Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

The familiar, imposing figure filled the doorway, his tall frame darkening the entrance like a shadow. He stood there for a moment, eyes scanning the room with his typical, calculating stare, taking in the scene before him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, a tightness in his jaw as his gaze landed on the body lying lifeless on the floor.

Elias

"Well…" Elias's voice was low, laced with an undertone of amusement, though his eyes held a quiet concern. "I see you've been busy."

Alaric didn't immediately respond. His gaze lingered on Elias for a beat longer than necessary, his lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I was starving," he replied coolly, wiping his fingers on the edge of his coat as if the blood that stained him didn't matter at all.

Elias's eyes flicked to the man's body again, his expression darkening ever so slightly as he took a step closer, his boots silent against the cold stone floor, his dark eyes never leaving Alaric.

"You may not know this, Alaric," Elias murmured, his voice smooth like silk, "I do love watching you."

Alaric stiffened for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as he absorbed the words.

He could feel the weight of Elias's words, and suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place. His mind traveled back to the moment when he'd been with Eric, when he had felt those eyes on him, watching him from the shadows, lurking just out of sight. The odd, unsettling feeling that had crept up on him, the strange sense of being observed even when he'd thought himself alone—it all made sense now.

Alaric's eyes darkened as the realization settled in. His lips parted slightly, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker, charged with a tension that hadn't been there before. He studied Elias, his piercing gaze searching for something, anything that would explain this twisted fascination.

"So," Alaric spoke slowly, his voice low, laced with a rare, calculating edge, "you've been watching me both times, haven't you?"

Elias didn't flinch. He simply tilted his head slightly, the smile on his face never faltering. "I've always enjoyed seeing how you move,the great Alaric reduced to something so seductive" he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "The way you... carve your path, tear through everything in your way. The witch may want to destroy everything about you and make you pay but I believe that is a waste of such talent."

Alaric's hand clenched involuntarily at his side, the thirst still lingering in his veins.He stepped closer to Elias,"Why?" he asked, his voice low and sharp. "Why bother watching me? What are you hoping to gain from this?"

Elias shrugged, his tone light but his words cutting. "Power and someone to answer my every desire."

Alaric's smirk returned, though now it carried a dangerous edge. "And what exactly do I have to answer to?"

"For now—the rulers," Elias said simply. "They want to see you. And, for once, you don't have a choice."

Alaric's smile widened, his excitement barely concealed. "The rulers of the supernatural world want to meet me? Finally, something interesting."

Elias shook his head, almost laughing under his breath. "You think this is a game, don't you?" He gestured again to the room, to the blood, the body. "In a few minutes, you'll be in front of them. I doubt they'll be as charmed by your mess as I am."

Elias didn't leave. The door didn't close. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes still fixed on Alaric with an unnerving intensity.

"I'm not done yet," Elias said smoothly, his voice low and deliberate.

Alaric raised an eyebrow, the faint smirk on his lips never quite reaching his eyes. "Humans usually say that before they leave."

Elias ignored him, snapping his fingers. The door opened, and three women stepped into the room, their movements graceful and precise, as though choreographed. Each was breathtaking in her own way—tall, poised, and dressed in silks that clung to their bodies like second skin.

Alaric's smirk faltered, replaced by something closer to wariness. "What's this?"

"They're here to prepare you," Elias replied casually, stepping aside to give the women room. "You can't meet the rulers looking like… this." He gestured to Alaric, from the blood smeared across his coat to the disheveled way he wore it.

Before Alaric could protest, the women moved toward him, their hands light and efficient. One unfastened his pants and slid ,while another began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Alaric didn't flinch, didn't resist. He stood there, letting them work, though his jaw tightened slightly as his pale skin was revealed inch by inch. His shirt slipped off, exposing his chest, his muscles taut under the soft light of the room.

Elias watched him intently, his gaze lingering. "You're quite comfortable with yourself," he remarked, his voice almost a purr. "Most would shy away under so many eyes."

Alaric let out a dry laugh, his smirk returning, though his eyes betrayed something darker—a flicker of discomfort. "Comfortable?" he said, his tone sharp. "Hardly. I've just learned not to care."

Elias's eyes narrowed, catching the subtle edge in Alaric's voice. "Not to care," he echoed, his tone probing. "Or not to look?"

Alaric's smirk vanished. For the briefest moment, his gaze darted away, avoiding Elias's penetrating stare. He remained still as the women stripped him further, leaving him bare under the weight of their eyes and Elias's unrelenting attention.

His pale skin, stark white as snow, caught the light, making him appear almost otherworldly compared to the women. But Alaric didn't see beauty in it—he saw a curse, a constant reminder of what he was. An albino. A freak, as he'd been told more times than he could count.

