Pests

*Mykhol*

Mykhol closed the door behind him, the soft click making the nearby guards stiffen. The worn down hallway was thick with the night's humidity. The air dense with the scent of sweat and too many bodies packed too close. But even hot and tired, the guards were alert. Hands at their swords, as if ready to handle a rampaging Ana, lost in the throes of blood lust, ready to jump out at them.

How funny…The thought almost made Mykhol sneer. But he didn't. He couldn't. It felt hollow. Instead, there was a strange sensation churning in his chest, an emptiness sinking deep like a growing pit. He swallowed against it, but it refused to leave. Stubbornly clawing at his heart. 

Mocking him as he had to face it. 

Ana had turned away from him. 

Worse, she didn't even notice. Her face- so open and full of warmth- but for them. And all because of that blasted contraption. She was smiling. For those damn humans.

"What is he doing?" Someone whispered. 

Mykhol tensed. Only just noticing their stares. The guards were watching. The flickering candlelight cast shadows to shift across their gaping faces. Making them look like a flock of dumb sheep. Gawking at him.

And suddenly, all he could see was red. 

His fangs bared before he could stop himself. Hating the very idea that they caught him like this- caught him looking vulnerable- made his very blood boil.

"Idiots." he hissed, spinning on his heel. He needed to get away. Away from them and their prying eyes. Away from this wretched hall. Hells, away from this damned coutnry.

Gods damn Dawny! Damn its king. And damn his son. Why did they always have to interfere? 

This was supposed to be a week of quarantine. Ana was meant to be alone, separated from them. And he had been looking forward to it. Just the two of them, because lately, even a moment with her was becoming a fight to keep.

Just leave us alone. But even as he thought it, his gut twisted. He lingered, waiting, listening, expecting the door to burst open, and her voice to break through the quiet. 

'Your bleeding,' She would say, brows knitting in concern above her doe-like eyes. Already wet and shiny with concern.

 'Here, let's get a bandage,' Her delicate fingers would reach for him, intertwining with his. So small, so soft…he would curl his fingers around hers and…

"Ah," Mykhol winced at the burning pain. The glass shards had cut deeper than he thought. He uncurled his fingers, watching the wounds already starting to close. But slowly. Slowly. 

Mykhol stared at the door, waiting. Still, nothing.

"Why isn't she coming?" He muttered, lowering his hand.

Ana, did you forget me? 

"Did he get thrown out?" A guard whispered, barely suppressing a chuckle. 

Mykhol stiffened. The word stung like salt rubbed into a fresh wound. His fangs gleamed as he snarled low under his breath.

"Damn, dirty humans."

Damn them all. They had seen him like this. A fool pinning for attention.

Suppose Father and Mother could only see me now. Mykhol thought bitterly. They would be appalled.

But the sting in his chest refused to fade. It burrowed deeper, a slow, gnawing ache that tightened around his ribs, sinking into his bones. A sickly heat rushed through his veins-anger, sorrow, disappointment- twisting together in a tangled, choking knot.

And beneath it all…betrayl? Mykhol's brow furrowed at the thought, his pulse kicking against his throat.

Did Ana -

No, this isn't her fault. It's their's. 

It's those damn humans! Mykhol sneered. He had expected she'd be blind to them, to ignore them. To be his. But yet, once again, the humans had slithered their way in. 

But for the last time. Mykhol clenched his fist. 

Never again.

A commotion down the hall broke through his thoughts, then. Naska was returning from the kitchen, carrying a fresh cup of blood. 

"Outta the way."She bared her fangs, hips swaying with confidence, muslin dress brushing against her legs as she strode forward. The guards parted, but not without remarking.

"She's feisty, this one." 

"Watch out, she might bite." 

Mykhol's lips curled in disdain at the insult, but Naska didn't see it like that. Instead, to Mykhol's dismay, she thought she was intimidating. And threw up her head with pride.

Enough of this. He suddenly had no patience. For any of it. The guards' stares, the king and prince meddling, Ana's distraction-it all grated on him.

He needed a bath. Cool water to ease his temper. Wash away the stench of sweat. 

For Ana's sake. Not that she'd notice. She rarely paid attention to such things, much to his frustration.

He took a step away, but the movement caught Naska's attention.

"My lord!" 

Immediately, her expression shifted. She pulled the tray close, adjusting her posture to appear composed.

"Were you waiting for me?" She breathed, eyes wide, a note of excitement in her voice. She batted her lashes before plumping her lips. "That's so sweet- are you lonely without me?"

"Lonely?" Mykhol echoed, more amused than anything. The idea repulsed him. He hadn't thought of her once since she left.

"You took too long." His tone was sharp, and dismissive. Not in the mood for her charms, what few she had, none of which involved clothes. 

 Naska faltered. "I…I was just getting her Empress's food."

"I know." Mykhol barely acknowledged her, gaze shifting back to Ana's door.

She's not coming, Mykhol was finally accepting the fact. 

"My lord?" Naska, meanwhile, moved closer, sensing something off. "Has something happened?"

"Something?" Mykhol let out a dry laugh. "Yes. An infestation of pests."

Naska wrinkled her wide nose. "Pests? Like mice?"She glanced around, as if expecting rodents to scurry past.

"Worse." Mykhol's eyes flicked toward the guards. They were still listening. Still watching. Every word he spoke would be reported.

