents torn apart by fate and their differences seemingly reflected to his very own. And his attraction to that werewolf just grew exponentially stronger as days passed. That suppressing his desires would be detrimental to his instincts but he also would never force his hand upon him.

Neuvillette never forced anything else to happen even if he held control over it. He once defied fate, or so he assumed, but it still ended up in a tragedy. And if anything else, he wished not to suffer through it again.

He sighed. “I’ll cross the bridge when I get there.”

Despite the inner turmoil they both suffered through after spending Wriothesley’s rut together, everyone in the castle could tell that something definitely shifted between them.

Today, the silver-haired vampire hovered around the ravenet, looking at him with curiosity.

“You wolves really like to bathe in the sun but also worship the moon.” Neuvillette mused, while tucking the stray hairs away from his own face. “It’s interesting.”

Wriothesley then noticed the sun peeking out from behind the clouds again and pulled Neuvillette to him then rolled them over.

Neuvillette gasped as his back met the soft, grassy ground and the ravenet’s figure towered over him as the sun shone upon them. He clicked his tongue while running his hand through his unkempt hair. “So reckless. The sun will get you burned.”

But Neuvillette marveled at the display before him instead. Too enamored by the hulk of his figure, by how his muscles flex at every movement. He’s seen Wriothesley naked already during his rut but he found it a bit more attractive when he’s sober and in control of his instincts.

“Are you staring?” The smug grin painted the werewolf’s lips. A glint of his fang peeked from his mouth, like the stake earring on his right ear glaring as the light hit it.

“I’m just appreciating some art,” the vampire replied unabashedly, reaching out if not for the hand that held his wrist.

“Just because—”

Neuvillette rose to lean on his elbow while he’s still being straddled by the latter. The vampire cradled the ravenet’s chin with his fingers and muttered, “You can be really sweet sometimes if you want to. It makes me wonder why you hate me so much.”

Those glacial eyes observed his lips as he spoke before turning to his eyes and something sparkled in Neuvillette’s eyes at how things unfolded.

“I’ve answered that the first time. You’re my enemy.”

“An enemy you slept with?” He asked playfully, a small smile on his lips.

He gritted out. “You went into my room on your accord.”

“Oh, so you still don’t remember? Must I remind you, mon loup?” asked Neuvillette, now staring at those plush lips as if waiting to be kissed. “At how you called me monsieur endearingly?" 

Wriothesley visibly swallowed, thinking it might be the truth. He choked out, not wanting to know any further, “No.”

But Neuvillette chuckled in response then kissed the corner of his lips, gently, merely a feather’s touch and Wriothesley seized as fragments of memories resurfaced.

By the moment he grasped onto Neuvillette to reprimand him, the man already reappeared a distance from him, just below the nearby trees’ foliage.

There’s mirth in his eyes as he beckoned him, “Come, we must return to the castle, mon loup. It’s nearly midday.”

Autumn passed uneventfully.

While most trees in the thickets thrived during the winter season, some of the trees naturally shredded their leaves, painting everything with the warm color of nature last autumn. But now? Everything was painted in white. The air colder, crisp. It could settle into your bones once you stand outside for longer periods of time.

And Wriothesley? He still remained in the castle and quietly lived his life without any care for the world at all.

While Neuvillette, he stayed in his room for the past few days ever since the first snow of the winter fell. The others took turns in nursing him, going to and fro in his room to attend to him.

“What happened to the monsieur?” asked Wriothesley one time the fairies fussed over the castle master.

“Well, whenever winter comes, he tends to hibernate.”

He tilted his head sideways. “Vampires do not hibernate?”

Sedene giggled at his reaction. “But Monsieur does.”

When curiosity took over him, Wriothesley knocked onto Neuvillette’s door. Hearing the vampire’s consent for his entry, Wriothesley gently opened the door then transformed to his wolf form. He might not be able to take what would unfold if he’s in his human form after all.

With his snout prying open the gap of the door followed by his body, he easily slipped inside the room and once he looked forward, he saw Neuvillette’s surprised face before he smiled.

And that smile pricked at Wriothesley’s heart, thinking that smiling suited the vampire better rather than his usual stoic face.

“Welcome to my quarters, mon loup.”

The wolf ignored the lavishness of the room and sat beside the bed instead, looking at him in askance.

“Are you worried for me? Thank you for the concern but I’m doing all right. It’s just that the winter season tends to make me hibernate. It’s a strange condition of mine since I was young.”

Wriothesley tilted his head sideways, a questioning look on his face.

The vampire smiled again, finding him adorable. He then moved slightly, patting the space beside him and beckoned the wolf on his bed. “Come on, lay here and let me pet you.”

Wriothesley frowned and Neuvillette chuckled at his reaction. But, the ravenet found no reason to decline and jumped on the bed, circling a few times before plopping down. Those glacial eyes side-eyed him and Neuvillette laid down on his side, also observing him.

But the moment those soft hands touched his fur, Wriothesley seized up. He relaxed when the vampire gently petted him again and again while humming a soft tune to himself.

“Thanks for visiting, Wriothesley,” he muttered.

The wolf perked up, staring at him in askance.

Neuvillette huffed. “What? I know your name since the fairies talk about you a lot. And they adore you, you know?”

Wriothesley furrowed his eyebrows and let Neuvillette ramble on as he talked about the other residents of the castle.

A rather strong wind rattled the glass window and Neuvillette pulled the blankets closer to his person. “Are you not cold?” 

But Wriothesley couldn’t talk in his wolf form and shook his head in response.

He huffed. “So you really can stave off the cold? Wonderful.”

Wriothesley saw the hint of astonishment in those droopy eyes.

“It’s colder now,” he whispered as his eyes drifted to the burning hearth nearby and drew the blankets closer to himself. “I need to sleep, mon loup.”

And Wriothesley observed him drifting to his slumber until he was eventually pulled towards the vampire’s cold body that’s definitely colder than the average person’s body temperature. The wolf was cradled to his bosom like a cuddly plush toy underneath the thick blankets and the ravenet could only huff in resignation, yielding to Neuvillette’s whims.

“Why are you frowning, Sedene?” asked Neuvillette after drinking the warm cocoa given to him.

