The heavy, iron-bound doors creaked open with an eerie groan, spilling the afternoon sun into the darkness of the court. Historia and Kelly stood at the threshold, their feet barely steady, dust and dried blood clinging to their skin. Behind them, Victor moved silently, though the pressure of his presence never left.
The vast chamber swallowed them whole.
Stone walls arched high into a ceiling cloaked in shadows, flickering torches casting golden light that couldn't chase away the deep chill. Vampires lined the room on both sides—cloaked, pale, watching like statues carved from bone. None blinked. None breathed.
It wasn't just a throne room. It was a feeding ground dressed like a palace.
The throne itself sat at the far end of the court, tall and brutal—obsidian black, twisted with bone and iron, as if it had been forged from the remains of kings. Spiked pillars towered beside it like a cage of shadows.
And on it sat the Vampire King.
He didn't slouch. He didn't fidget. He sat still, back straight, legs relaxed, arms resting on the throne like the room belonged to his body. No—like the room was his body.
Nicklaus Drayven.
His right eye—glacial blue—burned cold enough to freeze fire, and a thin scar curved from his brow to his upper eyelid, cutting through the sharp symmetry of his face. But the eye itself was untouched, piercing, alive. His left eye, however, remained completely shut, unreadable, as if it held a secret he refused to let the world see. There was no visible mark there. No injury. Just silence.
A chill sank into Historia's bones. It wasn't fear—it was instinct. The part of her soul that once howled beneath a full moon was now whimpering.
Kelly shifted beside her, flinching as she caught the stares. Several vampires eyed her openly, crimson gazes fixed on her blood-streaked leg. Their nostrils flared, and fangs peeked out beneath cold, parted lips. Her cousin's eyes flicked left, then right, narrowing into a growl.
Victor noticed her stiffen and leaned closer with a smirk, exposing his elongated fangs in an exaggerated grin.
Kelly glared at him in disgust, baring her own teeth like a wolf. Historia caught the exchange from the corner of her eye but didn't react. She couldn't afford to.
They were in the den of monsters now.
Nicklaus's presence wasn't like the others. It didn't beckon or tease—it crushed. The room didn't breathe until he allowed it.
And then he finally spoke.
"Speak."
Just one word. But it felt like a blade slipping into the room's heart. Even Victor went silent—his amusement draining into something more respectful. He stepped back into the shadows without another word.
Historia's voice caught in her throat. She wasn't sure what she expected—but this wasn't it.
She clenched her fists. This is it. This is the only shot you've got.
With a slow, trembling breath, she stepped forward.
"My name is Historia Silvermoon of the Silver Moon Pack," she began, her voice hoarse but steady. "Daughter of Alpha Killian. Granddaughter of Alpha Kane of Thunderclaw. We seek your help."
Several ministers murmured at her words. One scoffed. Another sneered openly. The tension mounted like wolves scenting an intruder.
"I know what I'm asking is dangerous," she continued. "But my pack—my people—are under siege. Dimitri of the Midnight Reapers has declared war. He's destroying everything. He wants to unite all packs under him. And I…"
She faltered only for a moment before straightening.
"I caused this war."
Gasps and whispers rippled through the court like broken glass across marble.
Kelly stiffened but said nothing. Her glare hadn't left the vampires who continued watching her like prey. Blood dripped down her shin and onto the black stone floor.
Historia pressed on. "I rejected Dimitri's proposal. He wanted an alliance through marriage, and I said no. I thought it was the right thing. But now my people are paying the price for my decision. And I won't run anymore."
Her words hung in the air, bold and trembling.
She met the king's eye. Or tried to.
Nicklaus didn't move. Not even to blink.
The silence in the throne room was sharp—almost dangerous. The vampire king sat like carved obsidian, his features unreadable, but the air around him had darkened. Shadows coiled at his feet like loyal beasts.
"You brought me a marriage proposal... because you assumed I would help you if we were bound," he said slowly, his voice soft—mocking, deadly.
Historia swallowed but held her ground. "Yes. A union between vampire and werewolf would shift the balance. If you help my people survive Dimitri's attack, I will marry you."
Laughter erupted from the corners of the court—sharp and cruel like broken glass. Some nobles sneered. One of the ministers—a lean man with a silver chain looped around his neck—leaned forward with a smirk. "The girl thinks we need her," he hissed.
"I can give you something your people can't," Historia said louder, her voice cutting through the mockery. "Wolves are superior in one thing—breeding. We repopulate fast. I can give you an heir."
That silenced most of them.
But Nicklaus only leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the bone armrest, his cold blue eye fixed on her. "You think I'm desperate for a child?" he asked, amused. "For an heir?"
"No," she said. "But I think you're smart. You know this war will end with one of us ruling. If it's you, an alliance through me gives you access to the South—and our warriors."
Behind her, Kelly shifted again, still bleeding, still glaring at the vampires that eyed her hungrily. She met Victor's eyes and caught the way he grinned at her—fangs sharp and polished. Kelly's upper lip curled in disgust.
Victor only winked.
Historia noticed the exchange but didn't dare look away from Nicklaus.
"I'm not just offering myself," she said, lowering her voice, her words measured now. "I'm offering a future—peace between species."
Nicklaus rose slowly from his throne.
And for a moment, Historia forgot how to breathe.
He didn't rush. He didn't need to. Every movement he made felt like gravity bending around him. The hem of his black coat swept behind him like smoke. His closed left eye remained shut, unreadable. But his right eye—icy and full of lethal precision—never strayed from her face.
By the time he reached her, she could feel his aura clawing at her skin.
He stopped just before her, tall and terrifying, a monster in royal skin. "What exactly are you offering, little wolf?"
Her heartbeat was thunder in her ears, but her voice remained steady.
"You help my people," she said, "and in return, I'll marry you."
She took a breath.
"And if you give me eighty days…" she continued, "I'll make you fall in love with me."
The court went utterly still.
Even Victor froze.
Nicklaus narrowed his eye. "You expect me… to fall in love with you?"
"If I fail," Historia said, lifting her chin, "you can do whatever you want with me. And my people. Enslave us. Kill us. Use us."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Kelly's head snapped toward her, eyes wide in disbelief. Even the guards standing nearby stiffened.
But Nicklaus… only stared.
The quiet dragged long and heavy.
Then came the answer.
"No."
Just one word. Cold. Absolute.
The finality of it made Historia's heart stumble. Her lips parted slightly, as if to plead again, but Nicklaus didn't give her a chance.
He turned to one of the guards. "Take them away."
Kelly straightened in alarm. "Hey—"
"Wait—" Historia started, panic flaring.
But Nicklaus spoke again—cutting her off.
"Feed them. Heal their wounds. Clean them. Dress them properly."
That froze Historia in place.
"And tonight…" he turned back toward his throne, his voice sharp as broken ice, "…we'll talk at dinner."
Victor chuckled under his breath, clearly delighted. He didn't question his brother's command—in fact, he loved it.
Historia's knees wobbled slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline. Her entire body felt like it was burning and frozen at once.
Still, she bowed her head in reluctant submission. It wasn't a yes—but it wasn't the death sentence she'd expected.
Nicklaus returned to his throne without looking back. The court remained silent.
And so, under the sharp gazes of nobles and monsters alike, two battered werewolf girls were led out of the vampire king's court—not as prisoners, not yet allies—but something far more dangerous.
A gamble had been made.