The crowd shifted like a single living creature—
a ripple of whispers, bows, and sudden, rigid silence sweeping through the Banquet Hall.
Even Joseph, who still carried gaps in his memory like open wounds, felt it.
Power.
A presence so heavy it pressed against the air itself.
He didn’t need anyone to announce it.
He didn’t need memories to identify it.
His instincts, his blood, his very bones recognized the aura entering the hall.
The two elder children of the empire were back.
The first to appear was his sister—
Selene Valemont.
She moved through the parted crowd like a blade sliding from its sheath—silent, elegant, lethal. She wore a magnificent gown of deep, luminous crimson, the sweeping skirt fanning out in a voluminous pool that brushed the floor and was edged with intricate gold and black embroidery. The long-sleeved bodice was fiercely tailored, rising to a dramatic, stiffened high collar framing a plunging V-neckline, drawing all eyes to the contrast of her pale skin against the rich, heavily embroidered fabric. Her cold deep red eyes scanned the hall with a calm, regal authority that made nobles bow without thinking.
The second aura followed, brighter, steadier—
the warmth of a sun after days of storm.
Alistair Valemont.
The crown prince.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dark brown eyes, trimmed mid length black hair, wearing a knee-length navy greatcoat, whose rich fabric was dramatically accented by elaborate gold embroidery curling across the chest and waist. A plush, dark fur lining elevated the high collar, framing a stern, handsome face, while the right shoulder bore a heavy, decorative gold epaulet with chain detailing. Cinching the waist was a broad, ornate belt, completing the uniform before it flowed down over fitted dark trousers that disappeared into polished black riding boots, presenting an image of formidable, authoritative elegance. He carried himself with a knight’s dignity and a leader’s calm. His steps were controlled, deliberate, as if every movement carried meaning.
The siblings walked side by side, yet their energies were opposite:
Selene—sharp, cold, calculating.
Alistair—warm, composed, noble.
Even the chandeliers seemed to dim as they passed.
Joseph felt a tightness in his chest, not from fear… but from something strangely familiar.
Like his body remembered them even if his mind didn’t.
David exhaled beside him.
“Man… I forgot how intimidating those two are…”
Joseph didn’t respond.
Because right then, Selene Valemont’s presence swallowed the hall like frost crawling across glass.
She walked with absolute indifference—chin high, expression unreadable, her scarlet gown sweeping behind her like a trail of embers. Nobles bowed, some even lowered their heads to the floor, but Selene barely gave them a nod. Not respect—just enough acknowledgment to avoid being accused of ignoring royal courtesy.
Then—
her cold silver eyes slid toward Joseph.
It wasn’t an accident.
She saw him.
She recognized him.
For the briefest few seconds, their gazes locked.
Selene’s expression didn’t change.
No nod.
No greeting.
Not even the smallest twitch of reaction.
It was the kind of look one gives to a stranger…
or someone they prefer to pretend does not exist.
Meanwhile, walking beside her like a rising sun compared to her stormy night, Alistair moved with warm confidence. He smiled at nobles, thanked them for their greetings, exchanged short polite words, even placed a hand on a shoulder here and there.
Where Selene’s presence froze the hall—
Alistair’s lightened it.
As they moved forward down the long red carpet toward the throne, Alistair’s eyes wandered through the crowd—
until they found Joseph.
His steps slowed.
A brighter warmth touched his face.
He nodded—an unmistakable, gentle acknowledgement of Joseph’s presence.
Joseph swallowed hard.
At least someone in his family was happy to see him.
Selene and Alistair reached the foot of the throne stairs when suddenly—
“ANNOUNCING—HER MAJESTY, THE QUEEN!”
The guards’ voices boomed through the hall.
THUMP!
Their halberds slammed to the floor.
The entire banquet hall fell into instant, suffocating silence.
Every noble, every servant, every guard stepped aside, bowing deeply as the Queen appeared from the right-side entrance next to the throne.
She walked with perfect elegance—
white and gold robes trailing like flowing sunlight,
crown glistening under the chandeliers,
guards flanking her with synchronized steps.
Each click of her heels echoed through the hall—
CLACK… CLACK… CLACK…
authoritative, commanding, absolute.
She ascended the few steps to stand before the throne, turning her gaze down upon Selene and Alistair as if the rest of the hall did not exist.
A poised, serene smile touched her lips.
“It is an honor for me, and for this entire kingdom,” she declared, voice ringing clearly across the hall,
“to welcome back two gifted individuals—who have the strength and talent to lead this empire in the days to come.”
A wave of murmurs exploded immediately.
“Did she say two?”
“Is she ignoring Prince Joseph?”
“Isn’t Prince Joseph back? I thought he returned yesterday!”
“Wait what? Prince Joseph is back to kingdom?”
“So she’s already declaring the next heirs—?”