“Monsieur,” Sedene prompted as her eyes brimmed with tears. “We couldn’t find Mister Wriothesley even today. What if—”

Just then, a fluffy ear peeked out from the weighted blankets and the wolf groggily looked at Sedene, his other ear askew from sleep.

“Mister Wriothesley?” she choked out, seeing the wolf on the bed.

Neuvillette smiled then patted the wolf’s head. “He’s been here with me since a few days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. He seemed to be hiding every time someone visits.”

Sedene wiped her eyes then grinned, a hand on her chest. “I thought something happened to him. I will go tell the others!”

After a few hours, it was Sigewinne who came and dropped the bomb after checking on Neuvillette’s health, eyeing the werewolf lounging beside the vampire, “Sedene said Mister Wriothesley spent the nights with you.”

“He visited me, yes. I think he was rather concerned.”

Wriothesley barked, disagreeing.

“See? He’s agreeing with me,” and Neuvillette chuckled.

In a flash, Wriothesley returned to his werewolf form, fluffy ears and tails out. “I was cornered, alright? So, how can I leave? I can’t even move. And I’m not a pillow!”

Neuvillette stared at him in surprise at his outburst then suddenly laughed out loud, shocking even Sigewinne who’s now looking at him with wide eyes.

And Wriothesley, despite his outright denial, loved Neuvillette’s unrestrained laughter so, so much.

“Why are you so defensive, mon loup? You actually rested well beside me.” He flicked his askew ears slightly, a fond expression on his face. “Even your ear is now unkempt like your hair.”

Wriothesley furiously blushed as Neuvillette laughed again.

“Then, I really think Mister Wriothesley should stay here for a while.”

“No. I’m leaving,” he chimed in and stood up only to be stopped by the hand on his arm.

“You really are worried for nothing, Sigewinne.”

She sighed. “We don’t want to resort to setting the monsieur’s bed on fire, you know. We almost attempted it when he got the worst hypothermia a few decades ago.”

Now, Wriothesley turned to Neuvillette who smiled at the fairy, menacingly at that. He mused, “I’m going to be fine. The hearth is burning everyday too.”

But Sigewinne frowned in concern again. “Or just share body heat.”

Wriothesley blushed at the implication.

“We are sharing body heat,” Neuvillette unabashedly replied, making Wriothesley sputter.

Sigewinne raised an eyebrow and arms akimbo. “You know that’s not what I’m implying, monsieur.”

“Like I said, you worry too much, Sigewinne.”

“That’s right, Sigewinne, you worry too much,” seconded the werewolf.

Those magenta eyes scrutinized both of them before she finally said her goodbye after failing to convince them.

“Thank the Father Dragon,” Wriothesley muttered to himself then collapsed on the bed.

“Are you leaving then?” asked Neuvillette.

“I should.”

“Alright. Thank you for visiting, Wriothesley.”

He stood up then nodded at him, quietly exiting the room.

Neuvillette then buried himself beneath the blankets that now smelled of Wriothesley. Sighing in content, he drifted to sleep once again.

Unexpectedly, a blizzard ravaged them only a few days after.

Once it hit, the others huddled together in their rooms, even going as far as setting down their mattresses in front of the burning hearth to stave off the cold. Wriothesley eventually left them to check on Neuvillette. He’s the only one who could freely move around thanks to his special constitution as a wolf.

“You’re here,” muttered the vampire once Wriothesley entered his room quietly.

“How are you?”

Neuvillette chuckled. “Is that concern I hear in your voice, mon loup?”

“Everyone is doing everything they can to stave off the cold. So, are you holding up?”

The vampire wryly smiled. “Barely. It’s really tougher for me compared to them whenever winter comes.”

As Wriothesley approached the bed, Neuvillette laid down and covered himself with the blankets again.

The werewolf sighed then ran his hand through his own hair, contemplating his life choices. Eventually, he sat down to remove his shoes and went under the sheets and pulled Neuvillette closer to him.

The vampire acquiesced then sighed in relief once he embraced Wriothesley’s body. Neuvillette breathed against his neck and Wriothesley shuddered, tampering down onto his instincts to not let anything show.

“Still cold?”

Neuvillette hummed in response as his fingers flicked a button of his shirt off and a cold hand slid inside his shirt.

“Hey, that’s—” The ravenet gasped once that lithe hand settled on his abdomen. “You’re really freezing.”

Neuvillette chuckled but still moved closer, loving the heat emanating from the werewolf.

“Maybe we really should heed Sigewinne’s advice.”

“What? Sharing body heats?” Neuvillette teased, his voice raspier now.

He gritted. “It’s for your health.”

“And thank you for your concern, Wriothesley.”

The wolf swallowed when he heard his name being spoken by him again and embraced him tighter, nosing his hair.

“Stubborn vampire,” he muttered before drifting to sleep with him.

This time, it was Wriothesley who spent his time around Neuvillette and not the other way around. The little fairies teased him and he merely reasoned that because he’s seen the monsieur paler than last time.

“So, you’re concerned.”

“Shouldn’t I be? I owe him,” he muttered timidly.

Sigewinne giggled and said in a sing-song, “You should be honest with yourself, Mister Wolfy!”

“That’s right! You even spent the days with him during the harsh blizzards last time.”

Wriothesley blushed at that, earning more teases from the others.

“Mister Wriothesley!” called Serene and Kiara, concern evident in their voices.

“What happened?” he asked, even the others he’s talking to perked up when the two fairies called out to him in alarm.

“Two members of the Vampiric Council are currently here. The monsieur told us not to go out for a while in case things go awry.” It’s already spring now and the timely visit really spoke of something else.

He frowned deeper. “This has something to do with me, isn’t it?”

“Well… We think so too.”

Wriothesley excused himself to sneak towards the hall where he was brought here the first time. He hid in the mezzanine and eavesdropped on the conversation happening below.

“It’s because you’re stubborn that we’re in this predicament! If only you surrendered that wolf—”

“Weren’t you the one who said that I’ll deal with him? And now you’re going back on your words just by asking me to return him to you.”

“You don’t even know what’s going outside now! That wolf could be our downfall!”

“Is he now? Last time I checked, the vampires and werewolves were still at each other’s throat. A missing person wouldn’t make a difference.” 

“Neuvillette!”

