Chapter Three

"Hey guys, can I get you any drinks?" a melodious voice broke through the incessant din of the diner, the musical tone and light inflection of the voice immediately capturing David's attention and his eyes wandered from the sticky, laminated menu to the owner of the alluring voice.

Piercing blue eyes met striking emerald green and David's stomach violently lurched, the force akin to the power of a recoiling shotgun. The world suddenly juddered to a shaky stand-still and all he could see was the most beautiful eyes he'd ever come across set in a pretty heart-shaped face lined with soft features. Flashes of bright light followed by a succession of vivid images played in his mind like his own personal video-reel, all of which included those same sparkling emerald eyes and soft, warm smile.

My queen… his inner voice screamed, startling him out of the trance-like state he'd been rendered in and David shook off the lingering haze of his revelation, noting the curious tilt of Dwayne's head.

'Is she the one, sire?' Dwayne's rumbling voice reverberated in his mind as he continued to regard the girl who was standing by his side with a strange expression on her face.

Confused, perhaps?

Startled, most definitely.

'Yes,' David wordlessly replied.

He'd never been more certain of anything in his entire life.

"Should I come back?" that same melodious voice caressed his ears, only this time it was marred with a tinge of confusion.

Dwayne cleared his throat. "No, sorry about that, my friend suffers from social anxiety sometimes – you just startled him, that's all."

David glared at Dwayne who shot him an impish smirk – that rat bastard. "Oh, I'm sorry," the girl looked down at him guiltily and he found himself in desperate need of erasing the despondent look in her eyes. His eyes flitted to the gold-plated badge nestled atop the tantalizing curve of her breast.

Ophelia.

Her name was beautiful and elegant, much like her, befitting of his queen.

"Ignore him Ophelia, he's a plebeian," David rolled his eyes, his voice deep and gravelly.

Ophelia's smile of amusement faded, replaced by a bewildered frown. "How do you know my name?"

"Why I read your name-tag, of course," David smiled while his three friends snickered.

"Oh-" her eyes widened in realisation, "-sure, that explains it," she laughed awkwardly, absentmindedly running her fingers over the miniature placard. "So… drinks? Food?" she flustered, gesturing to the menu laying forgotten on the table.

"Yeah, can I get a cheeseburger with large fries and a Coke please gorgeous," Paul winked.

David supressed the possessive growl building in his chest and instead, kicked Paul's shin beneath the table. Paul bit his lip, stifling his yelp of pain. 'What the fuck?' he cursed telepathically.

'Do you forget who you are speaking to?' David examined his nails with disinterest.

'Sorry – what the fuck, your majesty?'

David ignored him, leaning back against the cushioned back rest of the booth. He supposed he could give him his third strike but he was far too preoccupied with the fact that his world had been flipped upside down. "I'll have the same," Marko stated with a boyish smile.

"Lobster roll, large fries and a chocolate shake, please," Dwayne smiled, and David shook his head in amusement. The guy was a glutton for all things sweet, it was a wonder that he wasn't rolling around the Underworld.

Ophelia scribbled down the boy's orders on her notepad before turning her attention back to David, looking down at him with an expectant smile.

"Perhaps his highness needs a few more minutes to decide?" Dwayne jested.

"Perhaps the peasant should stop wagging his tongue else he ends up with a black eye-" David scowled, "-I'll just have the BLT with large fries and a Coke, please."

"Coming right up, my liege," Ophelia curtsied, shooting Dwayne a playful wink. David knew she was playing along with Dwayne's immature quips yet he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction hearing such words of reverence uttered from her plump, cherry red lips.

Dwayne chuckled. "I like her."

"It would serve you well to like your future queen," David murmured, trailing Ophelia's path back behind the counter with hungry eyes.

"Queen?" Paul frowned before his eyes widened in disbelief. "No fucking way."

"I take it she'll be returning with us come dawn?" Marko probed, his brow arched inquisitively.

"As if you even need to ask such a redundant question, are you developmentally slow? She is my queen; how can I possibly leave her here? Her place isn't to be serving peasants, her place is rightfully beside me being served."

"What if she isn't willing to leave the Overworld sire, it would be foolish to believe she understands what she is?" Dwayne asked cautiously.

"Whether she is willing or not, she will return with us to the Underworld tonight," David stated adamantly, leaving no room for argument.

Dwayne, Marko and Paul each gave one another a knowing look. Their king wasn't known for his even-temper, in fact, it didn't take much to make him explode and his supposed queen's refusal to accompany him to the Underworld would surely have him firing on all cylinders. They could only hope that she came quietly, even if it did happen to be reluctantly for if she witnessed David's cruelty and rage first-hand, it would only take her longer to warm to him and another thing the king was not known for, was his patience.

Ophelia busied herself wiping down the counter and re-filling the salt and sugar shakers, actively attempting to ignore the million, drunken, dancing butterflies that swooped and fluttered below her sternum. She felt as though an invisible forcefield was purposefully drawing her in the direction of the group of strangers situated at the back of the diner, namely the strikingly handsome platinum blonde and his piercing crystal blue eyes.

The foursome were definitely not residents of Santa Carla and though they did sport slight Californian accents, the brunette along with the platinum blonde were impeccably articulated and well-spoken. Furthermore, the way they dressed was unlike anything she'd seen around town before. The guy with a mane of feathery, wild dirty blonde hair wore a pair of tight white pants and a white silk shirt that gaped open over his chest along with a black tux jacket over the top, the sleeves of the tux rolled up and the collar casually popped.

The guy with curly blonde hair and big, baby blue eyes wore a similar shirt but in navy blue and a pair of blue stone washed jeans while the dark haired member of the group sported a tribal print, loose-fitted hooded sweatshirt and a pair of faded black jeans. The platinum blonde was dressed in a pair of tight-fitted black leather pants and a black silk shirt. Though unlike his two friends, the platinum blonde's shirt was more traditionally styled, buttoned up to the collar with a military-style, trench jacket draped over his shoulders.

