Chapter Two
His Vampiric Majesty groggily opened his eyes, trying to clear the fog that clouded his normally sharp mind. He felt as if someone had stuffed his mouth with cotton after trying to remove his skull-cap with a rusty butter knife. Everything on his body, especially the upper portion of his left leg, ached horribly, but it took some moments before the events that proceeded his awakening returned to his hazy memory. Once each memory had finally clicked into its proper place, a deep-seated panic began to set into the king's every quickening brain.
Where is my Queen?
Sitting up quickly, the king was awarded with an extremely rare wave of nausea that nearly made him expell all the blood he'd drank in the past few weeks. But somehow, he managed to keep it down, grimacing at the taste of bitterly-acidic bile that rose into his mouth. Immediately, he realized that there was something wrong with his leg; it was bound with white bandage and plaster. The Vampire cursed lowly as he remembered the cause for his being in the god-awful place they called an infirmary. After a moment, he decided that trying out the damaged limb was a plausible action of sorts. There were plenty of crutches simply lying around, either propped up against walls or sitting in unused piles of straw.
However tempting that particular idea may have been, Oskan Witchfather's sudden appearance by the bed quickly put any thoughts of escaping out of the Vampire King's reach. Judging by the look on the warlock's face, there was no way he was leaving without any supervision anytime soon. An annoyed look crossed his face as Oskan said, "Well, it seems you do have a chance of making it through this after all."
The king hissed in agitated embarassment. "I don't have time for this, warlock! Grab me a crutch; I'm going to my caves to make sure my consort is alright."
Oskan allowed a rather embarassed look of his own to cross his face. "Well, it seems that Her Vampiric Majesty was rather upset over your injuries. Sadly, it was Grishmak who found out about this - he's all bandaged up now, but told me that Tharaman-Thar and Thirrin were keeping her good company up in the Great Hall."
Another frown creased the king's fine features as he tried to comprehend what the Witchfather had just told him. His consort wasn't one to get upset over much; in fact, it was usually she who kept cool even when he'd lost his temper. More than once she'd saved one of their younger subjects from being flayed with a whip. But this just made his resolve stronger. Now, he had more than double the reason to get back to his queen hastily.
Without further ado, His Vampiric Majesty swung both legs carefully over the edge of his cot, testing his weight on the right one before Oskan could stop him. Shock and annoyance flashed in the warlock's eyes as he watched his Vampire patient try to balance precariously on one leg. Perfectly calm, the king turned his onyx-colored eyes to his "doctor", saying conversationally, "If you would rather not see me fall and injure something else, I suggest you grab me some crutches."
Blinking, Oskan Witchfather stared at the Vampire King for a moment before swiping a tall enough set of crutches from a nearby wall. He didn't say a word as the king took them from his grasp and began to teach himself the art of crutch walking.(A/N: and yes, there is a complete, utter, and total ART to walking with crutches when you're overly tall) "You know, if you were a human, I would be spitting fire and screaming for you to lay back down."
His Vampiric Majesty, by now already half-way to the exit, looked back with an almost impish grin. "Yes I know this. But I'm not a human or a normal soldier, now, am I?"
And then the king turned his attention away from the utterly shocked warlock, not even deigning to glance at the human that had saved his "life". Cool night air hit his face, calming his raging nerves and anxiety somewhat. Something about the breezes were comforting, like a familiar lullaby that a mother always sang to her child. Even those that rustled his perfect waves of inky hair were softly whispering songs of normalcy and happiness. It was odd, thinking about things such as happiness and lullabies while hobbling along with a busted leg. . . .
But the Vampire King would have it no other way.
The Vampire Queen downed her third glass of whiskey, annoyed at the fact that she recieved nothing - not even a slight buzz - from the amber liquid. Most of the time, being an undead was incredibly useful and just downright fun. But it was times such as these that made the queen feel that not technically being alive just plain sucked. Not being able to get drunk was one side-effect of "living" in such a state. A good thing about being undead was that you could spend eternity with the ones you loved; but when they got hurt or destroyed, you just wanted to curl up into a ball and die along with them.
Which, of course, was impossible in the highest sense of the word.
A growl escaped Her Vampiric Majesty's throat as she glared at the offending shot-glass in her hand. From behind her, Tharaman-Thar's refined voice stated in amusement, "Your Majesty, making animal noises while trying to break the glass with your eyes does nothing beneficial."
From her position in front of the fire, the queen looked over her shoulder with one of her famous if-you-don't-shut-up-in-five-seconds-I'll-tear-your-lungs-out glares. "Yes it does Tharaman; glaring helps me feel better." She turned back to gaze into the flickering yellow flames. "If only slightly."
Thirrin gestured to a nearby chamberlain for more spirits, taking two large shot-glasses from his tray and passing one to the rather upset Vampire beside her. "Here; even if you can't get drunk, this is bound to do something to calm you down. To be quite frank, I would rather not have a repeat of what happened with Grishmak."
