The Blood Prince's Curiosity

I

                   "It's been ten years, Grigore!" the sable haired royalty shouted, slamming a fist down on the polished mahogany surface of her sibling's work desk. "This is enough, the dread! For Rosaphine's sake, the entire city of Obsidius is going to be driven insane with the amount of grief wafting in the air like the stench of a dead animal!"

                   "Calm down, Marcel." The eldest of the Ludvikas siblings stared at his rampaging sister whilst rubbing the side of his temple rhythmically in attempt to massage the migraine that was starting to swell on his right lobe. "Let him be for now, it's best that he .... heals at his own time."

                   Marcel threw another glare at the blond that sat idly behind his desk who showed more focus on chasing away the lingering pain in his head than having to listen to her complaints about their father's emotional state.

                   "And when is that?" she spats, throwing her arms wildly in the air. "A century from now? A millennium, maybe?"

                   Aggravated at the inconsiderate tone in his sister's voice and her frenetic hand gestures, Grigore points the two fingers he had on his temple at her, then points downwards towards the chair situated across from him. The silent demand forced his sibling to settle down on the seat against her will, shutting her up for a couple of seconds as the overwhelming power of her brother manipulated her movements.

                   "Now, listen here," his voice was barely above a whisper, yet the malice that radiated off his words was discernible. "Grief and love.... The one thing that makes those two the same is that it does not carry an expiration date, Mar. Everyone grieves differently and during this time we should just be there for our father and for each other. If we have to endure a lifetime of sorrow in order to help him towards his own acceptance of our mother's death, so be it."

                   Grigore sighed, releasing his command over his sibling before returning to the stack of papers on his desk that had yet to be signed by him. "He's not the only one anyway. And if you're worried about the citizens of Obsidius, I've already casted a barrier around the castle to hold in his pheromones so it'll only reach the castle walls."

                   Marcel looked at her brother in disbelief. Now she knew why after the fourth month of her father's grief, the feeling of dread and loss intensified by about ten times inside their home. "You asshat," she hissed. "Our siblings were only mere nocturas! How could you allow them to suffer through that? I had to bring them to the next city over because their health was worsening from staying here!"

                   "They could've endured it," the blond said flatly. "They are of the Ludvikas household after all, don't underestimate our resilience in our tolerance."

                   "That's all that we've been doing, you know," Marcel retorted as she rose to her feet. "We're just enduring everything! Why can't you see how much that damaged us?"

                   Grigore watched silently as his little sister turned her back on him as she walked towards the doorway. She stopped by the door frame and glanced back just for a second to look at her brother's sunken face once more. Her radiant blue eyes softening and glossed over as it met with his. "You're not even yourself anymore." 

                   She left without adding anything else to her final statement, her slender figure disappearing from the entrance of her brother's study. "Hmm ...." The eldest stared down at the paperwork in his hands, his blond locks falling gracefully from its tucked position behind his shoulders and merging with the strands on the side of his cheek. "Have I .... really changed that much?"

                   Ever since their father had shut himself away into his chambers after the war had ended in Rosavall, he never left his bed as much as he used to. He shut himself away from his people, his duties as king, and his children. So, to compensate for the lack of leadership in his kingdom and its citizens, Grigore had took control over the throne for the meantime. It only made sense, since he was the eldest and next in line. He had matured faster to become acclimated with the responsibilities as the King of Mardelle and had represented himself in place of his father when it came to business and financial dealings in other countries.

                   There wasn't much time for him to sit back and freely do whatever he pleased. In a way, he too was excluding himself from the world and his family. However, he didn't perceive it that way.

                   Too immersed in his own thoughts, he didn't even take notice of the faint presence of the youngest of the Ludvikas household who had eavesdropped on his siblings argument from earlier. Over the years of snooping in on conversations between his family members and being caught the majority of the time by Grigore and Marcel, he'd mastered to conceal his presence more efficiently.

                   Nicolae had been hiding himself behind a large pillar near his brother's study. He was always the more observant child in his family and noticed every shift and transition he'd saw in his siblings. The fatigued and emptied expressions of Grigore, the increasing rage in Marcel from the absence of her older brother and their father, the hardened exterior of Răzvan, and Valencia's obsession with wearing their dead mother's clothes and pretending to reenact how she was when she was still alive; he saw it all.

                   It was as if they were all underwater, tied to their father's grief and unable to swim up for air. Maybe it was because he didn't have a vast recollection about his mother to feel the same sadness that the rest of his siblings were feeling; he was mournful, yes, but not completely broken. If anything, his own melancholy derived from the sense of abandonment from the rest of his family members. During the ten years of mourning, he'd escape from the bleak atmosphere of the castle and would wander off alone into the city of Obsidius.

                  He'd disguise his identity with a cloak and a mask to blend in with the rest of the vampires who'd roam the streets of the city. And during these secret trips of his, he'd buy the most peculiar objects and books from sketchy vending stalls. He'd ask the vendors where each object came from and every one of them had a different story to tell. Just by hearing the origins of the items he'd bought, it gave him an exhilarating rush through his veins. As if he'd been there, discovering the objects on his own.

                   Each weekly visit to the town became an every night activity and soon, he'd found himself trying to stash his treasures on the hidden shelves in the library of the castle or underneath loose floorboards of empty bedrooms. His small world in the castle grew more and reading adventures on paper that weren't his own and accumulating items that came from foreign locations weren't enough to satisfy his desire to be there.

                  He was ready to leave Mardelle. Ready to explore the unknown beyond the walls of his kingdom. He'd already left a note on his nightstand without giving much detail where he'll start his expedition first. Clutching the straps of his leather knapsack, he took off down the opposite hall that Marcel stormed out of from his brother's study.

                   The first place he wanted to visit was Aerphodonyx, a city overrun by magic. It was where his very first item that he bought from one of the vendors originated from. A beautifully carved hand knife with a golden handle that had a dark gray quartz engraved at its bolster. The vendor told him it once belonged to a mighty elfin magician who perished during the first war of Rosavall. It intrigued the young blond because he read that the first war was against the God of Korr, Sanathos the Wicked, who had unleashed monstrous beings against his mother's creations out of envy. Aerphodonyx was where the war ended with all the race who stood together to fight Sanathos's oppression, sealing their victory.

                   Nicolae wanted to see it for himself, whether the city was still there or not. The anticipation renewed the excitement he had for leaving Mardelle behind. By Nightfall, he had slipped away through the underground tunnels of the castle. He had obscured himself again in a dark cloak and an animal mask, but this time it wouldn't be for a short journey to the vendors in the grimy corners of Obsidious. This time, he was going to the port city of Mardelle to begin his own adventure.