Elias noticed the shift in Alaric's demeanor—the way his shoulders tensed, the way his gaze darkened as it fell to his own pale skin. There was a hatred there, deep and raw, the kind born from centuries of being something the world could neither understand nor accept.

"Why do you despise it so much?" Elias asked, his voice softer now, though it carried an edge of intrigue. "Your skin. It's rare… haunting, even. Like a ghost walking among men."

Alaric's head snapped up, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Haunting?" he echoed, his tone laced with quiet fury. "You mean monstrous. Something to be feared. Something to be hunted. Do you know what it's like, Elias, to heal faster than they can kill you? To burn alive while they watch, only to rise again, screaming? They didn't see innocence—they saw a demon in human flesh, something unnatural that defied their laws, their gods. They called me cursed and made it their mission to prove it."

Elias's lips twitched into a faint, sinister smile. "And yet, here you stand," he murmured. "Proof that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't break you."

Alaric's laugh was low and bitter, his teeth bared in something that was neither a smile nor a snarl. "Break me?" he whispered, stepping closer, his voice chilling. "They didn't need to. They carved their hatred into my skin, made me the monster they feared. And when I begged for mercy, they only gave me fire. I healed, Elias—over and over again. And do you know what they did? They came back with sharper blades and brighter torches."

Elias studied him, his gaze steady and calculating. "And now?" he asked, his voice a challenge.

Alaric's eyes gleamed, a flicker of something darker rising to the surface. "Now, I give them the monster they always wanted."

Elias was silent for a while before mumbling

"You'll need to wear something worthy of the rulers," Elias said, his tone shifting back to practicality. "But first, look at yourself."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because if you can't face what you are," Elias said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "they'll tear you apart."

Elias snapped his fingers again, and a tall mirror slid out from the wall, its surface gleaming like liquid silver. Alaric didn't move, his gaze fixed on Elias, refusing to acknowledge the mirror's presence.

"Look," Elias insisted, his tone commanding now.

Alaric turned slowly, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet his reflection. The man staring back at him was every bit as striking as Elias had described—pale skin stretched over a chiseled frame, hair white as ash, eyes sharp and unforgiving. A monster, he thought bitterly.

Elias stepped behind him, his voice soft but firm. "Hate it if you must. But own it. That's what makes you dangerous."

The women—nymphs as Alaric had realised after a while of smelling them moved closer, surrounding Alaric. Their delicate hands began taking off his bloodied shirt with practiced precision.

Still, he stood motionless, allowing the nymphs to undress him completely. Their touch was light and respectful, though one nymph lingered. Her fingers brushed against his arm, her composure faltering as Alaric's striking eyes flicked to her. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and though she tried to remain stoic, the slight hitch in her breath betrayed her.

Alaric smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. He said nothing, but his piercing grey eyes lingered on her just long enough to send a ripple of tension through the air. The nymph's blush deepened, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for a cloth to clean him.

From his place by the wall, Elias watched with a cold, possessive gaze, his jaw tightening as the scene unfolded. He let out a soft, disdainful chuckle, the sound sharp enough to cut through the room's uneasy silence. "Even now, you can't help yourself, can you?" he said, his tone laced with contempt. "Always the charmer."

Alaric's smirk didn't falter, but his gaze slid to Elias, his amusement tinged with defiance.

Elias pushed off the wall. His gaze flickering to the nymph, who froze under the weight of it, her trembling hands betraying her fear. "Tell me," he began, his voice low and dark, "how pretty do you think her head would look on a pike, Alaric?"

The nymph's face drained of all color, her trembling intensifying as she struggled to keep her composure. The cloth in her hand moved more quickly now, her efforts frantic, desperate to finish her task before the air grew any heavier.

Alaric's smirk slipped slightly, replaced by a flicker of irritation as his eyes narrowed at Elias. "That's a bit dramatic, even for you," he said, his voice cold but carefully measured.

Elias's lips curved into a cruel smile, his gaze never leaving the terrified nymph. "Is it?" he murmured. "Some lessons are worth teaching, don't you think? I'd hate for anyone to forget their place."

The nymphs worked swiftly, their movements hurried and precise, as though fear itself propelled them. Alaric's sharp gaze drifted over the nearest one, noticing for the first time the faint, glowing markings etched into her neck and wrists. They were intricate, curling like vines, and yet there was something cruel about them. The glow pulsed faintly, a reminder that her existence was tethered to someone else's will.

His piercing eyes traced the patterns with disdain, the realization sinking in like a stone in water. These weren't just decorations—they were bindings. Symbols of servitude.

