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Lords above, whoever said it was a blessing to be hired by the crown was a liar.
Tommy grunted as he pushes the cart down the hallway, the metal trolley weighed down by a multitude of serving plates piled atop it. Bulky and heavy, the countless plates and platters piled on top rattle as he tries to hurry to make up for lost time. They're loud, a sharp cacophony echoing down the hall as he makes his way to the dining hall where the royals were to be dining tonight. Well, in about 30 minutes.
When he'd been offered the position of a kitchen boy at the castle, he'd been so grateful for a chance to finally leave that wretched orphanage. But if he'd known they'd be working him like a damn dog, he'd have just found a way to make it as a street urchin. Sure, it was nice to have a job, and his quarters were a bit better than the small room he'd been kept in at the boy's home, but the backbreaking labor that came with being a serving boy was a lot to get accustomed to. Add that with the steadfast rules of never being seen by or bothering the royals, and that 30 minute time limit is starting to feel like a battle he isn't going to win.
The doors to the dining hall were massive, ornate wooden doors embellished with gold and carved with intricate designs. Tommy wiped his face on his sleeve before pushing the door open with a shoulder. It was a massive room, the giant table adorned with flowers and candelabras as a massive chandelier hung overhead. The towering windows that ran along the wall were smothered by the typical rich black curtains, the dark drapes blotting out all light. Why have so many windows just to keep them covered all day?
Tommy wheeled the cart over to the table. He had to prepare everything before the royal family arrived, to neither be seen nor heard as his mentor had drilled into him, and the sooner he can be done and go and get some dinner of his own the better. He grabbed the wine bottles first. They was fancy and cold to the touch, the dark red liquid almost black as it swished around in the bottle. It was far darker than any wine Tommy had seen before, but it's not like a stray like him would know about this fancy shit. He laid out the five bottles, one at each placemat. Seems excessive.
Next, he laid out each covered serving plate, arranging them in the pattern he'd been instructed to. Even though he worked as a serving boy for the kitchens, he'd never gotten a glimpse at what was prepared. He'd only been assigned to cleaning and serving, maybe help butcher some meat if they'd been understaffed. The metal was cold, as if they housed ice instead of freshly prepared food. His fingers brushed against the smooth metal dome covering the last dish, a massive, oblong thing that went in the center of the table.
"Oh! Looks like we have some entertainment tonight as well." A voice says from behind. Shit.
Tommy nearly drops the dish, jerking away from the table. he whipped around to see one of the princes leaning in the open doorframe, the second close behind. Of course the bastards had to be early. He steels himself, ready for whatever wrath he's incurred for daring to be running late.
"Your Majesties."
They looked just like they did in the paintings. Lean and deathly pale, with sharp teeth and gleaming eyes. While prince Wilbur had curls of unkempt dark brown hair, prince Technoblade had his long pink hair tied into a tight braid that trailed down his back. They're both dressed in light, cotton pants and loose, button-up shirts, with a long sash in royal colors wrapped around prince Technoblade's waist. Their dress is much more casual than the regalia the royals normally wear to all their public appearances and in all the portraits dotted around the castle.
"I didn't hear you come in." Tommy says apologetically. Prince Wilbur grins, a toothy trickster smile. "Don't worry; you weren't supposed to." He waves off the strange statement, taking a step closer. "You're the new help, aren't you? Shouldn't you be done by now?" While his words are playful, the flat stare from his brother behind him is anything but.
"'m doing my job, aren't I? It's not easy to haul everything up here, y'know." He bites, annoyance overshadowing deference. He wasn't going to get messed with just because they came in early on a whim. He crosses his arms, rumpling his uniform. The prince steps closer, resting a hand against the high back of one of the chairs.
The prince just looks at him for a second. Tommy can feel his gaze cut through him. His self-assurance drains in a second, leaving a sick pit in his stomach. He stiffly bows. At least he doesn't have to look him in the eye anymore. "I— I'm sorry."
"No, no." He prince laughs, a smile evident in his voice. "Get up."
Tommy straightens himself and bids farewell to his job. Maybe his life, if the prince takes his attitude as badly as the matrons in the orphanage had. The prince is sitting now, pouring himself a glass of that dark wine. He hadn't even heard him open the bottle.
