As it had been on so many nights before, this one unfolded with familiar ease. For most, the setting sun marked the end of the day, the quiet descent into evening. But for Lance, it was morning. His time to rise, his time to stir the king from his slumber.
It was not that the Blue-Eyed Vampire clan had any trouble enduring sunlight—no, their pale skin bore it without consequence. But their eyes, those striking, piercing blue irises, were cursed with sensitivity. Under the unrelenting glare of daylight, they suffered, retreating from its brilliance as if the very rays meant to strike them down.
Lance allowed the king ten more minutes of rest, well aware of the complaints that would surely come should he rouse him too soon. Naruto was nothing if not a pampered monarch, indulged and entitled in a way that would no doubt scandalize the human race.
But time, relentless as ever, moved swiftly, and soon the murmurs of arriving guests filled the grand halls of Akatsuki Castle. Voices, carried through the cavernous space, marked the arrival of dignitaries and courtiers alike. Straightening from his place against the cold stone wall, Lance cast one last glance at the towering double doors—majestic in their height, stretching nearly to the very ceiling—before striding toward them, his task now at hand.
"Your Majesty," Lance called, rapping twice upon the grand door. "I'm coming in."
Silence met his words, not so much as a murmur from within. With practiced caution, he rested a hand upon the hilt of his sword and pushed the heavy doors open.
Darkness welcomed him, yet his vision betrayed no obstacle. To him, the shadows were as clear as daylight. Moving forward, he navigated carefully, stepping around the scattered toys littering the floor. Why the king found such joy in them, Lance could not comprehend. But their presence was undeniable, strewn carelessly about, each one a hazard to the unwary.
Yet, Naruto cherished them. A peculiar fondness, perhaps unbecoming of a ruler, but it was not Lance's place to question. Whatever sentimental worth they held, he would not be the one to ruin them.
Navigating the obstacle-laden floor with practiced ease, Lance reached the window, lifting the heavy drapes. Moonlight poured into the room, its silvery glow settling upon golden hair, turning it to molten silver beneath its touch.
A groan cut through the silence. Naruto shifted, his wide blue eyes blinking sluggishly against the remnants of sleep. Rubbing at them in lazy defiance, he looked every bit the child he so often claimed not to be. Adorable, Lance thought, lips curling into an amused smile.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," he greeted, a hand pressed to his chest—the formal salute of a knight to his superior. Of course, he reserved this gesture for one man alone.
"Again, Lance?" Naruto muttered, voice still thick with sleep. "Did you stand guard outside my door all night?"
Lance neither confirmed nor denied the king's suspicions. Such questions were routine, the answers redundant. Instead, he merely inclined his head, his tone measured yet firm. "Your Majesty, the guests have begun to arrive. It is time you prepared."
The king regarded Lance for a long moment before exhaling heavily. "I have told you before, Lance—it is not your duty to guard me. The Negatives exist for that purpose. You should be at home with your wife. Do you truly wish for her to despise me further? She already believes I steal you away."
Lance merely smiled, unshaken. "No one could ever hate you, my king," he said simply. "And you had my loyalty long before she was even born. She cannot protest knowing I have sworn my life to you."
Naruto often spoke of Lance's family, his wife and children, as if attempting to stir some long-buried hesitation. But Lance would never waver. Perhaps Naruto feared abandonment, feared betrayal, even when such notions were unthinkable. How the king could believe anyone might forsake him, Lance would never understand. Naruto was beloved—cherished by all who dwelled in Elfim, even the humans who called this land their own. It was precisely why they had all gathered here today, eager to celebrate him.
Silence stretched between them until Lance cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, we must ready you for the party. You would not wish to keep your guests waiting—"
"Ah, ah," Naruto groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief respite. A heavy sigh left him before he reopened them, fixing Lance with a tired stare. The knight frowned.
"Remind me again why we are having this stupid party?"
"Your Majesty," Lance admonished, voice gentle yet firm. "This is a celebration in your honour—everyone is taking it quite seriously."
"Yes, yes," the king grumbled, his fingers lazily pushing aside the red blanket, embroidered with gold thread.
Lance, ever attentive, retrieved the royal slippers from beneath the bed and positioned them carefully on the small steps leading down. Naruto regarded him for a silent moment before allowing Lance to take hold of his small, pale feet and slip them on.
"Thank you, Lance," he murmured. "Now, fetch Joann—she'll see me properly dressed."
Descending the stairs, Naruto stood to his full height—impressive for one whose body bore the youthful frame of a twelve-year-old human. His golden hair lay pressed from sleep, yet his eyes—those impossibly brilliant blue eyes—shone as vividly as ever.
Lance knelt before him, offering a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Your Majesty."
