The chamber had fallen into a hushed quiet after the ritual. The scent of blood still clung to the marble, rich and metallic, mingling with the faint perfume of burning incense and ancient stone. Shadows danced along the high, arched ceilings, twisting like whispers of forgotten ghosts.
Arthur stood near the obsidian throne at the center of the hall, his broad figure outlined by the dim, ethereal glow of the wall torches. His feet finally touched the floor — a deliberate choice. The sharp echo of his boots striking the marble cut through the silence like a blade.
For the vampires present, each step was a reminder — the sound of death itself approaching, measured and slow.
For the mortals lingering at the edges of the room, it was subtler — a creeping chill that slid down their spines, crawling beneath their skin like invisible fingers.
Selena stood across from him, arms wrapped around herself, eyes bright with defiance and something deeper — longing, perhaps, or desperation. The flickering blue flames along the stone sconces bathed her face in soft shadows, catching the tension carved into her jawline.
Arthur's voice broke the stillness, low and heavy like the turning of ancient gears. "Why?" He tilted his head, studying her the way one might dissect a fragile creature. "Why would you ask to be my concubine… when you already hold more power as my daughter?"
His silver eyes narrowed, reflecting the firelight, his expression unreadable — calm, but dangerous.
"You, as my blood," he continued, taking another slow step forward — the sound reverberating across the marble floor, sending a visible shudder through the nearby vampires — "carry my name. My voice. My legacy. You speak, and they listen. You command, and they obey."
His gaze sharpened. "The concubines… beautiful, yes. Desired… admired…" His eyes lingered briefly on the line of flawless, newly transformed women across the chamber — their perfect bodies sculpted to his taste, their silver eyes gleaming with hunger. "But their power is borrowed. Conditional."
He took another step. The sound cracked through the space, and the Ancients near the walls subtly recoiled, some lowering their eyes.
"You… would trade a crown for a collar?" His tone held curiosity, but beneath it, the faintest hint of something darker — disappointment, perhaps, or suspicion.
Selena straightened her spine, chin lifting, defiance sharpening her soft features. "I don't want to be adored like a relic, Father," she spat the word with venom, though her voice trembled. "I don't want servants bowing at my feet… whispering my name in fear because of your blood in my veins."
Arthur's steps ceased. He stood before her now, towering, his shadow stretching like a living entity behind him. His eyes burned silver, ancient and merciless.
Selena's breath quickened, but she held his gaze.
"I want… more," she admitted, voice lowering, raw with truth. "I want to be… yours. Not as your child. As your equal. As your woman."
For a heartbeat, the entire hall seemed to still — even the torches flickered softer, as if the flames themselves recoiled from her words.
Arthur's eyes narrowed to slits, a cold amusement dancing at the edges of his lips. "Equal?" The word curled with bitter humor. "You misunderstand, Selena."
He reached out, fingertips brushing a lock of dark hair from her face. His skin was cold — unnaturally so — yet the gesture was eerily gentle.
"There are no equals to me."
His hand lingered near her cheek, thumb tracing her jawline, eyes scanning her features with unnerving precision, as though he could read her thoughts beneath her skin.
"And yet…" His voice dipped lower, silk wrapped in steel, "You would abandon the sanctuary of my bloodline… surrender your place at my right hand… for the fleeting sweetness of flesh and shadow?"
Selena's lips parted, her throat tightening. For all her boldness, for all her venom… she faltered beneath the weight of his gaze.
"I…" She swallowed, gathering courage like armor. "I want to be seen… not as your heir… but as the woman who bears your mark in every way. To feel you, to belong to you… beyond title, beyond blood."
The confession cracked in the air, heavy with vulnerability.
Arthur's silence was palpable, his expression unreadable, carved from centuries of restraint. The others in the hall watched, silent — the concubines with jealousy simmering behind silver irises, the Ancients with cautious curiosity.
A faint, mocking smile ghosted across Arthur's lips.
"And what if I refuse?" His tone was pure steel now — colder, darker.
Selena's eyes flared with emotion — defiance, desire, pain.
"Then I remain your daughter… but never your servant."
Her words hung in the space like a blade, sharp and irreversible.
Arthur's hand drifted lower, fingers ghosting across her throat — where the pulse beat fragile and mortal beneath the skin.
The sound of his next step — deliberate, slow — cracked through the chamber once more, the air thickening with unspoken decisions.
His voice, quiet yet deafening, fell upon her like a verdict.
"Then choose wisely… for my blood binds stronger than chains, but desire?" His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing. "Desire… burns."
And for the first time, Selena understood the price of craving the Devil himself.