She turned around when a soft knock came on her door. In the middle of the night, that was a scary sort of visitation.
However, Razia made a knot out of the straps of her lingerie and went for it.
As she drew it open, a pair of tired blue eyes stared at her.
"I apologize if I interrupted any dream of yours," Abraham said as he leaned on the post. "But, would you mind if I slept here? I don't seem to remember how to doze off."
Razia Singh hesitated, her eyes searching his worriedly. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"
He waved a hand dismissively and thought he could skip protocols. Gently, he pushed past her and stepped into her bed chamber. "I am well." Turning to her, he waited as she shut the door and refocused on him. "It seems I have a lot on my mind I need to forgo. No one helps me do that better than you do."
He was sure to see color flush her cheeks, but of course her naivete made her just gawk.
Uncertainly, she looked out the balcony to remind him of the time. But then, it was her duty, wasn't it? "Certainly, My King. But, how am I supposed to do that?"
He smiled, took her hand in his and stepped out onto the terrace of her chamber. She'd followed quietly.
After a while of inhaling the gentle gush of air current, he glanced at her. "You weren't asleep as well, were you?"
"Ow," she shrugged. "I was just…thinking."
"It is about your family, isn't it," he interrupted calmly. With her hand still in his, he sighed and looked away. "We are mystic, Razia. And there is no possible way we'll be fully accepted. Divinity and mortality never blend, learn to face it, darling mine."
She did not respond immediately. But, it was obvious there was no doubting what he said. After drawing the robe of her lingerie in place, she nodded reluctantly. "I'll be fine."
The white lie was obvious as soon as it was muttered. And it surprised him how much it hurt him.
Instinctively, he turned her to face him. After drinking in the beauty he'd forever admire, he lowered his head and touched his forehead to hers, a gesture that brought a warmth to him.
She must have felt it too, because slowly, she closed her eyes and gave a comfortable smile.
"Am I not enough family to you, Razia?" He forced sadness into his tone, raising his empty hand to cup her chin.
She grinned at the words; and when her eyes opened, a tinge of moisture laced them. "Of course you are, Your Majesty."
Finally, he mused, some emotion.
"Very well then," he drew back and smirked, "why don't we head to sleep. Tell me a story."
The joy on her face suddenly withdrew and she gave a deep frown of confusion. "But, My King. Story? I…"
As she went on searching for words, his eyes travelled down her body, and he finally found something he might prefer.
"Why not tell me about your tattoes," he never lifted his gaze from her thighs. Slowly, his fangs emerged…and he gasped. "I have never stopped wondering what they mean."
Razia gave an abrupt nod and turned to head back into her chamber. After a few steps, she slumped to sit on the master bed within and gestured for the King to do same.
Abraham creased his brows and smiled. Oh he liked that…his hands came up to pull off his sleeping robe as he stalked forward.
And all bare, built torso and predator like growl, he crawled unto the bed and beside her. The scent of her engulfed him; and a little shift later, he placed his head on her bare thighs, feeling her hands come to cradle his hair.
Slowly, he traced a finger on a figure drawn on her left thigh. "Tell me about this one."
And he closed his eyes while she obeyed, her hands still stroking down the black mane of his hair.
By God, she was his peace of mind.
***
"I believe they say it's one of the most powerful Kingdoms in Europe," said the Priest nonchalantly as he reined the horse down the hill path.
Miya Singh was gawking anxiously at the solid walls of Decresh just below the cliff. It wasn't the glory or strength the sight held. Neither was it the beauty or size. What constantly heightened her pulse was the possibility Razia could be in there.
She braced her hands on the man's shoulders for support as the filly descended further. "Thank you so much, Reverend," her eyes never left Decresh. "I couldn't have made it here alive without you."
Paul Herrman thinned his lips into a line and nodded to her. Truly, he wished his helping her really circled around kindness. But then…there was a deeper, more selfish reason.
The creature he'd been searching for could also be here. And with that thought in mind, he clutched his crucifix tighter and headed West for the gates of Decresh.
***
"Why do I find this very normal?" Martin shrugged, hands braced on his hips as his head shook with a frown.
No answer came to his question though. Jeremy and Sam continued their sword practice like he'd never said anything.
But he went on anyways. "Just yesterday, I realised I had a cousin who caused earthquakes whenever he cried."
After another shrug, he faced the men. "I was flirting with a lady capable of squashing me with a fist…and I am not in the least bothered."
The summer sun cast its warmth upon the lawn in graceful amounts. But of course, Martin never cared. After being ignored for a moment, he sighed and gave his head another shake. "Oh Lord," he whispered. "May I not go mad."
Sam Singh picked up the words though and paused the clinking frenzy of blades with the older Prince. "Amen. You'd need your sanity for the war upfront."
"What makes you think Ozo, or whatever the devil his name is, won't kill me before then?"
He was smiling shamefully, certainly nervous about something he tried to hide. "I'd best go live with mother than see the world end before me."
"Coward…" Jeremy grunted. He slipped his sword into his sheath and gave his brother a scowl. "They should have taken you and left Charles. He would have been useful."
All he got from Martin was an innocent snicker.
"I wonder how my family's doing with all the talk about the apocalypse," declared Sam after squinting passively.
"Samlong…" he heard someone shriek his name on a manner he surely didn't find pleasing.
And abruptly, the three turned towards the source. Just upon a daunting horse, Miya Singh frowned at him from behind a man cradled in black fitted breeches and a waistcoat filled with a variety of blades.
Just beside them, a little bit lower though, came a dalmatian sniffing the grass eagerly with a low growl.
While two of the men were confused, Martin had a grin on.
"Isn't God amazing," he gasped, just before he began to half run forward. And of course successfully instilling shame in his elder brother.
Jeremy Tonnel gave a frustrated groan, turned around and retired towards the doors.
Although both brothers had gone either way, Sam was still anchored to a spot. Something like disappointment marred his face, and a little bit of confusion.