Varce Draek terrified Cyril more than nearly anything else in the world. The young sect master of the Crimson Rose Sect had a violent temper that flared up unpredictably. In a sect that prided itself in dark cultivation arts that many other cultivation paths forbade, Varce Draek had a blood lust that made him infamous even in their sect. Sect Master Varce Draek had only been in his position for two years, but that was enough for his reputation to spread into the cultivation circles as a cruel man. His amicable attitude frightened people because no one knew when it would turn against them. He was a fiery-tempered dragon and a monster, and Cyril was engaged to him.
Technically speaking, Varce was not yet Cyril's husband. They were engaged and would only be married after Cyril's coming of age ceremony several years from now. As a unique beast hybrid, Cyril wouldn't reach full adulthood until he was twenty-five. Cyril was only eighteen now, while Varce was six years older. But the young sect master was impatient. He wanted the marriage to be arranged a few years early, perhaps even as early as two years from now. However, marriage at twenty years of age was considered quite early to pair with a mate, and Cyril's Master, Elder Arvel refused to allow it outright.
Cyril's expression remained the same at Varce's words. He wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible, but he steadied himself and his face still did not betray his disdain for his fiancée.
'Thank you, Master.' Cyril could not help but give his Master quiet gratitudes for extending his freedom; even if Elder Arvel had arranged the marriage himself with Varce's late father. Elder Arvel would not completely call off the engagement between his ward, Cyril, and his godson; however, he would force the headstrong young sect master to wait until Cyril was at least twenty-five for their marriage with a mixture of threats, guilt-tripping, and itemized lists of why the early marriage would only be detrimental to both of them. Cyril's Master knew the arranged marriage wasn't something Varce or Cyril had asked for, but he expected Varce to treat the marriage to his one and only disciple properly. Cyril's health and prospects mattered immensely to the old man. Even the elder Draek couldn't ignore Arvel when he set his mind on something, much less the younger Draek that led the sect now.
"There is no need to be so formal, Little Cyril. You are to be my mate and may address me by my name." The Sect Master's smile did not falter as he invited Cyril to address him familiarly. His eyes did not leave Cyril's bowed head.
"Greetings…. Master Varce." Cyril tried again.
"Just my first name is fine, Cyril." For the first time since Cyril had entered, Varce's smile dimmed ever so slightly. Cyril cursed Varce silently to himself; his only consolation.
"Varce." Cyril forced himself to remain still. He had once seen Varce rip out the beating heart of a disciple for trembling with fear in front of him. Varce had put the disciple's heart back in his chest after he finished laughing. Of course, with their sect's powerful blood techniques, the disciple didn't die, but he wasn't really seen after that either. Varce was unpredictable on the best of days and Cyril did not want to be the one to set off his temper. Even if he was immune to Varce's most violent tendencies because of his value to Varce and the protection of his Master, it did not assuage Cyril's fears at the moment. Varce may still punish him if he perceives a slight. Varce was a sly man. He could find a way to make Cyril feel consequences if he wanted to, even if the old man shielding Cyril refused to allow him to be punished by the sect master outright.
The hall was quiet as the moment stretched on. Every person at the table was completely focused on the two as they watched with the intent to gossip about the sect's top couple later. Finally, the sect master moved. He stood directly before Cyril as the latter struggled not to show his nervousness. Arvel watched Varce and Cyril's interaction closely. Varce's hand cupped beneath Cyril's chin and raised his bowing head. Cyril's blind eyes stared ahead, blinking as Varce drew near to cover his wince. Varce's voice was low, almost soft.
"My name sounds so beautiful coming from you. From now on, you will simply call me by my first name, my Little Mate." He accentuated his last two words as if enjoying the sound of them. Varce's words were almost a whisper, but they sounded louder in the quiet room. The soft tone was chilling, rather than comforting, coming from Varce. Cyril's face was still held lightly in Varce's hand as he nodded demurely to give Varce the acknowledgment he was waiting for.
The old man's eyes had narrowed slightly while watching the two, but Varce had already removed his hand from Cyril's face and extended his arm for Cyril to take. Cyril did so unwillingly and allowed himself to be led to the table.
'Bastard.' Cyril cursed the pure-bred dragon beside him again.
Varce guided him to a seat at the left side of the head of the table. Elder Arvel took the seat on the right as Varce helped Cyril into the chair like he was made of glass.
Cyril stared ahead silently as the table resumed their chatter. Varce did not speak to him again through the remainder of the meal. Instead, he laughed boisterously and continued to speak of various matters with the others seated at the table. Cyril appreciated the silent treatment as he picked at his food and waited for this meal to end.