The King's Claim

s i x - a library corner✔️

I spent my night in the back of the west wing library, I didn't usually come here. Instead, I'd normally stay in the main library downstairs but I couldn't risk Dexter seeing me. He knew too much about my habits and I couldn't have his nosy self asking me questions. He'd be getting himself killed.

I hadn't come here since I first moved into the west wing, it was much grander than the one downstairs and was completely isolated. I had chosen the furthest corner to sit in, shrouded in darkness with a small lamp dimly lighting up my work.

I should come up here more, these texts are so much more informative than anything downstairs, which had an entire section for napping, mainly used by the children but truthfully, I've found myself there on more than one occasion.

I had been going through old records of Ormesta brewing, I could definitely make it but some of the ingredients were pretty unorthodox, I needed a love faerie's tear and a petal from an everlasting rose which I'm pretty sure I could just pinch from the garden. This is why I stuck to chemist work, brewery was kind of bizarre and just borderline witchcraft. No, it was actual witchcraft which made this all the worse.

This wasn't my line of work, there was no rhyme or reason to any of this. What was the science behind it?! I couldn't write out any formulas or make educated assumptions because if I simply added a drop of vampire blood this could very well become an immortality potion. It made no sense.

But I had no choice.

I couldn't just give up, I had a deadline and this wasn't one I could talk my way out of, this was life or death for me.

I continue reading the instructions written out by a witch from the 1800's on why the salt level of the faerie's tear was so important when I heard the door slightly creak open. I felt a wave of dark energy, oh fuck, I know that feeling.

I felt light headed, but at least I wasn't being suffocated this time. I hated the feeling, it's made me severely sick on occasion.

Another reason I hated living in this west wing, the rest of the pack didn't have to experience this, they never got close enough to The King to feel his aura and even if they did, he was constantly focusing on minimising it when he was in front of his pack. I know some Lycans possessed this power too, I remember one in particular who found me during our pack's raid but none had met his level of intensity.

I begin to internally freak out, should I grab my things and run or stay as quiet as possible in this corner, hoping to not be seen. My god, what if he sees what I'm researching. I could be hanged.

I decide to be as quiet as possible and put an innocent book of basics of being a pack chemist on top of my work.

I could hear heavy footsteps but couldn't place exactly where they were coming from, my throat begun to close. He's getting closer.

I look up from my work and almost fall off my seat as I see the large silhouette of the King across the library.

Staring at me.

I don't dare say a word. Instead, I stay hypnotised by his presence. I feel faint being this close, and begin to get lightheaded. As if sensing the effect he is having on me, he moves further back. I start packing my things, not wanting to inconvenience the King.

"Stay." His voice, oh my god his voice. It was beautiful yet commanding. Melodic yet frightening. It was ethereal. I needed to hear it again. 

I feel myself freeze at the command of The King . My legs begin to tremble as he stares at me through his hood, we stay like that for a few torturous minutes. 

I just wanted to hear him again.

"I-, My King, I can't move." I say, hoping he'll release me from his command.

He ignores my plea and comes closer toward me, again, my throat constricts and my head becomes light with the pressure. Ignoring me, he looks at the papers scattered on the desk, trying to work out what kind of work I am doing shrouded in all this darkness. I'm left petrified at being this close to him. I feel him staring at me. I avoid eye contact by keeping my gaze on the floor. I don't do well with authority figures, I become unable to form coherent thoughts.

Suddenly, I feel the weight being lifted and can move my body again. I notice him close his eyes, clearly trying to hone in his aura.

"Thank you." I say breathlessly, finally in control of my body.

"What are you doing here?" He demands, my palms begin to sweat. I can't believe I'm talking to the king right now. 

"I'm doing some of my chemist work, My King."

"A student?" He asks in a deep gruff voice.

"No, Head Chemist, My King." I look down, my body begin to shake under his intense gaze.

"Name?" Why was he asking me so many questions? I begin to worry he knows about Beta Marcus' plan.

"Belle Maddox."

"Do you have a mate Belle Maddox?" I panic, why would he be asking me that question? I feel my scar tingle as he says my name, that was strange, I was more used to it stinging. 

"No, My King, my mate died when I was young." I lie, the same lie I told everyone since 16. I sniffle, in an attempt to show some type of grief.

"I see." I feel myself begin to choke again as his energy intensifies. I grip the desk, forcing my arms not to reach for my neck.

As if sensing my pain, The King turns around, features still concealed, and leaves the room. What on Earth just happened? I try to think about what I could have said that caused the King to leave, but my mind is blank. I couldn't stop being disappointed that I never even got to see his face.