Vaughn screamed from the sudden ache in his stomach, His face moaned with excruciating pain, he could not believe something so vile could exist. “Maid! Maid!” He screamed. He had thought that this was an assassination attempt and instead of giving him a painless death, they wanted him to experience hell.

  He screamed and screamed yet no one came to his aid, maybe they were all against him. This was a plot against him.

  This is a plot. This is a plot. This is a plot.

  He repeated again and again in his mind, until it began staining with patches of darkness. His eyes teared as blood seeped from them, his screams ripped at the tissues of his throat until no voice but only his heaving breath and a little grain of hope at the back of his mind remained. As every pore of his body started dripping blood, slowly and slowly, he fell into a deep slumber of darkness, hugging his demise.

  And only one thought remained.

  I will kill them all.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Was it the rage inside him, or his will to live, that the thick sheet of darkness parted as a strong ray of light touched his face, blinding him. Suddenly, he felt cold, his eyes fought to flutter open, his hands numb — moved, blood rushed through them as if thousands of ants were walking through his veins.

  He felt weird.

  Unlike himself.

  “Prince, Prince. Young Prince — Young Master”, the young prince’s keeper shook this arm vigorously, trying to wake him up. The bed below Vaughn was wet, its sheets muddled around his body and the strong pungent smell of piss made him want to wretch.

  Slowly he tried opening his eyes awake, only to close them as light pricked his eyes.

  I am safe. Someone saved me. He thought joyously, before his mind wandered off to the different ways he would kill the people who conspired against him.

  But before them someone else needed to be dealt with. His hands grasped the wrist that had been bothering him, tightly. Almost with the intention to break it, yet it did not, something very unlike him —weakness. His body was weak.

  “You imprudent wench”, but not his temper as he glared at the shocked girl in front of him. He had never seen her nor had she tended to him before. Taking a handful of her raven black hair, he twisted it around his hand, earring a jeering scream as she reached to free herself from his hold.

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  “Maybe a lash or two won’t do for you, how about you gift me those hands instead.”, he sneered at the girl, scaring her more. The girl backed away in surprise.

  ”I-I am your keeper.”

  “Liar!”

  He yanked on her hair more, but this time she composed herself immediately before cracking his wrist a smooth chop with her other hand. Gripping his broken wrist with his hands he hissed painfully, A moan of desperation barely escaped his dry mouth.

  “Y-you. How dare you?” Was this her way of trying to catch his attention? He was the Emperor of Elmarst after all. Many women conspired, killed and sold their morals, just for a night with him.

  ”I will come back when you have calmed down.” The girl stood up, shoulder’s straight, head up as she left through the large double-wooden doors, not glancing a look back.

  Enraged by the act, Vaughn grabbed the silver pitcher from his side table and swung it toward the mirror stationed on the wall in front of him. Before the pitcher hit the mirror, Vaughn caught a glance — of a person sitting on his bed — a strange person looked back at him from the mirror, a confused look dawned on his face.

  Curious and confused, Vaughn stood from his bed, hissing from the pain that embedded his every joint and his now broken wrist, he limped towards the broken mirror.

  Picking up a broken shard carefully in his good hand, Vaughn looked at himself in the mirror. Yet, it wasn’t him. This was the Prince of Bastalia. If some storyteller had entertained him with this story a few days before, he would have hung him by his tongue in the streets of his Capital.. With his shaky hands, he slowly brought his soft and slender hands and touched his weak face. It was marred with several bruises, he touched the scar above his lips tightly, he hissed loudly as the pain spread from his wound.

  This is reality. He thought to himself. He had neither heard nor ha he seen this happen before.

  His eyes were shot red as the threads of his mind weaved the truth of his reality, he had somehow transmigrated into this feeble prince’s body. This body was weak —too weak. And from what intel he knew of Bastalia, he knew that the body of the prince he resided in, wasn’t in a great political position either. This man was born of the King of Bastalia and his dead 3rd wife — a Princess of a small and powerless kingdom. He had seen this prince at many events before, though he had never introduced himself. After all, he was a nobody. With only an empty title to his name, he was of no use to Vaughn. His Brother — his keeper, often nudged him to charm the powerless, to make use of their hunger for power —only if he has listened to his, he thought, he would know something about this prince.

  .

  .

  .

  He was drowning deep in his thoughts when the wooden doors, decorated with gold embroidery opened wide, revealing the girl who had called herself his keeper.

  She is going to protect me?

  The taste was almost bitter in his mouth.

  Only my brother is worthy of being my keeper and what keeper hurts their own master?

  He judged the girl with his dark brown eyes, running them from her raven black hair, her black eyes, her buttoned nose, perky lips, slender neck, flat chest, tiny waist, full hips, and long stallion legs. She looked nothing like a warrior, he thought to himself.

  Mio—his keeper, cleared her throat as a slight blush creeped her creamy cheeks, “I hope you are feeling well? Doctor Buri said the fall may have left you without any memory.”

  “Tell me more.”

  ”I am Mio. Your Keeper. You fell off the cliff while you were sent on a mission to take down the mud worm. I found you and brought you to safety.”

  ”Like you are supposed to.”, Vaughn spoke his words authoritatively.

  A mud worm? This fucker cannot even fight a mud worm? Vaughn thought angrily.

  ”You are more annoying than ever now, my prince.”

  Mio crossed her arms, she wasn’t backing down and neither was he. They both stared at each other, until Vaughn cracked the silence with a laugh.

  “I like you. You are strange.” , he laughed until his tone changed menacingly as he said his next words. “I could have you killed like this.” He snapped his finger. “Yet, you dare to run your mouth.”

  Mio’s face hardened as she processed his words. “I don’t think you are in the political position to lose any more of your allies, my prince.”

  Vaughn knew. He raised his eyebrow at her as he asked her, “The fall. Was it orchastered by someone?”

  “We keepers are not allowed to hold political thoughts, my prince. I must remind you if you are forgetting.” She continued, “But Bellator Annik is investigating the possibility.”

  The possibility. Vaughn revived the words in his mind. The possibility.

  “Who are our allies?”

  ”Me and Annik.”

  Fuck me. He cursed under his breath. What could this weak and flimsy prince have done to only have his Keeper and Bellator on his side?