They certainly stood out amongst the other patrons of the diner.

The platinum blonde seemed to hold an air of authority and regality about him as though he was a king and his friends his loyal subjects. Ophelia sighed, perhaps she'd read the labyrinth too many times, reading into things that weren't actually there, stuck on the infamous mantra that 'everything is not as it seems'. However, she couldn't help comparing the piercing blue-eyed stranger with the haughty, blue-eyed fae king of the goblins. The way he spoke and the way he carried himself was uncanny, she half expected to look up and find him threading crystals through his fingers.

"Excuse me," a somewhat familiar deep, husky voice abruptly de-railed her train of insanity and Ophelia looked up, feeling her cheeks flush pink when she saw the very one that she'd been fantasising about stood on the opposite side of the counter.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in my own world for a minute there - apparently it's a bad habit," she waffled.

What the hell are you doing Ophelia you bumbling idiot?

"Ah, may I ask where this world of yours takes you?" he drawled, casually leaning against the counter, his slender fingers gliding over a nearby napkin holder.

"Usually to places that only exist in works of fiction," she laughed self-deprecatingly.

"I'm intrigued," he smiled, his eyes flashing with curiosity and Ophelia felt her blush deepen. It was the first time that someone had openly expressed an interest in her thoughts without even a hint of teasing, he sounded genuinely interested and for that reason, Ophelia felt her palms grow slick with sweat. "Tell me Ophelia, seen as it would seem you enjoy stories and such, do you perchance know the story of the immortal king and the search for his bride?"

Ophelia tried hard not to swoon at the articulated way he spoke, his old-fashioned mannerisms and husky, rumbling lilt hooking a direct line to her libido. "No, I don't think I do," she replied.

"In that case, allow me to narrate it for you-" he smiled charmingly, "-the story begins with the high king and queen of the Underworld welcoming their first and only child, a son – the first and final heir to the immortal kingdom. Now, I won't get into specifics as I fear the story would take all night to tell but at the age of adulthood which in his world, was the age of fourteen, the future high king's parents were killed, leaving him an orphan with only his best friend and a kingdom of relative strangers for company."

"Due to the boy being of age, he was swiftly crowned high king and thrown into the responsibilities of running the kingdom with only his loyal best friend who now acted as his advisor to turn to. Every day, as he aged, he'd look to the empty throne beside him, longing for his one true love to find him. He yearned to experience the love he'd seen between his parents just as he yearned to no longer be alone in such a cruel world. So, whenever the opportunity arose to leave the Underworld in search of his queen, he'd take it, scouring high and low for his undead bride…"

"Did he ever find her?" Ophelia asked, inadvertently leaning over the counter in anticipation.

David mimicked her posture, closing the distance between them until only inches remained. His crystal blue eyes fixed intensely on hers and a shiver like the sweet caress of a lover's fingertips, danced down the length of her spine. Ophelia's heart raced when David's eyes drifted towards her lips in a way that if the stories she'd fawned over and the movies she'd gushed over were correct, showed his desire to kiss her.

Ophelia was momentarily perturbed when her body flushed with a familiar heat -a heat that she experienced regularly when reading a particularly raunchy chapter of a book- and the urge to close the gap between them and run her fingers through his charmingly mussed mess of platinum blonde hair whilst sucking his full, seductively curved bottom lip between her teeth almost overwhelmed her.

Woah.

"Yes, most unexpectedly the king finally found his queen and only the matter of her following him back to the Underworld remained," David narrated, toying with a stray chocolate brown curl suspended in the space between them. "Tell me Ophelia, would you follow the king?"

Ophelia licked her dry lips, trying to fight past the fog currently muddling her mind. There was something in the way he asked the question that niggled at her brain, yet she was unable to figure out its meaning. Her senses were in overdrive and she was hyper-aware of the blue eyed stranger's close proximity and the fact that he was playing with her hair. She mulled over his question, turning the situation over in her mind. It was similar to the choice that Sarah had to make when facing the Goblin King and she did always think to herself that she would have accepted the kings offer whereas Sarah had rather forcefully refused.

God, what was it with her and that story? It was borderline obsession.

However, comparing the two stories did help in formulating her answer. "Yes, I'd follow the king," she whispered, and David's smile widened, giving her a glimpse of his pearly white teeth.

David closed the space between them, his cool breath caressing her ear. "So come with me, my queen," he drawled seductively and at that moment in time, Ophelia was sure she would have followed him to the ends of the earth just to find out what would happen if she were to turn her cheek and capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

"Orders up!" Ophelia's uncle hollered from the kitchen, sliding a plate laden with greasy fries alongside a hotdog smothered in sweet onion relish onto the pass and just like a hypnotist snapping their fingers, the spell he had over her abruptly ended and she straightened herself up, coyly tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I should get back to work…" she murmured awkwardly.

David tried not to let his frustration show as he backed away from the counter, placing a small pile of bills in front of her. "Keep the change, consider it compensation for listening to the ramblings of a fool," he smiled, giving her one last fleeting glance before strolling out of the diner, his friends now nowhere in sight.

"Well that was weird…" Ophelia muttered under her breath.

"Dammit! I was so close!" David growled, driving his fist into the rib-cage of his victim, relishing in the distinctive sound of snapping bone. After his attempt to lure Ophelia with him had been disrupted, his desire for violent, bloody murder had rocketed until all he could see was red and all he could think about was wrapping his fist around a warm, beating heart.

"We can return later sire," Dwayne panted, wiping the back of his hand across his bloodstained lips, a lifeless corpse hanging limply from his clenched fist.

"We could just snatch her from her bed," Paul offered, kicking the groaning lump of mutilated flesh by his feet.

