Silvan dismissed the physicians who still hung around his sister's death room like vultures, going down on his knees beside her bed when the room was empty.
His broad shoulders shook underneath his robes as he clutched the golden stake in two veiny hands. He felt grief and relief at his sister's death, and with his relief came guilt.
Eleanor had always been sick even as a baby, it was a miracle she survived at all, seeing as their mother died during childbirth. Despite her failing health, she always had a smile on her face and had a heart of gold, something Silvan envied and sought to protect.
He had been devastated when he learned that their father planned to marry off Eleanor to a fiend from hell. His younger sister who was so delicate and full of love…
He would never say it even if he was being bled out but in the deepest recesses of her heart, he had prayed that death would spare her from such a terrible fate.
And it had, it made his guilt triple, the weight pushing him down, the cross around his neck felt like a noose.
Silvan lost track of time kneeling by his sister's bedside. He knelt till his legs went numb, he knelt until the head physician returned to remind him that if they didn't take the needed measures, his sister's body would start to decay.
Only then did he push to his feet, his joints creaking. He towered over the head physician who cowered away from him although he hadn't spoken.
Silvan barely paid attention to him, returning to the temple in a flurry of robes. His blue-green eyes were red-rimmed but painfully dry, a distant look in his eyes. His hands still firmly held on to his cross, like it was the only thing keeping him together.
At the temple, he went right to his quarters. He spent so much time at the temple that he chose to live there instead of the castle where he had an entire wing to himself.
There was a life-sized painting of the Saint and Martyr Kalla taking up an entire wall of his modest living quarters in the temple. It was a mosaic painting of a young girl with glowing blonde hair, a crown on her hair, and a golden stake in her hand, her expression was gentle despite her raised weapon.
Silvan couldn't bear to look at the Patron Saint of the Faith, he always thought his sister looked a bit like Kalla the Saint but now whenever he looked at the Patron Saint, all he could see was his sister lying on her deathbed.
He knelt at the private altar in his living quarters, his knees steady on the slab of marble he knelt on but his hands which held the stake shook, his expression contorted.
-+-
King Rolfe had sent out his first son when he couldn't bear to listen to him say the things he didn't want to hear. He had kept his composure while in the presence of his children but now that it was just him in his study, his strong hands trembled a bit.
Eleanor was the last bit of his wife left in the world, and now his daughter was also gone. He couldn't even be allowed to grieve his only daughter properly because the promise he had made hung treacherously over his head.
Rolfe knew that they held little importance to their Vampire allies, the only thing humans provided the otherworldly creature was their lifeblood, and even if it wasn't given willingly, Vampires could take it regardless.
The alliance was all in the favor of humans, and as the King, Rolfe was painfully aware of this, it was why he had tried hard to strengthen the treaty, and it was why Eleanor's death put him in such a bind.
He had already thought of so many solutions in the span of a day, it was dinner time now, and all the plans he had concocted seemed to have a dangerous end for his country.
Rolfe couldn't predict the Vampires, so he couldn't say how they would receive the truth. He had also been the one to offer his daughter, and the Vampires had been generous enough not to make any other demands so he couldn't just go back on his words.
He had even considered getting a young maiden his daughter's age to replace her as the bride to the Prince of Vampires but that was such an unstable plan. If the young girl so much as revealed even a little weakness, she would be torn into, and the Vampires' fury would spill on the entire country.
It was such a severe issue that King Rolfe lost his appetite, causing his courtier to panic.
For the rest of the week there seemed to be a dark shadow over the castle, and although only a select few knew about the death of the Princess, the rest of the occupants of the castle could feel in their bones that something was wrong.
Eventually, the Princess had to bed put in the ground. The ceremony was done in secret, all the castle servants and nobles were sent out of the castle.
Only the Princess' family attended her burial, the entire castle eerily empty.
Silvan had to step out of his living quarters to attend his sister's burial. He had been in seclusion ever since she died, praying till his voice became hoarse.
He winced at the bright sunlight as he stepped out of the temple after a full week of remaining secluded, his previously tanned skin had paled, his face gaunt with his cheekbones jutting out.
"Gods you look like horse shit." His brother muttered to him when they met in front of the castle.
Silvan ignored him, explaining himself to Alexander was like speaking to a pile of stones, a rewardless task.
King Rolfe also looked drawn and wan, with more gray streaks in his blond hair. But Silvan was the most affected by the passing of the Princess.
They painted a sad picture, the three of them gathered around an exquisitely carved casket that had been lowered into freshly dug earth.