“You are the ones actively seeking those wolves. And now, you’re pinning it on whom?” He hummed. “Just because I don’t go out that much doesn’t mean I don’t know what you are up to.”

“What do you mean?”

Neuvillette leaned on his knuckle, eyeing them with disdain. “You really don’t learn, do you? Just how many more would you get from me so you’ll be satisfied?”

“The fact that your existence is a—”

Neuvillette reappeared before them and kicked the councilor on his stomach. With the force the monsieur exerted, the latter flew towards the walls which nearly crumbled at the impact. The councilor gasped in pain as he fell down from the rubble, coughing up and limping.

“Don’t you remember that if it weren’t for me,” he enunciated as he put down his leg, “you wouldn’t be in your current position? Or do you want to follow your predecessors in the afterlife because I tell you, I can send you right away.”

“Monsieur,” called the other councilor shakily, unamused by the display.

He scoffed. “And I will remind you again. I have my own autonomy. You were the ones who sent the werewolf to me and I’m only exercising that authority.”

“Even if it meant war?”

“Would it actually result in war? Going to war as of the moment would incur more damage to everyone. Have you not thought of that?”

The injured councilor wobbly stood up and spat out blood. “So stubborn. You know it would be your downfall instead.”

“No, you lot collaborating with the other races would be your downfall. Have you forgotten that they were the ones who hunted you down before if it weren’t for me?”

They both fell silent because of the truthfulness of his words.

“And you seem not to care at all if we perished,” muttered the other, knowing he couldn’t argue with Neuvillette.

“Because you never cared at all when my family, one of the pillars of this vampiric society, was reduced to nothing.”

That even made the silence in the hall deadlier and Neuvillette’s expression remained smug as he stared at their grimmer expressions.

“You always forget, but I don’t. Even your inactions far supersede mine. So is your greed.” He returned to his seat on the dais, crossing his legs and putting his clasped hands on his knees. “I can hold my ground. How about you?”

The injured councilor spat, yelling at him in anger, “Do not forget, Neuvillette. Someday your past will haunt you! All those you’ve killed will cling to you!”

His mocking laughter reverberated in the hall. “You’ll be eradicated from the face of this earth first before that, my dear.”

The two council members retreated, the other still limping from his attack and Neuvillette could only frown more as they exited.

This time, the target had been determined—it was Neuvillette.

Neuvillette briefed everyone about what happened and he immediately told them to expect the worst. The others began their own preparations, bundling and packing up their belongings in case they needed to evacuate.

“It wouldn’t be that dire,” Sigewinne remarked.

“We don’t know what will happen, my dear. It’s better to be prepared.”

“That’s also true.”

“Once the scouts return with the latest news in hand, do your thing, you hear me? Value your safety before anything else.”

They frowned but acquiesced, “We understand, monsieur.”

“What is this all about?” Wriothesley asked right after he followed Neuvillette to his study. “You kept me here for what? For a pet? Even though you know how chaotic the situation outside is.”

“I told you right from the start, you are a guest and not a prisoner, mon loup.”

“Then what does your actions mean?”

“Merely protecting myself and those under me from my kin’s schemes.”

A surge of anger overwhelmed him and held Neuvillette by the collar but he remained unfazed, facing him head on.

“Are you?” He scoffed. “You are hiding something from us. From me.”

He languidly blinked his eyes, seemingly admitting defeat as he spoke, “Do we have that kind of relationship for us to be so open?”

Now, that struck a cord within him.

That’s right. They were merely… What were they, truly? What’s the nature of their relationship?

Confusion painted his face before it contorted to anger as he gritted out as he trapped him on the sofa, “I hate you more, do you know that?”

“Do you? Why are you clinging to me then?”

But, Wriothesley couldn’t refute it, not when this old vampire looked so devastatingly pretty beneath him. A shudder traveled up his spine followed by an urge to make him submit, to reduce him to a writhing mess and maybe destroy him—to free himself from the collar this vampire put on his neck.

Those soft, cold hands cradled his face as Neuvillette commented, “You always seem lost in your thoughts, mon loup.”

And this gentleness he wished he never received confused him and the contradictory of his feelings puzzled him the most. That this tug of love and hate could reduce him to this. That it made him cling onto his nemesis without caring for his very own safety. That he found an unlikely connection with him despite his denial.

“I want you to shut up.” He growled, pressing Neuvillette more onto the couch. “Or maybe…” He grinned maniacally next, “finally kill you.”

Those amethyst eyes crinkled in delight. “You always have the opportunity to do so, mon loup. Even now,” he replied and bared his pale neck to him. “So, what’s hindering you from doing so?”

Wriothesley held onto his pale neck and Neuvillette still wore that smug expression on his face. His hand pressed a bit, and with just a bit more force, the ravenet could strangle him to death. He should be elated at such thoughts but he couldn’t do it, and ended up caressing his jaw, gazing at how contrasting their skin color was instead.

Neuvillette clutched the pillow next to him, attempting to restrain himself from hurting Wriothesley instead, opposing the instincts screaming inside of him to hurt the werewolf. But he only taunted him further, loving the exhilaration at the thought of riling Wriothesley up, “Backing down now?”

Out of nowhere, the ravenet tackled him down on the sofa. He settled between his legs as their position promised intimacy.

A flash of surprise painted Neuvillette’s face before his stoicism overtook again, musing, “Oh dear. What’s with this sudden—mmph!”

Wriothesley bent down, pressing his own bulky figure onto him. His lips found his, slotting perfectly. The kiss eventually turned sloppy, all teeth and tongue but Neuvillette immediately took in the reins, guiding him while he slid his hand towards the werewolf’s nape, caressing the small hairs there.

As their hands wandered, pawing at each other, Neuvillette slowly lost himself in the heady musk and bergamot lingering in the air. He had already smelled this beforehand, the pheromones of Wriothesley, and it appeals to his vampiric side, but more to his primal side. It always enticed him to dig his fangs onto the crevice of his neck, to taste the sweet blood running in them. To trap him beneath him, show him his desires as he made love to him.

On the other hand, Wriothesley lost all the fight within him. He could drown in this, at how sweet Neuvillette tasted and how they perfectly slot against each other. How he fit like the right piece of puzzle underneath him.