"Though that is an option, I would prefer that she came willingly," David sighed, grabbing his victim by the scruff of his neck when he tried to crawl to safety. His thoughts abruptly digressed from the writhing body in his arms to the emerald eyed beauty he'd left behind, and a surge of rage flooded his body, so much so that he outwardly shook in restraint. He'd been so close to luring her with him, so close to obtaining the one thing he'd craved for so long, only to have her ripped away from him at the last second.

David growled in outrage, sinking his teeth into his victim's skull and warm, coppery blood oozed from the puncture wounds, showering the furious king in the man's sweet, metallic life-force. David groaned as the warm, crimson liquid trickled down his throat, soothing the painful itch of his thirst. He plunged his clawed fist into the man's chest, the sound of his shrill, agonised screams like the finest aria as he swiftly ripped out his heart. David tossed the bloodied cadaver to the floor and brought the cooling organ to his lips. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he sank his teeth into the succulent tissue, groaning in ecstasy as he devoured the stolen organ with relish. "Bring me more!" David ordered, his glowing, amber eyes burning furiously with unbridled need.

While Marko and Paul slunk off into the shadows in search of fresh blood, Dwayne turned to his best friend with concern. "Sire, if you wish, I will bring her back to the Underworld, I'm concerned that if she refuses, you won't be able to remain patient and your ire is not something I believe she should see so soon…"

David drew his tongue over his lips, lapping at the stray spots of blood left behind from his animalistic feast. "She must learn to obey me - I am her king!" he snapped, running bloodstained fingers through his matted hair.

"Yes, but sire, there is a difference between willing obedience and obedience born of fear."

"What was it the Goblin King once said? Love me, fear me, do as I say…" David quoted, recalling a work of fiction he'd once read as a child.

"That was a work of fiction David, you know as well as I do that Jareth wouldn't be so generous as to ask, we both know he'd demand. This is your future we are talking about. Wouldn't you much rather spend your time with your queen looking to you with love and devotion, rather than with her cowering in a corner in fear?"

"She will learn to love me for who I am Dwayne. I'm cold, violent and sadistic, she will have to deal with that."

Dwayne huffed in frustration. "But that's not completely true. You've moulded yourself into this cold, sadistic creature when we both know that, that is not who you've always been. When we were chil-"

"-Enough!" David snapped, holding his hand up to silence his advisor. "It would serve you well to remember who it is you are speaking to Dwayne. I'm not interested in who I was for that is no longer who I am, is it? What would be the point in dwelling on the past when it brings nothing but ill-feeling."

Dwayne stared at his best friend, his mouth opening and closing in frustration. He often hated the person that David had become, though he couldn't necessarily blame him. When all was said and done, it was the hand that fate dealt him that created such a callous monster. However, David needed to realise that he couldn't be this person if he wanted to win his queens heart, he needed to show her the side of him that Dwayne only saw when the king had, had too much to drink. She needed to see the man behind the monster, no matter how deep she must search to find him and no matter how hard it may be for David to let him free of his shackles.

"Fine, I concede, your majesty," he sighed, dragging a hand down his jaw.

Ophelia studied her reflection with a critical eye, her hands reaching down to smooth her top over her hips. She couldn't shake her interaction with the platinum blonde stranger, in fact, she could still feel the ghost of his warm breath against her ear and the heat of gaze on her lips. She trailed the pad of her finger over her lips with a smile before dropping her hand, leaving it to roam over her flat stomach, her palms brushing over the crushed velvet fabric as she twisted her body to the side, continuing to scrutinise her reflection.

Ophelia tried to imagine herself as an immortal queen, like the one from the stranger's story but she just couldn't see it. She didn't look at herself and see a queen, she was more a servant or at best, a palace concubine. Ophelia knew her body was desirable, she'd been told as such by boys back in England and she supposed she could see its appeal if she tried hard enough. She was similar to her mother when it came to her frame, she was petite but by no means a waif. She had shape that came in the form of an ample bust and an hour-glass waist that curved out into shapely hips. Her legs were slender but not even she could escape the odd wobbly bit on her inner thighs while her rear was moulded like a pert pear-drop. She had a heart-shaped face, her father's emerald green eyes and her mother's rich, chocolate brown curls and soft facial features.

Ophelia sighed – no, she wasn't queen material.

Ophelia gave herself one final look-over in the mirror, pondering if she'd chosen the right outfit for spending the night in a cave. She'd opted for a pair of black skinny jeans, a maroon crushed velvet long-sleeved top and her beloved, scuffed Vans. Shrugging off her indecision, she dragged herself away from the mirror and snatched her backpack from the bed, doing a quick inventory check before slinging it over her shoulder and heading back down to the diner, praying that her clothes hadn't already absorbed the odour of grease and fried onions that seemed to constantly linger in the flat.

"Uncle Joe, I'm heading out now," Ophelia called out as she passed the kitchens, surprised when her uncle practically flew out of the swinging metal doors, stopping her in her tracks.

"Ophelia, promise me one thing?" Joe spoke seriously, his tone pleading.

"What is it?" Ophelia frowned, confused by his behaviour.

"If you feel unsafe at any point, then leave. Don't stick around because you think you owe it to your new friends. If you see, hear or feel anything abnormal, you promise me you'll run and you won't look back."

Ophelia stared at her uncle in bewilderment. What did he mean if she saw, heard or felt anything abnormal to run? Did he believe in the legends? Was she really at risk here? She swallowed nervously and nodded whilst trying to ignore the trickle of fear inching down her spine. "I promise Uncle Joe."

Joe exhaled loudly, gathering his niece in his arms. "I know I don't say it much, but I do love you kid," he smiled, giving her a quick squeeze before releasing her.

Ophelia smiled warmly. "The feelings mutual," she expressed, feeling a little too awkward to actually say the words outright.

"That means a lot kiddo. OK, I won't keep you any longer. Be safe and I'll see you at some point in the morning?"