But to whom? Mykhol thought. Were they her men or his? Or a mix of both?

Not that it mattered. He had no interest in winning her favor. They didn't need to be friends-only to uphold their end of the bargain.

Something that seemed to be more her problem to handle, not his. 

Right now, all he wanted was his bath.

"Wait-" Naska grabbed his sleeve. "What about the pests?"

"You'll be fine," Mykhol smirked at the way her eyes widened, then pried her fingers off him. He was done here.

Without a word, he turned and strode off, slamming the door to his chambers behind him.

*Naska*

"M'lord?" Naska stared after him, baffled.

I thought he was lonely. So why had he left her behind?

Something must have happened. She glanced back at Ana's door, then clenched fists before pulling it back to the tray. He had stormed off again. Was he mad?

Did something happen between them?

"What was that?" A guard whispered nearby.

"I think they're fighting." 

"Fighting!?" 

Naska snapped her head toward the speaker, baring her fangs.

"You- keep your nose out of it." She spat, turning toward the door. She shoved it open, then kicked it shut behind her with a sharp BANG.

"I hate this damn country!" she muttered, reeling before turning to face the room only to freeze.

She's already up? Naska found Ana standing at the window. She had that funny little cup pressed to her ear.

What the hell is she doing? 

"Your Empress?" Naska prompted. 

"Shh, I can't hear them." Ana threw a finger to her lips, grinning as she remained focused on the window.

"Heh?" Naska didn't bother to lower her voice. Saw no reason to. But what did surprise her was Ana's expression.

She's smiling? Naska felt her eyes nearly pop out of her skull. What gives? Why was she- 

"Wait, hear who?" Naska glanced around the empty room. "How?"

"With the telegraph," Ana said, pointing to the cup. 

"A telo- what? " Naska had never heard of such a thing. 

"The hell's a tel-whatever?" She stepped closer without even bothering to set the tray down.

"What are you doing?" She stepped over Ana's shoulder- only to immediately reel back. 

People!- There are people below?

Cautiously, she moved in again. Sure enough, down below, she spotted the bearded king, that boy, and the giant queen. They were setting up something on the lawn, a square board divided into a black and white grid. Little pieces of different shapes lined up on each side. 

"What are they doing?" Naska toned. But Ana didn't hear the question. She looked exhausted, her thin brows furrowed together, as her full lips scowled and deepened the further she watched them. At last, breaking her to sigh.

 "Please, tell them to go to bed, Papa," Ana murmured into the cup. 

Papa? Naska blinked.

Her eyes darted downward again. To find the king right there. 

"Who are you-"

"Here," Ana motioned for Naska to come closer, lifting the cup so both could hear. 

Naska hesitated, then leaned in-only to be assaulted by the powerful scent- a strong dose of sandalwood, mixed with hints of sweetness. It was Ana's hair oil, unblocked by the usual covering of her scarf. 

Ugh, that damn smell. She couldn't help but scowl, the noxious smell flooding her senses. Instantly making her grimace.

"What am I supposed to-" Naska began to pull back, but then-

"I can't tell them anything, dear. They are beyond help." Came the king's voice.

Naska reeled.

"That- the hell?!" She stumbled back, scanning the room again. As if to find another source. But no one else was there.

"That thing can make voices?" 

"No, it carries sound over the cord," Ana explained quickly, then turned back to the cup.. 

"Seriously?" Naska murmured, finally putting down the tray. Listening as Ana continued speaking into the device. She was completely wrapped up in it.

At least it will keep her distracted, I guess. Naska shrugged, taking a seat. That meant she wouldn't be bothering Naska. 

Good. Things will be nice and quiet. Naska thought and moved to kick up her feet on the coffee table. Let her amuse herself with her little cup. As long as she stayed absorbed in it, she'd leave Naska alone.

And I can relax. But her ease didn't last as a Mykhol appeared in her mind.

Was that why he was in such a bad mood? 

If not something she did, then, her eyes drifted back to the petite girl. Ana was completely lost in her world, oblivious to her surroundings. Her silvery curls spiraling wildly down her back and shoulders, unbound or covered. Almost reaching her lower back now. 

Normally, she would go to great lengths to cover up the offensive color, but for the moment, it seemed to escape her attention. Completely unaware. A rare sight to see from the 12-year-old. 

Maybe it's good she's distracted.  The image of their feeding crossed Naska's mind.

Unwanted, but fresh- the image burned in her mind, vivid and unwelcome. Mykhol, tilting his head back, baring his throat without hesitation. The way he cradled Ana in his lap, his fingers curling around the back of her neck, guiding her closer. His half-lidded eyes, lips parted, breath shallow, cheeks flushed as if lost in some fevered haze.

But it was the look on his face, that was the most haunting. That quiet, unshaken contentment. As if he wanted this.

As if he wanted her…Naska's stomach twisted but forced the memory down. She never wanted to think about it again. 

Yes, some distance would be good. She agreed, reaching for a cup. The coffee was stone cold. But she drank it anyway. Tasting sour.

"Bleck," She grimaced but swallowed it down, then glanced at Ana again. She was still lost in her game. Completely distracted.

Good. Let's pray it stays that way. She took another sip, pulling the sour black water to sit and stain her tongue before swallowing.