Aster took a deep breath as a maid fussed over his dark hair, her hands moving carefully yet frantically, her nerves evident in each movement. He might have been more bothered by her trembling if his own thoughts weren't spiraling inside his mind. Behind him, Roan paced, repeating the same well-rehearsed phrases: "I am Asher, the court consort." "I swear to uphold my duties." The words felt empty, little more than a futile attempt to keep people satisfied. He scoffed inwardly; he might have lacked experience in positions of power, but he knew enough to understand that platitudes alone wouldn't be enough. He had his own plans.
His thoughts shattered as Roan cleared his throat pointedly. "I sincerely hope you're paying attention, Court Consort. These lines are essential for you to remember," the butler said, his eyebrows knitting in irritation.
Asher shot him a glare, unable to suppress it. "If I couldn't remember them after three days of your constant repetition, wouldn't I be a complete lost cause?" he replied, his voice smooth but edged with tension. His patience was worn thin, though he held himself back from snapping outright. He took another deep breath, turning his gaze back to the mirror.
His black hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, a few strands intentionally left loose at the front. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his reflection, feeling exposed by the way the scars around his eyes showed. It was as if something that once gave him comfort was being stripped away. His hands clenched, fingers digging into his palms as he held his own gaze, half-expecting the reflection to rebel against him.
A knock broke the silence. Judge. He recognized her scent immediately, something he'd grown accustomed to, though it still stirred a hunger deep inside him, raw and inexplicable. He didn't know why.
The door opened, and the Judge entered with her usual poise, her eyes immediately settling on Asher's reflection in the mirror. She appraised him with a calm, discerning gaze, taking in the tension in his posture, the way his hands were clenched, and the frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"Asher," she said, her voice smooth and steady, yet carrying a subtle authority that demanded attention. "Are you ready?"
Asher straightened, meeting her gaze through the mirror. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," he replied, his tone sharper than he intended.
Roan stiffened slightly beside him, clearly uneasy, but Asher barely registered it. The Judge stepped closer, studying him more closely.
"You look the part," she observed. "Though your expression suggests you'd rather be anywhere but here." He held her gaze, unwilling to flinch or show any sign of weakness.
"Perhaps I am," he replied, his tone flat. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm here. I know what's expected of me." She gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable.
"Good. But today is more than just memorizing words or making a formal appearance." She paused, letting the words hang in the air. "You'll be facing those who question your right to be here—who question you. How you carry yourself will determine whether they continue to doubt you or begin to respect you."
The weight of her words settled heavily on him, and he felt frustration clawing at him again. This was exactly what he'd expected—constant reminders of duty, appearances, and power games he had no patience for. Yet, he understood on some level that she wasn't wrong.
"Understood," he said, the bitterness in his voice softened, though not entirely gone. He looked away, down at his hands, and released the tension in his clenched fists. The scars on his fingers caught his eye, a reminder of everything he'd endured—and everything he still had yet to face. The Judge took a step closer, her presence calm but intense.
"I chose you for this role, Asher. But whether or not you choose to accept it as your own is up to you." Her words were simple, but he felt their weight deeply.
Asher stepped into the corridor, Roan and the Judge flanking him. His pulse quickened as they approached the entrance to the grand hall. The faint hum of conversation seeped through the thick wooden doors ahead, and he could already feel the weight of the gathering beyond them—the nobles, advisors, and spectators, all eagerly waiting to see him. The Judge cast him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable but her posture strong, as if reinforcing that she expected the same strength from him.
Asher took a deep breath, steadying himself. He wore his usual stoic mask, but inside, he could feel the tension building. He wasn't about to let them see any sign of uncertainty. If he had to face their scrutiny, he would do so with the same cold resolve that had carried him through everything else.
When the doors finally opened, the murmur of voices ceased. He felt every gaze turn toward him, analyzing, judging, some openly doubtful, others hostile. Asher straightened, letting his eyes sweep across the hall as he strode forward, refusing to be intimidated.
At the center of the hall, a platform stood raised slightly above the rest of the room, a subtle symbol of authority. The Judge nodded toward it, and Asher ascended the steps slowly, the quiet in the room amplifying each of his movements. He reached the center, facing the assembly, and took his place without hesitation.
The Judge stepped forward, her voice steady and commanding as she addressed the room. "Court members, advisors, noble allies—today we reintroduce the Court Consort." Her gaze swept over the crowd, and Asher could see the mixture of expressions—skepticism, curiosity, even disdain. "Our Court Consort is here to stay," she continued. "He has proven his resilience, and it is our belief that he will prove his worth to this Court in ways beyond your expectations."
Asher met her gaze briefly, a flash of gratitude in his eyes, though he quickly masked it. When the Judge's speech ended, she gestured for him to speak. This was his moment, the test he'd been bracing himself for.
