Hell's Consort

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Vampire King

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The Empress Coronation was held the next morning.

The morning dawn came with the return of his Empress.

Apollyon had told Jon to prepare for the celebration hours after his wife had fallen asleep, with her head on his arms, the silver hair fanning over the pillows.

He continued to stroke her hair gently as he combed it with his fingers.

Apollyon inhaled her peach citrus scent deeply into his lungs so that he would cherish the moment for the rest of his life.

It felt natural for his wife to be in his arms, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world.

Apollyon had missed her so much that he had spent his time watching her breathe softly, caressing her thick silver brows with a thumb, tracing the shape of her nose with his forefinger.

Luna must not have liked him touching her there in her slumber, for she had wrinkled her nose and sneezed.

It was so cute that he almost chuckled.

He did chuckle, but quietly so, or she would wake up and glare at him for acting like a creep.

Apollyon sincerely prayed to the gods and the goddesses that they could stay forever like this.

He hadn't noticed that the sun had slowly risen from the east, turning the dark sky into burnt orange and golden hues as the light slivered from the thick clouds.

It grew thicker into beams until it illuminated the whole Vampire Realm, lighting it up like flames.

If the Empress had slept lightly, the birds loud chirping on the window of this ivory tower could wake her up any minute by now.

He patted her shoulders gently in a slow rhythm--a caring gesture as old as motherhood himself.

The thought of his mother crossed his mind.

Mother rarely came out from 'Scleranthus,' and Apollyon couldn't get inside the Empress' Lair since he was a boy, either, since it was cursed.

When his mother got bored with painting, she came out of 'Scleranthus' but only on the full moon.

Apollyon's mother would request an audience with the King so that his father would allow his mother to see him.

Every time he saw his mother and father together, there was always an air of animosity between them.

When he was a young boy. Apollyon noticed that her mother had that hurt look on her face when his father argued with her.

Father didn't want to be questioned, silencing his mother immediately without letting her explain.

Mother had turned cold and indifferent to Apollyon because of his father.

Sometimes he asked himself if they really loved each other.

His father was controlling her, and his mother was walking on eggshells around him.

Whenever they meet, the suffocating tension was too thick that someone could cut it with a knife.

They would fight for their sides to be heard without regard to the other person's feelings.

The Empress couldn't win an argument because his father wasn't listening in the first place.

Apollyon's father had watched the Empress' movements like a hawk, not allowing her to talk to anyone of the opposite sex.

In a way, Apollyon's father kept the Empress locked away in 'Scleranthus' not only because of his unjust behavior but also because it made her also avoid her only son.

Apollyon would have thought that his father had also wanted his mother to be hidden from the world, self-imprisoned and obsessed with her paintings, making her forget that she had a real family to love and take care of.

Apollyon remembered her mother when she visited his room on a whim.

It was his most treasured memory with his mother.

He was a young boy of age ten, pretending to be asleep in his bed as he faced the wall, a sliver of light showed through the cracks of the door.

The door creaked as it opened wide, then it slammed shut.

From the smell of roses, Apollyon knew it was his mother.

She tiptoed, keeping her steps light as a feather, and laid down the bed gently behind him.

His mother probably thought that he was fast asleep, but he was good at pretending.

As a child, he had thought that if he opened his eyes, rose from the bed, and hug his mom tight with joy and longing, then she would disappear like an apparition.

Apollyon had truly missed his mom, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

He could feel his mother's comforting warmth behind his back as her arms cuddled against his small body, stroking his silky hair as she sang him to sleep.

Her mother's voice must have been a court singer in their Realm, for she had exactly sounded like a siren.

He was so sure that his mother was a siren even if he hadn't heard one since yet.

He just heard it in the stories his nanny used to tell her during storytime.

Apollyon had been with his nanny longer than his own mother.

He could safely claim that he had loved his nanny more than his mother and assumed the nanny was one when he was a toddler but later on, he realized, she wasn't his mother.

There was this sense of emptiness and longing he couldn't pinpoint.

It was like a hollow—there was a void somewhere in his heart that only a real caring mother's consistency can fulfill.

His father had told him that crying was for the weak people who couldn't endure pain.

He had blinked his tears away as he clenched his fists, repressing his sobs.

He fell asleep in his mother's embrace, but the morning he woke up, his mother was gone.

There were no traces that she had spent the night in his bed, cuddling him to sleep, except the scent of roses in the air.

It was funny how he had yearned for his mother at this moment when he was an older man.

Apollyon was an ancient pureblood vampire who had been alive for thousands of years already.

Maybe it was true that a child could never forget the one who had given birth to them no matter how messed up their childhood was.

The last fleeting memory he had of his mother was a self-portrait that his mother had painted.

He didn't dare display it in any part of the Vampire Castle or even in his personal lair.

He had kept it hidden somewhere, but h had forgotten all about it.

It had been a long time, but he vaguely remembered a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes so innocent yet defiant, tilting her head to the side as she gave a knowing smirk at the spectators who had taken a look at the painting.

His mother, the Empress, had appeared confident as she stood in the archway of the castle gardens in her large tulle ball gown the color of indigo similar to her eyes and Apollyon's—with pine trees surrounding her covered in snow.

His mother had worn the same red diamond tear-shaped necklace—their female ancestor's family heirloom—and the loose sleeves of her dress were transparent and decorated with phoenix patterns.

The top of her head was adorned with flowers, gemstones, crystals, and pearls with a thin veil attached to it which shielded her long, wavy hair.

Apollyon wasn't surprised that his father didn't want his mother to interact with the male species.

The Empress' beauty was known in the entire Realms.

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Apollyon paced back and forth at the ground floor as he waited for his wife at the bottom of the stairs with impatience.

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he tiptoed and glanced upward at the highest tread as if doing that would make his wife come to him faster.

The servants were busy assisting her in his wife's outfit, and Luna had pleaded to him that he must get out of the room while she changed because she felt uncomfortable if he was there ogling her body while she undressed in front of the female maids.

Apollyon had protested against her requests and claimed it was preposterous, but Luna had insisted that it might feel awkward for the servants to see the Vampire King breathing down their necks.

"They would be extremely aware of his presence, and they might not do their job properly," Luna explained to him.

The Empress' logic made sense, of course, but…

Why wasn't he allowed to see her undress when he had already seen how she looked overall in her gorgeous nakedness?

There was no point stopping him from doing so because he was the husband.

"That was the point." The Empress had shaken her head in disapproval, but it wasn't evident to see her holding back her laugh. "Why would you want to see me naked when you have already seen it before?"

Luna's lips curled up, and her golden eyes had twinkled in mischief. "You are incorrigible, Apollyon."

"I have the—" He paused.

'I have the right to see you naked as your husband while you change. ' Apollyon thought, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He was a changed man now, so even if he didn't like it, he needed to respect her decision. "Never mind."

"Alright, wife." Apollyon turned his back and was about to get out of the chamber but he forgot something. "I would honor your wishes."

He stalked towards her, clutched the back of her neck, and gave her a severe tongue-lashing as a punishment.

Luna had responded as naturally as their tongues clashed in a battle of who would bring the other first to their knees.

The Empress deserved a delicious kiss that would sweep her off her feet.