"The bloodiest wars are not between nations, but between mothers."
— Old Iserath Chronicles
The manor was quieter than usual.
Which, in a House of vampires, meant latent danger.
Julius, five and a half years old, walked slowly through the corridors, escorted by a soft-stepping elven maid.
His childlike gaze did little to hide the sharp intelligence burning behind his crimson eyes.
He had learned to observe. To listen. To survive.
And today, the air of the manor smelled like a political storm.
Lady Sereïs had returned.
Her arrival had been heralded by ebony carriages pulled by giant bats, and a swarm of servants clad in pearl gray.
Everything in her stride spoke of power. Everything in her gestures whispered superiority.
Sereïs came from House Vaessira, older than Lady Lise's lineage.
Her blood was noble down to the bone.
Her gaze—sharper than a judge's blade.
And her belly... round.
She carried the other Iserath heir.
Julius had never seen his father smile as much as he did that day.
Not for him.
Not for Lise.
But for Sereïs.
She was the embodiment of everything the old vampires revered:
Chilling beauty, pure lineage, and ambitions veiled behind layers of grace.
And the very first look she gave Julius told him all he needed to know:
She did not love him.
She did not fear him.
She wanted to erase him.
That evening, in the Blood Throne Hall, a ceremony was held.
Officially: "Celebration of the Renewal of the Bloodline."
Unofficially: a silent duel between two queens without crowns.
Lady Lise, upright, dressed in deep black. An onyx necklace. A face carved from stone.
Lady Sereïs, radiant in a white gown embroidered with silver thread.
She wore gloves, but everyone could see her hand already closing around the future.
Julius, in between, seated on a smaller secondary throne, in silence.
He felt the stares. The tension. The murmurs.
And he understood.
It wasn't just a matter of blood.
It was a war of influence.
---
During the banquet, Sereïs approached him.
She smiled.
"Young Julius. They say you learn quickly."
He stared back. Said nothing.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I hope you come to understand… that there's a difference between intelligence… and legitimacy."
Then she walked away.
Slowly.
Without sound.
Like a knife you don't feel until it's already too late.
---
Later that night, in her chambers, Lady Lise looked at him for a long moment.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Because Julius, for the first time, spoke.
His voice was still small, but clear.
Not a cry. Not a stammer.
"She wants me gone."
Lise blinked slowly.
Then smiled.
"Then, my son… learn to become unforgettable."