"Yeah, I should be back early. Try get some sleep tonight, you look knackered," Ophelia smiled, squeezing her uncles' grease splattered forearm.

"Will do – see you later kid."

"Bye Joe."

Ophelia's heart was jack-hammering a mile a minute, the sound of blood rushing through her veins deafening in her ears. She wasn't this nervous when they'd all gathered at the designated meeting spot. She wasn't this anxious when they'd all piled into Edgar's car nor was she this discontent as they'd cruised down the derelict backroads that lead through the dense forest bordering the beach. However, now that Edgar had cut the engine, leaning against the steering wheel as he peered out at the cliffside, her anxiety appeared to be through the roof, leaving her palms slick with nervous perspiration, her limbs jittery and restless.

Ophelia glanced out of the car window and exhaled a shaky breath, trying to hide just how much she wanted to flee. Her uncles request constantly replayed in her mind, like an ominous mantra -if you see, hear or feel anything abnormal, you promise me you will run, and you won't look back. Something felt wrong, there was a sinister vibe hanging heavy in the air and she wasn't sure whether it was a lingering response to the weird interaction with the platinum blonde at the diner, her uncles foreboding warnings or the furtive aura encompassing her so-called friends. But, whatever it was, it was setting her on edge, every nerve in her body slowly wearing thin, the fuse responsible for holding back her panic, fizzing and crackling its way to a burn out.

Alan pulled out a flashlight from the glove compartment and handed it back to her with a small smile, his blue eyes glinting with hidden knowledge. "Thanks," Ophelia plastered on a smile, her distrust of the group doubling ten-fold.

"Let's go, we didn't come here to sit in the car all night," Millie huffed, hauling herself out of the back seat with Star following suit.

With trepidation tying her stomach in painful knots, Ophelia wordlessly climbed out of the car and trailed behind the group, the sound of crunching gravel echoing loudly in the otherwise silent night. They came to a stop in front of a flimsy chain-link fence. The metal links were rusting while large gaping holes left the fence swaying precariously in the damp, ocean breeze. Just off to the left of where they stood, a sign with 'Danger!' crudely spray painted on its dirty white surface hung at an angle from a bowing section of the fence. The signs edges were bent and corroded with a build-up of rust, the iron oxide bleeding down its sides leaving tracks like reddish brown tears. In the middle of the busted fence was a gate, its hinges much like every other metallic surface in the near vicinity was rusted and stiff. Edgar pushed the gate open and Ophelia flinched when an ear-splitting screech filled the humid night air as the rusting hinges grated against the corroded metal post and her stomach lurched with so much force that she thought for a brief moment, that she was going to vomit.

Trying to ignore the heightening sense of trepidation, Ophelia cautiously followed the group down a set of sun-bleached wooden steps. Half-way down the steps, without warning, Millie jumped, her feet landing on the rotting wooden plank with a heavy thud causing Ophelia to almost loose balance, her arms flailing outward as she attempted to find something to brace the inevitable fall, only to find nothing but warm air. She managed to re-balance her shaken equilibrium and scowled at the auburn-haired girl beside her. "What the hell did you do that for? You do realise we're on a cliff, right? Or did that escape your notice?"

"Nah, I know where we are-" Millie shrugged, "-I'm just trying to dislodge the stick up your ass."

Ophelia opened her mouth to rebuke the girl's crude statement but decided better of it knowing that whatever they had planned for her would only be made worse if she picked a fight.

At the bottom of the set of steps, they came to a stop at the opening to a dark, foreboding cave. "Are you ready to enter a world of make-believe?" Edgar smirked back at her, clicking on his flashlight.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ophelia replied with mock bravado, gripping her own flashlight in a white-knuckle grip.

"Of course she is, the dull dorks always got her head in the clouds. I bet her knickers are soaked with the prospect of entering her own little fantasy world," Millie scoffed, and Star stifled a giggle. Ophelia couldn't ignore the sting of hurt that pulsed in her chest. It was becoming ever more apparent that she was the centre of ridicule within this group and whatever tonight entailed, it would be fully focused on making a fool out of her. Yet, she was still stupid enough to stick around, propelled by her own morbid curiosity and the naïve notion that she was wrong.

The bright beams of their flashlights bounced over the jagged rocks lining the steep incline leading down into the cave as they descended. Half-way down the slope, Ophelia skidded on a cluster of loose stones and she had to use one of the jutting rocks to break her fall else she'd have landed rather ungraciously on her arse. After navigating a small ledge at the end of the sloping incline, they found themselves in a large, open cavern and Ophelia ran the beam of her flashlight over the denticulate, grey, stone walls; the bright white light highlighting the various attempts at graffiti marring the moss-covered surface.

Large, cobwebs draped in intricately woven patterns from crevices in the sharp rocks and the sound of rhythmic dripping water echoed from somewhere deeper within the cave. In the middle of the cavern sat what appeared to be a broken fountain with a dirt covered, broken chandelier resting askew in the trash littered pit. Ophelia jumped when a flare of light erupted from the corner of her eye, turning to find Alan stoking the crackling flames of a fire billowing up from within a rusting, dented oil drum. The cavern was quickly filled with the odour of burning wood, the silence interspersed with random hisses and pops. "Well, I don't see any passages to other worlds," Star mused, her eyes scanning the cavern with little interest.

"That's because if there is one, it's most likely down there," Alan smirked, pointing the beam of his flashlight towards the crumbling entrance of a pitch-black tunnel.

"Sounds like it's time for the main adventure," Edgar grinned malevolently.

An influx of energy surged through David's body, his core trembling with untamed desire. He longed to snake burning, open mouthed kisses across every inch of his emerald eyed beauty's alabaster skin. He craved to taste the salt of her perspiration born of hours of teasing before sampling the sweet nectar of her deepest desires. He shuddered, aware that his leather trousers were becoming rather tight around his crotch, the metal teeth of his zipper digging into the stiff tissue and throbbing blood vessels beneath. David doubled over, planting his hands firmly on his knees as he inhaled deep, ragged breaths, attempting to push down the brunt of the volatile energy washing over him in a tidal wave of static electricity. He frowned when the haze of his desire cleared and he noticed a niggling sensation nagging at the back of his mind, much like an itch that was just out of reach.

