The Prince's Eye

Faolan's eyes swept over the gathering slowly.

There was an interesting gathering of people here; men and women; nobles, princes and kings alike from many different countries.

All were here for one family.

A family of women, all stood chatting with the nobles and monarchs all looking for a chance to fall into their favour.

Initially Faolan had been searching for a princess of the country. He felt it better not to aim so high as the other princes and nobles had; attempting to fall into the queen's grace and be whisked away.

But then his eyes settled on her and his plans changed.

The man stood a little straighter, hand resting on his sword as he strode towards the woman he had had his eye on all night as she chatted with a noble from his very own country.

Faolan stood taller a few inches taller than the other male, though he wasn't an impressive height. His eyes, however, held power. They were a startling blue that seemed to stare through the soul.

"Delion, Queen Cierra." Her name was a gentle purr on the tip of his tongue.

Cierra often held these little parties, she couldn't leave the castle often and gathering allies from neighboring countries meant her forces were stronger and better off.

A recent joining with a tribe of dessert elves had meant her soldiers had access to superior horses who had been bred and raised in harsh lands and worked for long hours.

It had been a profitable venture that had only cost her the hand of one of her daughters who left eagerly enough.

The girl had been struck by the leaders handsome face and the prospect of leaving her mother's domain.

Cierra's eyes swept over the newcomer, her eyes showed the darkness within her, her irises were a dark, swirling void which engulfed anything that came too close.

"Good evening."

She replied smoothly as she stared up at him, she was not an overly tall woman though that did not take away from how imposing she was.

The Elf noble stuttered a greeting and disappeared into the crowd, realising that this was a lost hope. He couldn't go up against a Prince.

Faolan bowed, his fingers curling around Cierra's hand to feather a light kiss to her knuckles. His grip was firm but gentle. He didn't grab at her or drag her hand up. He was careful to show her respect.

"Evening, Queen Cierra." There was that purr again.

He straightened up, allowing her hand to slip from his light grasp.

"I hope your evening has been filled with pleasant conversations."

She couldn't stop her lips from curling up as he purred at her.

Each man had been the same, coming up to her confidently to either ask for her hand or one of her daughters, and so on and so forth.

The women fawned over her son who had elected to scurry off, not enjoying the company.

No doubted he had gone to entertain himself with his Elf.

"Pleasant conversations? Now why would you wish such a dull fate onto me?"

Conversation didn't hold her interest for long, it was a mundane drag more than anything.

He gave a soft chuckle, his hand resting back on the hilt of his sword.

"I assume, then, conversation hasn't been pleasant to your liking." Pleasant conversations were truly difficult to come by in these gathers.

Faolan didn't know how many times he'd suffered through uninteresting conversations at the torture of these gatherings himself.

"I do wonder how people find pleasant conversation at these gatherings to mean chat over politics and marital status," the Elf admitted with a half-cocked smile. "I do much prefer conversation of the heat of battle, myself. Does the lady agree?"

He'd heard of Cierra's past. Who, from those who had visited a battlefield, hadn't? She was almost a legend on the continent. Something incredible.

He assumed, possibly wrongly, that conversation over something more pleasing to her interests (however much in the past those interests are) would be more engaging for her rather than talk of her children's hands in marriage.

Cierra looked up at the man, her head tilting slightly as his topic of conversation changed rather than the typical pleasantries.

He had managed to gain some of her attention.

"What do you know of the heat of battle?"

She challenged as her lips curled up into a smirk, most of the men here had never seen the grit of war, they were from well off families who would rather send their men to die than get their hands dirty themselves.

She had taken note of the man's hand on his sword, idly wondering if he actually knew how to use it rather than wearing it as a fashion accessory as meany of the nobles did.

"Little, in recent years," he admitted. In the past century, since his father had taken the crown, he had known little of what he had lived his whole life previously.

"But I have spent many of my past years on a battlefield." At nineteen hundred years old, the man had spent more time with a sword in his hand and blood caked onto his skin than he had off the battlefield, dressed in fine clothing. He had joined his country's army at the tender age of fourteen and had wreaked havoc on it until he was eighteen hundred years old.

Faolan could indeed wield his sword. With deadly precision. He was not to be taken lightly with a blade in his hand.