Through half-lidded eyes, he noticed Neuvillette’s expression. Not repulsed but eager, like those lips guiding him on how to do it. Like his usually cold body bow ablazed by the heat Wriothesley ignited.

No, Wriothesley reprimanded himself but couldn’t get away, not when that hand on his nape encouraged him for more, and it undeniably satisfied the hunger now simmering in his navel. Those sinful moans swallowed by him a fuel to the fire now burning in him. His reason shouted at him, telling him to get a grip but in the arms of this vampire, he couldn’t help but surrender, to indulge, to bare himself like they were actual lovers and not archenemies.

Eventually, they parted for air, ragged breathing filling in the silence.

Wriothesley looked at him in surprise, memories of what happened during his rut flowing through him while Neuvillette heaved a lungful of breaths and looked above him, at those glacial eyes slowly regaining clarity. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Wriothesley hastily moved away, dread in his eyes. He stood up in record time, fixed his crooked shirt and ran a trembling hand through his hair. Without any more words spoken between them, the ravenet exited the room with brisk yet heavy steps.

“You hate me that much?” Neuvillette asked, trying not to sound pathetic at the outright rejection.

“I’m never meant to be here.”

A wry chuckle. “But, you chose to stay anyway.”

“Not anymore.” He grabbed onto the door sill before looking back one last time. “Goodbye, Neuvillette.”

The vampire watched him walk out and lost all his energy to actually chase him. In the end, he leaned back on the couch and licked his lips before closing his eyes.

“And yet I tasted desire on your lips.” He scowled. “What a liar.”

That was a lapse, a momentary slip.

A mistake!

He ran another shaky hands through his hair again, now nearly pulling on them because what the fuck was that?

Wriothesley recognized his own feelings of desire for another but never, ever towards someone who’s supposed to be his enemy. However, as he looked back, the lapse he did earlier only solidified his actions for the past months.

He began to adore Neuvillette during his stay here in the castle despite the rocky start of whatever situationship they shared. The kiss should have meant nothing and yet he meant it, he wanted to do it like he starved for the vampire’s affections and wanted him to look his way.

And being reminded that Neuvillette slaughtered his kin many moons ago put him in a dilemma. It confused him. Maybe his family being murdered in front of him wasn’t orchestrated by the vampires but by his kin. He was just an unfortunate victim of all these schemes. The vampire also claimed that the wolvendom was in a move, alongside the words that it was the werewolves who started the Great War.

Maybe Neuvillette was right all along—he couldn’t help but think about that. That Neuvillette never lied to him all this time.

The ravenet locked himself in his quarters after that small incident. His figure slumped against the door as he buried his face in his hands. Back at square one again, torturing himself about how he’s not supposed to let his feelings slip; to not Neuvillette know what he harbored for him.

We are sworn enemies.

He should be above these desires. He should have taken the opportunity to avenge his kin when Neuvillette bared his pale, smooth neck for him. But the fight always left his body. Not when these blossoming feelings threatened to come out and reveal themselves, to admit that he’s already beyond hatred, beyond revenge.

This time, his fingers ran against his lips, remembering how plush those lips on his; at how he easily dwarfed Neuvillette’s figure with his own as if he truly belonged in his embrace.

About to stand up, a sharp pain ached in his temples as another set of memories reappeared.

Whites and silvers and vivid, glowing amethyst.

His pale, soft skin against his; his lips leaving traces on it, marring it like an artist painting a masterpiece. They way they perfectly fit, at how Neuvillette writhed beneath—

“Fuck, this isn’t helping…” He muttered to himself and wobbly stood up once the memory became clearer. Neuvillette moaning, delirious as he fucked him senseless.

“Shit,” he muttered and massaged his temples, " I should pack my things already and leave. I cannot…”

The ravenet swallowed then collapsed on the bed instead. 

There’s a truthfulness in Neuvillette’s words before—that he really couldn’t go anywhere like anymore. Aside from the fact that he had nowhere to return to after his captivity, he liked it here. 

The others welcomed with open arms despite their racial differences; that there’s a place where he could actually belong to and not ostracized for being an ally of justice, of fighting for the weak. That here, he won’t be judged because of what he was and his beliefs.

Here, those little fairies laughed at his jokes and chided him whenever he drowned himself in self-deprecation. Here, he’s cared for—not starving, wore luxurious clothes, slept in a soft bed and even owned a bedroom, one that he occupied all by himself. He never paid anything but it was given to him anyway. Here, he’s cherished, appreciated even and loved, and… Honestly? There’s so many good things to count.

Wriothesley looked ahead and noticed his blurry eyesight.

Tears?

He wiped his eyes, and realized it’s truly tears flowing down his face.

He thought he lost the ability to cry after all that befell his life. For every sorrow and sadness, anger and hatred replaced them, scorn and even revenge.  Wriothesley only wanted to live a fulfilling yet simple life with his family. For them to live happier, thriving and not afraid of being looked down and yet he ended up with nothing but himself.

But here he was, in the castle of the enemy and being loved for the first time in a while.

Wriothesley asked himself: “Can I really leave this life? My peaceful life here?”

His feelings for Neuvillette aside, everything stood in the right place although he won’t admit it aloud that he already considered this place his home.

Just thinking about leaving this life behind shattered his already broken heart. Right. He really should leave this place before anything worse could happen. There’s no more time to ponder about it.

About to move, Wriothesley nearly jumped when he heard the knock on his door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, wolfy!” replied a familiar voice in a sing-song.

“Sigewinne?” he asked while he opened the door.

“Monsieur asked me to check on you. He said you seemed downtrodden when you left his study earlier.”

He forced himself to smile upon remembering what happened. “I’m fine, Sigewinne. I just need some rest.”

Her expression now downcast. “Nothing ails you? Surely?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll send someone for your dinner later.”

“But dinner is always—”

“Monsieur left earlier.”

Oh, so he’s the one avoiding me now.

“Did he tell you where’s going?”

Sigewinne shook her head. “Well, I might have not told you but when the monsieur feels antsy, he usually ventures out of the castle alone.”

“He’s a vampire. The sunlight—”

Sigewinne smiled then tilted her head sideways. “Oh? Here I thought you two are already close and it seems like you still don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette is no ordinary vampire.” She grinned wider and told him in a sing-song before flying away, “That’s the only thing I can tell you now!”

