"Anwyll?"

I looked down at Ambrose and noticed his crimson gaze. "Daviel?"

He smirked at me. "That's correct, my little wolf. What were you doing back here?"

"I don't know, but I had noticed that the old woman had disappeared into the castle before this commotion started. I wondered what she was up to and followed her once I had a chance, then she demanded I try to defeat her and attain that wolf over there." I stated, pointing with my bloodied talons.

Daviel gripped his chin and stared at the smushed woman on the stone floor of the castle. "Anwyll, I believe this gathering was to discover a worthy king to lead the coven. This woman, I believe, was a descendant of the twelfth princess in Ostiria. The twelfth princess was born to the fourth-favored concubine of the king so she had no proper right to the throne. Ambrose did not slay her for she was not in the capital the day he was sentenced to death."

I shifted back and hugged Daviel's hips, then he petted my hair and wolf ears. "So the descendant really was looking for someone to take over for her?"

"I believe so. Did you experience anything odd when she died?"

I nodded. "My body was tingly and kind of energized."

Daviel brushed the hair off my forehead and his eyes eidened. "To think that old, weak hag would choose you, Anwyll. She must have been desperate."

I pouted. "Are you saying I'm not good enough?"

Daviel picked me up and cuddled me into his side, peppering my face with tiny kisses. "No, my little Anwyll, that was not what I meant. A coven leader has always been a vampire. That's what a coven is; a group of vampires. And for a vampire of royalty to choose an outsider—a hybrid of wolf and dragon—to lead the vampires...she must have seen something in you."

I hummed, inflating and deflating my cheeks while my tail swished lazily against Daviel's front. "I don't want to bother with leading the bastards that hurt you and Ambrose, so I would like to transfer the position to someone else."

Daviel cuddled me closer and kissed my forehead. "You are far too adorable, Anwyll. In any case, let us just wait until we can come across a good candidate."

"Mm, if you say so." I mumbled into his shoulder, closing my eyes for a moment.

I heard a weird sound and my attention focused on the wolf from before. It had collapsed next to us, yet I felt no empathy for it or sympathy towards it. It was strange and it gave me a weird feeling. I decided to test something out.

"What are you doing?" asked Daviel, and I shook my head.

He hummed and kissed the ears of mine he could reach as I stretched out my hand. The illusion on the wolf dropped and something clanged onto the floor. Daviel inhaled sharply.

"No," he breathed. "It could not be."

I blinked and rubbed my head on Daviel's chin. "Let's leave, Daviel."

He ignored me and approached the sword on the floor. It began to vibrate as he got closer, then it skittered away from him when he reached for it. Daviel set my feet on the floor and I tiredly yawned, gently rubbing my eyes. It was bedtime and, with all the excitement today, I needed my sleep.

My ears perked when the sword began moving towards me. Daviel crouched down behind me and watched as I carefully took hold of the comfortable silver-colored grip. I couldn't figure out what material it was made of, unfortunately. It didn't seem to slip at all even when I loosened my fingers from around it. It was like the sword planned to stick with me. I quirked my lips to the side, but I couldn't deny that it had a beautiful blade.

"You seemed to know what this was, Daviel. What is it other than a sword?"

Daviel sighed and raked a hand through his thick black hair. "That is the first sword that was made to withstand attacks and absorb magic with each blow. Ambrose's swords are similar, but this sword is of a different caliber. It was said that our first king forged this blade himself with a special kind of magic now lost to our kind."

I hummed and looked over the nearly clear blade. Other than a purplish-hued silver core strip, the blade appeared to be made of glass.

"It looks fragile."

"Like you."

"Which means looks can be deceiving." I said with a grin, but then looked down at the sword again. "Is it attracted to royalty? I'm not any kind of nobility either, though."

Daviel chuckled and ruffled my hair. "No, my little Anwyll. It responds to those with a greater mana pool than itself. It also appears to have its own free will, and it was clear that the princess wasn't worthy to wield it."

I imagined a simple gray and purple-accented scabbard and presented it to the sword. "Is this good?"