Naruto grinned, his joy unguarded. "Thank you! Ha, I'll never quite get used to being known as five hundred years old," he laughed.
"And, of course," Lance mused, "you are much older than that."
Naruto nodded. "But this is good—for the people. Since I can't remember my actual birthday, it's only right that we celebrate something. Besides…" His grin widened mischievously. "I'm going to get plenty of gifts!"
Chuckling, he gestured at Lance, waving him off with a flourish. "Go on, now. I want to get dressed."
Seeing Naruto in high spirits brought a quiet relief to Lance, as though an unseen weight had slipped from his shoulders. These days, the king seemed lost within himself, locked away in his chambers without a word to anyone. The only pleasure he appeared to take was in those scattered toys—a strange comfort, but one he clung to nonetheless.
Perhaps this celebration would do him some good, force him into the world, among the living. It was not that Naruto was forbidden from leaving the castle, yet to be seen too often was improper. He was no ordinary ruler—he was revered, elevated to something greater than mortal men. And so, he remained within Akatsuki Castle, his presence a myth to many, a god to those who believed him so. He *was*.
Lance offered a small smile. "Yes, I will fetch Joann."
He stepped out into the corridor, where the young Negative awaited, her fellow attendants standing beside her. As always, they bowed their heads, their gazes never daring to meet his own.
"You may enter," Lance instructed. "Be quick."
"Yes, Your Excellency," Joann replied. Without hesitation, she and her retinue filed into the chamber, their heads still dutifully lowered.
They would see to the room's upkeep, despite the king's preference for leaving things untouched. It had already been three days since its last tending—Naruto's command. Any longer, Lance feared, and they might find themselves in trouble.
He leaned against the stone wall, settling in. Waiting had never been a burden, not for him. He had done it all his life—for Naruto, for his king. If Naruto so wished it, he would wait forever.
Dressed in regal finery befitting his station, Naruto emerged from his chambers. His ensemble was striking—a tailored white shirt with finely frilled sleeves, the fabric crisp and adorned with subtle embroidery. Over it, a deep crimson waistcoat, rich with silver-threaded patterns that shimmered in the dim light. His trousers, fitted yet comfortable, were of the same red hue, polished with subtle embellishments. A kingly mantle of velvet, lined with silver filigree and studded with beads of polished sapphire, draped across his shoulders, lending him an air of undeniable majesty.
As expected, he found Lance standing outside his door, his silver hair falling elegantly over one eye, his stance effortless yet sharp. He looked like the hero of one of Sasori's adventure novels—striking in appearance, unwavering in loyalty. An ideal knight.
Naruto met his gaze, a smile playing on his lips. "You were waiting for me again," he said.
"Of course. I wish to accompany you to the party, Your Majesty," Lance replied, standing straighter, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.
Naruto nodded. It was the answer he had anticipated. When would Lance accept that he did not need such close guarding? He was a General now, with responsibilities far beyond standing watch over Naruto. He had a life, a family. Yet, despite all of Naruto's attempts to set him free, the man refused to leave his side.
"Thank you," Naruto said at last. "Has the party begun?"
"Yes, the guests are all here, eager to see Your Majesty," Lance replied, his smile warm, pleased.
Naruto mirrored it, though his own was carefully practiced—an illusion perfected before the mirror, convincing enough to fool even Lance. The knight was watchful, always searching for signs of distress. It was why he lingered, why he remained. It was why Naruto, despite wishing for Lance's happiness elsewhere, found himself unable to truly push him away.
A king's life, even one as much a figurehead as Naruto's had become, was a heavy burden. The survival of the Blue-Eyed Vampire clan rested upon his shoulders. He could not afford disappointment, nor indulgence in fleeting whims. His desires—his wish to explore, to step beyond the castle's walls—had long been sacrificed. This was not what he had intended when he built the clan, but its growing influence had made escape impossible.
With each passing year, their numbers swelled, their reach extended. Humans and vampires alike sought refuge under his rule, and before he had realized it, he was king to an entire city. And kings, no matter how desperate their longing, could not simply leave.
It was hard to find joy in something that had become his gilded cage.
The strains of music swelled as they descended the spiraling staircase, its polished wooden railings gleaming beneath the flickering torchlight. Akatsuki Castle, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, had stood for nearly three centuries, its grandeur undeniable. The arched hallways stretched long and endless, a journey Naruto always found tedious—particularly beneath the weight of his jeweled crown, a gilded burden atop his head.
This was his birthday. His people had gathered once more to celebrate him, and he was expected to be joyful, radiant, as ever their beloved king. Yet, the feeling that clung to him, like a shadow creeping at his back, would not relent. A hollow ache pressed against his chest, making the mask he wore heavier than it had ever been. This emptiness was not new. It had lingered, festering, growing worse with each passing day.
