Byhron

Grinding the blade of his dagger against the whetstone, Byhron winced when his arm protested. He could barely see out of his left eye and his ribcage hurt like a bitch every time he took a breath. However, despite his fractured ribs and swollen eye, it was the deep stab wound in his right arm that hurt the most. The Dralan's knife had gone through and through, missed the bone, but definitely cut through some muscles and nerves that now, after he had fed, were beginning to wind back together like ropes tying themselves. He could feel the fresh blood within him do its thing and so slowly, he was getting stronger again.

The Dralan had sliced him up good, but that was no excuse to slack on his work. Keeping his blades sharp for battle was more important than staying in bed with a few scratches while his wounds healed. They could do that while he worked.

Grinding the blade against the whetstone again, he brought it up to his good eye and watched in the dim light from the candle how the edge of his dagger now looked perfectly sharp. Bringing his fingertip to the blade, he pressed it to it. The blade cut his finger and made a single drop tickle down his finger, staining his hand. He smiled satisfied to himself. Perfect.

"Byhron? Byhron are you down here?"

Quickly putting his dagger away, he turned around in his seat just as his sister came through the doors to the weaponry of the barracks, sounding slightly out of breath. It was after sundown, so seeing his little sister out of her bed made his blood pump angrily. "Bhria, what are you doing here? You should be sleeping, it's not safe to be walking around the castle this late."

He watched his sister gulp anxiously and then saw how she lowered her eyes to the ground, apologetically. "Forgive me, brother. I just... I have a... I have something I need to ask you. A favor."

Byhron raised his eyebrow slowly and then stood up to his full height. His sister dwarfed beneath him as he came up to her and looked down at her. "What favor?"

Bhria swallowed heavily again and then carefully looked up at her brother. "I, uh... I-it's for the Mihrisa... it's about... a Kathmir. Ahrron," She fearsomely said and nervously chewed her bottom lip. "She was wondering, a-and so was I, if... if he is still alive."

Byhron frowned a little and crossed his arms. "Hold on. You're asking me to go check on the Dralan's prisoner, because his Mihrisa is worried about him - another male? Do you hear yourself?"

"She's only worried because he was helping her!" His sister pleaded with begging eyes. "She was dying from thirst and he was there! If only the Dralan had found her someone to feed from sooner--"

"Watch it," He cut her off with a low growl. "You're speaking against the Dralan, that's treason, sister." She crimped under his hard gaze. "If she had told him she needed to feed soon, this whole mess could've been avoided and Ahrron would still be breathing."

His sisters eyes widened in mortification. "He's... he's dead?"

Byhron gritted his teeth and looked away. He knew he shouldn't be telling her, but it was her sister... for her, he'd do anything. "No, he's alive, but only just. I'll be surprised if he makes it through the night."

"Please!" Bhria said and suddenly grabbed onto his arms pleadingly, "Please help him, don't let him die! The Mihrisa wouldn't be able to bear it a-and he's my friend... he helped me when I first got here," She whispered, her bottom lip now quivering. "After... after I arrived, he caught me crying a few times, neglecting my work..." She looked down and Byhron instantly knew she did so to cover her tears when she sniffled. "Instead of reporting me to the head Kathmir, he... he comforted me. Told me it was all going to be okay. He's a good male, Byhron. Please don't let him die."

Byhron was stunned. His sister had never told him this. If this was true and the male had really taken care of his sister... he was in debt to him.

After that night... that horrible night where the Mihr hunters had taken her, she had lost more than just her virginity. She had lost a vital part of herself; her joyfulness. She hadn't smiled in months, hardly ate. Nothing he did or tried would change it.

But then, one day, it had changed all of a sudden. She started eating more. Begun talking a little louder. And then, slowly and little by little, he saw the tiniest smiles appear on her face.

If this male had been the cause of that... then he owed the male his very life.

"Sweet Blithesome Miss, Bhria," He gutturally said and turned away from her, ran a hand through his dark-brown hair. What was he supposed to do? He was the Dralan's prisoner. He was ordered to isolation with no food, water or blood. Or company. Nobody could see him. "I don't know if I can do it, sister. He's quarantined."

"Please..." She feebly said again. "Just... If you can, please try. I understand if you can't. I don't want you to get into any trouble, I just... I don't think I could bare the thought if Ahrron died. Not after everything he has done for me and the Mihrisa."

Curse it, Byhron thought. If he was clever he could probably sneak into the dungeons, but it had to be tonight, then. While everyone was sleeping. He had to at least try, he owed the male that much. He owed his sister.

