There was beautiful. Then there was Serena.
When she entered the council eting, everyone turned.
She smiled politely, moving towards Tiberon’s seat.
Then she locked eyes with Fin. She’d accidentally fallen asleep last night with him. When she woke, they were cuddling in his bed. A dangerous habit.
She looked away first before his stare could do any more damage.
Then, on cue, Viremont entered the tent. Grimward and Hollowcrown were beside him. Three kings, one entrance, walking in formation tight enough to telegraph exactly what it was.
Hyran: He brought his dogs. Headed towards you, Serena.
Serena’s stomach dropped, but she didn’t look in that direction.
Gav: He’s walking like a man with a speech prepared. Brace yourselves.
Gav and Hale positioned themselves in front and on the side of Serena imdiately.
Viremont stopped mid-step, eyes flicking to Gav and Hale’s new positions, and smirked.
"I know who you are," he called out loudly.
The tent hushed imdiately.
Every eye was now bouncing between him and her. Lovely. She had no choice but to turn and et his gaze.
Viremont tilted his head. "What else are you hiding?"
Fin moved to get in front of Serena, but King Grimward’s n stepped in front of him instantly. It was as if they were anticipating that exact thing.
On the other side of the tent, Garrett and his n moved. But King Hollowcrown’s n blocked, ready for them.
In a matter of seconds, every blade was drawn in the room.
A stalemate.
No one moved.
"Ah. Your alliance gives themselves away," Viremont chuckled. "You seduce all kings you co into contact with, then."
Hale’s jaw tightened. "You will treat her with respect. Say what you ca to say."
"Oh I plan on it," he said, smiling without warmth. "All legend. Should I say, the kind of blood kings go to war for? Tell , little princess, have you shifted since coming here?"
He took another step towards her.
"Or maybe a better question is, how does an oga rogue rise into royalty? Quite the underdog story."
He grinned, looking her up and down.
"There is a reason why the Dragon Prince took you for himself, isn’t there?" His eyes flicked to Gavriel, then back to Serena. "Away from his own Gamma I hear."
"Secrets ... they have a way of bleeding out, eventually." His smile twisted. "What color do you bleed, Serena?"
Serena gave a faint smile, voice clear. "Careful. You sound nervous."
Viremont stiffened. "You aren’t mute then."
He held out his hand gesturing to the room. "I’m sure every Alpha King in here wants to know, did you mark him? There’s a recovery period after that for soone like you."
"That’s why Tiberon and his heir aren’t here. You whored yourself to the father and son."
Serena’s gaze slid to the nearest sword.
"You cornered with drawn blades over a rumor about my virtue at a war summit. Should we also debate my favorite color while we are ard?"
Chuckles followed.
"You talk like a woman who’s never been dragged through the dirt," Viremont snarled. "We can change that. And after, if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you mark too."
"You’d need a spine to carry my mark," Serena said, tone flat.
Soone behind Bloodmoon gave a low whistle. More snickers followed.
"Careful," Viremont shot back. "Mockery’s a thin veil when you’re standing alone. Leverage is sothing that you just lost. You are a liability to any Alpha that chooses to ally with you."
Serena t his gaze head-on. "Funny, I was going to say the sa thing about you."
A muscle in Viremont’s neck twitched.
"Your tongue should be cut. Tiberon is too tolerant of his toys," he hissed. "But you don’t belong to him. Do you?"
He took another step towards Serena.
She didn’t flinch. Her heart was pounding in her ears and every instinct scread to run, but she knew they had a job to do.
She studied him for a mont. When she spoke, her voice was calm and direct.
"You lose your composure in a tent full of kings over ." She tilted her head, with genuine curiosity. "Why?"
Viremont blinked, almost shocked by her direct question. Whatever he was expecting, it was not that.
"My daughter is carrying Dexmon’s child. And you are trying to have her put to death."
His words landed like a kick to the ribs.
"You are mistaken," she said imdiately, tone firm.
"You accused Agnes of corrupting him," he snapped. "Of dark magic. You frad her."
"No," Serena said, brows furrowed. "I haven’t heard of that even."
Viremont’s smile vanished. His voice dropped half an octave.
"Liar."
Then he moved. One blink he was three paces away. The next, silver burned cold against Serena’s skin. A knife kissed her throat. Silver chains snapped tight around her wrists and neck.
Fin lunged again, but was caught and held back. The space exploded into chaos, boots scraping gravel, weapons clashing, snarls echoing.
"Stay back," Viremont commanded, knife pressing harder. "Or I open her."
The room froze.
"You really should’ve stayed quiet." Viremont shook her with every word, punctuating them with her body. "Pretty things survive longer that way."
"Don’t touch her!" Fin roared, straining against the grip holding him, rage and Alpha aura vibrating through the room. He knew they were trying to flesh out the enemies. But he didn’t fucking care.
Viremont straightened, blade still at Serena’s throat. "Now," he continued pleasantly, "we’re going to have a very honest conversation about what else you’ve been hiding."
Nightspire stepped forward, hands loose at his sides, posture deliberately unthreatening.
"Reginald," he said, the na landing soft. "You have a knife to my niece’s throat. I want you to think very carefully about what that ans for your future."
Viremont’s grip on Serena tightened. "She’s Frostborne filth wearing Drakenfell colors. The only family she has left is the dirt I’m about to bury her in."
He put his mouth to her ear.
"She frad my daughter. Blood for blood. YOU of all people should understand that."
"What I understand," Nightspire said, tone almost bored, "is that you’re one bad decision away from losing everything you’ve ever built. Your lands. Your title." He tilted his head. "And you’re holding the knife that signs the warrant."
Viremont’s face mottled red. He jerked Serena hard, punctuating each word with her body.
"She. Frad. My. Daughter."
One of Viremont’s n put a blade to Nightspire’s throat.
Nightspire didn’t flinch. He glanced at the blade, then back at Viremont with sothing that almost looked like amusent.
"Bold," he comnted calmly. "Stupid, but bold. I’ll be sure to ntion that to your widow."
The tent was already too tight with bodies, but it was silent outside of Viremont’s voice.
"Hyran," he called calmly, the madness draining from his tone, still holding Serena with a knife at her throat.
"Portal. Now. Bring my daughter. Or she dies where she stands."
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