“Wait, Sigewinne—”

But the little, mischievous fairy scampered away quicker than his reaction and now left by himself. Wriothesley closed his bedroom door and weighed his options.

He heaved a deep breath after coming to a decision.

“It’s now or never.”

It took him a few days before he managed to leave though. The little ones, perceptive as always, kept checking on him. They brought him food and whatever, thinking it would cheer up his mood.

Menthe even brought one of Neuvillette’s shirts and he furiously blushed in embarrassment once she pushed it into his hands insistently. Despite his refusal of holding onto it, his wolven instincts loved the idea very much.

“Menthe… This is…”

“Wolves are like that…” She mused, tilting her head as he thought of something else. “Like the mister before you. He likes sniffing Monsieur, and one time, we thought he left and monsieur nearly turned the castle upside down since he couldn’t find him. We found out that he ended up sleeping in the monsieur’s closet because… well…”

“There was…”

Menthe’s eyes widened, then covered her mouth. “Oops. You heard nothing, alright?”

He eventually held onto that shirt and asked Menthe, “Can you call Sigewinne for me, Menthe?”

Wriothesley spent the next few minutes in silence while waiting for the little fairy, ruminating about the time he spent here, also burying his face into that shirt. He’s beyond denial now. These feelings be damned.

“The monsieur had a lover before?” He asked immediately after hearing the fairy’s greeting. “A werewolf?”

“Oh.” She frowned. “We stopped talking about that ever since he lost him.”

“He lost him?” Wriothesley asked, clutching tighter onto the shirt. 

Really, he shouldn’t be prying into the castle master’s affairs but he couldn’t help the ugly feeling now festering inside of him. Not when he’s finally stopped denying what he actually felt for Neuvillette.

“It was…” She sighed. “His kin killed his lover, Wriothesley.”

“Then all that he’s doing for me… Am I just…” He broke down, sitting defeatedly on the bed.

“Monsieur cared for us and gave us everything he could. The same goes for you. He let you stay here despite knowing the danger that came with you, just like with that lover of his before. But, he’s not telling you because you might also become an object of hatred for the other vampires.”

“We are enemies, Sigewinne.”

Supposedly—he couldn’t say. Surprised that he never considered them as enemies now.

“No, Wriothesley. Monsieur sees you as you are. You’re the only one who can come close to him, you see.”

“And this is not helping.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I…”

“You also love him.”

He turned to her, eyes wide at the implication. “Also…?”

“I’ve spoken enough, mister.” She looked around in his room. “And I can tell that you’re planning to leave soon.”

“No, I…” and he couldn’t deny that one.

“Honestly, I think it’s really better for you to leave and never come back.”

He perked up, hackles raised. “But, Neuvillette—”

“He can take care of himself. Worry for yourself first, please. If you leave, please just go. We knew you’ll eventually have to venture out of these gloomy forests.”

“Sigewinne…” He heaved a deep breath. “You are not telling me something.”

She chuckled wryly. “The monsieur said you’re perceptive and I can tell now.”

He frowned deeper while he waited for her next words.

“There’s an underlying situation and, with the latest news in hand, it’s proven that you’re involved with the situation outside.”

“And yet everyone treated me like I’m one of your own.”

“Because that’s what monsieur taught us.”

“Sige…”

“Your kin is on the move, we knew that much but with the animosity the other vampires had against the monsieur, you’d also be in danger here. We can only hold up for long.”

He paced while connecting the dots. “He doesn’t want history to repeat itself.”

“Do you want to?”

Wriothelsey shook his head almost immediately and decided to finally heed the little fairy’s advice.

“Then, Sigewinne.” He frowned. " This is goodbye…”

The little fairy saluted him with eyes brimming with tears, “May the Father Dragon who watches us from up above guide you, Wriothesley.”

The moment Wriothesley exited his room, most of them stood outside and he heaved a deep breath, hoping not to appear too emotional. They bade their goodbyes without so much fanfare and the werewolf left, only looking back once until he disappeared into the thickets.

A good distance away from the castle, a familiar smell wafted his nose and instinctively followed it, leading him to a rather brutal sight.

“To think you’ll ever see my ugliest side…” said the familiar voice.

Wriothesley froze on his spot behind the tree.

He looked closer and realized the corpses were of his kin.

“They’ve been around the castle for a while now, even ambushed a group of my fairies and gravely injured two of them.” The vampire replied, eyeing the bloodied corpses by his feet. “Do you…” Neuvillette shook his head. “I bet you hate me now for doing this.”

Nothing came.

No anger or hatred. Not even scorn or anything. 

Just… nothing.

Wriothesley stared at the corpses, at those werewolves who died by the vampire’s hands but nothing actually came. Not even resignation or acceptance. 

The silence was only broken by the question he wanted to ask Neuvillette after their earlier tryst, “What you said back then… was it true?” Wriothesley frowned deeper. “That my kin was the one who started the Great War?”

“The werewolves worship the moon and the goddesses tied to it, by extension, the Father Dragon too, who created everything on this land.”

His expression now downcast.

“They thought my mother lured my father in, bound him with spells to control him but they were wrong.” He heaved a deep breath. “They were wrong.”

Wriothesley noticed at how he clenched his fists, that aura leaking but not wild but threatening to loose, to wreak havoc and Wriothesley knew he wouldn’t be able to fight against it.

“My mother revered my father, something a vampire never did. Vampires are prideful and they only believe in themselves.” He blinked his eyes to not let the tears fall at the reminiscence. “But she gave up everything and only left with this castle. My father… accepted my mother as his mate… but in the end, I lost both of them.” Those sad amethyst eyes looked at him. “My mother to your kin, my father to his grief.”

“But the wolven history said that the Father Dragon was spellbound by a mere—” Realization sunk in. “Wait, you—”

“And that’s why the werewolves were expelled from the Father Dragon’s territory because they killed my mother, the mate of the Father Dragon, and I was confined to the castle for the reason I wreaked havoc for losing my family.”

And I slaughtered your kin in revenge—he didn’t add.

Sigewinne’s words rang in his ears: That Neuvillette posed as no ordinary vampire. And the moment the first ray of dawning summer day peeked through the foliage and glared unto him, Neuvillette stood unscathed, and the light only made his skin paler, nearly translucent as he savored the warmth on his skin.