"Little in comparison to you, my Lady Cierra," he chuckled softly.

Cierra had done more than Faolan in battle. His skills weren't quite as sharp as her had been.

"That's rare, for nobility."

She replied, her lips curling up further, it was very uncommon for anyone of noble birth to ever get their hands dirty.

"There are very few in a position of power who have seen so much time on the battlefield. Though I must admit that sitting around my throne room and growing old does leave a bitter taste in my mouth."

Her goal had always been the progression of the Vampire race and she could serve her people better in here, she would fight once more when she had her heir.

"More rare still for a prince, I have to say."

He wasn't of noble birth, though. Not...not really. Yes, his father had been Noble, but his mother... She definitely wasn't. Definitely.

But when his father had heard of his victories on the battlefield, after almost two thousand years of ignoring his existence, he was taken as his son again.

That suited Faolan just fine for the moment.

"I cannot imagine a bitter taste laying behind such sweet lips as yours, my Lady Cierra." A small smile curled his lips.

Cierra couldn't help but chuckle at that remark as she looked up at him, her arms crossing over his chest.

"Now that was a bold statement. A rather misinformed one on your behalf."

Her lips parted, a grin appearing on her face as the sharp point of her fangs became visible behind those sweet, pale lips.

"There is absolutely nothing sweet about me."

Faolan bowed his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Perhaps so, but not one I regret."

He raised a brow in amusement, his hazy blue eyes flickering over her sharp fangs. The soft-looking pale lips framing them made the points seem even sharper. But also captivated him. Such sharp little weapons could be dangerous when used right. He was certain she had used them 'right'on numerous occasions.

"Nor one that I am willing to believe false," he added at her denial.

She was fierce, that much he knew, but her body was delicate. Her lips and smile, the deep colour of her eyes. Perhaps her mind was laced with venom, but that showed the signs of a good ruler.

"Unless further evidence is given to abate my beliefs." Faolan allowed a small grin to curl his lips.

"Prince Faolan."

She replied with a grin, she made a habit of knowing the name and face of every attendee of her gatherings, the Elf included.

"Many men, countless men, attend these parties and attempt to charm me, though flattery does them no good.

Surely you know the rumors, I hear them whispered every now and again even still, so long after my last husbands death. The price suitors pay when trying to court me?"

She asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"A strong woman isn't known to fall at flattery." He knew Cierra was a strong woman. A woman of her own. He had no desire to see her crumble under his flattering words.

His desire for blushy children was nil. Another reason on his list of many that he had backed away from his previous intentions of asking for one of the princesses hand.

"I have indeed heard of said rumours." Who hadn't?

It was known through the continent that when asking for Cierra's hand, your answer will most likely be positive with a severed head rather than a beautiful diamond.

"Perhaps the Lady would grant me a chance to fill her requirements for courting and provide me with a name in which I can set my sights on hunting?"

Cierra smirked and gave a soft chuckle, her little requirement had sent many men running when they figured out that it wasn't just a rumor.

There was only one enemy that she saved for herself and that was the Lycan royalty. Those were her own targets.

"The necromancer king to the south has proven to be quite a bother, undoing my sorcerers darkness on our boarders. Jorick Filmort."

That was her desire, and his trial.

He hadn't been south of Nalithian borders before. His country was north, laying just atop Kennedrick.

That would definitely be a new experience.

"I will take my horse on the morrow. Until then, would the Lady wish to taste on the wine my country is known for? A gift, as little as it is."

His country was known for wines and meat dishes that would make your mouth water. Bringing such fineries to the castle for his host was common decency.

"Yes, lets."

She replied simply, her grin relaxing into a soft smile, she would be quite pleased to see that necromancer taken care of.

"I haven't taste your wines in a fair while now and I am quite parched."

She replied, placing her hand on the crook of his elbow so he could lead the way, her finger idly stroking up one of the veins located there, perhaps later she might sample him as well.

Shipments from anywhere around Kenndrick were more made more difficult during the war.

The man smiled as her hand slid over his arm.

Her fingers against his skin were distracting. He wondered how good those fingers would feel dancing over other areas of his skin, then cut himself short.