The sword zipped inside and I stored it away inside my unlimited, invisible storage box just as several vampires cautiously came forward. Daviel kept petting my ears and hair, so I felt really relaxed and comfortable.

"Is our queen done?" asked a softspoken woman. "What was she here for?"

"To find a suitable king to rule the vampires." rumbled Daviel, then he turned us around and pushed back my hair.

The shaky-legged vampires dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor. They began to chant in a weird combined voice, but I was already so sleepy.

It was Ambrose that carefully cuddled me into his side as I began to drift off. He gently kissed my head and lightly bounced my exhausted form. I nuzzled his jawline and gently kissed his cheek.

"Nighty-night, Rose." I mumbled. "Love you."

Ambrose hugged me tighter, his response more audible this time. "Love you, too."

__________________________

I held Ambrose's hand, swinging it while we walked down the sidewalk in a town about thirty miles east of the barrier of the other realm where vampires had hidden their kingdom. I was bundled up like a marshmallow, which made Ambrose laugh after I told him, and then he proceeded to kiss my face until I whined for him to stop.

After last night's shocking series of events, we slept in the woods outside of the kingdom despite the eager, greedy vampires wanting to gain my favor by inviting us over to sleep with them.

I looked up at my regal vampire and he noticed my gaze. "What is it?"

"Cuddles?" I asked, reaching up for him. "Please?"

The apples of Ambrose's porcelain cheeks flushed a light rosy color as he lifted me and cuddled my form into his left side. I hugged him and my tail whipped side to side, which made Ambrose chuckle lightly.

"Are you pleased, little wolf?"

I giggled. "Gee, Rose, I thought that was obvious."

His skin warmed up a bit more when I pressed my lips to his cheekbone. "It was, but I just wanted to be completely certain of it. Do you have any questions for me?"

I hummed and rested my right cheek on his left shoulder. "Well, why was the sword bound in the illusion of an old wolf in chains?"

Ambrose kissed my head as he cupped the back of it. "Because it is an ancient artifact worth tens of millions—hundreds of millions to the right vampire—due to what it is, how it was made, and what it is capable of as a sword. The illusion had been fabricated with multiple layers of magic to delude greedy fools into turning their heads away from the sword in disgust—for all they saw was a bony wolf that was captured as a prize to trot around in its youth."

"Huh," I hummed. "Was it to protect the sword or the civilians?"

"Both," he responded firmly. "The sword is powerful for a number of reasons, but one is that it has its own free will to choose its wielder. It will be too heavy to move with any kind of strength if there is someone it dislikes or views as unworthy. What did it feel like to lift the sword, little wolf?"

"Light and airy, yet it gave me the impression that it could get much heavier if I wanted it to." I explained, and I noticed a pleased smirk curling Ambrose's lips.

"Then it has truly accepted you as its master." stated Ambrose, then he gently kissed my head as he exhaled. "How fitting."

"What?" I murmured, but did my best to snuggle even closer to Ambrose. "Say, Rose, how can I lift off the reward on your head?"

Ambrose was quiet for a bit, then patted my head. "Just be as you are, thus a path will make itself. I am pleased you are with me, Anwyll."

"Agreed!" I grinned. "I am very pleased to be with you too, Rose."

He took me down the streets, letting me window shop. I was quite amazed that he was so patient and forgiving with each stop we made to look in a window. Although I believe it was because Ambrose just didn't care as long as he was holding me. With that thought in mind, I kissed his cheek again. Ambrose rubbed between my shoulder blades with his thumb, since his right hand was across my back and curled around my left side.

"Does the sword have a title?" I asked, and Ambrose tipped his head with a curious expression. I clarified, "Every masterpiece that an artist or a professional makes has a name or a title. So I wondered if the sword had one as well because you said it was the first of its kind, it's powerful, and it's worth millions."

Ambrose pressed his lips to my forehead. I tucked my head under his chin and snuggled in, which caused a pleased rumble start in his chest. That could have come from Daviel, though.

"Yes, little wolf, the sword has its own title." murmured Ambrose, then whispered into my available wolf ear, "The Wolf's Requiem."

