That was... there aren't any words for what that was.
A travesty. A humiliation. Perhaps that's a good place to start.
Arthos swore he'd have her prepared, that she would play her part. And yet she made a mockery of the ritual and my crown.
Now he's locked in the stocks. She's housed in my old room. And my reign is even more precarious than ever.
I should have slit her throat the moment she cast that spell. I wanted to. I wanted to slash that sorcerer arrogance right out of her.
But I couldn't.
Even now I can feel her two storeys down. Her blood sings to me. It beckons and cajoles.
"I am for you," it whispers up through the ducts, and I know before day's end I'll sink my fangs into her again.
I briefly wonder how she will feel about that, then I realize I don't care. I'm a tarnished king who she only tarnished further.
And there's a price to pay for everything.
For all of us. Forever.
Fate might just be the harshest mistress of all.
Right after the bond, that is.
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Chasing Mildred
VampireThis series of tweets, posted as part of the #TwitterFiction Festival 2015, flings you into the head of Nosferatu Keel as he schemes and plots to bring the sorceress Mills back to the Michigan compound. Essentially, it's Part One of RULER from Keel'...