Everything started because of… what? Envy? Hatred? Because they couldn’t accept such a union when some of them also did the same? That his kin killed an important figure not only for the vampires but drove the Father Dragon to his death.

Wriothesley’s arms limply hang by his sides, flabbergasted at the revelation.

“That’s why we were…” His eyes wide in disbelief while looking at Neuvillette. “We were the ones…”

“I really think you should leave, Wriothesley.” The werewolf perked up at that. “Or you will be caught up in my mess too.”

And yet, he couldn’t move an inch. His conversation with Sigewinne once again replying in his mind.

“Leave.” His usual commanding voice cracked. “Please…”

Wriothesley slowly turned his back then walked away but he stopped a few seconds after, and looked back one last time. And Neuvillette still stood there, watching him walk away just like that time.

He drew a deep breath as he spoke, “Thank you for everything, Neuvillette.”

The vampire smiled wryly, clasped his bloodied hands and nodded. By then, he also turned his back to return to the castle.

Wriothesley removed one of his earrings, a small stake of silver then fiddled with it as he walked away. “And this is only my memento of you left.”

Neuvillette dazedly stared at the ceiling while he bathed in the tub after he cleaned the blood off himself. With Wriothesley’s departure, it also left a gaping hole in his heart. But, he knew that making the werewolf stay would only result in something more irreversible and he’s already not confident about the situation, not when his own kin also wanted his demise. The least he could do for everyone, Wriothesley unexempted, was to let them leave and go on further with their lives.

He closed his eyes and a tear escaped. He could only mutter in a broken whimper, “Why do I have to endure this?”

Anywhere Wriothesley went, there’s a visible tension hanging in the air. Inns and even taverns close at an earlier time than usual; city and town gates refused guests once twilight came. Murmurs of ongoing recruitment also filled the alleyways, even the vendors from the marketplace spoke of people buying livestock and produce in bulk.

“Be careful out there, young man. You might be caught up in something questionable,” the elderly woman said as he exited the inn.

A few weeks already passed since he left Neuvillette’s castle and he truly missed his life there. Compared to the bustling and unpredictable societies out here, that castle seemed to remain eternal and unmoving, stuck in time yet lively still. He clutched to the earring now punctured on his right ear.

Wriothesley sighed to himself and pulled up the hood more to cover his hair.

Today, he would be traveling back to his hometown in the edge of the wolvendom. He traversed the forests in his werewolf form though but halfway through the said journey, his kin who passed by him spoke words that filled him with dread. Fear and anxiety made his blood run cold as his fists clenched tightly enough for blood to be drawn.

“Hey!” He caught a younger wolf’s attention by forcefully grabbing his shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

“The main forces of the wolvendom planned to attack the vampire’s city,” replied the youth before running away with his companions, shouting the same news to their small town.

Wriothesley stood frozen in his position for a few seconds before turning back, adrenaline already running in his veins.

“Didn’t we tell you already?”

But, Neuvillette didn’t budge even with the persistent persuasion. He still sat on the only seat in the hall while observing his unwanted guests.

“No, the wolf isn’t here,” reported another vampire kin. “Even the fairies and the other people who lived with the Elder here aren’t present.”

The councilor furrowed his eyebrows as he turned to the silver-haired man. “You let him escape.”

“He left on his own. He’s not my prisoner like everyone of you thought.”

“But, he’s from your collection,” another councilor pondered.

“Like I said before, Neuvillette,” said the councilor he injured only a few weeks ago as he walked in. “He will be your downfall. Another werewolf yet again.”

The Elder Vampire’s expression turned grim as he stood from his seat. His aura flowed like a raging river in the hall and the weaker ones fell unconscious, bubbling foam from their mouths.

They dropped onto their knees as they looked at him in fear, “You…”

“Let’s see if you can hold your ground,” he declared as wings not of vampiric nature spread out from his back. His claws emerged and his eyes glowed a familiar color. Everyone shuddered as they recalled how reminiscent those amethyst eyes were like of the primordial sea where all things originated.

“No way! You are—”

Seeing the vampire’s secluded territory overrun by different races, with his kin spearheading the attack, Wriothesley feared for everyone in the castle.

History truly repeats itself.

They would surely use him as an excuse whether they found him dead or alive in the vampire’s castle. Dread ran through him as he realized their expertly crafted plan. They spun a lie to spark unrest, and a plausible reason to wipe out one race when perfectly executed.

When more people began moving towards Neuvillette’s castle, the ravenet knew he had to do something. His body moved faster than his mind, immediately running back towards the castle. Wriothesley ran and ran and ran until his lungs burned. As his instincts warned him of his body’s limits, amidst his run, he immediately transformed to his wolven form.

By the time he arrived at the cliff, he noticed groups heading towards the castle and fear struck him again. His anxiety soared and with it, he let out a distressed howl, a cry for help to whomever out there. It echoed throughout the forests, alarming each of every creature residing there. Even the invaders halted their advances upon hearing his howl, which also urged them to move quicker.

Wriothesley ran faster until he reached the castle now littered with corpses. Not just his own kin but many of the vampires laid there in their own pools of blood. Wincing at the metallic smell, he immediately ran towards the main hall and everything now embroiled in chaos, drowning in blood.

Among them, one silver-haired man stood. Claws replaced his hands and wings spread out from his back.

“He’s already weakened!” shouted another one and the other group lunged at Neuvillette.

He managed to fend for himself despite his sluggish movements and Wriothesley then jumped on them, joining in and protecting Neuvillette by tearing his own kin’s limbs apart. It gave Neuvillette a reprieve, sitting down on the dais.

“Why did you come back, mon loup?” he asked but there’s a relieved smile on his face.

Wriothesley circled around him before licking his jaw, making the vampire chuckle. “I’m fine. The others had already evacuated a few days ago and the fairies left earlier this morning.”

Wriothesley whimpered then also sat beside him, nudging him with his snout. “You’re really sweet sometimes.”

The werewolf perked up next, hearing the upcoming hurried steps. He stood up in front of Neuvillette.

The group stopped seeing the two unlikely companions and a familiar voice called him, “Wriothesley?” 

The wolf growled in response, hiding Neuvillette behind him.