"I like your attitude. You speak your mind, no hesitation to bear your throat." He tosses his head back, lazily looking over at his brother still standing in the doorway. "What do you think, Techno?"
"Reminds me of you when you were younger." He grunts, cracking a slight smile. "For better or worse."
Wilbur sighs and laughs to himself. "What's your name?"
Strange. The princes were strange. Tommy wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing yet. "Tommy." He offers.
"Just Tommy?"
"Not all of us have the privilege of an old name, prince Wilbur."
The prince laughed. "How old are you? Ten? Fifteen?" he drawled, swirling his dark wine. Tommy felt his face flush. "'m not a child! I'm eighteen this past Summer equinox."
The prince hums a little sound, seemingly considering something. He leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the wine. His face pinches. "Stale. I don't know how Father drinks this stuff."
"You're still too young to appreciate the taste." Prince Technoblade murmurs and Tommy tries not to jump at the sudden closeness of his voice as the other prince steps into his peripherals.
"Wha' kind of wine is that? Looks darker than any mulled wine I've seen." Tommy asks, cursing the awkward strain in his voice. He just wanted to get out of here.
The prince fixes him with a predatory smile, teeth glinting in the dim light. "Would you like a taste?"
Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but not before the doors to the room swing open once more.
"Wilbur, Techno, there you are. Are you bothering some poor servant again?" The king. Shit, this was going from bad to worse.
The king swept into the room, a dark cloak wrapped around his rather plain clothes. Behind him, Tommy spotted the Queen consort.
This time, Tommy didn't hesitate to bow. He had to get out of here. "Your Majesties. 'm sorry to bother you. Prince Wilbur and Prince Technoblade found me before I could finish my work." He forced the words out, doing his best to sound like those suck-ups he hated at the orphanage.
"Don't worry about it. Wilbur has a penchant for wanting to play with his food." The king's voice was light and friendly, nothing like the fearsome ruler he'd heard tale of. Weird. Were they always so nice to the servants they catch sight of? "You should leave, though. We'll look past your little transgression."
Tommy rose from his bow. "Th— thank you, your Majesty. Uhm, enjoy your night." He stuttered, grabbing his cart and practically fleeing the room.
"Farewell, Tommy! I'll see you later." He heard prince Wilbur call to him as he pulled the door shut behind him. His heart was pounding. They may have been nice, but Tommy didn't want to spend a moment longer trapped in that dining room.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
Tommy really cared for Tubbo. He'd been hired with him from the orphanage, and the two stayed close as they took on their roles at the castle. Unlike Tommy, Tubbo had been taken in as a guard. Tommy didn't envy his long days of training and even longer nights of occasionally patrolling the castle (well, learning how to at least). But damn, did Tommy wish he could just pass out as easily as he did.
Tommy stared up at the ceiling, listening to the even breaths of his roommate in the quiet room. He'd meant to go to bed an hour ago but, well. His bone-deep exhaustion wasn't enough to turn off his brain.
He pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. Maybe a quick walk would do him some good. Just a quick lap around the courtyard.
He donned a worn tunic over his sleeping clothes and laced up his boots before creeping out of their room, easing the door shut behind him. He climbed the stairs up from the servant's quarters and into the main part of the castle. It was silent, the halls dark and drenched in shadow with only a few lights dotting the walls every couple of feet. Tommy took the familiar turns, avoiding the roaming guards.
Soon, he finds himself wandering into the courtyard. It was small, meant more for recreation than anything else. The lawn was dotted with full bushes and trees, a bench resting in the middle under the boughs of a massive willow. Everything glowed under the moonlight.
However, the usually quiet air wasn't just punctuated by the breeze rustling through the leaves, but by music.
"If you keep skulking around like that, some people may think you're up to no good." A voice calls, quiet but clear over the light strumming of the guitar. Tommy jumps at the sound. The voice sounding oddly familiar. He looked back to peer down the hall he'd come down, revealing no one. Someone else just happened to be in the courtyard, then.
"Didn't know anyone else was awake right now." He replies, tongue sharp on reflex. "'m not doing anything wrong. Can't blame a man for taking a walk." He rolls his eyes, walking towards the tree where the sound was coming from.
