Thread: The Truce (Nekrosilisk88 & darkangel76)

e manor's dungeon was dank and poorly lit. That didn't bother the young man currently residing there however. He was lithe and muscular, but scarcely the sculpted Adonis that so many tried to be. His strength was attained from hard work, not repeated motions to chisel out the perfect form in his flesh that so many would desire. He stat there cross legged on the cell floor, his manacled wrists resting against his knees as he meditated in prayer, silently mouthing The Lord's Prayer in Latin and counting off the beads on the gold rosary in his right hand. He'd been down here for four days now. Four days with thick hardened steel chains binding to the floor. Four arduaous days with silver resting against his skin, ready to cut and burn should he try and fight the hold of the prison. Four day as awaiting the judgment of the pack elders. For centuries the war had raged, and for the last decade he'd been a part of that fighting. Everyone else wanted the war to end. They wanted this truce with the vampires, but he could care less if there was ever peace in his life time. Six years ago, things might have been different, but now, now all he wanted was revenge. He wanted to kill the bastard that had butchered his mate, and watch him suffer, and smell terror as he was pulled limb from limb. Anyone fool enough to get in his way would pay the price. The elders however, couldn't have him loose. They knew the balance of this truce was precarious, and so did he. Still he didn't care. There was an echo of footsteps in the hall. He opened his hazel eyes, and rose, his solid frame rising to it's full height. He wasn't particularly tall, only five feet and eight inches, but the muscles that writhed under his skin and the sure way he walked made for an imposing sight. His dark blond hair hung over his shoulder in a loose braid. He could already smell the elders and knew the were coming to pass his sentence. He would most likely be given a death sentence since he could never let go of his thirst for vengeance, and they all knew that. He was prepared for it and watched with cold eyes as they gathered around his cell. The senior of the elders began, Jameson Rivers, It is the verdict of this council that you cannot go free. The threat you pose to the truce is to great. However, there is a choice for you. We will let you live and walk from this cell if you agree to bind the truce with a marriage to the representative the vampires have chosen from amongst their own. Jameson cast his cold eyes at his father, standing their with them. You'd condemn me to such torture. To share my life with one of those monsters? The bile in his deep and rich voice was obvious, and it made clear what he thought of the arrangement. His father shook his head. The council was ready to execute you boy. I had to to fight with them to get this much of a compromise. I love you and don't want to lose you. And God help us if the worst should happen we'll need you. Jameson shook his head. Fine, I'll marry the bitch. But when this charade is over, I'm not wasting anytime killing the bastard when I find him. When do we get this over with? He'd given his word now to honor the truce while it lasted as he knew it wouldn't, and the jailer unlocked the manacles on his wrist. He followed the council to prepare for the ceremony.