"Sire," Dwayne jogged over to where he stood and the king straightened himself up, smoothing down his blood crusted shirt while he attempted to hide the bulge straining against his zipper.

"Yes?" David croaked, clearing his throat.

"There's been a breech in our territory, someone is trespassing in the cave," Dwayne informed him, glancing down at the carnage surrounding the immortal king. So that's what the niggling sensation had been? A warning that someone had wandered into his territory.

"What is the time brother?"

"It's still early, a little before eleven."

"Where are those two miscreants?"

"Present your majesty," two voices chirped in unison as Paul and Marko emerged from the shadows.

"I propose that we return to the cave to deal with whatever fool was unfortunate enough to trespass on my territory before you continue with your usual stock piling of creature comforts and I deal with my queen," David strategized.

He saw Dwayne shoot him a troubled look and glared at him defiantly, silently daring him to challenge his intents. David motioned for his subjects to proceed, the three of them taking flight whilst he remained surveying the remnants of his bloodlust. He quickly fished out a canister of lighter fluid from his jacket pocket and doused the pile of mutilated corpses in the clear, flammable liquid. He tossed the canister into the trees bordering the small clearing and pulled out a small box of matches, striking one of the thin sticks before flicking it over his shoulder, kicking his feet off the ground just as the heap of bodies set alight.

David paused and held up his hand, motioning for the others to halt as he proceeded to gesture for them to stay low as he lowered himself to a crouch, obscuring himself in the shadows of the incline. He heard the intruders before he actually saw them for they were currently just out of view, hidden behind a rather annoying jutting rock. The flames licking skyward from the crackling barrel of an oil drum lit up the cavern in a soft glow, casting dancing, jittering shadows across the walls, effectively masking exactly how many trespassers were present.

"This is so lame, I thought the purpose of coming here was to lead her down a tunnel, steal her flashlight and leave her there. Why are we still standing around like we're enjoying our time with the nerd?" an irritated female voice harshly whispered just to the left of the incline.

"We can't force her down there, can we? If we keep insisting, we go down there then she'll get suspicious. She might always have her head in the clouds but she's not dumb, Millie," a male voice countered evenly.

"Hey Ophelia, I thought you wanted to actually explore this place, not sit here staring into space?!" the female voice hollered, moving further into the cavern.

Ophelia? David frowned. Was his Queen with this group of heathens? Did they plan to play such a cruel prank on the future queen of the Underworld? How dare they speak such filth about his future wife. How dare they scheme so hurtfully against her. Did she think them friends? Obviously, the traitorous cretins were just using her as some kind of pawn in their demented games, everyone in town knew the danger of these caves.

David's frown deepened, when he thought back clearly on his interaction with Ophelia, he'd picked up on the fact that her accent was foreign to him, yet he'd been too mesmerised by her beauty to question her about it. She was obviously new in town, that much he knew to be sure for if he'd have seen her here before, she'd have been with him in the Underworld that very same day. Furthermore, if she'd been around here long enough, she'd know to avoid these caves like the plague.

"It doesn't look safe; I'm not going to put myself in danger just to satisfy you - if you're so keen on exploring, then go yourself, you don't need me to hold your hand," his queens angelic voice echoed in the quiet of the night and his chest tightened. He could hear the sharp inflection in her tone andhe could feel she wasn't comfortable nor was she trusting of these people and so she shouldn't be, they were snakes in human skin.

David rose to his full height and with Dwayne, Paul and Marko following his lead, silently creeping the rest of the way down the incline, dropping gracefully into the cavern unnoticed by the group of distracted teenagers.

"I do not recall giving you permission to be in my territory," David spoke, his voice booming around the cavern and the five teenagers spun around, their eyes wide with terror when they caught sight of the four intimidating figures standing by their only exit.

David stared at Ophelia, finding himself once again captivated by her beauty. Even when rendered with fear she was utterly breath-taking. He tilted his head, observing her watchful gaze drift over the four of them, her striking emerald eyes widening in horror as they flittered over the patches of dark crimson staining their clothes, hands and faces.

David feigned interest in his fingernails, picking at the blackened dried out blood buried beneath. "I'm waiting for an explanation and I must tell you, I'm not a patient man."

Ophelia swallowed, feeling her eyes sting with anxious tears. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the platinum blonde for even portraying the aftermath of an obvious blood-bath, he was still a remarkable sight to behold and she still felt that same, strange invisible magnetism, drawing her towards him. "It was her idea," Millie stammered, pointing at Ophelia accusingly.

"Yeah, she's obsessed with the legends. Ever since she moved here and heard what people say about this place, she's wanted to come here - we just didn't want to let her come alone," Edgar added, stating his false claim.

"Is that so?" the platinum blonde cocked his head, folding his arms over his broad chest. Ophelia wanted to refute their duplicitous accusations but she couldn't get her voice to work, so instead, she opted to avert her gaze, staring down at her shoes whilst silently wiping away the tears that rolled thick and fast down her cheeks.

"If what you say is true, then pray tell me why I just heard you discussing how you plotted to lead her down that tunnel-" the platinum motioned to the dark tunnel, "-steal her flashlight and leave her alone in the dark, hmmm?"

She knew it, she knew the motives of them inviting her here were to make a fool of her. Why had she been so foolish? Why had she been so desperate for their acceptance?