“Wriothesley! You’re really here! We were trying to rescue you!” He also glanced at the group who arrived. “We overrun the vampire city, we thought—”

“Did you?” He asked, tone dripping with anger as he transformed back. “Weren’t you the one who surrendered me to the vampires, framed me up for killing them after you,” he finally faced them, “killed my own family?”

Neuvillette stared at the ravenet’s and when the words sunk in amid his concussion, a certain power weighed on everyone.

Wriothesley turned to Neuvillette and saw his eyes glowing while he breathed raggedly. When reason caught onto him, with Wriothelsey also holding onto him, only then he noticed the werewolves down on their knees and found it hard to breathe.

Amidst the momentary respire, a deafening roar rumbled in the air and disturbed the thickets’ calmness and peace. It was then followed by a slow clap and heels clacking onto the marble floor.

Everyone turned to the newest company and his mocking voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the hall: “It’s remarkable as to what you lowly mortals can do with your ephemeral lives.”

“Scylla…”

He saluted Neuvillette. “It’s been a while, my liege.”

Neuvillette frowned at the honorific. “Are you also involved in this?”

“I’m not boorish like these lowlifes, my liege. You knew me better than that.”

“The dragonkin…” mumbled Wriothesley once he noticed those majestic horns on Scylla’s head then glanced at Neuvillette, remembering his other blood.

“These lowly wolves have been trying to eliminate you for a while now, still holding onto the grudge spanning millennia.”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“If not for the fact that this castle is secluded, they could have found you sooner.” He mused, looking around. “Well, the ancient magic I’ve casted around as a barrier must have been chipped away by these vampiric bastards.”

“Why must you be so crass?” mumbled Neuvillette.

Now that Wriothesley remembered it, Scylla was the right-hand man of the Father Dragon and held onto the authority when the ancient dragon passed away. While many were questioning his legitimacy, he merely posed himself as a stand-in for the legitimate heir.

“Why is the dragonkin involved with this?” asked the acting leader of the werewolves’ group. “You have always been in your lane. Why are you meddling in our business now?”

“Why?” He asked sarcastically then pointed at Neuvillette. “That man is also my business.”

“No, we were here first. He’s our prey first!”

“Prey?” Scylla laughed manically. “You don’t know who that man is, right? Since you’re calling him your prey.”

“He’s the one who slaughtered our kin during the Great War!”

“Aha! Well yes, that’s true. But, is that all?”

“Yes. This is our revenge—to kill him!”

“Oh, my liege, if they had known sooner, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Either way, I won’t be spared because I’m a half-blood,” Neuvillette replied then stood up wobbly.

Everyone’s expression changed when they heard that.

Wriothesley caught him in his arms, letting his figure lean onto him.

“And that half-blood also in you will be the reason why this fight must cease. It’s been millennia. You ought to return to where you truly belong, my liege.”

But Neuvilette’s other blood was for them to ponder later on. The werewolves found themselves at an impasse since the dragons were now involved.

“Wriothesley! Leave that vampire! We’re going to return!”

“Why should I?” The ravenet angrily responded while holding tightly onto Neuvillette. “You were the one who threw me away. Why should I return to a life where I’m merely a pawn being played by your hands?”

Scylla laughed. “My, how boorish indeed.”

But the werewolves couldn’t refute nor act, not in front of a dragonkin who could trample them while barely lifting a finger.

“Wriothesley, please—" 

“You started the war yourselves because of your envy, enough to drive the Father Dragon to his death!”

And with those words, deathly silence descended up the hall.

“What are you…”

“Mates are important to the immortals, you must have known that. And yet, you kill the Father Dragon’s mate.”

“That’s correct,” Scylla seconded. “Because you killed the vampire whom you thought tainted the Father Dragon with her lies.”

“But that’s the truth!” lashed out the leader, angered by how things played out. The truth they concealed was now being revealed.

Scylla scowled. “If she indeed lured him in, the Father Dragon would have died by her hands instead and Neuvillette would have not existed.”

The wolven kin looked at Neuvillette in disbelief, and Wriothesley hid the vampire’s face on his bosom, tightly holding onto him while looking at his own kin with animosity.

He spat out angrily, “Neuvillette is the victim all these millennia. Not you.”

Scylla’s expression turned grimmer at the ravenet’s words then faced the werewolves, claws now bared and wings spreading out.

The wolven kin made their stance in reaction.

“Go, little werewolf. Leave this to me. After all, I have to settle matters with your kin.” Those ethereal eyes reminiscent of the primordial sea glanced at Wriothesley. “You don’t have any qualms about me dealing with them, right?”

Wriothesley frowned as he tightly held Neuvillette. “Do what you must.”

When Wriothesley left the castle with Neuvillette in his arms, the vampire had already passed out. His breaths shallower than before and his injuries not healing.

“There you are!” said a familiar voice and Wriothesley turned to the little fairy approaching them fast.

“Sigewinne!”

“Just as I thought! It was you who howled for help!” She noticed Neuvillette lifeless in his arms. “Oh my! Is Monsieur—”

“He just passed out but I don’t know where to go.”

The dragons circling above the thickets roared once again, the others diving down to the castle’s direction, transforming to their human forms.

“Transform to your wolven form and I’ll hold onto him,” Sigewinne ordered and transformed to a teenager to hold Neuvillette up.

Wriothesley lied down so they could put Neuvillette on his back and Sigewinne followed suit.

“Go, I’ll tell you the directions!”

As they traversed the thickets directly south to where the castle stood, they eventually arrived at a large lake and Sigewinne asked the wolf to run to the right. As they approached closer to the next periphery, only then the wolf noticed the changing surroundings. They ran past the barrier and eventually arrived at a humongous palace thrice the size of a normal human castle.

“Sigewinne!” called the fairies and only then they noticed the monsieur being held up by her.

They screamed for Neuvillette in unison and Wriothesley transformed back to carry the vampire inside. They were led in by the dragonkin and he immediately brought him to the infirmary.

Sigewinne assisted the healers while everyone waited outside. The fairies huddled with Wriothesley’s wolven form lying outside the room. They were sobbing quietly while clinging onto him.

Twilight came and only then Sigewinne came out. She declared, “Monsieur fell into a coma but his condition is already stable.”

