"Noooooooo! Father, no! Please, wake up, look at me. I am here."
That was minutes ago, when his twin sister had finally woken up from the unconscious state the witch had put her into. The terror in her eyes as she had ran down to the room where their Father's body was being prepared for the Burning Funeral, the tears that had streamed down her face as she sank to the floor at the door step of the room from weakness and crawled to their Father's bedside, while she watched his eye that was now forever closed.
The image had burnt itself into his memory. He would never forget.
Kitzel had grieved, held their Father's cold hand and begged for him to come back, she had turned to the healers in desperation, begging them to give her life to him, while she would take his death. She had cried even more when she had been told that couldn't be done.
Her wailing had hit the roof and Zyrion had balled his hands into fists while he watched his family's misery, the embers of revenge burning even more in his heart.
That had been minutes ago.
Now Kitzel stood by the pyre their father had been laid upon, a torch, lit by Zyrion's flames, in her hand.
"...with flames you were born, and in flames you shall return." Zyrion's voice cut through the night as he ended the chant.
His hand moved over his sister's and they both step forward together, tossing the torch to the pyre.
In no time, it went ablaze.
Halec, Kitzel's mate, drew her back from it so she wouldn't get hurt, her shoulders trembled, more tears ran down her face. Her gaze held her brother's, who was now some distance away from the pyre, and she went to him. Slipping into his tight embrace, saying comforting words to him while he stared at the other Tribe leaders who were also silently watching the pyre.
Not one of them shed a tear.
"We are sorry for your lose." The Werecats' King strolled towards them, his claw brushing over his whiskers while his tail stilled behind him. His beast was a lion, and his brown fur had quite a handful of gray. It was a werecat thing to always stay in their halfbeast form anytime they felt a threat looming.
Prince Zyrion nodded respectfully, his hand still around his sister who sobbed silently into his chest, damping his black Mourning robe.
"My condolences." The Werewolf Alpha said, his voice expressing no heartfelt sympathy, his face as cold as his grey eyes.
"If you need anything, we are always here to help." The Vampire Queen chipped in. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Zyrion could see the sarcasm in those blood red eyes of hers.
It was expected.
Many wanted his Father dead.
In fact, none of them really minded that the wedding they had come to attend had become the funeral of their King. If anything, they were happy.
Happy that they now had a chance to the throne.
Who would stop them? The King's children?
One was weak, had no dragon, a complete crying mess, an absolutely pampered Princess.
Even now, she was still ceaselessly sobbing.
Pathetic.
She never stood a chance.
The other was powerful, powerful enough to make him a threat but his flaws rendered him as irrelevant as his sister. Inexperienced and young wasn't the type the crown of bones would fit. He wasn't a century old as many of them were, he was merely 27. What wisdom could a boy of 27 have? And with the unexpected arrival of the coven, the Tribes would want someone who had a hang of ruling.
The young Prince was nothing.
Taking him down would be easy.
One by one, they went to him and shared their fake sympathy. Even the Fays that could tell no lie, had found their way around it.
One by one, the crowd disappeared, the Tribe leaders returning back to their tribes with the 'good news', while the villagers returned back to their homes with mourning in their hearts.
Zyrion returned to the Castle alone. Halec had carried Kitzel back to the castle a while ago. She had been so weak with grief and whatever that evil witch had done to her, that she couldn't stand on her own.
As Zyrion strolled up the stair and down the hallway, the servants bowed lightly in greeting as they used to. He wondered if anything had changed for them like it had for him.
Maybe it had. The ones who wanted his Father dead, were those who weren't dragons.
The dragons loved one another, they loved his Father. They must just be too scared of him, to express their condolences, maybe they were doing it to his sister.
"Zyrion."
His feet stilled against the deep gray marble floor at the voice of his sister.
*"By the flames, Kitzel. You should be resting."
She shook her head, her eyes still red and puffy, but tears were no longer streaming down her face. With careful steps she walked towards him.
*"You haven't cried."
He shrugged.
*"Where is Halec?"
*"Gone down to the kitchen, with Alora to get me food. I lied to them that I was hungry, I just wanted to be alone."
Her hands slipped up to his face, the fact that she was much shorter than he was, made her strain her hands a little.
*"You are very angry."
With a huff, he pulled her hands away from his face, caressing them gently in his.
*"You should get some rest."
She glanced at the door and he did the same.
*"Should I carry you back inside, Kitzel?"
Her eyes welled up with tears again, her gaze moving up to his.
*"I'm pathetic, ain't I?"
*"Kitzel." His hand moved through her curly hair, as he wiped away her tears. *"You are not."
*"This is all my fault." Her lower lip trembled at her declaration.
*"Kitzel."
She shut her eyes and shook her head, as if begging him to shut up, while her lips quivered from the tears she was desperately trying to hold back.
*"If I had a dragon, she wouldn't have been able to hurt me. If she hadn't been able to hurt me, and I had hurt her instead, she wouldn't have been able to take my image."
Something ticked in his jaws and he dropped his hand from her face, curling it into fist by his side as the image the witch had taken last flashed through his mind.
*"It is all my fault that my wedding became our Father's funeral."
He pulled her into an embrace, patting her back.
*"Nothing is your fault, Kitzel. You did not kill Father, the witch did. The witch is to be blamed and I swear to you, on my dragon, that her and whatever remains of her coven will pay for this. Their blood will turn the soil red, their flesh will rot on the field, and their souls will rot in hell. Even if it will cost me my last breath. They will pay, Kitzel, all of them."
A smile bloomed on her face, despite herself and Zyrion sighed in momentary relief.
A moment of silence passed in-between them.
*"But how are you going to do all that? Halec told me the witch is dead." Her gaze lifted up to his. "We can't get information from a corpse."
He stared ahead distantly.
He had been worried about that all through the funeral.
Not just because he wanted to torture her and find out where her Coven was, he also wanted to find out one more thing.
Where she was possibly hiding his mate, the image of whom she was wearing.