"I'll handle it," He finally said and turned to look at his sister. Her eyes widened in shock and joy, an instant smile lighting her face up. "But you need to promise me you'll head straight to bed the moment you leave the barracks. No detours, no stray errands. If I have to do this, I need to know you'll be safe in your bed."

"Oh thank you, thank you!" His sister cried and jumped into his arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck to pull him in for an embrace. "I promise I will, I promise! Thank you, brother! I'll send a Kischmir to your room for when you return!"

"No - no Kischmir," He said. He didn't like the company of the Kischmirs as much as the other Lathras. Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen their own sister after she had been defiled, so they weren't haunted by the memory every time they laid eyes on a sweet, beautiful female.

"I love you, brother," Bhria quietly said, squeezing him a little. "I love you so much. You always come through for me."

Not always.

"Just go back to bed, Bhria," He urged her. He didn't hug her back, couldn't. He didn't deserve this kind of affection, didn't deserve her love and comfort. So instead, he patted her shoulder briefly and pulled her off. "Go."

"Be careful," She whispered as she smilingly skipped away, left the barracks in a rush. Once he was sure she was gone, Byhron let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

How the hell was he going to get into the dungeons?

*

It hadn't been easy. He had to distract the Lathras by making some noise with some barrels and his sword, which caused them to leave their post to check it out. It gave him the opportunity to slip through the gates and down into the dungeons.

Descending the many stairs, he took one of the torches off the walls when the darkness became too pitch black to see. Only few vampires could still see in the dark these days, it was one of their gifts that had slowly died after they evolved to being in the sunlight. Now, they relied on light to guide their way, or of course, their senses. They were a great alternative.

As Byhron came to the foot of the stairs, he looked down the long dark hallway. Prison cells populated the hall, the light from his torch making haunting shadows out of the prison bars that defined them. He begun slowly walking down the rows, glancing into each cell.

He had seen Ahrron only once before, many years ago. When he had showed his sister to the servant quarters, he was one of the Kathmirs who received them, made sure she found her place. He had only said a brief hello and goodbye to him, but already then, he had felt something about the male... something within him.

Now, he tried to recall his face and match it with the pale faces he was walking by now. Each one was more grim than others. Some were criminals, some were traitors and some where simply vampires who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, involving them in a crime. Still, none of them looked like the face he so vaguely remembered.

He was almost at the very end of the hall when he glanced into one of the cells. Behind the bars, chained up against the wall, barely sitting, was a male with brown hair and robes that once might have looked like Kathmir robes. His head was hanging against his chest and his chest was barely moving as he breathed. He was close to death.

Byhron stopped up and came closer, kneeled down in front of the bars to get to his eye level. Squinting his eyes and bringing the torch closer, he looked upon the male.

Behind his violently bruised face that was bashed up so badly, it was deformed, and beneath a layer of thickened blood, Byhron faintly recognized his features. This had to be him, but still, he had to be sure.

"Ahrron?" He whispered. When no response came, he spoke up a little louder. "Ahrron."

The male stirred. He weakly shifted his head to the side so he could look at the person calling his name. He opened his eyes and met Byhron's.

For a moment, Byhron's breath caught. He didn't know why. He felt the same thing he felt the first time he laid eyes on the male. He couldn't explain it. It was something within those forest green eyes that made his breath struggle to go in and out. Maybe it was the strength; he was still alive after so much torture.

Byhron shook it off. He didn't have much time, and if this was going to end well, he needed to hurry. "Are you Ahrron?"

Ahrron nodded vaguely, but didn't speak. Perhaps because he couldn't.

"I'm Bhria's brother," He told him, keeping his voice hushed, just in case it somehow carried upstairs to the guards. How the hell was he going to get out again? "My sister is the Mihrisa's personal Kischmir. I believe you know them both."

Quick surprise flashed through the male's tired eyes, but then he nodded. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but nothing came out. Only a hoarse sound.

Byhron clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. How was he going to do this? Sweet Miss. "I'm here because I owe my sister this and she asked me. She thinks you don't deserve to die." He held a short pause, simply watched the male for his reaction. He didn't speak. Instead he just lowered his eyes, let go of a small breath. Byhron therefore continued; "The Mihrisa doesn't want you to die either. She's been asking about you, hence the reason I'm here. My sister asked me to make sure that you don't die and I owe her; I owe her and I'm not leaving until I know you'll survive."

At this, Ahrron lifted his head as much as he could and stared in shock at him. He tried to speak again, but Byhron shook his head, almost angrily.

"No, this is going to be fucking humiliating enough, so don't fucking utter a word," he told the male, just as he laid the torch down on the ground and then smoothed his sleeve up on his good arm. "If you have to survive, you'll need blood. My blood."