Joseph’s jaw tightened.
David whispered sharply, “She didn’t even mentioned Joseph.”
Thomas tensed.
Amayra clutched Joseph’s sleeve instinctively.
But the Queen continued smiling, blissfully unconcerned with the storm she had just dropped into the hall.
Or perhaps she enjoyed it.
However—
Before the whispers could rise further, a calm but firm voice cut through them like steel.
“I apologize, my Queen, for speaking out of turn.”
Alistair.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The hall fell silent again.
Even Selene’s eyes flicked sideways toward him.
Alistair stood tall, shoulders straight, gaze steady.
He turned slightly—just enough that his voice carried across the hall, reaching Joseph’s corner.
“But this kingdom does not have only two gifted individuals.”
The nobles gasped.
“What is the Crown Prince doing?”
“Is he questioning the Queen?”
“SHH! Quiet—listen!”
Alistair slowly lifted his chin.
“We are three siblings,” he said, voice firm, unwavering.
“And I believe we are all equally capable. This kingdom can trust any of us… for its future and safety.”
Amayra’s fingers tightened on Joseph’s sleeve even more.
David’s eyes widened. “What in the world is he doing…?”
Thomas breathed, “He’s indirectly challenging her narrative.”
The Queen’s smile froze—
still polite,
still gorgeous,
still deadly—
but no longer natural.
A deadly stillness seeped into the hall.
Like a crack spreading silently across glass, the atmosphere shifted—
sharp, fragile, dangerous.
Joseph could feel the Queen’s gaze sweep across the hall—
cold, calculating, razor-edged—
first toward Alistair…
…and then toward him.
Even across the distance, he felt it settle on him like a blade pressed against the throat.
The entire hall held its breath.
Every noble fought the instinct to step back.
Even the guards stiffened, hands unconsciously hovering closer to their weapons.
She blinked once—slow, controlled—and then turned her face to the crowd with a smile so perfect it was almost unnatural.
“Oh, how careless of me,” she said, her tone sweet enough to rot.
“I almost forgot! Prince Joseph has also returned to the kingdom. Everyone, please welcome our Prince Joseph… the youngest of all siblings.”
Her voice didn’t match the words.
The smile didn’t reach her eyes.
And the entire hall felt it.
Dozens of nobles turned sharply toward Joseph and his group.
Whispers burst like sparks.
David leaned slightly closer, smiling despite the tension as everyone looked towards them.
“I believe,” he murmured with a grin tight enough to hide nerves, “she hasn’t forgotten a single damn thing.”
Joseph huffed softly through his nose.
“Yes,” he muttered, nodding to David, Thomas, and Amayra as the crowd’s eyes swung toward him.
“She didn’t forget… anything.”
He lifted his chin and offered a polite nod toward the hall—
neither bowing too low nor smiling too wide.
“Okay then let’s start the banquet!” The Queen spoke, shifting the tension to ease. And the people start to enjoy the Banquet, but still somewhere the tension lingers.
Alistair Valemont—
the Crown Prince, the Sun of the Empire— stepped forward.
He descended the steps from the throne with slow, deliberate poise, his boots striking the marble with a steady rhythm.
Oxygen returned to the hall in thin, halting breaths. Voices hushed. Bows deepened.
Even the chandeliers seemed to glow a little brighter as he passed beneath them.
Alistair’s warm brown eyes never left Joseph’s corner.
Joseph felt his pulse hitch.
Not out of fear—
but from a strange sensation blooming in his chest.
Recognition.
Familiarity.
Warmth he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Even with his memories fractured…
some part of him knew this man.
Before Joseph could fully process it, Alistair reached him.
And with all the grace befitting a future king— Alistair smiled.
A real one.
Soft.
Genuine.
“Welcome home, little brother.”
The words struck Joseph like a wave.
Little brother.
The hall erupted in whispers.
“Did he say—little brother?”
“So the Crown Prince acknowledges Joseph as family?”
“What does that mean for succession—?”
“What about Queen—?”
Joseph swallowed, unable to speak for a heartbeat.
His lips parted. “Alistair…”
The name came out without any thought, felt both foreign and familiar on his tongue.
Alistair didn’t wait for hesitation.
He closed the distance and placed a firm, steadying hand on Joseph’s shoulder.
“You’ve grown,” Alistair said quietly, almost proudly.
“And… handsomer than before. I’m glad you returned safely.”
Joseph blinked rapidly—
emotion tightening his chest, climbing up his throat like something long-forgotten awakening inside him.
He managed a soft nod.
“Thank you… brother.”
Alistair’s expression warmed even further, relief flickering across his face—
as if he had been waiting centuries to hear Joseph call him that again.
Then his gaze shifted.
Toward Amayra.
She straightened instinctively, caught off guard by the full attention of the Crown Prince.
Alistair’s lips curled into a teasing smile.
