Third Drop

Decades were what it took to find and catch one by one the remaining vampires, the smaller clans. The solitary ones. After learning about the defeat of their fellow congeners at Bellemir, they became more cautious.

    All it took was to wait for them to betray themselves. Rumours of corpses deprived of their vital liquid. Marks of bites found over their necks. Those who killed were targeted by mercenaries, sent at once by the king.

    In the end, it wasn’t exactly possible to tell if all vampires had been beheaded. Perhaps part, rare ones among them, weren’t a threat. After all, time allowed Siméon to gain some peace of mind. He never bit a single one of his subjects, he didn’t turn his back on them.

    This said, when after years of silence not a single vampire attack was to be listed, Siméon safely assumed that it could be considered a success. More importantly, he believed that in his past visitor’s eyes, the most important place had been cleansed.

    But his promise wasn’t complete yet.

“I knew I would find you here.”

    Standing under the gazebo of a magnificent rosery, Siméon recognised the back of the man who once changed his fate.

    Despite the king’s voice being perfectly audible, the visitor made no move to glance at him.

“You sound so dramatic.” He ended up replying. “There was no way you’d have known I would be here.”

“And missing the day we celebrated the restoration of Bellemir’s castle?” King Siméon tilted his head. “This place has finally been cleansed of the blood staining it, and the first roses bloomed as if to give their blessings. Surely you yearned to see it for yourself,.. Prince Ekiel.”

    These words were worthy of a glance, and the golden-haired man turned a piercing one to the king.

“Of course, you guessed.”

“I remember a party given at Pomme Rouge’s castle. I was still a child back then, already one weak to illness. Still, even though I didn’t take part in the celebrations, I remember that Bellemir’s royalty was invited. The maids fervently spoke of the prince present that evening. His fine features, his golden locks captivated their attention.” Siméon paused. “And I couldn’t help but wonder, why a vampire would ask me to purge the lands of his kind? Unless… deep down you were still a human seeking vengeance.”

    Ekiel turned to fully face Siméon.

    There was no denying it; each of his moves carried an effortless elegance. One learnt with his first steps in this godforsaken world.

“I lost the right to be called that long ago now.” Ekiel replied. “I lost it the day our lands were invaded by powerful clans of vampires. I tried to fight them back, but there was no end to it. They caught us by surprise, took the castle as a target. In no time, chaos erupted. The few blows I gave, the few ones I slayed, it was all risible. I couldn’t protect anyone, not even my younger siblings. I endured the sight of their frail corpses strewn about the ground. Until one of these monsters managed to bite me.”

    The bitterness lingered in his crimson eyes, it was as if the tragedy happened a couple of days ago.

“But you aren’t here to pity me, are you?” Ekiel didn’t wait for Siméon to react, placing his hand against his hip.

    At the sight of the young man identical to the one painted in the castle’s gallery, the king couldn’t help a smile slipping from the corner of his lips.

“Always so petulant.” Siméon reached one hand to the sheath fastened at his belt. Drawing a silver sword. “But you aren’t wrong. I’m here to honour our pact.”

    Ekiel didn’t make the faintest move as the king approached him step by step.

“You asked me to exterminate down to the last vampire, if my memory doesn’t fail me.”

    Outstretching his arm, Siméon pointed the sharp of his blade at Ekiel’s neck. The cold metal brushing the delicate skin.

    He waited for a reaction. For a word to bypass the threshold of his lips.

    But Ekiel didn’t correct him.

    Instead, a smug smile appeared on his face.

“You just hate them this much, don’t you…” King Siméon uttered, a rare hint of annoyance in his voice.

    The crown prince of Bellemir. The sole survivor of the tragedy. All he sought was revenge for the blood lost that day. And that included taking the life of that young man, that same one who failed to protect the lands he was proud of, the people precious to his heart.

“You and I aren’t much different.” He resumed. “If I hadn’t been able to give my folk a better place to live in, if I had to watch them die to the last one, I would have probably ended as bitter as you.”

    Ekiel simply snorted, briefly closing his eyes.