With a small hiss, he brought his arm up to his own lips and used his fang to slice through his skin. He heard Ahrron gasp, just as Byhron's blood started pouring out carefully from his vein, right for the taking. Right for the drinking.

Byhron felt clammy and almost wanted to throw up. A male drinking from another male... it was against nature. Males could only survive on female blood and reverse. If a male drank from another male, it would only last him a day or two, max three. Then the thirst would come back full force and worse. Females and males blood was made to mingle, not two males and two females. It didn't create any energy, it just kept them alive. It did the exact same thing as animal blood, and it was considered just as against nature as it was drinking from a race that wasn't theirs.

But... sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures. And this was, if by any measures, a truly desperate time.

Sticking his arm through the iron bars, Byhron gnashed his teeth as Ahrron tried pulling away from his vein. "Take it. I'm enjoying this as much as you are, but I promised my sister. And if you want to live to see another fucking day..."

The male lashed against his arm, getting enthralled by the vein he had purposely cut open to draw him in with the blood that flowed from it. A male this starved wouldn't be able to resist the smell of blood, even if it came from another male. Byhron grunted harshly and bit his tongue when he felt the other male's fangs sink into his own skin and began drinking heavy gulps of his blood.

"Sweet Miss," He whispered and closed his eyes. He couldn't look at it. Maybe if he pretended it was just another female...

But there was no way. Ahrron's fangs were thick and long like a males and yanked at his vein in a way a female would never have the power to. The funny thing was, because of all that, letting him feed almost hurt. And hurt... hurt meant pain and pain was an old friend he got along with well.

It helped him get through it. It even almost made it enjoyable. Almost. Ahrron sucked his blood and occasionally let out a groan, but he could deal with that. He focused on the pain from the jab of his fangs, let that sensation consume him until he felt nothing else.

When a few minutes passed, he started to feel dizzy, letting him know it was almost time to cut the feed. "Finish up. I've got to get back before they see me."

Ahrron let out a low rumble to let him know he heard. With a few more heavy gulps, he then slowly withdrew his fangs, fell back against the wall, panting heavily as if he just ran five miles. Byhron immediately yanked his arm back and pulled his sleeve down.

It was done. Over. The male could survive now until he was released in about three days. He would need to feed immediately again afterwards and this time by a female. That shouldn't be a problem though.

Byhron got to his feet, picked up the torch again and looked down at Ahrron who was fatigued and hazy from feeding. His fangs were still extended and his breath still came out in heavy pants.

"Get some rest and stay alive," He bitterly told him. With a final glance, he turned on his foot and began walking away.

"Thank... you..."

The voice was so weak, he barely heard it. It rasped its way through the two syllables, but they were deeply grateful. When Byhron realized he had stopped up, he immediately began walking again, shaking it off.

He had done what his sister had wanted, now he could put this whole thing behind him and return to his old life filled with pain and anger.

Callath

He had been patrolling through the castle to make sure it was asleep for the night when he heard the pitter patter of light footsteps. He was just about to draw his weapon when he saw a haze of green skip past the pillar he was luring behind, a haze of green that he recognized.

The Mihrisa's Kischmir - Bhria as her name was - was tiptoeing in haste through the castle, heading outside. She was oblivious to him being there, watching her break curfew. She was fully emerged into whatever she was going out to do. Curious as to what that was, Callath decided to follow her. If not so that he could catch her and remind her what the rules were and where her place was.

How he would love to punish this little female.

The first time he saw her, he didn't pay close enough attention to her, but perhaps that was because he was blinded by the Mihrisa's beauty in her white dress for the Bhrakla Aurora. He had only noticed her out of the corner of her eye, especially when the Mihrisa had glanced back at her as if seeking her support. And she had given it to her.

It was obvious the Mihrisa had formed a bond with this female. The Dralan could sense it too. That's why he kept ordering her to take care of his Mihrisa and not another Kischmir. He wanted his Mihrisa to feel comfortable and at home, and perhaps if she had another female to bond with, it would help that case.

But this, Callath thought, was a breach of regulations. It was such late hours, no Kischmir should be out of their bed. Kathmirs were allowed, but that was because they were males. Kischmirs, they were weak, unprotected females, and even in a castle as secured as the Dralan's, there were enemies. That's what the curfew was there for; to protect the females that worked for him.

And yet Bhria didn't seem to think those rules applied to her.

Callath ground his teeth as he decided to follow the female. He trailed a good distance behind her as she ran across the long patch of grass that separated the barracks and the Dralan's castle. She seemed to know exactly where she was going and it made him wonder...