"A walk so late at night? You should be more careful; you don't know what can be lurking in the dark." The voice laughs darkly, accompanied by the staccato plucking of strings.
"True, could run into some creep lurking in a courtyard." Tommy snarks, pushing aside the drooping branches.
He didn't really know who he was expecting to find. Some overly-dramatic soldier on break. A ghost, maybe.
"Can't you go find someone else to bother—" Tommy stops in his tracks, the branches swinging back to slouch over his shoulders. "I— Prince Wilbur."
The prince hums a note in response, not looking away from him as he plucks at the instrument sitting in his lap.
"You need t' get better guards man, I jus' walked in here." Is all Tommy manages to say. He looks back, almost expecting a hoard of guards to come rushing in. Still, there is no one but the tranquil garden around them.
The prince laughs, running a hand through his hair. "Seems excessive to have a bodyguard just for a late-night stroll, don't you think?"
No, actually. Tommy thinks. That's what all the guards are here for.
"Besides," prince Wilbur continues, "we're acquaintances now. Practically friends. You wouldn't be stupid enough to pull a knife on me, Tommy."
"I s'ppose." His brain was too tired for this. "I hardly know you."
"Is that not how most friendships start out? Barely knowing, then really knowing?" Wilbur asks, idly strumming as he leaned back against the tree. "It's been so long since I've met someone new. It's so boring in the ivory tower. Do me a kindness and indulge me." He huffs, embodying every bit the entitled royal Tommy always figured he was.
Seems like the blue-blood was still in there somewhere, under all the eccentricity.
Can he really refuse though? Tommy didn't want to lose his job and go back out to the streets again. Befriending the prince can only help. What would being friends even entail, anyways? Probably just an odd summon here or there, if the prince is even serious at all. Maybe he was just some toy to prod before getting tossed aside. If he was, he was going to get as much as he can out of it; for both him and Tubbo.
"Okay." He says hesitantly. "We can be friends or, or whatever." It seemed harmless enough.
The prince's smile was downright predatory under the moonlight. "Thank you, Tommy. You'll see, we'll be blood brothers soon enough." Wilbur rises to his feet, pulling the guitar strap so it sits across his back. He slings an arm around Tommy's shoulder. He's oddly cold. Maybe his clothes aren't as good against the night's chill as they seem?
"How about I walk you back to your room, hm? Can't let my dear friend stay up too late." He says, leaving no room for argument. Tommy lets him walk him back without a fuss. It was late anyways.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
It was easy for Tommy to get used to his new routine. Things mostly continued as usual at the castle; long days of work, short bouts of reprieve. The only difference now being the occasional nights he'd spend with the prince. He'd be met by the prince himself at his door, who'd spirit him away for a few hours after he got off work.
("Couldn't you just send someone to fetch me? Y'don't have to come down to the servant quarters." Tommy asked, quietly pulling his door shut behind him. The hallway was empty save for them, but that didn't mean it would stay that way. "Probably shouldn't..."
"No." The prince snapped, waspish. He grabbed the sleeve of Tommy's tunic. "Are you saying you don't trust me to take care of myself? Of you?" He hissed, a manic glint in his eyes that Tommy had never seen before. "You'd prefer that little soldier boy instead?" A sinking dread settled in his stomach at the mention of Tubbo. Tommy raised his free hand in surrender. "No, no. I was jus' saying it seems like a lot of trouble for you. I appreciate it, your majesty." The honorific tacked on for good measure.
Wilbur studied his face for an endless moment. His eyes flicked to his neck for a split second, so fast Tommy may have just imagined it. Eventually he huffed, letting go of his sleeve to instead tousle his hair. "Just being my considerate little brother, hm?")
Wilbur was actually quite nice, once Tommy got used to his capriciousness. The prince was rather fun to be around, singing and playing music when he wasn't teasing Tommy. He still went on odd rants at time, and certainly had a possessive streak, but Tommy soon found himself looking forward to the nights he'd be invited by the prince to spend time in whatever remote nook of the castle the prince at found.
Tommy was careful to not tell anyone about his little adventures with the prince though. Wilbur was constantly reminding him that their relationship was best kept private, and that if anyone found out he'd been sneaking around the castle 'above his station' there'd be hell to pay. Considering the strict rules keeping servants and sovereigns separate, Tommy agreed not to tell a soul. Well, other than Tubbo.
