Hell’s Consort

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Vampire King Apollyon

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He continued to explain in a steady lower-pitched voice. "Do you understand?"

Luna nodded as she clasped his hand tightly. "Yes, let us try it then."

Apollyon turned his left foot a bit, and Luna went along with his movement, dancing in the Balcony under the moonlight. 

The air was cool and crisp, mixed with the scent of pine trees as it floated in the breeze. 

Apollyon attempted to turn, and they had accomplished smooth fluid circles that would make the Consortium's headmistress in awe.

He and Luna had succeeded in their first try of dancing the waltz, and he had never been more proud of his Empress. 

"Good job, beautiful." Dropping his right arm, Apollyon released Luna and raised his left hand, and guided her forward to spin under them in a clockwise turn towards the left.

He continued with the dance step, returning to their original position. 

  "That's it!" Apollyon observed as he gave Luna some gentle head pats, amazed at his wife's many talents. "You are a fast learner."

He had taught her wife some of the most common dances in the Ball Room, such as Waltz, March, and Quadrille's basic steps in that particular order.

He wasn't inclined to teach the other Ball Room dances since they are more complicated than the three dances he had given lessons with.

Luna didn't have to dance a complete set.

Apollyon liked it that way so he can limit her interactions with the other Kings'. 

  He had enjoyed teaching her wife and practicing them with her in a much slower tempo, which made the scene more intimate as he can caress her and pull her body close to his without inhibition.

A few dance practices later, the Empress kept on stepping on the vamp of his shiny black shoes, smudging them with dust and dirt.

Pausing as he scowled at Luna's heels, he was sure that his wife had fully grasped all the steps properly.

As he examined her cheeky smile that showed the dimple on her left cheek when she peeked guiltily at him, Apollyon realized that his wife had done it on purpose to have a good laugh at his frustration.

His lips curved in both annoyance and amusement on his Empress' mischievous streak.

Sometimes, Apollyon didn't know if he should laugh at her antics or scold her for mocking the great King of the Vampire Realm, so he settled for shaking his head and smiling to himself on how ridiculous his Empress could be.

  Luna beamed at him as her body swayed naturally to the music, her skirts flowing like ripples of water. "Dancing is fun, husband." 

  She had danced so gracefully, indeed, and Apollyon didn't expect that from his wife. 

  "I don't really like dancing, my beloved. " Apollyon said as he continued to stare at his wife's peerless beauty openly. "I had danced a lot of royal court dances that I just got bored with it." 

  The Empress' face pained gaze settled on his, dropping both of her hands from his body and clasping them together. "You don't like dancing with me?"

  Apollyon tapped his foot to the beat of the music at the Ball Room and gave her a satisfied smile, "I can dance until the sun rises if it is  with you." 

+++ 

All of the Kings from the different Realms were provided with their own tables at the Masquerade Ball as the ladies from the Consortium had their pick on which King's table they would sit with.

This seating arrangement can also be seen as a discreet way to test the Kings' popularity for the Marriage Auction because the more favored they were by the women, the more options they have.

The more options they have, the more women they could bring to their Kingdom as wives and concubines.

As far as Apollyon's observation, the most admired King revered by most of the ladies from the Consortium was the Faerie Prince Aspen, followed by the Dragon King who had the audacity to ask for his Empress' hand for her First Waltz when Apollyon hadn't even danced with his wife yet.

His narrowed gaze settled for a few seconds on Draco's strong, masculine features, which was a huge contrast with Aspen, the Faerie Prince, before his eyes moved to the Werewolf King, Remus.

Remus must be the type of King who was loud, obnoxious, and arrogant. 

  Apollyon guessed that perhaps, that was a part of his charm for the ladies had gathered around him with sparkling eyes paired with bright smiles on their pretty faces, as the Werewolf King regaled them exciting tales about the battles he had won and the number of territories he had invaded through overpowering the savage tribes, pillaging and looting them of their resources.

Arching an eyebrow, Apollyon watched his excessive hand gestures in a pinched expression. 

He was the new King from the Werewolf Realm who had claimed the Sacred Valley for himself, which was considered the Valley of the Goddess Artemis.

If he had indeed made it his, then that was his problem if he had incurred the wrath of the Goddess of the Hunt.

Remus was probably a nobody before he had owned a vast territory.

The werewolf alpha had asked for an alliance a few weeks before the Blood Moon Banquet, and Apollyon had allowed it because it didn't really matter to him.

If the Werewolf King betrayed their alliance, it would be easy to kill him if he kept up with this character—predictable, bland, and too narcissistic to be conscious of others' motives and weaknesses. 

Remus was probably the type of King who relied on numbers, brute strength, and intimidation.

Apollyon's first impression of the werewolf the moment Remus had requested an audience and opened his mouth was that he would be a good chess piece in the game of royal politics but not an important one.

As long as the Werewolf King wouldn't do anything stupid, he would continue to indispensable.