"Why that title?" I asked curiously. "Are the myths true about werewolves and vampires not getting along?"

Ambrose shook his head. "Not fully. In part, yes, because every nonhuman race has its issues with others, not just within their own clans, tribes, monarchies, and so forth."

"Makes sense. Just like humans, they would fight almost constantly instead of peacefully giving opinions and thinking through things logically and realistically." I chuckled. "Although I suppose no one—human or nonhuman—think through those things either if they get heated up."

Ambrose solemnly nodded, so my smile faded. He used his insane speed and disappeared from the sidewalk to find a small park and find a seat there. My butt was moved to sit in his lap rather than against his hip, so I was happy to be able to cuddle with him some more.

My vampire curled his arms around my form and cupped my head again. "The reason why the first king created this sword is a tragic one. It was not meant to be valued so highly because it fundamentally meant more to the king than of monetary means to his subjects."

My heart pounded in sadness. "Did that king have a queen?"

A slow sigh rolled out of Ambrose's chest as he nodded. "The first king loved his queen with all his heart. He devoted his life to her and defended the kingdom as he could. He was the only truly pure-hearted king we had since the beginning of vampire monarchy—he was the beginning. His wife was uncomfortable with all vampires excluding her husband because of her love for him, but she was hated by the kingdom for her bloodline."

My heart sunk. "A werewolf?"

"Yes, of royal bloodline but still a wolf. The king worked hard to keep her safe in the inner sanctum of the castle, but skilled mercenaries came in and murdered her in her sleep while the king was speaking to his subjects. When he learned of his queen's death and his fellow vampires' betrayal, the king went into hiding and began to create a sword that would respond to his will with his own, just like his queen. He made it with her in mind and formed its blade to appear fragile, but strong in the face of danger like his queen would often be.

"He created the sword as a tribute to the queen he lost and then slew the villainous vampires that conspired against his queen and made the order for the mercenaries. The mercenaries themselves had their arms chopped off so they could no longer work for evil." he finished, and I wiped a stray tear.

"I understand now why he gave the sword that name. It was made with his blood, sweat, and tears to avenge his precious queen. And with each slice, it likely sang her requiem."

Ambrose kissed my head. "Yes, that is correct."

After we rested a bit more, Ambrose carried me to a pleasant cafe to get a quick bite. He was hungry for something else from the way he was eyeing my neck, but I needed sustenance first. As we entered, several patrons and the woman behind the cash register stiffened. I frowned but thought nothing of it until someone stepped between us and the counter before we could order.

"We don't serve your kind here," stated the older man. "Get out."

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. "Do not worry, young one, you do not have to serve my kind. This little one is hungry."

The old man's eyes dropped to me and my ears flicked. "A wolf?"

I grinned. "Kinda."

He leaned in and Ambrose was about to move back when we heard the man's sharp inhale. "Y-you are Makayla's son!"

My face paled and vomit rose to my throat at the thought of my mother. I made a small plastic cup appear to vomit into. Ambrose was stunned by my reaction, but he rubbed my back while I coughed. I made the cup disappear and I used magic to clean my mouth.

Wiping my eyes and rubbing my face, I looked back at the shocked old man. "H-how do you know her?"

"She's my granddaughter." he stated, then looked around at the curious people. "Come with me, we must speak elsewhere."

I felt hesitant, but Ambrose was with me, so I was relaxed enough to agree. The old man led us to a back room of the cafe and took a seat on the black patterned sofa. He offered the chairs across from him but frowned when Ambrose sat down with me in his lap.

"How's your father doing?" asked the old man. I was about to answer when he continued, "I hope you've found him after the one-night stand she had with him."

My face paled. "Is he a werewolf?"

The old man sat back with a prideful smirk. "No, not at all. You should feel proud. He's a giant black dragon hybrid of the Arcane Clan, known as Fenrir, the only dragon-wolf in existence."

Ambrose's shock mixed with mine as I zoned out. My daddy, Alexandre, isn't blood-related at all? That can't be!