(It wasn't like he could keep Tubbo in the dark for long, with the young soldier sharing a dormitory with him. It was only on the morning after his third night with Wilbur was Tommy confronted by Tubbo.
"You've been sneaking out to see the prince?" Tubbo exclaimed, punching Tommy in the shoulder. "And you didn't invite me?"
"Ow! Lords, Tubbo. Your trainings have been paying off." Tommy groaned, rubbing his shoulder. It wasn't nearly as playful as a gesture now that he had the muscle to back it up. "It isn't like that. The prince merely chose me to be his friend. Said I was 'interesting' enough." Tommy waved his hand. "I'm sure the prince will tire of me eventually."
Tubbo hummed, rocking back and forth where he was sat on his bed. "Still, that's incredible." Suddenly, a devious smile crept onto his face. "You should leverage me a spot in the royal guard! With the fancy uniforms."
Now it was Tommy's turn to elbow his friend. Tubbo groaned in mock pain, toppling back into bed. "Jus' don't tell anyone, alright Tubbo? It's supposed to be a secret."
"Yes, yes. I get it." Tubbo grunts as he pulls himself back up to sit on his bed, locking eyes with Tommy. "Your secret's safe with me.")
So when Tommy is invited to the prince's room late one night, he doesn't think much of it. The night begins as they usually do, with the prince meeting Tommy at his door. It's a cooler night now that the winter months have been settling in, but the prince is still dressed down in his typical loose cotton shirt and pants. "I have something very interesting in store tonight." The prince grins, ruffling his hair as they set off. However, as Wilbur leads him into the private wing of the castle, Tommy starts to get a little nervous.
"Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" He asks, sticking close to his royal escort. The private wing of the castle was strictly reserved to the royal family and their few attendants. Just stepping foot in these halls could be considered treason against the crown.
"Of course you are. You're our dear younger brother." Wilbur chides him, pulling him along. Tommy severely doubts how good of a defense a joking pet name would be if challenged by the rest of the royal family. This deep in, he has no choice but to trust him.
They stop before a door at the end of the hall and Wilbur pushes him inside.
The room was massive, a four poster canopy bed against the far wall flanked by two big windows, their curtains pulled back to show off a starry night sky. Bookshelves lined the walls, with a table and chairs set up around a burning hearth. Above it, lit by the dancing flames, was a massive painting showing the royal family, captured forever on canvas. The two princes stand in the front bearing twin diadems, faces severe as they gaze outwards. Behind them are the king and queen consort, the king's outstretched black wings framing them all. The queen's smile demure as she gazed at her husband, who's hand was placed on the hilt of the sheathed sword at his hip.
The resemblance was like that of a looking glass, the painting capturing their likeness perfectly. It was honestly a little unnerving, having their unseeing eyes watching him.
But the date inscribed at the bottom of the embellished gold frame housing it… Tommy couldn't quite make it out in the dim light. Surely the portrait couldn't have been that old.
The sound of the door locking behind him pulls him out of his thoughts. A hand brushes at the small of his back as the prince guides him down into one of the plush armchairs before taking a seat across from him. Tommy snags a cookie off the table between them as he sinks back into the soft upholstery.
"Whatcha' wanna do?" He asks around a mouthful of cookie. "You go' any cool shit in here?"
"What, is our companionship not enough?"
"Mmm, you're boring. Technoblade is way cooler." He grins. Prince Technoblade had hung out with them a couple of times, but was more of the strong and silent type. Or maybe he was just a little awkward. He was nice enough, he'd even let Tommy touch his sword once.
"Ah!" Wilbur groans, clutching his heart in faux betrayal. "Betrayed by my own little brother. After all I've done for you."
Tommy finishes off his cookie instead of offering a response, wiping his fingers on his pants. They lapse into a comfortable quiet punctuated only by the faint crackle of the fire. Wilbur's room was so warm and comforting it was hard to stave off the sleep lightly tugging at him after such a long day of work, but he tries to keep himself awake.
"Have you ever thought about what happens after you die?" The prince whispers then, pensively looking up at the portrait hanging above them. His nails faintly scratch at the arm of the chair as he grips it.