Ophelia internally scoffed at her indignation - she knew full-well why. The reason why she'd ignored her instincts about her new-found friends was down to the fact that she was lonely out here, she had no one. She'd been ripped away from her real friends back in England -friends that accepted her for the day-dreaming, book-worm that she was- and she'd lost the two people she loved more than anything in the world – her parents. Her uncle Joe tried his best, but he couldn't replace any of those she'd lost and she'd been desperate to fill the empty void in her life caused by the absence of both her parents and her friends'.

"How do you know we were talking about her?" Millie retorted with a frown.

"Because I'm not a fool and you spoke her name. You wouldn't know it, but I'm already acquainted with the one you plot so heinously against and like the fool you are, you just admitted to the plans regardless."

"Whatever," Millie mumbled, clearly puzzled and frustrated with being caught out. Ophelia couldn't understand why she was still being so bold nor why her attitude was still smug and self-righteous. They were cornered by four strangers who obviously weren't phased about adding five more victims to their apparent bloodfest for God's sake!

"Look, we'll just leave, OK?" Alan exclaimed, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Oh, dear child, it's not that easy," the platinum blonde snarled, his crystal blue eyes flashing with anger. The two blonde sentries moved to stand at either side of where Ophelia and the others congregated while the platinum blonde and his dark-haired counterpart continued to stand guard by the incline, effectively blocking the group in.

"Now, I'm going to give you a chance to redeem yourselves, which I do believe is rather generous if I do say so myself," the blue eyed stranger cleared his throat, glancing momentarily in Ophelia's direction, his eyes softening slightly as he regarded her frightened state. Ophelia's stomach roiled, her core pulsing painfully as she was overcome with a dizzy-spell. She stumbled where she stood and stifled a scream when a pair of warm hands caught her elbows, guiding her to sit on the ledge of the fountain. Though she was grateful for the small mercy that the tall blonde with wild, dirty blonde hair showed her, it didn't put her at ease knowing that this group of predators seemed to be toying with their prey – her included.

"Tell me, in order to save yourselves, who are you willing to sacrifice?" the platinum blonde crooned, his voice dripping with cunning and Ophelia wordlessly observed Star, Millie, Alan and Edgar as they all gave each other a knowing look followed by a brief nod.

"Ophelia," Millie declared, smirking smugly in the weeping girl's direction.

"Wrong answer," the platinum blonde snarled and Ophelia's screams quickly became blended with those who betrayed her when deep guttural roars bounced off the walls, the cavern suddenly filled with flying limbs, sprays of blood and the sickening splat of disembowelled entrails. The faces of the four handsome strangers had distorted and morphed into something out of her darkest nightmares. Razor sharp fangs sank into flesh like a knife through butter while sharp claws shredded bloodstained skin and fiery crimson eyes glowed menacingly from the shadows. Ophelia clamped her eyes shut, her hands clenched so tight that she could feel where her nails had broken the skin of her palm sending droplets of blood trickling down her wrists. Her body shivered in fear and her throat began to burn from the build-up of bile that was being constantly pushed further up her oesophagus with every forceful roil of her stomach.

"It's not real… it's not real…" she mumbled to herself, tasting the sharp tang of her salty tears.

After what felt like a lifetime, the cave fell deathly silent, the only sound being Ophelia's ragged breathing and her own pounding heart. She cautiously opened her eyes, ready to find herself cornered by one of the bloodthirsty creatures with their blood red eyes and razor-sharp fangs but to her surprise she found the space in front of her empty. She shuffled anxiously in place, wincing when she flexed her fingers, tearing her fingernails from where they'd embedded in her palm. Ophelia raised her head, her eyes flitting from the gruesome mess of entrails, limbs and mutilated bodies, over to the far side of the carven where the four strangers stood, propped against the grey, stone wall. The pale skin of the platinum blonde was coated in a thick layer of drying blood, a lit cigarette held to his lips with blood covered fingers, the burning embers at the tip glowing bright orange as he languidly inhaled.

Ophelia stared at him in confusion, she didn't know what was happening, but it couldn't be real, could it? Ophelia's eyes drifted to the floor where Millie's disfigured face looked back at her, her eyes wide and unblinking and her stomach roiled in aversion – it was real.

The night wasn't going in any way the way that he'd planned. He hadn't planned on terrifying his queen by brutally murdering a group of foolish teenagers right before her very eyes. Nevertheless, he didn't feel remorse for their deaths, they had plotted to bring harm to what was his and they deserved every torturous moment of their deaths. David exhaled a cloud of smoke, sighing heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't really think this through, did you sire?" Dwayne broke the heavy silence that had befallen the cavern and David let out a brief noise of frustration.

"Do shut up Dwayne," David retorted, his tone clipped. Another weary sigh escaped him, and he looked up to find Ophelia staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, bewilderment and fear.

"What… who are you?" Ophelia stammered as tears flowed in a sorrowful waterfall down her ashen cheeks.

"As for who we are, I'm King David, ruler of the Kingdom of Bloodthirst, High King of the Underworld," David gestured to himself proudly. "This-" he motioned to Dwayne, "-is my advisor Dwayne and these-" he gestured to the two blondes, "-are Paul and Marko, two of my personal guards. As for what we are, we're vampires of course, I thought that would be quite obvious," he scoffed condescendingly.

"Your majesty," Dwayne hissed, shooting him a glare that told him to be less of a pretentious prig and more understanding. However, his rage was still simmering just below his stoic exterior and his patience and self-control were practically null and void. He wasn't in any mood to be gracious and he arrogantly came to the conclusion that his queen should be grateful for his intervention. She should be showering him with praise for exterminating the bunch of gutter rats laid at her feet.

"King-" Ophelia frowned, wiping the back of her hand beneath her eyes, "-like the king in the story?"

"One and the same," David spoke coolly, stubbing out the tab of his cigarette beneath the toe of his boot. "Now the introductions are complete, Dwayne will escort you to the palace," he announced, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. The high he'd experienced earlier after his murderous rampage was beginning to wane, leaving him irritable, exhausted and rather unaccommodating. He was particularly irked that his queen must be transported under such miserable circumstances but that was apparently what destiny had put in place for the two of them, there was no use in complaining about it, he could do plenty of that tomorrow.

