Dralan [On Hold]

One

Dohmenic

With a feral roar, the Dralan flipped the large table with all the maps and charts over. He stalked up to the Kathmir who in his servant robes looked to be shrinking under his icy stare. He seized the puny male by his throat and hoisted him into the air. "She did what?!"

The Kathmir begun struggling for his undeserved breath and started to turn red from efforts. "S-she slept w-with a Lathra! H-he was coy, m-my lord!"

Roaring again, he throttled the Kathmir into the wall, hearing his spine crack against the cobbled walls, but he did not care. He knew it wasn't the Kathmir's fault, but hunger and anger could do that to you. And desperation too.

After nearly two months of starvation, he had finally found a Mihr. A beautiful one at that. It had been a hard temptation to not just bed her like he would have any other Kischmir, if it wasn't because she held what he needed dearly; Pure blood. Untainted by the carnal impulses of a male.

He had been feeding from her for almost three months, keeping her in a locked perimeter to ensure her blood would remain pure. She had been a good Kischmir, she really had, but lately she had been flirting shamelessly with his Lathras, her important purpose getting to her head, making her think she held any status in his castle. She didn't. That didn't stop her or his Lathras from going for the prohibited, though.

Months of keeping her safe, unsoiled, away from temptation - wasted. One of his Lathras had gotten to her and taken her to his bed; He had tainted her blood with his impure scent and semen.

"Bring the Lathra to me," He growled to his Kathmir who was trying to pick himself up off the floor. "I'm going to deal with him by myself. Then call for Callath. Tell him I want him to expand his search for a new Mihr. No, not just one; Several. I need spares," The Dralan walked up to his window and glared out to his kingdom that was falling apart. "Loads of spares."

"Yes, my lord."

He heard the Kathmir shuffle out of his chambers, closing the solid wooden doors behind him. He was scared. They all were. And they should be.

As the Dralan gazed upon his crumbling kingdom, he wondered how it had gotten to this. His father had been a wise leader. So had his grandfather and his father before him. What had went wrong? Was he a failure as a Dralan or just a failure as a leader? He didn't understand, he had barely made any changes since his father departed this world. The only real change being that his Lathras had to pledge their allegiance to him with the token of their blood. The pledge sounded that any Lathra who went against their King in any way, defied him or disgruntled his path or will would get thrown to the mercy of The Blithesome Miss. He practiced the timocracy he had created above all else, and that was why strong measures were required when one broke that pledge.

"Forgive me for what I am about to do," He whispered to the dark night sky and the twinkling stars, hoping She was listening to him tonight. And then he reached for his dagger with the forged red blade, the one his father bestowed on him before his last breath. "If You care about me and the noble pure blood You put in my veins, You will grant me another Mihr. I put my good faith in You, Miss."

And then, as the knock on his door brought him back his anger and fury, he turned to the coy Lathra who nervously came in. "You wished to see me, my lord?"

He clenched the blade in his hand as the unknowing Lathra kneeled before him in obedience, bowing his head.

Forgive me, he thought one last time before wrath flooded his system and he lashed against the Lathra.