His voice was loud in the quiet. Tommy watched the dim flickering light play with the shadows that surrounded them. "I'd rather not." he replies mildly. He doesn't want to think about death at all, actually. Not with so many other better things to occupy himself with.
"It's odd to think about, is it not?" The prince continues. "You have no family, no legacy. No one other than me. What happens if you die and there's nothing left of you?" Wilbur's gaze slides from the painting and onto him, sharp eyes pinning him to the back of the chair. Tommy squirms, kicking his feet. He hated when Wilbur hit him with his psychological bullshit. He couldn't deny the weight his words had on him though.
Surely he'd make a name for himself eventually. This was just a stepping stone before he carves his way into the world, with Tubbo hopefully by his side.
But what if Tubbo doesn't want to leave? A treacherous part of himself dares to ask. What if you're left to live as a servant forever?
"I 'unno." He shrugs. He glances around the room, eyes catching on the stars shining through the windows. Funny, how the sight of a drawn-back curtain was a little unnerving now. "'s not going to happen. I'm too big of a man for that."
Wilbur laughs. "I know. You're destined for greatness, with my help."
Something in Wilbur's words, a dark edge that sends a chill up Tommy's spine. The room is suddenly too hot, too stuffy. Tommy gets to his feet, an excuse to leave ready on his tongue but before he can even speak, Wilbur is standing before him, grabbing his hand.
"I want you to join me, Tommy. Join us." His voice has a manic edge to it. He gestures towards the painting of the royal family watching over them.
Tommy's eyes widen. "I— I'm not a royal, Wil." He squeaks. "Are you messing with me?"
"You can be. Do you want to?" He squeezes his hand gently, but it feels like a vise. "Technoblade likes you. Mother and Father seem to like you too, from what I've heard." He leads Tommy along to the window showing a sky full of stars over the few flickering lights still left burning in town. "I think they'd all like you too."
"Stop it Wil." Tommy grits out. He pulls his hand free from Wilbur's grip, taking a shaky step back and towards the door. "It isn't funny. What, you're going t' get the king to adopt some servant jus' because you said so? Stop fuckin' around." He take another step back as Wilbur turns to look at him.
"Why not?" Wilbur spits, words tumbling out of his mouth. "I can make it happen. It's my turn to bring someone new into the family. The only question is if you want me to."
"I— " Tommy's head hurts. He doesn't know what to say. This was insane. How did he get into this predicament? Of course he'd want to be a royal, who wouldn't? But—
His distress must show on his face because Wilbur backs off with a guilty look. He sits on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms.
"I'm sorry."
Shit, why does Tommy feel bad now?
"'s okay." He offers. Wilbur perks up at that. "Just give a man some space to breathe."
Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, which Tommy now knows is a nervous habit of his. "It's been so long since we've had fresh blood in the family." He starts to explain. "Dad chose Techno, Techno chose me." He laughs, a quiet, hollow, thing. "And now I want you."
"Damn." Is all he can think to say. "So your Dad jus' can't get it up or—"
Wilbur snorts and swats him but there's no heat behind it. "Quiet, you gremlin. I'm trying to be considerate." He says with a small smile. "But if you're willing to go through the…process… we'd be happy to have you."
"So you aren't lying? What about my—" Tommy knows how touchy Wilbur is about Tubbo, but he persists. "friend?" He asks as he tentatively sits on the bed beside him.
"Your friend?" Wilbur scoffs. "You don't have anyone but me." He says with an edge. A sharp one that Tommy knows well.
"Don't be a dick." Tommy grumbles, but doesn't back off. "Tubbo, my friend. I want him to be my personal guard." It's the least he can do for him.
"So you'll join me?" Wilbur says eagerly, ignoring his demands. At least, until Tommy gives him a stony glare. Wilbur stares at him for a second as he considers it. Finally, he rolls his eyes. "Fine." He sighs. "I can accept those terms."
"Alright. I think I'd be okay with… If you're not lying." Tommy lays back on the bed. Damn, it was soft. He could get used to this.
"I'm not."
"Okay." Tommy mumbles, more to himself than Wilbur. Was he really doing this? "Okay." He repeats, louder this time. "Do I need t' sign anything? Can I go back to my room first?"