He could not place the source of his unrest. The long hours spent alone, drifting between sleep and idle amusements, did little to soothe it. Even now, standing on the precipice of a celebration crafted in his honour, he felt no joy.
"Your Majesty?"
Naruto blinked, pulled from his thoughts. Lance's pale, sharp features hovered beside him, his frown laced with quiet concern. Had he lingered too long in silence?
"What is it, Lance?" Naruto asked, slipping into a practiced smile, his eyes curving in feigned ease.
"Is something amiss, Your Majesty?"
Naruto chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "No, no, I'm fine. You worry far too much, Lance. No wonder your wife is always complaining that you're ruining your good looks."
A puzzled, but not entirely distracted look crossed Lance's face. "Your Majesty, when did she complain to you?"
Naruto shook his head, brushing off the remark. "Forget it. It doesn't matter—we've arrived."
Ahead, the Negatives stood in silent vigil, poised before the grand double doors. At his glance, they moved in practiced unison, pushing them open.
A rush of sound. Music swelled, the brightness within blinding in its splendour.
Then, the trumpets sang his arrival.
Naruto spared Lance a fleeting smile before stepping into the grand chamber. At once, the music ceased, voices falling silent as every gaze turned upon him. Here, only the Fullbloods and select Positives had gathered—the Fullbloods distinguished by their striking blue eyes.
*Would be nice to see another colour for once,* Naruto mused, striding towards the stairway, where the red carpet stretched to the throne. The monotony of blue eyes had long worn thin. Still, he upheld his mask, offering a composed smile and a respectful nod as he passed.
So many unfamiliar faces—some smiling, others wearing expressions veiled in smugness and pride. Were these truly his people? He knew so little of them, barely recalling names or histories. Yet they stood before him, awaiting his presence as though they knew him intimately.
Maintaining his pleasant, practiced expression, Naruto ascended to the throne. On either side, the gilded seats of the Nines stood vacant—save for one occupant. Nashiki. As he approached, she rose, offering him a formal bow.
Naruto returned the gesture with a slight nod before turning to face the sea of blue-eyed guests. Their attire glittered in the light, their silks and jewels shimmering as they moved.
"You may continue," he waved, the air shifting once more. Conversation resumed, laughter and words spilling across the chamber, music blaring in renewed vigor.
Naruto exhaled and nearly dropped into his seat, only for Lance to swiftly place the royal stool beneath his feet. Apparently, it was unbecoming for a king's legs to dangle from his throne.
Naruto glanced at him, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Lance mirrored it effortlessly, settling into his usual place at Naruto's right—standing, always standing. The knight had long refused to take a seat among the Nines.
But where were the others? No matter how he searched the crowd, none revealed themselves. None but Lance and Nashiki had come.
Had they chosen not to attend?
Naruto sighed, the thought almost bringing a momentary glow of relief—until yet another trumpet sounded, its call sharp, ringing through the chamber.
He scoffed under his breath as their names were announced.
"His Excellency, Nagato. His Excellency, Yahiko. Her Excellency, Yoko. Her Excellency, Konan—arrive!"
The young bald Negative announced their entrance with practiced clarity, his voice ringing across the grand hall.
They entered in calculated formation, their steps crisp, their expressions poised in quiet arrogance. Adoration spilled from the lips of the gathered guests—whispers of reverence, admiration, and awe. Naruto curled his lips in faint distaste. *Since when did I create such insufferably proud people?*
The Nines walked as one, led by Nagato. The violet-haired man, ever composed, kept his gaze locked upon Naruto, his glasses obscuring any telltale flicker of emotion. He ignored the subtle attempts of admirers vying for even the briefest glance. *What does he want now?*
Lance, ever amused, chuckled. "Your Majesty, Nagato is rather displeased with you—something about your reluctance to handle the duties you've so generously delegated to him."
Naruto slumped further into his seat, groaning. "He's not about to give me grief over that *now*, is he? The four-eyed idiot ought to let it go already."
Lance laughed softly, prompting Naruto to shoot him a glare. He was serious, but it was already too late—the four had reached him.
"Your Majesty," they chorused, bowing in synchronized precision, their movements effortlessly led by Nagato. A man who, Naruto thought bitterly, carried himself with more kingly presence than Naruto himself ever could.
"Yahiko, Konan, Nagato, Yoko—you all look well," Naruto said, forcing a nervous smile.
"We *would* be much better," Nagato replied coolly, "if *Your Majesty* did not leave his duties so freely to others." His sharp, striking face remained unmoved by pleasantries, the edges of his tone firm.
Naruto pursed his lips. *So that's why you're here—to lecture me. Typical.*
Konan, ever gracious in manner, parted her purple-painted lips. "Yes, Your Majesty, and so do you." There was no false cheer, but Naruto knew she meant her words. Even without a smile, even with her ever-subdued demeanor, she was sincere.