“And who might you be, miss?” he asked lightly.
“My little brother’s girlfriend?”
The words hit the hall like a pebble dropped into still water.
Amayra’s face turned crimson instantly.
“N-No—C-Crown Prince… It’s… not… I’m not—w-we aren’t—!”
Her voice tripped over itself, panic blooming beautifully across her features.
Joseph’s eyes widened.
“What—? No—she’s not—”
But Alistair raised a calming hand, chuckling softly.
“Relax, miss,” he said gently, tone warm enough to melt stone.
“I know. I was simply teasing.”
Amayra exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping, still avoiding Joseph’s eyes as her cheeks remained pink.
David leaned toward Thomas.
“Damn… even the Crown Prince is teasing them now.”
Thomas murmured back, amused,
“He’s the only one brave enough to tease Joseph openly.”
Joseph gave his brother an exasperated look, but even he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Alistair clapped Joseph’s shoulder lightly.
“It is good,” he said quietly, “to see you surrounded by people who care for you.”
Warmth spread—soft, gentle, almost nostalgic.
A fleeting moment of peace.
A rare breath of comfort in the castle.
A sense of family.
But—
warmth never lasted long in the vampire court.
Because the temperature dropped.
Sharply.
A glacial presence closed in behind Alistair.
Selene Valemont.
She stepped beside her brother as if summoned by the cold itself.
The air tightened.
Her crimson gown whispered across the marble like a warning.
Her deep red eyes swept over Joseph without blinking—cold, analytical, cruelly calm.
There was no warmth here.
No recognition.
No welcome.
Just silent judgment.
She looked at Joseph the way one inspects a crack in a flawless mirror—
with irritation…
and just a hint of disgust.
Alistair stepped slightly aside, giving her room.
Selene and Joseph now faced each other fully.
The hall waited, breath suspended.
Selene raised her chin a fraction.
“Prince Joseph,” she said evenly, as if addressing a stranger at court,
“welcome back to the kingdom.”
Polite words. But her tone?
A blade.
Sheathed, yet eager to cut.
Joseph straightened subtly, meeting her gaze.
“…Sister.”
The corner of Selene’s lips twitched—
not into a smile,
but into something colder.
A restrained scoff hidden beneath perfect etiquette.
“Hmm. You remember titles well enough, I see.”
Alistair shot her a warning look.
“Selene—”
But she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I do hope,” she said smoothly, “your… return does not bring unnecessary complications to the kingdom.”
The hall gasped.
David muttered under his breath,
“Oh great. The ice queen speaks.”
Thomas subtly moved closer to Joseph— protective, ready.
Amayra’s fingers gripped Joseph’s sleeve again, tight.
Joseph inhaled slowly through his nose.
Selene’s hostility wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t even masked.
It was direct, sharp, poisonous… and Joseph had no idea why.
Because his memory didn’t stretch back far enough to understand her hatred.
Still— he refused to look away.
“I have no intention,” Joseph replied calmly, “of bringing complications to anyone.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed a degree.
“Let us hope,” she answered coolly,
“that your intentions are enough.”
Another blade hidden in etiquette.
The tension between them curled like smoke tightening around the hall.
But then—
Alistair stepped between them.
Not touching, not forceful—
just enough to break the invisible storm.
“Selene,” he murmured, “that’s enough for today.”
Selene said nothing.
She merely turned her gaze away—
as if the conversation beneath her.
Her gown swept behind her as she moved toward the throne again.
The hall exhaled collectively.
Joseph released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Alistair gave him a sympathetic glance.
“Don’t mind her,” he said softly. “Selene… believes many things that are… not true.”
Joseph looked down briefly, jaw tightening.
“I… don’t remember what she believes.”
Alistair’s expression softened. He knows about the sealed memories.
“Then I will help you remember.”
Those words—
warm, steady, sincere—
landed deep inside Joseph, somewhere fragile.
He nodded once.
“Thank you… brother.”
Alistair’s smile returned. And he spoke with a little humour.
“Come. The banquet has already begun. Stay close—I doubt Mother will let this night pass quietly.”
A small, humourless exhale escaped Joseph.
“Somehow… I already sensed that.”
As they walked together toward the centre of hall— Alistair on his left,
Amayra on his right, Thomas and David behind him—
Joseph felt it.
For the first time since returning to this cursed place—
He wasn’t alone.
But far above them, standing upon the throne platform,
Queen Valeria watched the scene with a gaze sharpened by fury.
Selene stood at her side, stiff.
The Queen’s whisper was soft.
“Did you see it, Selene…? Even now, he tries to steal what is ours.”
Selene’s jaw tightened.
And darkness coiled behind her eyes.
To be continued...
An unexpected ally — a brother who stands to protect ??
Jealousy and anger stirring between siblings ??
And this… is only the beginning ??