"No. No, it's much easier than that." Wilbur seems hesitant, almost nervous as he stares down at him. His eyes flit between Tommy and the locked door before he stands and walks over to the windows. Tommy watches as he gently unties the curtains and pulls them over the windows, smothering the sky that was just barely starting to lighten with the dawn. Tommy lets out a yawn; tossing an arm over his eyes. It's been an exhausting night.
He hears carpeted footsteps approach, then feels the bed dip as Wilbur sits back down beside him.
"I knew I chose the right one." He hears Wilbur say under his breath. "Thank you, dear brother."
Then he feels two sharp pinpricks on the side of his throat. He flinches, a yelp dying in his throat as a burning pain blooms under his skin. Tommy groans, trying to pull away from the burning agony as much as he can. A gentle hand grabs the side of his head and holds him still.
His mind reels, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. Did something bite him?
He tries to thrash, to get away but his arms feel like lead where they laid on the bed. He feels another stinging pain, this time in the crook of his nape, and all he can manage is another breathless scream before merciful numbness seeps through him. The frantic beating of his heart fills his ears as he stares into the blurry darkness, then his eyes droop shut as he's swallowed by merciful oblivion.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
It was wonderful having a hatchling in the nest again. Phil gently pushed the door closed behind him, a fresh set of linens in his arms. Kristin waved him over from within the nest, while Wilber didn't even look up from where he sat, stock still next to his new brother.
"He has your hair." Kristin laughs, smoothing out the blanket next to her and inviting Phil over with a gentle pat. "Maybe we can say he's your bastard child." Phil groaned, setting the linens down on a nearby end table before settling down next to his wife. "As if they'd ever believe I'd be disloyal to you." He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it, sharp teeth ghosting against her skin. She snorts a laugh, bumping her shoulder against his. "Another mass enthralling, then? I'm still a little drained from Wilbur's a couple decades ago." She looks over to where Wilbur was sat in the center of their refuge.
"Mm, maybe I can do it this time. It shouldn't be as hard with the family resemblance." Phil mumbles against her wrist, a silent request. "Eat well, then." She grants right as the twinge of his fangs piercing her wrist follows. He's gentle, as he always is, as he gets his fill.
Kristin sighs, content. It was rare for her dear husband to drink from her, but he'd need the extra boost of energy if they were to be taking care of a hatchling. Wilbur's instincts were going to be fierce too, maybe worse than Technoblade's were.
Wilbur was sat next to his new brother, watching over him like some fallen guardian angel. His eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown in the hazy light. Techno had been the same way when Wilbur had joined them, keeping a watchful eye on his brother with his sword never leaving his side.
"Wilbur," she calls as her husband pulls away, licking his lips. Sated. "Can you pick up your brother for a second? We need to replace the sheets." He turns and stares at her for a moment, but eventually nods and gently picks up a curled up Tommy. The sheets he'd been on were soaked with sweat and spotted with blood, well overdue for a change. She and Phil make quick work of changing everything out, well practiced after their first two sons, and soon Wilbur gently places him back down and returns to his vigilant post.
Phil watched as the boy shivered and twitched in the nest of blankets and pillows. The process was never easy. He'd be here for about a month, maybe two if his teeth were slow to grow in. Technoblade will be taking over for them in the meantime, as least until Wilbur got a clear head again. His lips quirk into a smile. "I chose my most devoted soldier. He chose his favorite advisor. And now Wilbur chooses his favorite servant boy. Eventually we'll be hunting outside the castle." He muses.
"Eventually?" Kristin asks, "You forget your origins, dearest." Her husband laughs at that. "True."
Time is impossible to track within their dark domain. It moves at a snails pace and still, Phil catches himself wishing it had moved even slower as their hatchling grows into his new features. Wilbur snaps out of it a few weeks after the initial bite, and it only takes a single feeding from his mother to return him to his normal self. Technoblade eventually takes a liking to watching over their youngest once Tommy starts getting restless; reading to him as the youngest thrashed from the pain of his turning.
Tommy wakes with the melting snows of Winter, wheezing and shaking as all their boys did, once upon a time. "Please," he pleads, lips chapped and raw from the bite of now sharpened teeth. He doesn't know what he's begging for yet, but he's quick to bite into his brother's offered wrist with newly developed fangs.
"Theseus." Kristin christens him as he drinks. "Welcome home."