The Profilers Shield [COMPLETED]

Three – Who’s the Daddy?

Ember looked around the room, dark furnishings contrasted with the bright silver decorations and ornaments. Dark marble flooring made a satisfying sound when walked on, as if even the ground knew kings walked on it. In front of them was a throne, donned with the same dark mahogany and silver, which was probably white gold, with King Malik sitting lazily on it, one of his legs relaxing on one of the arms, the other lethargically swinging to the floor. “I see you brought your new pet.” The King smirked at Ember, who grew uncomfortable the longer he stared and she knew he said something a little sleazy judging from his tone of voice. Dagur noticed and stepped in front of her, his body language oozing authority, even though he was in front of the king. “Shield.” Dagur corrected rudely. “And speak the language the creature knows.” Creature? Is that what he had been calling her? Ember didn’t know whether to feel offended of that or feel grateful for being defended. The King laughed but nodded. “As you wish, Dagur. Though I doubt she would want to listen. As I said, I have a job for you.” With a flick of King Malik’s finger, a man no older than 20 was dragged out by two guards that seemed a little too rough and a little too muscular to drag around such a scrawny man. They made him drop to his knees and it made Ember feel furious, feeling like she was back in the cell. He was in the same position she was when locked up, his hands bound and his head bowed low. Ember didn’t know if it was for respect, lack of energy or not wanting to acknowledge the king in front of him. “Come, Dagur. Tell me what you see.” King Malik demanded as he got off his throne to stand in front of the young man. He jerked the man’s head up to meet his gaze. Another smirk was plastered on King Malik’s face and Ember didn’t like it one bit. For a moment Dagur stared as if wondering what his next move should be.

Dagur let his presence be known to the barely 20 year old in front of him. The man shuddered; chills ran down his spine as he made eye contact with him. Dagur got to work. He silently stared, the colder the look, the more vulnerable people tend to get, therefore more information and more money was involved. “John Pike. Twenty last week.” Dagur started to reel off information as if he was reciting a book. Physical attributes, abilities and even a criminal record for stealing, due to being poor, was out in the open. “Good… now tell me this John, who is your father?” King Malik spat out in Johns face. Ember almost went to step in, her rage swirling internally, but Dagur put a hand towards her to stop. John fell silent so King Malik had to use Dagur. Another flick of the finger gave him his answer. “You, King Malik.” Dagur replied stiffly. Dagur was known not to like the kings’ s****l endeavours and did not bother to mask the disgust that was laced in his voice. “Congratulations, my King.” Dagur added dryly, which made the king laugh so loud it echoed in the room. He patted Dagurs’ shoulder. “Thank you, my good man… looks like he is my heir after twelve tries and eleven daughters.” King Malik barked with laughter once more. Ember couldn’t disguise the surprised noise she made; both men looked her way, King Malik with a slimy grin on his face and Dagur expressionless. “Who is the mother, Dagur?” Dagur glanced at John, who looked like he wanted to punch the king, his eyes full of a similar rage to Embers. “A slave you had gotten as a gift for your 21st birthday.” Dagurs’ fists were clenched tight and he said the words through gritted teeth. “Oh, her. She was sucking my d**k when I was on the phone to you the other day.” King Malik said in amusement, referring to last week when Dagur had to call in a favour from him. Ember was luckily quick enough to catch Dagurs fist when it came flying towards the king. Ember looked at Dagur and shook her head. “Master that would be treason.” She muttered to Dagur, whose breath was ragged from anger. How could she control her anger when just days before she set his home up in flames? The striking red illuminated the room and yet it didn’t dissipate. John ground his teeth, not wanting to hear that of his mother. King Malik smirked at the young man, noting the anger in his complexion and eyes. They both burned in anger. “Sorry, son, that was rude to say about your w***e of a mother.” John lunged at the king and the guards that were there held John back, not even needing half of their strength to secure him.

