So... I am late but sorry had some personal issues.
"Did you see the way he talked to his highness? He must have a death wish!"
A person faintly exclaimed, sending remarks flying into the air.
"He claims he is his Highness's uncle."
"That can't be true; his highness has never mentioned anyone being related to him other than his father and Prince Damien."
"How sure are you? Can't you see how rigid his highness went just at the sight of him?"
"Mn, who knows? It could be that they have bad blood between them."
Gossip and murmurings slurred through the air, each trying their best to be as quiet as possible, but they all knew at the back of their minds that, no matter how quiet they thought they were, they couldn't escape the ears of a shapeshifter.
"Shhhh!" Another person hurriedly shushed them. "Are you doing this on purpose or are you feigning ignorance? Don't you know that everyone can hear you? Aren't you aware of the people in this room?"
"You should have let them be!" One of the person's friends hummed unhappily. "I wanted to see their heads rolling off their bodies! Killjoy!"
That silent warning caused panic in the hearts of a lot of people who had been gossiping earlier.
They all screwed their lips shut as they watched the scene before them. This time, none dared to comment.
"Guards!" Marcos' outraged yelling cut through the spines of many, making them shiver.
Guards rushed into the reception hall, the royal family's crest embedded on their armor's chest.
"Your Highness!"
They called, coming to their knees once in front of him, but he spared them no glance.
Marco's eyes stayed locked onto those of his self-proclaimed uncle, glaring daggers at him.
"Drag this trash outside!" He ordered it, causing panic to ignite in the hearts of the guards and many of the people watching.
They all knew it was an offense to threaten a noble or a royal. It was an act of war!
"Sir?" A guard weakly questioned
"Why are you all still standing there? Did I stutter when I gave you an order?" Marcos seethed.
Not daring to anger him anymore, they threw their rationality out the window.
They had sworn loyalty to him, and they would stay firm on their words!
They walked up to Carrion, circling him with their weapons aimed at him.
"Your Excellency!" The head guard started, "By order of his Majesty, we are to see you out."
Boom!
They dared! They dared do that to a noble! A royal!
The fires in their hearts exploded, but none of them dared comment. They still valued their lives!
A dark, humorless chuckle cut through the air, the pressure in the room suddenly increasing and turning frosty.
"You dare?!" He asked, sending knees to the floor.
Bam!
One by one, they all fell, sweat dropping onto the floor from how much they struggled to release themselves from this invisible pressure.
"Carrion!" Marcos growled, barely containing his rage. "Get out!"
His gruff voice rang in an echo, and visible animal-like features started to cloud it.
"Make me." Carrion jeered, his eyes taunting. "You think little threats work on me, boy?"
"Shut up! I know what you are trying to do." Marcos lashed out: "It won't work."
"Oh, nephew." He sighed. "You think you are smart, but you see, you aren't, and that's why I am here to prove it."
An ink of fear crept into Marcos' heart for the first time.
He curled his fists tightly, subtly biting his lips. In just one day, he felt things he had never felt before, and it all started when he met his mate.
He wanted to smash something, to yell, to destroy anything!
(A/n: I know this is you 😏 smashing things when angry, bad!)
He wanted to do something with his hands but couldn't. Was it a curse or a blessing that he found his mate?
Why were things happening like this?
He wanted to cry so badly in his heart but couldn't.
A series of questions and emotions passed through his heart, but not once were they written on his face.
His face turned even colder and emotionless.
If they were to give an Oscar award for the best at controlling emotions, he was sure he would have won many trophies by now.
"What are you trying to do?" Marcos breathed out, his eyes and face falling blank within the blink of an eye.
He walked back to his throne, sitting on it once more.
"Stand down." He ordered the rest of his guards, who still had their weapons trained at Carrion,
He rests his face on his left hand, appearing bored. "Speak."
His sudden change in demeanor shocked everyone, including Carrion.
Suddenly, a chuckle was heard from the crowd, followed by clapping.
Still frozen in fear, the people parted like a sea, heads turning towards the sound, hearts beating wildly in anticipation.
Everyone wanted to know who was bold enough to chuckle at a time like this.
At the end of the line of people, a young man stood gallantly, his attire oozing with authority, his lips drawn in a faint line.
"What are you doing here?" Marcos raged, his frown growing deeper at the presence of this very person.
"What?" The person asked, taking huge strides towards the throne. "Not happy to see me?"
"On what orders are you here?" Marcos threatened, his claws digging into his throne.
"Do I need orders from anyone to attend a ball like this, brother?" The person raised a brow at him, his smirk never leaving his lips.
"Don't call me that!" Marcos thundered, rising to his feet.
Bang!
The right armrest of his throne landed twistedly on the floor.
"Don't get so worked up, nephew; we are family after all." Carrion finally spoke.
"No, we are not!" Marcos objected, turning to face them both. "See to it that you leave since none of your presence is needed."
"Now come on, brother, it hasn't gotten to that, has it?" Said the man whose eyes glimmered at the sight of Marcos' fury.
"Respect yourself, Frederick! Under no circumstances should you address me without an honorific! Correct yourself!"
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