**- Five Centuries After the Great Sealing)**
**The Weight of Crowns**
King Ezra's study reeked of ink and impotent rage. Moonlight bled through stained glass, painting his clenched fists in fractured colors. Fourteen daughters from six queens, yet no son. The ancient crown of Oak - wrought from obsidian and vampire fangs - sat discarded on a pile of unsigned decrees.
"Again?" His voice cracked like winter ice.
The royal physician trembled. "Queen Lilith's moonblood came, Your Grace. No quickening."
Ezra hurled a goblet against the wall. Wine splattered like old blood.
later in the night Ezar went to the library and dstated Lucia a maid
Lucia knew she shouldn't be here. The Forbidden Archives smelled of mildew and secrets. Her calloused fingers traced the illuminated manuscript - *"On the Nature of Hybrid Souls"* - when warm breath ghosted her neck.
"You read Old Tongue?" Ezra's voice vibrated through her spine.
The scroll slipped from her grasp. He caught it, his other hand splaying across her ribcage. She felt his wedding rings - six cold bands - dig into her flesh through the thin linen of her maid's dress.
"Y-yes, Your Grace. My grandfather taught me before..."
"Before my great-great-grandfather purged the literate humans." His fangs glinted in the candlelight. "Say the words, Lucia. Let me hear them roll off your tongue."
When she whispered the ancient verses, something primal uncoiled in Ezra's gut. The scroll was forgotten before it hit the floor.
Three nights later, Ezra found her brushing down his war stallion.
"You smell different," he growled against her throat. "Like storm-wet earth."
Lucia's back met the hay bale as Ezra's teeth found the juncture of her neck. His claws shredded her undergarments with terrifying precision. The stallion snorted as Lucia's moans filled the stable, Ezra's thrusts knocking over tack with each powerful snap of his hips.
Afterward, he licked the blood from her collarbone where his fangs had slipped. "You'll wear my mark before the next moon."
*
Lucia's belly had just begun to swell when Ezra brought her to the overgrown pavilion. Moonflowers glowed like captive stars around them.
"This was my mother's sanctuary," he murmured, laying his ceremonial dagger between them. "Where she wept after my father took his third queen."
The marking ritual left them both breathless - his fangs at her wrist, her dagger at his, their mingled blood steaming in the chill air. When the golden light of bonding subsided, Ezra pressed his forehead to Lucia's stomach.
"A son," he vowed. "With your mind and my strength. I'll tear down the matriarchal laws if I must."
Queen Eleanor's spy network was older than the palace itself. When word reached her of the marked maid's pregnancy, she summoned Crogan from the dungeon depths.
"Make it poetic," she instructed, painting her lips with nightshade extract. "Let the King find his whore's corpse draped over the Blood Oak roots. Arrange the limbs just so." She demonstrated with a mutton bone. "And the Mark... chew it off before you present the remains."
Lucia never made it to the Willow Market.
Crogan's claws took her in the Blackwood's heart, where the trees grew twisted from ancient magic. He'd meant to play with her - to make her scream for hours - but the moment his claws tore through her sleeve, the Mate Mark *blazed*.
Golden light erupted, searing Crogan's eyes. In that instant of blindness, a grey-furred monstrosity barreled from the brush. The werewolf's jaws closed around Crogan's thigh, shaking him like a ragdoll. Bones snapped like kindling.
"Run!" The wolf's voice was guttural, barely. "North! Never look back!"
Ezra's wail when they brought the faceless corpse to court shattered every stained glass window in the Great Hall.
He cradled the mangled body for hours, whispering to the chewed wrist where no Mark remained. Servants later swore his tears left permanent salt stains on the obsidian throne.
For thirty days and nights, the King disappeared into his chambers. When he emerged, his once-black hair had turned ghost-white. The first decree from his bloodless lips:
"Double the guard on Queen Lilith. She carries my last hope."
Far to the north, in a hut that stank of mildew and desperation, Lucia's waters broke as the first snow of winter began to fall.