King Malik decided on the fate of John, and also Dagur. The king didn’t like the fact that his Profiler raised a fist at him, no matter how long they’ve known each other. It seemed that the lack of parental figures showed when it came to Dagurs manners. The man still looked pissed whilst his Shield glowed internally. King Malik was intrigued and wanted the Shield for himself. “Profiler.” In their mother tongue he addressed Dagur, who had lost the little respect King Malik had for him, therefore his name should not be spoken. The Profiler looked down as a sign of respect before the king. “You have lost my protection for a month. You shall not raise your hand against me again otherwise harsher consequences will be arranged.” The Shield looked at King Malik with confusion, obviously not knowing what was being spoken. She looked at the Profiler for assistance, who shook his head as an unspoken reply to her. “Yes, King Malik. I agree with the terms as it is deserved.” The Profiler replied that was accompanied with a glare. “If this happens again, your Shield shall be mine to use as I please.” The Profiler nodded and glanced at John, who was still in a vice-like grip and was already bruised by the harshness of the guards. “You have a choice, boy.” King Malik spat out. How could this man be his child? He was sure he had the best genes, yet John was scrawny with lack of muscles and greasy black hair that matched his mothers, nothing like the golden, soft locks King Malik had. “You shall become my heir if you decide to leave your mother, or you can keep your current lifestyle as if we have never met before. I don’t know how I didn’t realise your mother was pregnant but since you are a boy I can keep you here, unlike the useless females I have made before.”

The Profiler wanted nothing more than to punch King Malik in the face and see a bruise swell into a beautiful shade of purple, but his punishment was harsh enough and he didn’t want his Shield dragged into his mess. Instead he turned to face a wall and tried to block the conversation out. The other people in the room thought it was due to respect, not that he wanted to introduce his fist to the kings face. He glanced at his Shield. The Profiler managed to repurpose his shirt the creature was wearing a few days ago into a button up dress, which was better than nothing. The Shield needed more clothes and shoes, the Profiler didn’t want his Shield looking homeless, and he had a reputation to uphold. People with Shields are usually the higher class who need added protection, that included him, and what did higher class people do? Dress up their pets to make them look pretty. Fortunately for him, he didn’t care about such things and only bought basics for his Shields. This Shield needed more than just basics, though. The creature needed fire resistant material and as well as being a woman she would need other… necessities. Sure, the Profiler was alone most of his life and had no social skills but that didn’t mean he wasn’t educated.

John looked at his... king in disgust. Why would he pick that sleazebag over his mother, who provided for him before herself, who showed him love every day and worked hard for what they had? I bet Malik didn’t want to hear how much of a lousy lay he was in bed due to his miniscule problem. John and his mother would laugh at the table during dinner about it; they were fairly open like that so they could get through the hardships they both shared on a day to day basis. Otherwise they would cry. The look must’ve given Malik his answer, who barked out with laughter. Had nobody told him he needed to go to the dentist regularly? Malik’s face was too close for comfort as he said. “I guess you refuse my offer, boy. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Mother w***e warms my bed every night whilst you freeze in yours.” With a flick of a highly manicured finger, the guards hoisted John up and dragged him outside in the cold. He and his mother couldn’t afford many clothes so they had to make do with what they had, which didn’t include a coat. John felt the tears roll down his face, due to both anger and sadness. He wiped them away, even if he felt like that, the sadness wasn’t because of the offer he just rejected. He hoped his mother would be safe.

Moments later, the Profiler was dismissed with the promise of payment and was followed by his Shield. “Master, what happened?” The Shield asked once they were outside, Dagur noted the sudden cold and passed his coat to his Shield. He needed the creature to be healthy for future strength essence purposes. She covered herself with it like a cloak and smiled briefly as thanks. Dagur explained the situation with as little words as possible; he didn’t want to make conversation as usual. He was sometimes classed as the strong, silent type, but he was actually just socially awkward and preferred to use expressions instead of words. After Dagur explained, the Shield was shocked, upset and then disgusted. All in that order. Hushed cries were heard and they turned around to see John curled up by a wall, curled up as if huddling for warmth as he sobbed into his arms. “John?” He looked up by the sound of his name and saw the Profiler and his Shield. The Shield looked concerned after she called out to him, rushing and coming up close. She held out her hand and he took it, appreciating the heat that emitted from her.

Ember felt sorry for the young man, he must have gone through so much in his lifetime judging by his appearance. She pulled him up for him to stand and hugged him. Ember missed social intimacy; it was a common thing in her country to hug and show affection to others and she missed it a little. Ember felt a pull and was detached from John by Master, who glared at the both. Ember looked down to the ground in embarrassment, almost forgetting it wasn’t as common in the country she was in to show affection. Or was it? She wasn’t sure since the only thing she saw was a cell and her previous owners who treated everyone as slaves. Whichever it was, Master didn’t like it either way. Suddenly, a harsh force hit her brain and she crumped to the ground, holding her head and hissing in pain. It felt like her brain had been hit, as if something was trying to go in it. The pain flooded in even more and everything went black.

'Wake up!'

Ember shot up from a familiar bed, panting from the dull ache that came from her head. She rubbed it carefully, noticing the sharp pains and then realising who woke her up.

