Whispers and Wine
1021 Words
--- Liora ---
After the dance, I was swept away by my sisters, both of whom were practically vibrating with excitement.
"I have to admit," Myrelle said between giggles, "when I pictured a vampire, I imagined someone the color of cooking flour. Not that... dark and brooding dreamboat."
Irisel rolled her eyes but smiled. "His hair looked like it had been sculpted by the wind. And those eyes? Crimson like molten rubies."
Myrelle dissolved into laughter again. "I still can’t get over the Dragon Prince—he nearly trampled you! You were practically flying to survive."
I blushed, remembering the bruises I’d surely have by morning. "He meant well... I think."
"Poor thing was wearing a full suit of armor," Irisel added with a snort. "Who wears that to a banquet?"
"Someone trying to repel suitors, perhaps?" I mused.
"Well," Irisel said thoughtfully, "if we’re judging on dance alone, the Grove Lord of Blossomreach was surprisingly elegant. He’s distantly related to Amaia Virelle, which explains the tailoring. Bronze skin, emerald eyes... he certainly turned a few heads."
"Yours included," Myrelle teased.
Irisel didn't deny it. "Looks like Mother may get her wish after all. He asked me to be his second dance partner."
My eyes widened. "Not me?" I asked, feigning hurt.
"Not you," she confirmed with a small, mysterious smile. "He’s quite charming. Polite. Reserved. The kind of fae who would do well at court."
I looked across the ballroom. Noctis stood near the wine table, calmly accepting conversation after conversation. Gone was the wary silence that had followed him upon his arrival. His dance hadn’t just enchanted me—it had won over half the court.
Except one.
The Frostmere Grove Lord in blue sulked near the edge of the room, glaring daggers.
--- Noctis ---
I slipped out onto the balcony.
The stars shimmered above, casting Vaeluna’s crystalline towers in silver-blue light. The river below glowed faintly—pure, enchanted water pulsing with seasonal magic. A breeze scented with honeyed lilies and frostleaf drifted past, cool against my heated skin.
That’s when I heard the soft clank of armor.
The Dragon Prince was already there, half out of his ceremonial plating, leaning against the railing with a goblet of wine.
He gave me a small smile. "If it isn’t the enchanting vampire," he said with an amused smirk. "I'm Vermior. And congratulations."
I tilted my head. "For what?"
"Winning her heart. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. The rest of us were just... formalities."
I blinked. Honesty was rare in royal circles. This was unexpected.
"You are, however, more than welcome to share my hiding space."
From where we stood, we could hear the gentle din of noble gossip filtering in through the balcony doors. Some fae were surprised by my composed demeanor, many having never ventured beyond the Fae realm—let alone seen a real vampire. A few said kind things about my appearance. A cluster of women gushed about my dance skills. Older fae muttered in disbelief that Queen Ellaria would even consider non-fae suitors for her daughter.
Then one voice, thick with disdain: "I hope she turns him down. What makes him think he's worthy of our princess?"
Without looking, I lifted two fingers and snapped. The fae's wine goblet promptly imploded, drenching his pristine white tunic in deep red liquid. Gasps followed.
Vermior gawked at first, then burst into hysterics. The ice broken, his tone softened.
"I didn’t come here with the intention to marry," he admitted, swirling his wine. "My parents forced me. Thought it was time I settled down. The elven heir clearly wants a broodmare, anyone within earshot could hear how rude he was. The Frostmere Lord just wants power why else would he be so brazen. Not entirely sure what the one in green wants though I can tell it's not Liora. And me?" He gave a soft laugh. "I just want freedom."
"Is that why you wore armor, and stepped all over Liora's feet?" I asked, lips twitching.
"Partially. I hoped it would scare everyone off. The bad dancing? That’s just me." He grinned sheepishly. "My kind values strength, battle, agility, but were not exactly known for grace unless we’re flying."
He downed the last of his wine and looked at me seriously. "I’m glad it was you. You clearly care for her."
His words settled heavy on my chest.
I turned my gaze inward—back to the ballroom, where she now stood surrounded by her sisters, her laughter ringing like windchimes, her eyes glowing with the moon’s reflection.
I made my way to rejoin her when someone else beat me to it and summoned Liora to her mother. I was disappointed until someone else stepped into my path.
She had wings very similar to Liora’s—delicate and lunar-pale.
"You must be Noctis," the second princess said, curtseying with a regal tilt of her head. "I’m Princess Myrelle of Vaeluna."
"An honor," I replied.
Her eyes narrowed slightly—intelligent, appraising. "I’ve heard of your sacrifice. Of how you protected my sister. How much do you truly love her?"
"More than my own life," I answered without hesitation. "Without her, everything else would be meaningless."
I showed her my wrist—the mark that bore the exact pattern of Liora’s wings.
"Is that a tattoo?"
"No," I said quietly. "It’s the mate mark granted by the Moon Goddess. It appeared the moment I saw her. Even if she’d never returned my feelings, I would’ve served beside her—as friend, partner, whatever she needed. Just to stay by her side."
Her violet eyes brightened suddenly, then shifted to a glowing green.
She stared into the distance, pupils wide and unblinking, as though hearing a voice I could not.
Then her gaze returned, calm again. She smiled—a quiet, knowing smile—and offered a deeper curtsey.
Without a word, she turned and sashayed back toward her mother.
I stood there, alone once more, watching the stars flicker like scattered truths.
Wondering what that was about… and why her eyes changed when I spoke of love.
- Writer