Had she been summoned? Had one of the Lathras requested her company tonight? It would be the only excuse she had for this nightly escapade, but usually the Kischmirs who were requested got escorted by her assigned Kathmir. Bhria was all alone, which led Callath to believe she wasn't in fact here to please one of the Lathras.

For some reason he couldn't yet fathom, that made him happy.

Callath followed her all the way to the weaponry. His inner alarms immediately went off when he begun to think what a female would do in a place like that. She had no business in there. None at all. They weren't allowed near weapons. Another breach in the rules.

She was really making her own bed, and by the Sweet Miss, he would make her lie in it.

- Even though he would've preferred if it was his own.

As he snug closer and stayed hidden behind the door to the weaponry, he now heard voices talking. One male and one female. Instantly, he thought she was a traitor; she was meeting here with her accomplice and they were discussing their strategy to take the Dralan down. The female already had a direct link to his Mihrisa, so why hadn't she killed her? Killing her would kill the Dralan. They had no spare Mihrs he could feed from; he would thirst.

But then as the female spoke, his worries eased. She heard him address the male as her brother. She was asking him for a favor. His ear sharpened as the brother who was clearly a Lathra warily asked her what kind of favor it was.

"I, uh... I-it's for the Mihrisa... it's about... a Kathmir. Ahrron. She was wondering, a-and so was I, if... if he is still alive."

That was her favor? She was doing this for the Mihrisa because she wasn't allowed to leave her room?

"Hold on," The Lathra said, "You're asking me to go check on the Dralan's prisoner, because his Mihrisa is worried about him - another male? Do you hear yourself?"

Callath agreed, it was preposterous. At least he knew he could trust the Lathra's judgement.

"She's only worried because he was helping her!" His sister protested loudly. "She was dying from thirst and he was there! If only the Dralan had found her someone to feed from sooner--"

"Watch it. You're speaking against the Dralan, that's treason, sister."

Callath had had his fists clenched and was ready to barge through the door to grab the female by her throat, throw her over his shoulder and carry her away to teach her some manners. It seemed this female had forgotten what speaking rights females had and needed a reminder. A hard one. And preferably, a horizontal one.

But then the Lathra, her brother, put her back in her place. Bhria piped down, but then nervously asked once her brother has finished speaking, if the male Ahrron really was dead.

Unbelievable, Callath thought. Her persistence was out of this world. She needed a good hard spanking and damn it if he was going to do it. He would have that female on his bed beneath him, screaming her apologies as she climaxed beneath him. He wanted to see the color of her hair beneath that bonnet, wanted to explore the curves of her body; He was going to.

The two siblings continued to talk and Callath was surprised to hear how the strong-headed Lathra crumbled under his sister's pleas. He had to admit though, her voice... it was something else... and those big brown eyes with flecks of green that had looked at him so frightened when he had approached her down in the servant quarters, they were enough to have a male praying on his knees before her.

Callath was no praying male. The Blithesome Miss had long given up on him for his promiscuity, so he had turned to what he knew best; the ways around the bed with a female or two in it.

Now he heard the Lathra give in to his sisters pleas. There was a grief in the male's voice that led Callath to believe there was more history between them than what met the eye. He heard him agree to check up on the Dralan's prisoner, even if it pained him to go against the laws. The agony around him that fermented the air, it hit Callath as well. His first instinct was to report this back to Dohmenic about his insubordination, but...the agony in this male's soul... the way he felt for his sister...

- He was either in great debt to her or she was an enchantress.

A part of Callath seriously considered the last one to be true. What else would possess him to the thought of not reporting what he had seen tonight?

It was his job. To keep tabs on everything in the castle while the Dralan took care of his kingdom. He needed to know that when he wanted to retreat, his home was safe. It was Callath's task to keep it that way.

But this... if he reported this incident, it would start an avalanche of events.

First, the Lathra would get punished and possibly get kicked out of the barracks; He would lose his title as a Lathra. His sister's defiance would have her removed as the Mihrisa's personal Kischmir and that would ruin the Mihrisa's good nature. Callath knew that the Dralan would be forced to handle this in a certain way if it got out... but if it didn't... if he didn't tell him about all this...

The Dralan's Mihrisa would still have her friend. The Kischmir would still have her brother and her brother would remain a Lathra.

But all of this couldn't go by unpunished either, Callath reminded himself. It was defiance within the Dralan's walls and the one responsible should be punished.

- And the one who started it all was the female standing inside the weaponry, exchanging a hug with her brother.

Oh this was perfect, Callath thought as he slowly walked away when he judged he had seen enough. He would deal with this himself quietly and make sure the female got the punishment she deserved.

Now the only question was... how much should he tease her before the punishment began?