“Cleora?”

'Finally! You don’t know how long I have been trapped, unable to contact you.'

Ember frowned, how long had it been? The last thing she remembered of her Ancestor was when she was kidn*pped.

'I think they drugged you, making you unable to feel me. It has gone out of you system so I was able to come back to you.'

Ember didn’t know what to say, to be honest she wasn’t shocked that she was drugged, she was glad that her Ancestor was back with her. Ember almost felt like a failure, it was rare for Ancestors to leave their Decedents, especially for her race. Her heart sunk at the thought of being a failure not just to her Ancestor, but to her clan because she hadn’t been able to shift in how long and her anger bubbled inside due to her being disconnected from her Ancestor for so long.

“I’m glad to finally have you back. You don’t know how lost and powerless I was without you.”

Ember sniffed, trying to not let her tears escape but failed at that too. Warm streams of water flowed down her cheeks and no amount of wiping would send them away.

'Don’t be upset, Em, I have been with you just not as prominent as I should have been.'

“Was that you, then? My anger? I know that you can get angry easily.”

Ember giggled briefly when Cleora huffed.

'Of course! I couldn’t protect you properly but my blood still runs in your veins, whether or not you can sense me.'

Ember smiled, glad to have her best friend of 25 years back. As soon as they’re born, an Ancestor that originally ruled the lands resides as the part of the Descendants soul. The Descendant owns half of their soul. One quarter was their Ancestor and the other quarter was their soulmate, having both completed their soul and makes the person feel whole and content knowing that they’d have eternal love from their soulmate. Although overly rare in the world, it was common in Embers country to shapeshift, but it was even rarer to have an Ancestor, both inside her country and the world. Master mustn’t know about her since it was well known that the only people with Ancestors were royalty.

“Thank you, Cleora.”

Cleora smiled. She liked her Descendant; there was something so comfortable about her that made Cleora feel at ease when she picked the princess. She hoped Ember would find her soulmate soon to escape her fate when she decides to go back to her homeland.

John scanned the luxurious surroundings he was sitting in. He was commanded to follow Dagur back to his home, which was apparent that it was a very expensive penthouse, whilst he carried his Shield back. They were sitting in the living room. Dagur seemed to be engrossed with an Old World antique book. Old World languages were dying out as very few people wanted to learn, but it looked like Dagur was one of the very rare few that liked the language enough to learn it. John felt like he couldn’t converse with Dagur, he gave off a very cold aura that meant he didn’t want to be disturbed. He didn’t know why he was here but it felt uncomfortable. Suddenly Dagur got up and went to the open plan kitchen behind them. John’s eyes followed Dagur; the whole penthouse was immaculate, almost as if it has been recently renovated. A subtle smell of smoke and ash lingered in the air.

John had a very acute sense of smell, to the point of smelling past smells but still not trained well to decipher how long the smell was there for. He was from a long line of hound shifters, though it was so diluted that he only got their ability to smell. It wasn’t useful when he needed the toilet. In public. Close to someone who smelt like he had one too many every day. It wasn’t pleasant. Going back to the smoke smell, he also smelt it on the Shield and put two-and-two together. John bravely decided to talk. “Your Shield can produce fire.” Dagur looked up from making drinks. It wasn’t a welcoming expression. “She burnt this room to a crisp a few days ago.” Dagur replied before finishing off drinks. They both heard the Shield come down what she thought was quietly. She popped up behind the wall and Dagur passed her drink to her. How did he know she was coming down? Where was Johns drink? “Didn’t you make John one?” She asked, addressing the rudeness straight away, not noticing his cold gaze and expressionless face as he glanced at John. “I don’t want him here.” The Shield laughed. What was funny? Was she just as rude? Apparently not since suddenly a full cup of tea was placed in Johns hands, with a small jug of milk and a bowl of sugar appearing whilst he was deep in thought.

Dagur didn’t like his Shield laughing at him. He was serious. He didn’t want John at his home; it would make the situation worse. He has no protection from King Malik, he’s got a Shield hiding secrets and now he had John at his home looking at his Shield with amusement. He didn’t like that one bit. Good Shields were hard to come by and Dagur had the feeling he hit the jackpot; he didn’t want John to think she was for sale, no matter how much she entertained him. John put whatever the f**k he wanted into his mug and stirred with a teaspoon. Even the normal clanking of the spoon made him feel on edge. Realising they both had a language barrier when they started to talk; they both looked to Dagur for assistance. He really didn’t like John in his home.