His lip curled slightly, a flash of disgust flickering in his expression. "They bind such innocent creatures," he muttered under his breath, his words low enough to escape Elias's notice but sharp with bitterness.

The nymph closest to him, the one who had lingered earlier, glanced up briefly as if she'd heard him. Her wide eyes held a flicker of something—shame, perhaps, or resignation. She quickly dropped her gaze, her trembling hands continuing their work.

Alaric's eyes narrowed, his mind turning. Humans and witches, always so eager to chain anything they couldn't control. It didn't matter if it was a creature of the forest or someone like him—power was all that mattered. They feared it, so they shackled it, twisted it, and claimed it as their own.

He clenched his jaw, his hand brushing the hated iron ring around his neck. His own bindings, though different, were no less demeaning. His fingers lingered there, tracing the cold metal as his hatred flared.

Elias caught the movement and smirked, leaning lazily against the wall again. "Don't tell me you're sympathizing with them, Alaric," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're not foolish enough to pity those beneath you, are you?"

Alaric's eyes flicked up, sharp and cold. "What's beneath me, Elias, are the ones who chain others to their will," he said evenly, though the venom in his tone was unmistakable. "And last I checked, you're no better."

Elias's smile twisted into something darker, a glint of cruel amusement sparking in his eyes. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over Alaric, and tilted his head in mock curiosity. "No better?" he echoed softly, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't chain them, Alaric. I hunt them. I break their necks, and bury their bones where no one will remember them. I don't have time for weakness, and I sure as hell don't feel pity."

He gestured lazily toward the nymphs, his gaze sweeping over their trembling bodies with a mixture of amusement and contempt. "Look at them. Bound, broken, used for whatever pleasure suits the ones who hold their chains. Their bodies are only good for one thing. And when they can no longer please, they're tossed aside like any other tool."

The nymphs stiffened at his words, their faces flushed with shame, but they dared not move, knowing the danger in disobedience. Elias's eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dark whisper. "I imagine they're just waiting for the day they get used up, discarded like trash. Alaric, how many times have you had them beg for their freedom, only for them to realize it's a dream? They exist to serve. Nothing more."

Alaric's smirk tightened, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the nymphs. His disgust was evident, not in their treatment, but in the fact that weak, fragile humans and witches thought they could control beings like himself.

"I kill because I must, Elias. I take pleasure in it, sure. But this—" Alaric gestured to the nymphs, the contempt in his voice palpable, "—this is what I hate. Humans with their pathetic magic, thinking they can enslave what they don't understand. They do this to creatures like me. They chain us, control us, make us pawns in their pathetic games. And for what? Their pleasure? Their vanity?"

Elias chuckled darkly, his eyes glittering with malice. "Oh, come on, Alaric. You're not fooling anyone. You like the power, just like the rest of us. You've killed thousands without a second thought, and yet you're here defending a bunch of little toys who exist for one thing." His lips twisted into a grin as he took a step closer to Alaric, lowering his voice to a crude murmur.

Alaric's eyes burned with a cold fury, the iron ring around his neck digging into his skin .

The nymphs began their task with an emotionless face, pouring water from ornate, crystalline vessels over his bloodied form. The water shimmered as it cascaded down his skin, pooling on the floor before evaporating into nothingness, leaving no trace behind. Their hands moved in gentle, rhythmic motions, scrubbing away the evidence of his latest indulgence.

When the nymphs were done, they stepped back, their task complete. Alaric stood there, clean and radiant, his pale form gleaming in the dim light. He exuded a kind of dark, magnetic beauty, a figure both alluring and dangerous.

Elias straightened, pushing off the wall. "Get dressed," he said curtly, tossing a neatly folded black ensemble onto the nearby chair. "You're expected."

"Let's not keep them waiting," Alaric said, his voice dripping with disdain.

The nymphs returned with hands full of garments that shimmered like starlight. The fabric caught the dim light in the room, reflecting hues of midnight blue and obsidian. They unfolded the clothing with reverence, holding each piece delicately as if it were spun from the threads of the cosmos itself.

Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his usual cold indifference. These were not the kind of clothes he was used to—functional, durable, meant to survive carnage and chaos. These garments were art, made for someone meant to stand in the spotlight and command awe.

The first piece they presented was a tailored shirt of dark silk, so fine it looked like liquid shadow. Its collar was high and structured, with silver embroidery cascading down the sleeves like rivers of moonlight. Beneath that came a vest, intricately woven with patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles. The nymphs didn't explain, but Alaric could sense a faint magic within the stitching, as if the clothing were alive in some subtle way.