“You would’ve been worse.”

“Perhaps.” Siméon added with a smile.

    He began to think that this was the reason they both kept their sanity. Both had a will, a desire which took up all the room in their hearts. Something bloodlust could never hope to consume.

“Do you want my death as well?” Siméon resumed. “Should I kill myself afterwards? Otherwise, there would still be one vampire standing.”

“You?” Ekiel chuckled grimly. “You’re a joke of a vampire.”

“Ahh, I see.” The king tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “Then, this joke will hereby behead you. But… before I do, there’s one question I wish to ask.”

“Ask, my lord.”

“By the time you tied a pact with me, a whole decade had passed since Bellemir fell. Why did you wait for so long? Surely you would’ve found another way if you wanted to. You could have also asked the same of my father. He died first.”

“Your father?” Ekiel mocked. “He was the one who caused your kingdom to suffer so much.”

“Well, he wasn’t the best king, though…”

“No. I meant it word for word. He made sure to lead your people to their agony.”

    There was a blunt honesty in his voice that made Siméon widen his lilac eyes. It was nonsense. And still, he believed him the moment he heard the words.

“Your kingdom had the closest bond with Pomme Rouge, hence it was the first refuge I thought of after losing everything. I couldn’t bring myself to stay among these doomed monsters, after all. Then, I considered getting closer to the king, your father. And that’s how I got the opportunity to see what he plotted behind your back. Your father was terrified. With what happened to Bellemir, he feared that Pomme Rouge would be the next kingdom to fall prey to the vampires. That’s when he got a desperate idea. It was common knowledge that vampires avoid biting ill people. Their blood holds no interest in their eyes. Hence, his idea was that… if a major part of his subjects were ill, they would be safe.”

    Siméon’s eyes filled with an intensity their softness usually kept at bay. His kingdom… His beloved folk…

“So… It all withered because he gave up any hope before even trying to fight. But how… How did he…” He could hardly bring himself to finish his thought, which Ekiel spared him from.

“The soil. He poisoned it. He found a way, he found people to soak it in a substance the crops absorbed. This was how people fell ill at first. They ate poisoned food. What happened next… you know it better than me.”

“How ironic.” Siméon paused, lost in thought. “So my father fell prey to his own folly. Dying from an illness he hoped would save him.”

    A beat.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“You had enough weight on your shoulders.” Ekiel answered before tapping the king’s blade with two fingers. “Now, do it. Complete your task. I’ll end up falling asleep if you don’t put a bit of will into it.”

    With a faint frown, the king moved his sword away from Ekiel’s neck, as if to give it enough momentum to behead the vampire.

    Siméon’s gaze did not part from Ekiel’s.

    Nonetheless, instead of giving it one last impulse, he dropped it to his side.

“I changed my mind.”

“What?” Ekiel frowned.

“I don’t plan to kill you any more.”

“Did you forget your promise?” Ekiel’s tone darkened. “You’d make a huge mistake by underestimating my strength. I can become a threat to your beloved folk.”

    Not bothering to reply at first, Siméon stepped forward. Closing the distance between them, he pressed a hand to the back of Ekiel’s neck. Fingers pulled him closer to the king.

“I have other plans for you. I still need someone to provide me blood, after all.” Siméon murmured next to his ear. “Hence, I’ll make you my loyal hellhound. You’ll stay by my side, so that I can watch your every move. Your every breath.”

    For the first time, Ekiel’s eyes widened. He could feel Siméon’s fingers running down his neck. Gentle, yet persistent.

    Siméon still had to take revenge for that time Ekiel forced him to swallow rusty liquid for the first time. And he planned to do so every single day to come.

    With a chuckle, Ekiel grabbed Siméon’s wrist, leaning back to meet his gaze.

“When I’ve had enough of your twisted games, I’ll just forget to bring you that blood.”

    At his words, Siméon’s smile grew more confident.

“Then, you’ll be the one I bite.”

    For the years, the centuries to come, Pomme Rouge would know no other calamity than the love held for them by the man known as the Eternal King.