He took a step forward, holding his head high as he met the eyes of those who had doubted him. "I know many of you think I don't belong here," he began, his voice steady but carrying a hard edge. "You wonder if I'm capable, if I have the strength to handle this role." His gaze was unyielding as he looked across the room. "I'm not here to convince you with words alone. I'll prove it through action."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, some still wary, others perhaps a touch more intrigued. He could feel Roan and the Judge watching him, the weight of their expectations pressing down, but he refused to let it shake him.
One of the advisors, an elder vampire with a calculating gaze, took a step forward and inclined his head slightly. "And tell us, Court Consort," he asked in a smooth, almost mocking tone, "what assurance do we have that you will uphold the duties and responsibilities expected of you?"
Asher held his gaze, his voice colder now. "My assurance is that I am willing to do whatever is necessary for this Court. That should be enough." He didn't flinch, meeting the advisor's skeptical expression with unyielding confidence. The advisor's lips thinned, clearly unsatisfied, but he didn't press further.
Asher scanned the room, his eyes fierce and determined. "I am here, and I am committed to this Court's future. Question me, doubt me, test me if you must. But know that I intend to see this through to the end."
Silence followed, thick with tension, but Asher sensed the faintest shift—a glimmer of acceptance, if not respect. He glanced at the Judge, who gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. This was only the beginning, he knew, but as he descended from the platform, he felt a newfound resolve hardening within him.
As the event continued, the Judge excused herself to address a group of nobles who had gathered near the back of the hall, discussing the recent unrest within the Court. Her departure left Asher standing at the center of the room, the hum of whispers around him almost deafening. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the calculated stares from every corner. Despite his calm exterior, his nerves began to tighten again, but he forced himself to stand tall, eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement, any challenge that might present itself.
As he walked toward one of the nearby tables, a figure suddenly stumbled in front of him, falling to the floor in a heap. The vampire—a middle-aged man with tousled black hair—dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with fear. He cowered, his voice shaky as he spoke in a rushed, panicked tone. "I-I'm sorry, Court Consort, please don't punish me—"
Asher froze for a moment, watching the man flounder in his own fear. The familiar, instinctive desire to assert dominance—to make an example of the weak—rose within him. But he pushed it down. The weight of the position he now held was heavy enough. If he allowed himself to succumb to that impulse now, there would be no turning back.
Instead, Asher knelt down, offering the man a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's alright. Calm down," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I'm not going to punish you for tripping. Everyone's entitled to a little clumsiness." His tone was surprisingly gentle, the words feeling more natural than he expected.
The man looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You… you're not angry?" he asked hesitantly.
Asher shook his head. "No. It's fine." He reached out a hand to help the man up, guiding him to his feet and steadying him when he seemed to wobble. "Are you alright? You look a bit shaken."
The vampire nodded quickly, still looking stunned as he brushed himself off. "I… I'm fine, Court Consort. Just a little embarrassed, is all." His eyes, though, were filled with awe, and he looked as if he might collapse into worship right there.
As the man who had tripped before Asher finally regained his composure, he looked up at the Court Consort with wide, reverent eyes. His voice trembled as he spoke, his admiration clear in every word. "I… I don't know how to thank you, Court Consort," he said, his tone earnest. "Please, if there's anything I can do to repay your kindness… anything at all, I would do it. I owe you."
Asher regarded him for a moment, still somewhat uncomfortable with the excessive gratitude, but he gave a slight nod. "It's no trouble," he replied coolly. "Just… be more careful next time." He stepped back, giving the man a brief smile before turning his attention back to the event, though the words lingered in his mind. Kindness wasn't something he was used to receiving or giving, but it was oddly satisfying to know that he'd made a small difference, even if it was just in that one moment.
However, before he could fully process his thoughts, a sharp voice broke through the silence. Kael, the vampire lord, had approached with his usual swagger, a sneer playing on his lips as he looked Asher up and down.
"Well, well," Kael began, his voice dripping with disdain, "if it isn't the Court Consort himself. I must say, I find it quite amusing that someone with such little competence has been allowed to take the position. But then again, it seems the Judge has a weakness for—" He paused, scanning Asher with a mocking glance. "—pathetic little playthings to stand beside her, doesn't she?"
Asher's eyes narrowed, the insult stinging more than he wanted to admit. His patience, always strained, was beginning to snap, but he bit back the urge to strike. Instead, he locked eyes with Kael, his voice cool but cutting. "You seem to think your opinion matters," he said, his tone steady, but the venom was evident. "You think you're the one who should be in this position? Tell me, Kael, how exactly would you handle the curse that keeps me tethered to this role? The curse that plagues us all?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air. "I don't think you'd last a day."
Kael's eyes flashed with irritation, but he didn't stop there, leaning in with a smug grin. "You're a joke, Consort. A pretty face propped up by the Judge to entertain the Court while she pulls all the strings. And trust me, I could do better. I would do better," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're just a child with no real power, no true ability to lead. You can't even protect yourself, let alone the Court."
