Bronn remained silent, his crimson eyes fixed on the vibrant flowers in front of him, as if their beauty could distract him from the turmoil within. Aelric, perched on the bench beside him, watched with growing concern. The fairy tapped his chin thoughtfully before leaning in close, his shimmering wings casting faint rainbows on Bronn's dark attire.
"You know," Aelric began with a sly grin, "if you're going to sit here and brood, at least let me do it with you. Misery loves company, right?"
Bronn didn't respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his face.
"Alright, fine," Aelric said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I won't pry. But let me guess: you're plotting world domination. Or maybe you're debating whether to join a flower arrangement class."
Bronn sighed. "Your imagination is exhausting."
Aelric feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "How dare you! My imagination is what makes me the delightful creature you see before you."
Bronn shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
"Ah, progress!" Aelric exclaimed, clapping his hands. "The mighty vampire prince almost smiled. The world must be ending."
"I'm not a prince," Bronn muttered, his tone clipped.
"Fine, the mighty vampire... heir? Overlord? Dark Lord of Brooding?" Aelric teased, earning an exasperated glance from Bronn.
The fairy leaned back, his wings fluttering softly. "Look, I don't know what's going on in that complicated, overthinking head of yours, but whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."
Bronn glanced at him, his expression unreadable.
"I'm serious," Aelric said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "You're not as untouchable as you think. And if you need someone to... I don't know, smash a vase or scream into the void with, I'm your guy."
Bronn's lips twitched again, this time edging closer to a real smile. "Screaming into the void? Sounds very fairy-like."
Aelric grinned, his wings fluttering in delight. "Hey, don't knock it until you try it. Voids are surprisingly therapeutic."
For a moment, the weight pressing down on Bronn's chest lifted. He didn't have the words to express his gratitude, but Aelric seemed to understand.
"Come on," Aelric said, hopping to his feet. "Let's get out of here. These flowers are way too cheerful for brooding. How about we go terrorize the kitchen staff? I hear they've been hiding a stash of fairy cakes."
Bronn stood, his movements slow but steady. "You're relentless."
"And you're welcome," Aelric replied with a wink.
As they walked away, Bronn felt a small, fragile sense of relief. It wasn't a solution, but it was a start—and for now, that was enough.
Bronn returned to his room with a faint smirk, the laughter of the day still lingering in his mind. Aelric had been in rare form, dragging him into a whirlwind of chaos that included a flour fight, a daring rooftop escape from the groundskeeper, and an impromptu performance in the dining hall that had everyone rolling with laughter. For a moment, Bronn had almost forgotten the weight on his shoulders.
As he approached his door, the air shifted. The faint scent of lavender mixed with steel—a scent that felt oddly familiar yet unwelcome—made his smile fade. His instincts prickled, his grip tightening on the doorknob.
Someone was inside.
Bronn pushed the door open cautiously, his eyes immediately scanning the dark room. The shadows seemed thicker than usual, pooling unnaturally in the corners. On his bed sat a young woman, her posture relaxed yet regal, her presence commanding.
She looked eerily similar to Bronn—pale skin, dark hair that spilled in silky waves over her shoulders, and crimson eyes that gleamed like polished rubies. But where Bronn's aura was quiet and brooding, hers crackled with a kind of eccentric energy, like a storm barely contained.
"Bronn," she greeted, her tone lilting and playful, but her eyes sharp as daggers.
He closed the door behind him, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. "Helena. What a surprise."
"Is it, though?" she asked, tilting her head. "You must've known someone would come eventually. Father doesn't take kindly to being ignored."
Bronn crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "And of all people, he sent you. I must really be in trouble."
Helena grinned, a crooked, mischievous smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, little brother. I volunteered."
"Even worse," Bronn muttered, stepping further into the room but keeping his distance.
Helena rose from the bed in one fluid motion, her movements graceful yet predatory. She wore a sleek, fitted black coat adorned with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her boots clicked softly against the floor as she approached, her crimson eyes never leaving his.
"Bronn," she said, her voice softening slightly, though it carried an undercurrent of steel. "You've been hiding out here, playing the rebellious son. But you can't run from what you are. You know that, right?"
"I'm not running," Bronn replied, his voice low. "I'm just... choosing my own path."
Helena snorted, her expression amused. "And that path conveniently avoids home and all the responsibilities that come with it."
"Responsibilities I never asked for," Bronn snapped, his calm demeanor cracking.
Helena raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "None of us asked for it, Bronn. But we don't get to choose our bloodline. You know that as well as I do."
He glared at her, the tension in the room thick enough to cut. "If you're here to drag me back, save your breath. I'm not going."
Helena sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. "Always so stubborn. Just like Father. It's infuriating, really."
"Good," Bronn said flatly.
Helena studied him for a moment, her gaze piercing. Then, to his surprise, she plopped back down on the bed, her earlier intensity giving way to a more casual air. "You're such a drama queen, you know that? I'm not here to kidnap you, Bronn... Not yet, Father sent me to deliver a message, not a ransom note."
Bronn frowned, suspicious. "What message?"
She leaned back on her elbows, her posture deceptively casual, but her eyes sharp and calculating. "He wants you back home. Sooner rather than later. Apparently, there's a grand family gathering in the works—something about fortifying alliances and solidifying our position. You know what that means, Bronn. The storm is brewing, whether we like it or not. Whispers of rebellion are turning into roars, and the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos. As guardians of the royal family, we're not just bystanders in this. Our duty is not just a privilege—it's a burden, a shield that must not falter. This isn't about pomp and ceremony anymore. It's about survival, and whether we're strong enough to ensure it for the ones we swore to protect.""