"I-I'm not going anywhere with you," Ophelia stuttered, standing on jellified legs.

"Oh, but you are. Do not be such an ingrate. I took care of these vermin for you-" he motioned to the stiff corpses, "-did you not hear what they plotted against you? Did you not hear them state that they'd happily sacrifice your life, for theirs? Where is the gratitude of a queen to her king?!" David sniped, stalking his way across the cave.

"You think I should be grateful to you for killing people on my behalf? I never asked you to do that, I wouldn't… I…" Ophelia trailed off, unable to think beyond the insanity of what was happening.

"I do not care for what you would or wouldn't do Ophelia, I simply did what I am duty bound to do when my queen is threatened. Now, are you going to go with Dwayne willingly, or does he have to force you to comply?" David ground out, gritting his teeth against the frustration he could feel bubbling, threatening to spill out in all directions.

"I-I'm not your queen!-" Ophelia bit back, "-I'd rather be killed or kept a prisoner than have to spend the rest of my life with someone like you!" she sobbed, clenching her fists, wincing when the broken skin on her palm stretched and stung.

"Have it your way-" David seethed, "-Dwayne, take her to the dungeons."

"But your majesty-" Dwayne started to protest but David's animalistic roar of anger tied his tongue in a knot.

"-Do as you're told else you'll find yourself in the cell beside her, do I make myself clear?!"

"My apologies sire, please forgive my indiscretion," Dwayne bowed before slowly approaching the cowering future queen.

"When you're done, you're free to return else remain at the palace – Paul, Marko, let's go," David barked as he stormed out of the cavern without a curtesy look back.

"Please don't fight me Ophelia, I'm not going to hurt you," Dwayne spoke, his tone soft and sombre.

"B-but I can't go with you… my uncle… I'm the only family he has," she wept, hanging her head in despair.

"I can make him forget you, he won't suffer the pain of your absence - perhaps it's better that way?" Dwayne offered and Ophelia's heart shattered.

If her uncle were to lose all memory of her, then she would have no place in this world any longer. No family, no friends. All she'd have for comfort was an insane royal vampire and his obedient subjects and that was certainly of no comfort - none whatsoever.

"Can't you just let me go? I know you don't agree with him, I can see it in your eyes, I promise I won't tell anyone, I swear…" she bargained, gripping the loose sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Dwayne gently prised her stinging hands from his sleeves and shook his head. "I don't agree with his actions but I do believe that you are the future queen. For all the things that David is, insane he is not. You don't know how long he's waited for you -it's been millennia Ophelia- he won't let you go, he can't and as his best friend, I can't allow it either."

"Queen?-" Ophelia scoffed, "-who's ever heard of a queen being thrown in the dungeon?"

"He's angry Ophelia, this wasn't supposed to be this way. He's out of control right now and his temper unfortunately got the better of him. He'll come to regret his actions come tomorrow but right now, it's useless fighting his commands. You did antagonise him, if you'd have just remained silent, you would have been sleeping in luxury tonight. Additionally, for future reference, the queen isn't excused from punishment when she disobeys her king."

Ophelia didn't know what to say so she chose to say nothing, she was completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few hours and couldn't even muster the brain power nor the will to devise an escape strategy. Besides, could she really outrun a vampire? Her best course of action would be to comply and follow orders. "Fine, I'll come quietly but can I at least take my stuff?" she pointed to the blood splattered backpack a few feet away.

"Of course," Dwayne affirmed, slinging the bag over his shoulder before gently grasping her elbow as he led her towards the murky, crumbling tunnel.

Ophelia wasn't sure how long they'd been walking, nor did she know how far. She couldn't see anything in front, behind or to the sides of her, not even some kind of marker. With her sight rendered useless, her other senses were heightened and she was able to feel when they crossed through the mythical veil into the Underworld. The only way she could describe it would be akin to walking through a wall of static electricity. Her skin prickled and her ears buzzed before she was hit with a sudden surge of disorientation, then nothing.

She looked around her, noting that they were no longer in the pitch-black tunnel rather they were making their way down a stone walled corridor. The black stones of the wall glittered in the dim light of the fire-lit silver sconces evenly spaced along the length of the corridor. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows in their path teasing Ophelia with thoughts of shadowy ghouls frolicking just out of sight. At the end of the corridor were two flights of stairs, one leading down and the other leading up. Ophelia's stomach churned anxiously when Dwayne begun to slowly descend the stairs leading her deeper into the unknown.

"Kieran," Dwayne uttered a greeting to the guard posted just off to the side of the flight of stairs when they reached the bottom. Ophelia's eye's widened and her bottom lip quivered when she took stock of the polished, bejewelled sword attached to the guard's uniformed hip.

The guard regarded her with interest, his crimson coloured eyes wandering over her dishevelled appearance before his nostrils flared and his eyes flashed with hunger. "Brought me another toy to play with Dwayne?" the guard grinned wickedly.

Dwayne's head snapped up and an expression of contempt darkened his handsome features. "Do you speak of your future queen in such a derogatory manner?" he hissed.

"Queen?" the guard swallowed, running a hand through his spiked, white hair. "What are you doing bringing the queen to the dungeons?"

"His majesty's orders," Dwayne sighed, ushering Ophelia to a cell barred by a rusting iron gate.

"Ah, did you put up a fight your highness?-" the guard smiled, "-his majesty doesn't care for being challenged."

Ophelia could only stare at the two men in stunned silence, unable to wrap her head around how they could joke about such matters. She could find no amusement in her current predicament and she was pretty sure the expression on her face showed it. Plus, there was the addition of her being addressed in such a formal manner and she found that the notion didn't sit well with her – she didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be the next queen of the damned. She involuntarily flinched when the guard brushed past her to unlock the gates to the cell, the rusting iron squealing loudly in protest as the gate swung open and she was left staring into the dank, dirty cell.