Asher's lip curled at the insult, and his fists clenched, but he still forced himself to stay composed. "You don't know what you're talking about," Asher said through gritted teeth, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that promised danger. "You want to know what it takes to lead? You'd at least need the ability to not be pathetic and idiotic enough to speak so boldly to the Court Consort." His gaze hardened, and he stepped closer, his energy crackling, though he fought to keep it under control. "I didn't get here by being weak, Kael. I don't need your approval or your little games."
Kael smirked, sensing an opportunity to push further. "If she truly cared about this place, she would've chosen someone with more bite than you for the position. Maybe it's time she realizes she made a mistake. The throne should go to someone worthy—someone who actually has the power to control the Court, instead of being led around by someone like her."
The words hit like a slap in the face, and Asher's control finally shattered. His dark energy surged outward, enveloping the space around them, thick and oppressive. He felt it seeping through his skin, twisting with the intensity of his fury.
"Say that again. I dare you." Asher's voice was dangerously calm as he closed the distance between them before anyone could fully process the tension. Kael's smirk faltered, then vanished completely as the air around them thickened, suffocating all those nearby. The room fell deathly silent, every gaze fixed on them. Kael staggered backward, gasping for air, his lungs struggling to pull in what had suddenly become a heavy, stifling atmosphere.
"Say. It. Again." Asher's voice was low and menacing, each word laced with venom as he took another deliberate step forward, closing the gap even further. Kael stumbled, tripping over his own feet, falling to the floor with a loud thud.
"I-I-" Kael stammered, struggling to speak.
"You don't deserve to even mutter her name," Asher hissed, his gaze cutting through the vampire like a blade. "You don't deserve to breathe the same air as her. If you insult the Judge again, I will consider it defamation, and I'll make an example of you." His words were icy, relentless. Asher didn't even bother lowering his gaze fully to Kael. Instead, he turned his attention to the crowd, their eyes wide with shock and curiosity, as they watched the scene unfold.
"Let this be known to all of you." Asher's voice was cold and commanding, his presence consuming the room. "I am well aware of the doubts surrounding my position, of how little you all think of me right now. You can talk behind my back all you want, but—" he paused, his eyes narrowing as he met the stares of the gathered vampires, "—if you speak against the Judge in my presence, you will regret it. I will drag you down to the pits of hell even if I have to burn for eternity with you."
The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next move, but Asher didn't flinch. He turned his gaze back to Kael, the words now a sharp warning. "Take this as an act of mercy. You won't get it again. Understood?"
Kael was silent for a long moment, his arrogance wiped clean from his face as he lowered his head in submission, defeated. "I understand, Court Consort…"
With that, Asher turned away, his posture unyielding. The crowd parted without a word as he walked past Kael, who remained kneeling, humiliated. Asher didn't spare a glance at the Judge, but he could feel her presence, the shock emanating from her, even without looking. He didn't care to acknowledge it. His purpose was clear.
As he exited the room, the doors slammed shut behind him, leaving a silent stillness in his wake.
Asher wasn't entirely sure why he had reacted that way. He didn't even like the Judge, so why had Kael's insult enraged him so deeply? He could feel the unfamiliar fury still simmering inside, twisting with a hunger more intense than anything he'd felt before. Taking a steadying breath, he tried to calm himself, but the feeling refused to subside. As he made his way down the dim corridors, his hand trailed against the wall, guiding his steps as he wrestled with the disorienting emotions.
Eventually, he found himself in front of a door, assuming it was his own. But as he stepped inside, he realized it wasn't his room—it was the Judge's. Her scent filled the space, enveloping him in a warm, subtle aroma. He considered leaving but found himself stepping further in, unable to resist the strange calm her scent seemed to offer. His eyes drifted shut for a moment, his mind clouded, the earlier surge of his dark energy having left him drained but somehow grounded.
He hadn't even noticed when the door opened and closed quietly behind him. "Asher?" The Judge's voice was soft, cautious as she approached him. "I wanted to check on you. That was… incredible. You displayed your power perfectly. You showed them who's in charge, and you—" She stopped as she came closer, her gaze caught by his. His golden eyes glowed in the dim light, a predatory intensity mirrored in her own.
"Asher… are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "Should I call for the doctor?"
Asher didn't answer, and when she began to step back, he reached out, catching her wrist gently to keep her from leaving. Surprised, she turned back to him, her expression shifting between confusion and a quiet, growing concern. She moved closer, her hand lifting to brush against his cheek, her touch unexpectedly tender.
"Why did you defend me like that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought… I thought you hated me."
Asher's breath hitched at the closeness, and he felt drawn to her, almost unconsciously leaning in. Dazed, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, her scent even more intense now, dizzying. "…I don't know…" he murmured, his voice muffled and raw.
The Judge's breathing quickened, and though she had no heartbeat, she felt as if her chest had tightened, every nerve on edge. As Asher finally pulled back, their faces were so close they nearly brushed. Her voice dropped to a whisper, an almost desperate edge breaking through. "Asher… tell me no. Push me away. Tell me to leave…"
But he didn't let go, his voice just as strained. "I need you…" he whispered, the words coming out unbidden, as if pulled from a place he could no longer control.