The Tyrant's Pet

"In my eyes, heart, and soul, no matter what form you appear even in a form of a potato, I will... love you the same."

Abel slowly opened his eyes, and he instantly caught Aries sleeping soundlessly on the bed from his chair beside her. His eyes remained on her, staying silent for a long time.

"I didn't expect that," he whispered after minutes of silence. "Aren't you full of surprises, my darling?"

Abel was simply watching over her after wiping her body and changing her clothes. Amid it, he was pulled into her dreams. It wasn't the first time Aries took him to her dream. But it still surprised him, since she intentionally called for him.

'Darling...' He bent over and held her hand, slipping his fingers in between hers. "I hope you make peace with yourself."

Although there were unanswered things in his head, he had a good grasp of Aries's situation. It was a little more complicated than he thought. Matter of fact, this had never crossed him. He didn't smell her, nor did he feel anything special about her.

Aries simply became special to his life because she was the person who held his hand in the dark. But he never fathomed she was more than just being his world.

"What happened to us, darling?" he wondered, guiding her hand to his lips, eyes fixed on her. "Why were you so scared of us?"

No answer, which wasn't surprising.

A plethora of questions rose upon meeting her in that dream, but those questions stood out. That was the only thing he cared about because Aries might've been confused, but her eyes were always clear. And they mirrored her fear that he had never seen before.

If he would be so bold, he would conclude it was a fear of a person who lost everything. The look he would probably wear if she died.

Did he die?

Who knows... Aries wouldn't remember everything once she woke up.

"You always have a way to intrigue me, darling." He rested his forehead against her knuckles, closing his eyes to rest them for a bit. 'Now that I think about it... I should've forced a confession from you.'

He frowned as he raised his head and narrowed his eyes at her. "I should've... at least hear it from your lips once."

A shallow breath slipped past his lips before his brows rose. He glanced at the entrance of the tent, seeing a shadow standing in front of it.

"Your Majesty, they are here." Isaiah's cold and classic aloof voice reached his ears.

Abel didn't respond immediately as he straightened his back, sitting upright beside her bed, hand still cradling hers. He guided her hand to his lips once again, placing a peck on her knuckles.

"I'll be back, darling," he promised under his breath. "Once you wake up, everything will be just like how they are."

His eyes remained on her for moments before placing her hand on top of her stomach. Standing beside the bed, Abel brushed a few baby hairs from her forehead, bending over to plant a kiss on her head, before marching outside the tent to meet who could give him answers.

Outside the tent stood Isaiah on the right, then Conan on the left. Abel glanced from his left to right, ignoring the people from the other tent who were watching what would happen.

"They're in the clearing," Isaiah informed as he tilted his head down. Abel didn't reply, as he simply sauntered to where all the nobles were standing frozen.

As soon as the three of them reached where their guest was, Abel glossed his eyes over the multiple figures wearing cloaks, standing in a proper formation; three rows with approximately six to seven witches each row. Abel noticed some of them were already speaking in tongues but in a whisper.

"I said... those who were involved..." Abel broke the silent chanting in the air as he waved a finger from left to right. "... you mean to tell me you are all... involved?"

"No one is involved... Vampire." A woman standing in the front and in the middle pulled her hood down, revealing an old lady.

p Her hair was already blanched, and half of her face was covered with a burnt scar that kept one eye closed. Yet, vulnerability was never shown in her tenor. Instead, she was a woman standing with her chin up before a terrifying monster who stepped foot in their territory.

Her one eye was sharp as she scrutinized him from head to toe. "You..." She narrowed her eyes, sizing his immense power and her guess was correct.

This man... must die.

The witch remained silent for a long time as if she was rummaging through her memory. When she recovered from her thoughts, her expression turned grim.

"An Original," she muttered, watching the side of Abel's lips curl up. She then shifted her eyes to Isaiah and added, "a warlock," before her eyes veered to Conan. "A pureblooded vampire prince."

"A hunter and then that cursed ghoul you carried with you..." pertaining to Morro, who had been sneaking into the dark spaces and narrow alleys in the empire. "... what a strange group of monsters. Truly... the child of evil has risen from the very pits of hell!"

The witch laughed maniacally. "How horrific!" she hissed, almost out of breath as she widened her eyes. "Maleficent will not be yours, child of evil!"

Isaiah's brows creased while Conan frowned at the ugly and hair-raising gaze of the old witch. The latter felt like the gaze of that woman would curse him. Meanwhile, unlike Isaiah's puzzlement and Conan's displeasure, Abel was pleased.

"So, I was correct?" Abel rocked his head lightly and in a blink of an eye, he was already standing three feet from the witch. He bent over, studying the shock that came a bit later on her face.

"That is all I need to know, Beldame." He smiled before he erected a finger, pointing at his green hair. "Keep your eyes up. It's a better sight to behold."

As a wicked grin turned up on his face, Abel halted when Isaiah suddenly yelled. "Your Majesty, it's a trap!"