Dwayne ushered her inside and she took a moment to scope her place of residence for the foreseeable. The cell was small but not necessarily claustrophobically so. The charcoal grey stone walls were covered in a thick layer of grime and much like the cave she'd just come from, intricately woven cobwebs hung from the cracks in the corners. A metal bunk was suspended on rusting iron chains on the back wall which she supposed was to be used as a place to sleep. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, dirt and rat droppings, the lingering scent of must and rat urine lingered foully in the air. Ophelia grimaced, wrapping her arms around her middle as her body grew cold, the fear she'd tried to suppress only moments ago, hitting her full force as the gravity of her reality hit her like a slap to the face with the back end of a wet fish.

"There's a toilet in here if you should need it," Dwayne grabbed her attention, pulling open a splintered wooden door built into the wall that she'd failed to notice.

"No chamber pot? How accommodating," Ophelia sniffed, feeling a fresh wave of tears pool in her eyes.

Dwayne sighed, closing the door and doubled back to where she stood, hugging herself as she tried to hold herself together. "Your majes-"

"-Do not refer to me that way-" Ophelia snapped, "-please… just call me Ophelia…" she whispered, wishing to hold onto at least an iota of normality.

"Ophelia, please sit," he gestured to the bunk and Ophelia complied, unable to conjure the energy to object. "I know this is a lot to deal with. I know you've just watched us murder your friends-"

"-They weren't really my friends though, were they?" she sniffled, feeling like a desperate fool.

"Honestly, no but that still doesn't take away from the fact you just witnessed their murders, does it? Not to mention on top of that you find out that vampires exist beyond the pages of the books you read, as does the legendary Underworld. Then, on top of that, you find out that you're a destined queen and you've been ripped away from life as you knew it and thrown into a whole new world head-first. It's going to be a lot for you to take in and I imagine it's going to take time for you to come to terms with everything but I advise you as a friend, or at least in time I hope that we could become friends, that you don't fight David so hard, please give him a chance..."

"You're asking me to love a monster," Ophelia sobbed, fisting her hair.

"He's not really a monster Ophelia, he's just built up so many walls and created a whole new persona that the only person he knows how to be is the one you met tonight. It's not my place to tell you the circumstances that led to his personality over-haul, I'm just asking you to trust me."

"Are you trying to tell me that this is some kind of beauty and the beast fairy-tale situation? I'm sorry but I'm no beauty and this-" she gestured to the dungeon, "-is no Disney enchanted palace."

Dwayne frowned. "You think so little of yourself Ophelia?"

"I don't know but I don't see myself as queen material - a queen should be courageous, beautiful, strong, self-assured and all that other cliché stuff… I'm none of that."

"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you about this as we've just met and I don't think you're much up to a night-long debate," Dwayne chuckled, and Ophelia couldn't help but smile. Though Dwayne was as much a bloodthirsty creature as the pretentious king, she felt comfortable in his presence, he put her somewhat at ease. "But you should know that you were fated to be a match for David for a reason and that reason is down to who you are. Remember that."

Ophelia furrowed her brow, trying to wrap her head around what he was telling her but quickly became distracted by the crusting half-moon cuts on her palms.

"You're injured," Dwayne gently caught her hands, examining the stinging wounds.

"It's no big deal," Ophelia uttered, gently slipping her hands out of his reach.

"Kieran bring me a clean rag and a bottle of venom," Dwayne hollered before he rose to his feet, running a hand through his silky, liquid obsidian hair. Ophelia took a moment to study the immortal a few feet in front of her. He was tall and his stature imposing, she could tell that beneath his loose-fitting sweater there would be a solid wall of muscle. He had model looks, his jaw chiselled and lined with a light dusting of dark stubble, his eyes like two puddles of melted milk chocolate, lined with thick, dark lashes, smudged with black kohl.

"Wait so not everyone here was born here?" Ophelia asked, confused.

"No-" he shook his head in the negative, "-take yourself for example.

Ophelia clamped her mouth shut, she didn't want to even think about becoming immortal if doing so meant a lifetime of brutal murder and bloodthirst. To her relief, before the conversation could go any further, the guard appeared at the gate, passing a rag and a brown, glass bottle to Dwayne through the bars. Dwayne crossed over to where Ophelia remained seated on the bunk and crouched down in front of her. She watched curiously as he tipped a few drops of clear liquid onto the rag before gesturing for her to give him her hand. Wordlessly, Ophelia conceded and placed her hand in the palm of his, noting how his skin was warm to the touch. She silently observed him as he gently -who knew that vampires could be gentle?- dabbed the rag over her wounded palm, repeating the same process with the other hand immediately after.

Ophelia's curiosity heightened when her palms began to tingle, the sensation akin to a dozen tiny ants skittering over the open cuts. She stared down at her hands in astonishment as the wounds slowly started to knit and close, and within mere seconds, her palms were unblemished, like nothing had ever been there in the first place. "What is that stuff?" she marvelled, turning her hands back and forth in the low light.

"Vampire venom - the reason we heal so quickly when we're injured," Dwayne explained, rising to his full imposing height. "I must leave now, try and get some sleep – yes I know that may seem impossible," he tacked on when he noted the incredulous expression on Ophelia's face. "But though you may not feel it right now, you are safe. No harm will come to you. Kieran will be standing guard just outside and should you need anything, then all you have to do is ask him, he'll be more than happy to serve his future queen."

Ophelia scowled but didn't say anything and after a pregnant pause, she sighed wearily. "Thank you, Dwayne," she murmured with a small smile as she watched him slip out of the cell, the heavy iron gate clanging in place behind him.

"You're welcome, your majesty," he winked with a grin and Ophelia, despite her confused, fearful and anxious disposition, snorted a laugh.