Next came a long coat, its material heavier but no less exquisite. The fabric was deep black, but it shimmered faintly, revealing hidden motifs of ancient symbols and sigils when caught in the light. The coat's buttons were polished obsidian, and the lapels were edged in silver thread, sharp and precise.

The trousers were equally luxurious, made of a supple material that clung to the body like a second skin. The boots, which completed the ensemble, were crafted from dark leather so polished it reflected like glass, their edges reinforced with gleaming silver trim.

Alaric reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers across the fabric of the coat. It was softer than he'd expected, smoother than anything he'd ever touched. He didn't pull his hand back immediately, allowing himself to marvel at the craftsmanship.

"Not your usual fare, is it?" Elias's voice was smooth, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

Alaric didn't answer right away. He let the silence stretch, his gaze still fixed on the clothing. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual, almost thoughtful. "No... I've never seen anything like this before."

One of the nymphs stepped forward, holding the shirt open for him. Her hands were steady now. Alaric allowed her to slip the shirt onto his shoulders, the cool silk brushing against his skin like a whisper.

As the nymphs continued dressing him, fastening buttons and smoothing the fabric against his form, Alaric found himself studying the details of the clothes more closely. The embroidery wasn't just decorative—it told a story, one he couldn't quite decipher but felt compelled to understand. The patterns on the coat's lapels resembled constellations, and the symbols hidden in the folds of the fabric seemed ancient, their meanings just out of reach.

"Where did these come from?" Alaric asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Elias smiled faintly, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "The rulers commissioned them specifically for this meeting. You're expected to impress, Alaric. They spared no expense."

"Impress?" Alaric echoed, his tone skeptical. He glanced at himself in the mirror the nymphs had positioned nearby. The transformation was striking. The dark, elegant clothing contrasted sharply with his pale skin, creating an almost otherworldly effect. He looked... regal. Dangerous. Like someone who belonged among the rulers of the supernatural world.

Elias dismissed the nymphs with a graceful wave of his hand. They bowed low, their shimmering forms retreating from the room in a ripple of faint water-like movements, the scent of fresh rain lingering in their wake. The air grew heavier as their presence faded, leaving only Alaric and Elias in the vast chamber.

Elias stepped closer, his boots clicking against the polished floor.

"This meeting," Elias began, his voice low and calculated, "is not just about you. It's about the message we send. The most dangerous, notorious man in existence...brought to heel." He stopped directly in front of Alaric, towering over him with an aura of controlled menace. His tone grew sharper, like a blade being drawn. "They need to see that you're under our control, that you serve our purpose now."

Alaric's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he studied Elias. The words stung more than he cared to admit, but his pride kept him from reacting too strongly.

Elias leaned in closer, his cold hand shooting up to grip Alaric's jaw with a calculated force. His fingers pressed into Alaric's cheeks, tilting his face upward so that their eyes met. "But if you so much as give them a hint of defiance," Elias whispered, his tone dripping with malice, "I will make sure you regret it. This meeting will define the tone of the supernatural world for centuries. And you—" his grip tightened, "—you will be the example of what happens when even the strongest fall."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of magical wards vibrating through the walls. Alaric glared up at Elias, his lips curling into the faintest smirk, a dark glimmer of defiance in his pale eyes despite the threatening grip on his face.

Elias's lips twisted into a knowing smile, one that was void of warmth. "Let me give you some motivation to behave, hmm?"

He leaned in closer, his breath cool against Alaric's ear as he hissed, "If you behave—if you don't embarrass me—I'll allow you to see Eric."

The name struck Alaric like a thunderclap. His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something darker and more dangerous. His pupils dilated slightly, his breathing slowed, and his entire demeanor shifted. "Eric?" he rasped, his voice low and strained, his hands clenching at his sides.

Elias chuckled, the sound sharp and condescending. "Ah, that got your attention." He released Alaric's jaw, stepping back but keeping his piercing gaze fixed on him. "You didn't think we'd leave him alone, did you? No, Alaric. He's been...well, let's just say he's been useful. And compliant. But I imagine he misses you just as much as you miss him."

Alaric's chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his mind was a storm. The thought of Eric—his Eric—being manipulated, used, or worse, ignited a fury he had to bury deep to avoid playing into Elias's hands. His eyes darkened further, his expression turning cold and unreadable. But deep inside, a spark of rage and protectiveness burned brighter than ever.

"You're lying," Alaric said finally, his voice steady but laced with venom.

Elias smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, am I? You'll find out soon enough. But remember, Alaric—whether you see your pet or not, whether he remains...intact or otherwise, depends entirely on how well you play your role."