The queen gazed at her newest friend without emotion before emptying the rather potent drink in one gulp. Tharaman winced slightly; poor Grishmak really shouldn't have laughed when he found Her Vampiric Majesty crying. Such an act of stupidity seemed completely unfathomable, but apparently, the Wolf-folk King was capable of such a stupid feat.
"Why don't you just sit down? Oskan sent a message up that said His Vampiric Majesty should be waking up soon," he stated calmly, still rather sore over the Vampire's immunity to alcohol.
Sighing, the Vampire Queen eased herself into one of the nearby chairs, leaning against the lush upholstery. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, but still she kept them in check. The one person she'd ever come to let know herself,the one man who'd been her companion throughout the long years of their death, was lying on a cot down in the infirmary. If something were to happen to him. . . . .well, she didn't really want to think about that. It was just simply infathomable, thinking about what her existence would be like without her consort's constant presence and support. He was the one person who made her feel special and cared for and - dare she admit it - loved.
Lost in thought, Her Vampiric Majesty didn't notice the hollow sound of footsteps eminating from behind them. Nor did she hear the hushed voices of Thirrin and Tharaman as they negotiated with someone over leaving. All she could hear in her dazed state was the almost-deafening crackle of the fireplace.
And then someone on crutches blocked out all the light emanating from the fireplace. Looking up, the queen came face to face with her consort's tired, smiling features. "Hello, my little corpse."
For a moment, all she could do was sit there and gawk, blue eyes wide and filling with tears. It was like being in a dream, watching the Vampire King appear in front of her, damaged and worn, but still the same man that she had fallen in love with those many eons ago. The queen stood quietly, approaching her consort in a slow and careful manner. Without warning, she slapped him full across the face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched his expression shift to shock.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again, you stupid man," the Vampire Queen whispered before crashing her lips against his in a bruising kiss.
It lasted for almost a minute, seeming like it should never end, but eventually Their Vampiric Majesties broke apart. The king had dropped his crutches in the midst of his wife's assault against his lips, so he was now forced to balance on one leg. The queen, however, didn't seem to mind that her consort was using her as a make-shift crutch. She was too busy hugging him tight enough to crack ribs to care whether or not she was being his only means of standing. Tears streamed down her face as she pressed her face into the king's half-bare chest.
"I was so worried that you might have died. I just couldn't bear the thought that you could've possibly been. . . " Her Vampiric Majesty choked on the words and didn't continue, but her meaning could clearly be heard in the hesitancy of her voice.
His Vampiric Majesty pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and whispered, "Shush; I'm fine. I'll be to normal in no time and then we'll be able to take down that troublesome mortal together. Okay?"
A smile split the queen's face. She nuzzled her face into the crook of the king's neck and inhaled his musky scent. It was tainted with blood and sweat, but not even the horrible consequences of war or injury could block out her consort's distinct smell. He smelled of chocolate and wine and, strangely, rose cologne. Normally, it would just be chocolate and wine: apparently, Oskan had given him a dash of his favorite cologne in order to block out the infirmary's horrible stench. Well, it didn't work, but she did appreciate the effort to keep her consort smelling sweet.
"Darling?"
The Vampire Queen smiled lightly, looking back up at her consort with shining blue eyes. "Yes, dearest heart?"
"May we please sit down? I dropped my crutches, and as pleasant as holding you is, my leg is beginning to ache."
Without even thinking about panicking, the queen helped the Vampire King sit in the seat she herself had previously occupied. A sigh escaped his lips, and he wasted no time in propping his leg up on a foot-rest, waiting for the gentle throb that had built up in his injured appendage to ease. "Thank you, my little pie of putrescence."
Her Vampiric Majesty shot him a grin that could've lit up the entire room, sitting down carefully on the uninjured portion of his lap. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, stroking the perfect little hairs that curled at the base of the king's neck. A purr began to work its way up his throat, and the queen recognized the perfect opportunity to ask a question of her co-ruler.
"Darling; may I ask you something?"
The king relaxed, head lolling backwards against the thickly upholstered chair and muttered, "You can ask me anything as long as you keep doing that."
Despite herself, the queen smiled, leaning in close to whisper against the senstive shell of her consort's ear. "Promise me you'll never do anything that stupid again. Because if you do, I will not hesitate to bring your knees, begging for mercy. Do we understand each other?"
His Vampiric Majesty's onyx eyes shot open and he stared into the face of his completely serious a nervouse gulp, he muttered, "Of course, darling."
A wicked grin. "Good; I don't want to have to ruin that handsome face."
OMJ! That one took a long time to come up with! I knew what I wanted to put, but I just couldn't seem to figure out how to put it in Icemarky terms. But at last! It has ARRIVED! *maniacal Jokerish-laughter* Oh and by the way, the "j" in OMJ is equal to jerky. Just a little fun-fact.
Welp, I hope you enjoy it!
Sincerely,
BlackRosePoetry
