The Curse Of A Stranger's Gift 30 Coronation

Walls were obscured by red silky curtains that seemed to float seamlessly. It was carved with a small, round, yellow thing that acted as a design that attracts everyone. Arcs were made to stand beside each entrance, and those were grace by hedges or else lilies.

Vladimir walked past his room to observe things, and to plan out their escape. He must ensure that both of them were safe and well. Zheira might disagree, but her complaints wouldn't do anything if they're already away from this threshold. However, as he rounded the castle, every entrance and exits have guards.

'What the? How the h.e.l.l will we escape without being seen!' He frowned. 'You'll have to think fast, Vladimir. Things are about to get rough if you don't do a thing.' He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist before turning his back to the Elite guards who were narrowing their eyes at him. The last thing he wants was for his father to realize his plans.

He glided towards Zheira's room, making sure not to make any noise. She's been asleep ever since she found her lying unconscious in the third floor's hallway three days from now. He's kind of worried. Eleanor told him Zheira's been sniffing news from the castle. He then realizes that she'd found out something she shouldn't have learned.

He sat beside her, bending a little to have a better look at her perfect modeled complexion. Unconsciously, his fingers trailed each line of her forehead down to her chin, smiling as sparks crawled at the tip of his palm. "I don't know what you've done to me, Zheira," he whispered while biting the lower part of his lips, "Ever since I laid eyes on you, you've awakened something inside me. You're always running in my head without getting tired. How can you do this to me?"

A light-hearted laugh issued from his throat while he tucked some of the messy strands of her hair to her ears. He wiped her sweats through her palm. "Thank you," he paused, "for... for making me alive. I thought I'd be living like an empty sh.e.l.l for eternity. You've given me more than just hope. You showed me the light, and I will make sure to keep you safe." Slowly, he planted a soft kiss in her forehead. A tear made its way to his cheek, but he wiped it harshly. "Just... just stay with me."

The bed creaked as his weight pressed against it. He let her arms crawled towards her waist as he moved closer. At that moment, nothing matters. All he could feel was the sparks running through their body. He finds solace to their silence, and he realizes how dull his life was without Zheira. He's been a wreck; carrying the guilt of killing his precious sister; bearing the life of the people he wasted just for petty revenge.

Loud knocks broke the comfortable silence surrounding the room; it awakens Vladimir from a deep stupor. He stretched his hand, and his bones crackled at the weight of his strength. He hasn't noticed that he has fallen asleep and it bothers him. He wasted too much time.

He stared at Zheira for a while, memorizing every trace of her features. Breathing heavily, he opened the door. Eleanor's brows were creased, and her arms were crossed while tapping her heels. "You're already late!" She grabbed his tie, moving closer towards him 'till their noses nearly touched. Her eyes narrowed into a slit. "Don't ruin this event!"

Vladimir moved forward; his nose touched hers. He bit the lower part of his lips before saying slowly, "I'll be there." His minty breath made Eleanor swallow hard. She shook her head, glared at him, then she vanished.

Slightly, he turned his head. His eyes bore to Zheira for a while. He closed his eyes, moved his leg, and disappeared without a blink.

The hall was set upon his arrival. Witnesses stood still with their gray cloaks and hood, concealing their faces. Meanwhile, the common vampires murmured in their sits, growling while he walked with his head held high towards his throne. There was a priest standing in front of the hall, wearing a blood-red cloak that dimmed darker at the touch of the sun's rays. In the priest's left rested a large golden chair that was occupied by the king himself; his wrists were bound with red, narrow strings. In the priest's right lay a red chair much smaller than the king's.

Vladimir wondered whether or not the string would tie him as he made himself comfortable in his designated chair. With the thought lingering in the depth of his brain cells, he rested his body on its feature, ignoring a lot of crimson eyes focusing in his direction.

A soft gasp issued from his throat as the red string he antic.i.p.ated crawled in his wrist. He tried moving his hand but it didn't budge, so instead, he looked at the witnesses and common vampires; trying so hard to fix his composure.

"Today, we witness a grandiose occasion. Today, we see the new root of another fruitful future. Today, we shall reign again," the priest's thick, raspy voice echoed in the hall. "We have always been fortunate enough to see with our own eyes the transition of a new ruler, and it has always been a privilege of mine to be the binder of kings after kings. The Royal Blood has been pa.s.sed down for generations. Its ability to authorize unity and peace amongst our lands had never been withstood. For two decades, King Xavier III brought changes in our food chain. He provided us with human meats and drops of blood that other kings have yet to accomplish. His scientific ways did quench our thirst, and saved mortals from our forces. Thus, saving our foods for the future. Let us wish that his heir would be as capable as he was with serving us. Without farther ado, let's start the coronation."

Clap followed his statements. It seemed distant for Vladimir. He felt numb and he didn't know why.

"Do you, Vladimir Villarueca, affirm to be the king of all kings?" he asked. Vladimir blinked at the sight of the priest in front of him. He's too preoccupied that he hadn't noticed the pa.s.sing of time.

It took more than five minutes before he could decide, weighing down chances, weighing down hope. Yet, nothing made sense to him. Only when the king glared at him did his decision settled.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I affirm it." His voice was cold, but his insides were turning upside down. It's as if he'd been thrown into the void; falling endlessly into nothingness. He felt something pierced his wrist, and he realized that the strings have small, pointy edges. Blood issued from the slit of his skin, but it hovered in the air.

"Do you, your majesty, give the throne to your heir, your son?" The priest approached his majesty.

"Yes," he said, almost instantly after the priest's statement. The king's wrist also suffered the same fate, and his blood stretched in the air with Vladimir's.

The priest stood in the center of the hovering blood, whispering incantations. After a while, the blood glided towards each other until it combined, forming a liquidize ball that was gleaming horrifyingly with the brightness of the sun. It pressed and knot itself, forming and deforming at each second that pa.s.sed, until with a pop, the blood transformed into a tangible object, which could be worn only by the king: a crown. It was hailed with black linings that were dancing in its curves and edges; there was also a red, minuscule ruby glinting at each black lining that decorated its feature.

With a last whisper, the priest grabbed the crown which gave off steam at his touch. He hurriedly put it over Vladimir's head who crouched a little with its weight. He's in awe as he felt the heaviness of such a small thing.

"All hail to King Vladimir," the priest shouted. The common vampires and the witnesses stood and repeated the lines.

He stood as the bindings released him, and he forced a smile as he faced the horde of people he would soon serve with humility, integrity, and dedication.