The Tyrant's Pet

"Ahh!"

Roman thrust his sword forward, only to freeze against his will. No, he wasn't controlled. It was just that the tip of his sword couldn't go further with Abel stopping it with one finger! Blood dripped from Abel's index, making Roman's throat dry up unnaturally.

His throat bobbed as his grip trembled. "Stop..." he whispered with a shaking and rasped voice.

His mind was yelling at him not to succumb to the blood's aroma that smelled so appetizing. But his stomach continued to grumble and his throat and mouth dried up like a desert. He was hungry and thirsty from all that nonstop fighting. His eyes glowed, glinting dangerously at the person at the other end of the sword.

"You are right, Your Highness." Abel broke the thick silence between them with a light tone. "I initially planned to fight whoever wins, since I do not have a plan to let anyone go. However, you were quite... interesting. Therefore, I changed my mind."

"Are you so fickle as to change your mind in just a few days?"

"I'm not fickle, prince." Abel's lips stretched from ear to ear. "I simply bent the rules."

He slowly stood up, guiding the sword down effortlessly. He then advanced towards Roman, stopping one step from the latter.

"That is not what you call being fickle, but an exercise of power. I made the rules, and I can bend them just as much as I please." Abel raised his bleeding finger, pressing it on the corner of the prince's lips with a smirk. "Don't be scared, Your Highness. I won't hurt you, nor do I plan to get my hands on your beloved princess."

"You have my mercy because my darling made an effort to carry a grown man all on her own."

"Argh!" As soon as Abel's remarks slipped past his lips, Roman winced as his knees crashed against the floor. Abel pulled just a percent of aura on him, but the seventh prince felt like a boulder landed on his shoulders. Roman only felt relief several seconds later when Abel blinked.

"That's for that time she carried you all on her own," came out a cold voice as his eyes turned dull. "I'm not angry. It's just that I hate how she held you."

"You're sick..."

"Am I?" Abel tilted his head to the side. "Prince, what would you feel if your beloved princess had to carry a grown man all on her own at the risk of her life?"

Roman panted, looking up at Abel, but said nothing. Saying he wouldn't feel a bit upset was pretentious and hypocritical.

"See?" Abel could not help but let out a 'tch', feeling that he was being wronged unjustly here. "I simply let you understand how heavy it was for her to free you out there and carry you all the way to the entrance. I would've chopped you limb by limb, but oh well, I do not want to upset my wife."

Abel slipped his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, eyes still at the seventh prince. "Roman, I do not mind killing you right here and now, or letting you live. The only life that mattered to me was my wife's." His expression turned solemn, holding Roman's gaze for a long time.

"Our blood contract meant nothing to me, but it meant everything to you. Whether or not you acknowledge it, you know deep in your bones your life revolves around me. However, I want nothing from you... not until now."

"What do you want from me?"

The corner of Abel's lips curled up wickedly. "You already know, Prince." Abel strutted forth, stopping beside Roman.

"You did a good job cleaning these garbages. But that guy is still alive, just unconscious. I want him alive for the next century." His eyes landed on Joaquin's unconscious figure. "Rest for now, my dearest vassal. Well done."

Roman ground his teeth as he balled his hand into a fist while Abel resumed his strides. The chill that went up to his spine with a tinge of satisfaction brought this conflict into his heart. Being called vassal by Abel himself gave him this strong sense of honor, but at the same time, Roman knew that was because his life was now linked to Abel.

If Abel died, Roman would die as well. And there were more things that Roman felt that were so foreign to him. He didn't think he would ever come to terms with these foreign feelings.

"Violet..." he whispered, tears glistening across his eyes. "... I'm sorry."

Roman had a plan at first, and that was to retire to live close to Violet and her children. He didn't have this grand plan of moving in with her or starting a romance with Violet. Being able to protect her from afar was good enough for him and make sure she was safe.

But now, that plan went straight to the gutter because one thing was for sure: Roman's life would only go darker from this moment on. His life was now bound to another, and even if he didn't want to, the desire to stay by Abel's side had grown stronger every passing minute.

"I'm sorry..." tears landed on the back of his fist, grinding his teeth to muffle his cries.

<strong>*****</strong>

<strong>Meanwhile...</strong>

Abel stopped at the portico of the chapel, looking up at the dull night sky. A fog formed before his lips upon breathing out sharply.

"What a drama queen," he whispered, hearing Roman's muffled cry. "And here I thought Conan will be able to defend his tiara for a thousand more years."

His lips curled up, batting his eyes ever so tenderly. When he peeled his eyes away from the sky, he looked in the direction where he could hear his wife's faint breathing.

"Just how long will she make me wait for the wedding night?" he frowned, dragging his feet only to stop after five steps. Abel raised his head once again, looking in a direction farther than anyone could see. His expression was the same, but his eyes glinted with fascination.

"That's interesting. I wonder what of sorcery forced her to leave that house." He turned on his heel, resuming in his steps with a low chuckle. "It seemed I'll be expecting some sort of family reunion soon."