“Thank the Father Dragon,” most of them muttered before crying again.

It was Wriothesley who lingered most of the time, opting to stay in his wolven form to avoid talking to the others, especially with those curious dragons eyeing him. He just lounged beside the comatose Neuvillette, nudging his cheek with his snout from time to time, hoping he would wake up soon.

And the latest news came after only a few days after, with Scylla sitting on the monsieur’s bedside while he told him: “The rebellion in your place had been settled and I coerced the wolvendom to sign a treaty with us. And unsurprisingly, the vampire’s population was reduced to half because of their idiocy.”

Wriothesley snorted as he leaned back to face the dragon. “Serves them right.”

“Then, how about you?” Scylla asked as he stared at the werewolf.

He frowned. “I’ll wait for the monsieur to wake up first then decide. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I don’t mind. Just stay here for a while. You are very welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll attend to some matters so I leave Vivi to you.”

Wriothesley nodded, ignoring the call of the nickname, then stared at Neuvillette’s sleeping face again while Scylla exited the room. He eventually held onto the vampire’s hand and kissed it, wishing, “Please wake up soon.”

Today, the little fairies chose to stay inside Neuvillette’s room. They drew back the curtains to let the light and soft breeze in and they lounged on the bedside, so was Wriothesley who let them do whatever they wanted. 

Eight days had already passed but Neuvillette showed no signs of waking up soon. Everyone tethered on the edge, worried for him. It also frustrated the werewolf, of course, thinking that the vampire might have really overexerted himself during the attack on the castle.

The fairies couldn’t help but be concerned for him, sensing his anxiety. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He huffed. “What would happen to the monsieur’s castle?”

“Oh, that.” Serene hummed. “We abandoned it. The dragonkin has already transferred all of the monsieur’s belongings here.”

Those glacial eyes stared at Neuvillette again and sighed. 

And the morning passed quietly like that.

When afternoon came, everyone napped beside Neuvillette. This time, Wriothesley decided to sleep in his werewolf form, ears and fluffy tail out. He had already recovered from the fatigue he suffered during the attack and was given the task to accompany Neuvillette in his room after he was transferred. He attended to him, changing his clothes and wiping him clean.

Honestly, the dragonkin should be attending to him but, knowing he already seen all of Neuvillette, he volunteered to also do that. Wriothesley wanted to care for him like how Neuvillette cared for him during his stay in his castle. For him, this was a small thing compared to what he did for him.

Wriothesley hovered his fingers before tucking the hair away from the monsieur’s face, hoping for him to wake up soon. Amidst his prayers, the werewolf dozed off while leaning onto his hand and when he looked at Neuvillette when he woke up, those amethyst eyes stared at him with so much fondness.

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, realizing that Neuvillette was indeed awake.

“You’re all napping and I don’t have the heart to disturb all—”

“Monsieur!” The fairies called and even the dragonkin spread the news and everyone nearly crowded in his room.

Wriothesley helped him sit and lean back onto the headboard while the physicians fussed over him. He recovered well but he might need to replenish his energy due to his long slumber.

And once Scylla arrived, everyone in the room kept quiet.

“My liege,” he saluted.

“I never expected to be back here again.”

“This is where you belong. Not in those gloomy thickets.”

He casted his look down. “How about the dragons who are opposed to my position?”

“Whether they like it or not, the Father Dragon’s blood runs within you. Every dragonkin can also tell that you’re more of a dragon than a vampire, maybe except for your looks. After all, you’re like the male counterpart of your mother.”

“That’s… reassuring to hear.”

“And from now on, Wriothesley will be your companion, he will undergo proper training as someone who will stand by your side soon.”

Wriothesley stared wide-eyed at Scylla since it’s the first time he heard of such arrangements.

Neuvillette chuckled. “We have yet to talk about it, Scylla, but it seems you’ve assumed—”

He shrugged, pointing out, “Well, he ran miles and miles to bring you here. If that’s nothing, then what is?”

Everyone in the room eyed Wriothesley and he hid by transforming to his wolven form, putting his head in Neuvillette’s lap as he refused to look at them.

Neuvillette patted his head. “Alright, don’t bully mon loup.”

“But that’s that.” Scylla grinned next. “Welcome back home, Neuvillette.”

He smiled warmly. “Thank you, Scylla.”

The dragon clapped, earning everyone’s attention. “All right, you little ones, come with me and leave them be for a while. We’ll prepare a feast too, are you up for it?”

“Of course, Mister Scylla!”

He motioned to the door, “Off you go!”

Before closing the doors, Scylla winked at Neuvillette and the latter chuckled at his antics.

“So…” Neuvillette prompted and Wriothesley transformed back. He eyed the ravenet who shrunk under his scrutinizing gaze. “Did the kiss back then mean something?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asked in return as a faint blush appeared on his face.

Neuvillette laughed and opened his arms to him, and the werewolf acquiesced, embracing him tightly again, elated that he finally woke up.

“Don’t scare me again,” he whispered shakily.

“You have my word, mon loup.” He kissed his cheek. “Stay with me?”

And Wriothesley’s answer was another kiss, this time, fervent and overflowing with inexplicable feelings. Once they parted, the werewolf ran his thumb against his lip, muttering, “Take responsibility.”

Neuvillette laughed and he finally kissed the werewolf on his own accord for the first time, conveying that they shared mutual feelings despite what they’ve been through these past months.

“I love you.”

“That’s cheating, monsieur,” he grumbled and hid his face away on the crevice on the monsieur’s neck.

Neuvillette laughed, much to Wriothesley glee, thinking that the fond laughter suited him.

In the gazebo nearby, certain draconic eyes watched their figures so close together, not minding how they shared kisses and showing how in love they were.

“Will you tell the monsieur about what you found out?” Sigewinne asked, face cradled by both her hands as she also stared at the lovers.

“He doesn’t need to know anymore.” He smiled softly to himself. “He looks so happy already.” 

“He is.”

“Fate works in the strangest ways, don’t you think so, little Sigewinne?”

“Yes, Mister Scylla.” She giggled. “But, I was wondering…” She turned her attention to the nearby lake. “How elated would the monsieur be if he knew that his former lover reincarnated and returned to his side?”

He huffed fondly. “Beyond elated, my dear.”

Fin