Luna headed for the exit—lacy wedding gown swishing. She made it to the car they’d arrived in, dropped into the driver’s seat, and drove out of Blood City.
Morvakar sat on a chair in his underground parlour.
His eyes flicked toward the entrance even before she stepped inside. The rhythmic thump of Luna’s heartbeat had approached steadily. Her heatbeat was back to normal again, a bit fast though. But it was just hers.
The child’s heartbeat had quieted. Muted in a way that confirmed that the child would be born a trueblood.
Still, nothing had prepared him for the sight of her walking in—wedding gown cascading behind her, cheeks flushed, the smell of roses and cake following.
He stood, genuinely speechless, for perhaps the first time ever.
"Hey, Morvakar," she said.
"It’s your wedding?" he asked.
"No, this is my gardening dress." She lifted her arms like a model on a runway. "You like?"
Morvakar raised an annoyed eyebrow, one that could wither a vineyard with its dry disdain. Luna, unfazed as always, blinked at him with faux innocence.
She looked down at her dress, holding out the layers. "Uh... yes, silly. Why would I be wearing a wedding dress otherwise?... I didn’t want you to miss out because I married a good man and its all thanks to your vindictive meddling."
Morvakar sighed. But beneath the grumble, a smirk tugged at his lips. A rare, almost-forgotten curve. "You look like the Moon Goddess herself," he murmured, eyes flicking over her gown.
She extended the ziplock bag. "I brought you some cake." She placed it on the table close by.
"And," she added, "if you have music in this shithole of a castle, would you like to dance?"
Morvakar arched a brow again. "Are you mocking my lair?"
"Oh no," she said, her voice lilting. "I’m admiring the ambiance." She chuckled.
He got to his feet. With a flick of his fingers, the air was filled with soft violin music.
Luna chuckled and tilted her head. "Show off."
She stepped into his open arms. Just like Damien, Morvakar was particularly careful when he held her. His hand stayed above the tiny bump of her belly.
"I wanted to say thank you," she said softly, eyes glinting.
Morvakar looked down at her. "I don’t deserve it."
"Maybe. Maybe not," she said, laying her head briefly against his chest. "But I got something good, Morvakar. You gave me that—whether you meant to or not."
His grip tightened, just slightly. The music swelled.
"You are not a bad man," she added, gently. "I hope you know that. You’re just hurt... and lonely. And angry. And a bit of a jerk. But not bad."
"You make me sound pathetic." Morvakar scoffed, but there was no venom in his voice. Just the tired sigh of a man who had been feared by kingdoms, betrayed by his blood, and now stood swaying gently with a girl in a wedding gown. His amber eyes, once terrifying, softened for her.
"Oh, you are," Luna deadpanned without missing a beat. "But still a good man. Deep, deep, deep down. Like, buried-under-ten-layers-of-sorcery kind of deep."
Morvakar gave a surprised chuckle—one of those rare, involuntary laughs that startled even him. "You missed your calling. You’d have made a sharp-mouthed court jester."
"Eh," Luna shrugged. "Too pretty for the job. Also, I’d get beheaded by week two."
They spun slowly on the old stone floor.
"Why did you come here, Luna?" he asked suddenly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Be honest."
Luna looked up at him. Then she sighed. "My father is gone. And today, of all days, I missed him a lot. I thought I’d be okay, you know? I had Damien, I had everything. But there was this...hole." Her voice cracked. "And when I thought of who else I needed, I thought of you."
Morvakar didn’t speak immediately. He just kept moving, holding her a little closer.
"I mean, you may not be my biological father," she added, with a weak smile, "but you did create me. Technically. So... I wanted to spend a few minutes with my... creator-dad-thing. Just for tonight."
That made him smile, again.
As they danced, Morvakar’s thoughts slipped back to Williams, and then to Luna, the beautiful anomaly born of magic. She had been a pawn, once. A tool. Now, she was the closest thing to hope he had touched in almost a millenia.
In that moment, as they turned to the soft strains of music, Morvakar made a silent vow: Whatever happens, she will not fall. Not if I have to burn the stars to keep her standing.
Williams sat in Lord Gabriel’s office.
The room was immaculate.
Gabriel entered the room, still looking grumpy and disappointed. His jaw clenched, his brows in a perpetual scowl. With a sigh that could curdle blood, he ripped off his jacket and threw it dramatically over the arm of the sofa.
From the far corner, William’s voice purred through the shadows. "Well, you look happy."
Gabriel jumped, spinning around. His hand went instinctively to the dagger sheathed inside his boot. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barked, glaring into the dark.
William emerged from the gloom, legs crossed, seated comfortably in the darkness as if it were his personal recliner. "What? No welcome hug?"
Gabriel shot him a look that could curdle wine. "Why are you here?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"I was too excited," William shrugged. "Couldn’t wait for you to bring me the juicy update. So—did your plan work?"
Gabriel let out a guttural growl. "No," he bit back.
William clucked his tongue, mockingly. "Tsk tsk. So much effort, so little reward."
Gabriel glared. "How hard is it to find a mate? Are you sure you heard Morvakar right?"
At the mention of his father’s name, William’s teasing faltered. "Yes," he said quietly. "I heard him."
Gabriel exhaled, pacing. "Then what’s next?"
William sat up straighter now, his voice low but sharp. "Now, we do it my way," he said. "I don’t know what the end game is here, honestly. But as long as we both get what we want, I’ve decided to trust your process."
(Dont forget those votes and gifts)