----------

By the time midnight has fallen, the party is already at its peak.

The castle is decorated with candles and pastries of every kind. Banners cover the walls, greens, silvers, blues, whites, they reflect the colours of his nation, his people, his kingdom. They tell the stories of how brave the kings are, how noble their bloodline and how dashing their stories might be.

They give the men hope that Matvey will become a warrior like his father. They make the women swoon and giggle at the image of him on a horse, riding into battle with a sword raised high, armour shining bright beneath the sun as he takes a victory for their empire.

Sadly, they are all lies.

Matvey will never be the man his father is. He will never fight, he will never want to, and he will never push to. To Prince Matvey of the Belgorian Empire, life is to be spent sitting in a large, plush chair where women fawn over his charms and good looks and wait on him hand and foot.

Some realize he's a failure. Most don't. Riches and a monarch bloodline can make anyone believe anything.

But deep down, Matvey is indeed a failure to his people, his throne, and his father.

He simply does not care.

Seated in one of the three larger chairs upon a set stage, Matvey watches as the women and men mingle together below. They talk, their chatter filling the air, and dance to the music. A cheerful, yet soft tune is playing. Matvey almost wishes to dance, except all the ladies he's taken a turn with are busy batting their eyelashes at their husbands or men they wish were their husbands.

He is alone, aside from the guards. Alone in his wine sipping. And to be honest, he's okay with it.

After a few moments a familiar head of blond comes weaving through the laughter and gossip. A young boy, hardly sixteen, makes his way up the stairs to face Matvey. His robes are crisp white, clean, and he walks with an elegance reserved for a royal.

Matvey grins at the boy's appearance and stands. One of the maids appears to take his goblet from him. "Nikolai!" the prince crows.

The blond smiles back with less shine, but adorable all the same. Matvey wraps his arms around his cousin and plants a gentle kiss to the younger's forehead. "Kolya," Nikolai flusters at the pet name his family members have given him, "I'm glad you've finally arrived! Although you missed the best part of the gathering already."

"Sorry, Matka," Nikolai returns the nick-name favour and follows Matvey to the chairs, where the raven haired prince sits and motions to his cousin to continue suit. "The carriage did not follow the route originally set for it to your castle. We had to turn around and lost a good few hours over the journey."

"It doesn't matter." The maid brings Matvey his drink to him and he takes it with a polite smile and 'thank you' in her direction. She blushes, backing away quickly. "You're here now and that's what's important!"

Nikolai smiles. It's shy and tinged with an emotion that doesn't suit him. He seems quieter than usual. Sad.

Matvey stares hard at his cousin. His vivid blue eyes pierce the blond, searching, wanting to know the reason behind such an expression. When Nikolai meets his gaze, the younger instantly darts his gaze away.

"Kolya," Matvey dips his tone into a lower octave. He watches Nikolai tense. "What happened?"

"I..."

"Kolya."

"Your father took the southern part of the Elven lands," Nikolai blurts. "He and the army rode in during the night and slaughtered ten villages before stopping. They've forced the Kingdom to give up their land, and it now belongs to Belgor."

Matvey merely watches his cousin. Silence lifts between them. Then he sips at his goblet and leans back in his chair. So that was all it was. The murdering of thousands of elves bothered Nikolai. Sweet, tender Nikolai...

"That's good to hear," Matvey murmurs.

He knows Nikolai is looking at him. He can feel the boy's stare, heartbroken and yearning to hear someone say how wrong it is. How the killing of another race, simply because they are not human, is a terrible, disgusting deed. Nikolai needs to hear it. He needs to feel secure in knowing that what he believes in isn't totally lost on everybody.

But Matvey stays quiet. He sips his wine, watches the dancing, and waits for Nikolai to respond.

His cousin does, after awhile. His voice is shattered. "The surviving prisoners are coming tomorrow. Your father has sent for them to work in the castle."

Elven staff... How crude, Father. Matvey smiles. "Wonderful! I hope there are many gorgeous girls. I hear Elven women are the most beautiful creatures of all."

Nikolai watches him. Matvey turns his head to meet the boy's eye and smiles wider. "Yes, Kolya?"

"... nothing, Matka." Matvey faces the crowd, expression torn. As if inside his heart is bleeding out. "Nothing."

His sword laying at his feet Victor tried to not let his anger show. The others of the village knelt beside him their arms bound behind their backs like his, their weapons laying in front of them as well. The man who had lead the army slowly walked down the line of survivors stopping to look at a weapon or the elf that was behind it. Some of them he pointed to a wagon others he just left kneeling there. Victor could see the anger in the eyes of the elves around him. He would not show these humans that much contempt, they seem to enjoy beating it out of them.

As he thought that one of the elves nearby sprang to his feet to attack the man only to be thrown back down by one of his guards. The elf whimpered in pain, Victor had heard something snap when the man had hit him in the gut.

“well this is a nice blade.” The humans hand reached out and touched Bloodsong, Victors sword. Calming himself he did not move a muscle or show that he wanted to tear the man apart piece by piece. “never seen it’s make before.” The human pulled Bloodsong out of its sheath and looked it over. The blade was dark red, but not from the blood of the elves it had just killed. The human wiped it then raised his eyebrow. Looking down at Victor he lifted Victor’s chin with the tip of the blade. “where did you get this blade child.”

The man staggered back as Victor let just a spark of disgust and rage fill his eyes. “it was give to me by my father.” His voice was cold and flat of the feelings that he let show. The man’s eyes were growing larger with each moment. He tried to put Bloodsong back away but nicked himself before getting her back in. Victor smiled a cold smile, Bloodsong had to have blood before one could put her away. The man looked behind Victor to speak to some one behind him.

“I want this one collered and sent home. Some one will have fun braking him.” Victor smiled.

they think they can brake me do they? Well they will have another thing coming to them if they try. The elves tried to brake my family and clan for a lot long then they have been walking upright and we still are not broken. He thought as he watched the man walk down the row of elves Bloodsong now sitting oddly on his hip. Don’t get used to her, I will be back. He thought as something clicked around his neck and the world when black.

It is later, much later that Victor wakes and finds out that his sister was put to death by his own blade, he holds back the tears till every one else is asleep. They fall like pink jewels from his pail face, each one costing him little but pain. His only sister, the last of the line other then him, dead. Her child unborn never once seeing the light of day. His eyes swirling a pail violet, not that anyone will know or care about his eyes. He will make this man pay, if the man has a family he will make them pay for what the man did. He can feel his feeders drop but he pushing them back up. no one will know the truth of his breed but they will feel his teeth in their throats when he gets the chance.

It seemed like month to get to the place they were sending them, new slaves to work in any place they could find for them. He was going to be put to work doing hard labor if he guessed right. His warm brown hair, almost red was now filled with straw and maybe even lice he could not be sure. His clothes were rumpled and blood stained from not only the battle but his own tears. Now he had no more tears to shed, that man declared war, well a war he was going to get.

They were taken out of the wagon and lined up, the head of the servants here had them stripped and dressed in simple clothes. He did not morn the lost of the silk he had warn, those would come back in time. Most of the jewelry was gone already, deemed to valuable to let a captured slave wear. The man reached out and started to pull the simple silver loop from his ear. “I ask you don’t.” his voice was just loud enough that the man heard. The man laughed and looked back at the other servants that were there.

“and how will you…” his voice trailed off when he saw Victors eyes. Again they had changed they were a cold red, hard and unfeeling. He stepped back from Victor without thought his hand dropping to his side.