He'd have little chance to get that if he didn't fulfil her desires to make an enemy disappear so to speak. Thinking of it now was not something that he should be allowing himself. Or at all until she bid him entrance to her bed chambers.

"Our wines have only improved with age, Lady Cierra," he replied as he led her towards where his servants were standing, in a corner of the room, guarding the gifts that had been bought to the castle.

As soon as the Prince was noticed approaching, two glasses of the wine was poured and laid out on a tray in front of them.

Faolan lifted a glass and held out out for the woman. "A glass for the fair Lady."

"Thank you, kind Sir."

She replied as she took the glass and placed herself on one of the chairs, her movements were what you would expect of a Vampire, she moved fluidly with unrivaled grace.

She placed the wine under her nose and took in it's decadent aroma before taking a sip.

"I've missed this taste, such a shame that we can not grow our own grapes here in Nalithia."

Not a lot of plants were able to survive without sunlight so there was no chance of that.

"Though, we do enjoy our own brand of wine."

She replied with a chuckle as she looked over at him, her eyes trailing down his throat slowly.

Faolan stood besides the woman's chair as she sat, resting one hand on his sword as the other moved to rest against his back. He stood straight, chin tilted upwards proudly, though his eyes slid down to watch her.

"The grapes of my country are unrivalled."

She could have a constant supply of wine from his country, he thought, if she allowed him to court her.

He didn't speak his thoughts. That was her decision to make and he wasn't quite so slimy enough to try to bribe her with wine.

His lips curled upwards slightly. "Such a brand of wine is more tempting than any I could give to you from a barrel, fair Lady." Even if it was in his nature not to, Faolan had a strong bloodlust. He enjoyed blood almost as much as a Vampire would.

"Though I believe such a wine is not outside of my ability to give. If you so wish for that wine, you need only say."

Her eyes slowly trailed back up his neck to meet his gaze as he looked down at her.

"You're quite a generous man to make such an offer, many Elves I have met get quite squirmish at the thought."

She replied, slowly rising from her chair and observing him, drinking him in with her eyes.

"Aged well too and from a wonderful vine..."

Elves always did taste the best, and he was quite old.

"I think just the scent of it would send my kin into a frenzy."

There was no doubt that the other Vampires would be able to smell it, it would drive them all wild.

"Donating wine is not something I care to be squeamish about," Faolan replied honestly.

He was a man that dealt with wounds aplenty in his time. His body was littered with light scars from grievous wounds. Like all Elves, scarring only really occurred when the wound was near fatal. He had had plenty of those in his time and the evidence littered his body.

"My country would offer nothing but the best wines to the royal family of Nalithia."

A small smirk curled the man's lips again.

"There is no wine like that of my country." The double entendre's in their conversation were noly amusing him more.

Her lips curled up into a little grin, now this man was certainly more entertaining than the others, perhaps having him as her little play thing wasn't such a bad idea.

Her hand reached up, slowly stroking over his neck, her nails tickling down the artery which sat so close to the surface of his skin.

"I'm not one to turn down such a tempting gift if it is being offered."

She replied, her tongue slowly tracing her lower lip.

His head tipped just slightly as her fingers traced over his skin.

She'd be able to feel the strong, steady beat thrumming in his neck so easily. The slight speed to the pulse was due to excitement. That could easily be seen in his eyes as they continued to gaze down at her, alight with the excitement that sent his pulse thrumming like it was.

"It is certainly being offered, Lady Cierra."

His eyes descended to her lips as her pink tongue traced over them slowly. He wanted to feel those lips against his own, that tongue against him.

"Then please, take a seat, whilst in my home I want my guests to be comfortable."

She purred, it was the one problem with her body, men always seemed to be taller than her and instead of straining herself reaching up to his neck it would be easier to simply perch herself in his lap.

No doubt that would have the room buzzing but she really didn't care what they had to say about it.

She was a queen and as such, she would do what she pleased.

At five foot ten, the man wasn't overly tall, but he was taller than Cierra.

He moved to take a chair from against the wall and carry it to where Cierra was sat.

He sat down in it himself, turning his gaze back to the woman. "You are too kind, Lady Cierra," he purred as he leaned back in his chair a little.