"Happy birthday, Your Majesty."
Naruto inclined his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Konan."
He barely had a moment to retreat into his seat before Yoko was upon him—leaning forward, dangerously close, the fabric of her black kimono pressing against his space.
Naruto stared at her. "Yoko."
He'd play nice. For now. He wouldn't move. But if she tried anything—
She grabbed his face.
"Your Majesty, five hundred years and not a wrinkle upon you," Yoko purred, eyes alight with mischief. "You are truly the finest specimen of a man—absolute perfection. And those eyes, so—"
"Calm yourself, Yoko," Nagato interjected, his tone sharp. "Must you always treat His Majesty like some personal trinket? Or are you still planning to trade off his body parts?"
Though his words were edged with cynicism, Naruto felt a wave of gratitude. Nagato, mean-spirited as he was, had at least saved him from further indignity. His grip on the hem of Yoko's kimono was firm, holding her back from another unwelcome advance.
Naruto shot him a thankful smile.
Yoko, undeterred, merely pouted—a sight that sent a ripple of admiration through her devoted audience, their sighs and swooning glances proving how thoroughly bewitched they were. *If only they knew,* Naruto mused. *If they understood her unnerving fascination with human anatomy.*
"Ah, Yoko," he said, hastily steering the conversation away from morbid collections. "How have you been?"
Yoko's pout turned to a dazzling grin, her blue eyes shimmering as she leaned in. "Ah, Your Majesty, you care so deeply for me. Are you quite certain you aren't in love with me?" She fluttered her lashes. "Perhaps now you wish to be my husband?"
Naruto groaned inwardly. "No! I am quite sure that I *do not* wish to be your *twenty-eighth* husband."
She did this every time. Every single time.
"That's right—don't torment His Majesty, Yoko-sama," a voice teased, light with amusement.
At once, the crowd parted, shifting in eager anticipation as a figure emerged—a pink-haired beauty, seemingly no older than sixteen, yet carrying herself with effortless grace. A Nine, and one whose following exceeded even Yoko's.
All at once, eyes turned, voices hushed, attention locked upon her.
"Sakura!" Naruto leaned forward with a broad grin, laughter escaping him. "You came."
It was no secret that he favoured the young vampire—the newest member of the Nines. She had been one of his own creations, turned barely ten years ago.
"Of course I did," Sakura replied, waving to the crowd before turning back to him with a smile. "How are you, Your Majesty?"
"Just call me Naruto, I've told you already."
"Naruto-sama, happy birthday," she amended with a respectful bow.
Naruto shook his head but let it slide. Perhaps, in front of their guests, it was best to allow the formalities. After all, it was rare for the Nines and their king to be gathered in one place—each occupied with their own duties, rarely seen together in such a setting.
"You *should* consider marriage, though," Sakura continued, tone light yet insistent.
Naruto frowned slightly. "And why are you bringing *that* up?"
"There is little point," he said, sighing. "What purpose does marriage serve for a man who cannot have children?"
It was not that he had never thought of it, nor that he lacked interest in companionship—but the inability to produce heirs made the prospect feel hollow, meaningless. His son had carried that same curse, hadn't he?
"I see Sasori is not here today," Yahiko interjected, almost as though plucking the thought from Naruto's mind.
"Oh yes—your favourite," Yoko chimed in. "He never attends your birthday celebrations. It's already been four years since he left Akatsuki Castle."
"He won't come because I told him not to," Naruto replied evenly.
Sasori was off in pursuit of adventure, just as Naruto had wished. There had been no reason for both of them to remain within the confines of Akatsuki Castle. Through the toys and stories Sasori sent him, Naruto felt almost as though he were traveling alongside him—living his adventures by proxy.
"Eh," Yahiko muttered, sounding indifferent. "In that case, I think I'll mingle a bit."
The Nines took their seats, but two spaces remained vacant. Naruto's gaze lingered on them, his thoughts drifting to Deidara—the ever-present figure in Akatsuki Castle.
"Lance, where is Deidara?"
"He is on the mission, Your Majesty."
Mission. Naruto exhaled slowly. *Oh, yes. The mission.*
Every three years, he granted the vampires permission to hunt. They needed blood—there was no escaping that reality—but these days always left him with a heavy sorrow. *If only the Blue-Eyed Vampires were not vampires at all.*
The announcer barely spoke before the doors swung open, the pungent, unmistakable scent of fresh blood spilling into the grand hall. Instinct took hold. The air shifted as every vampire turned rigid, drawn to the intoxicating aroma.
Deidara strode forward, bowing with a sharp grin. "Your Majesty—the mission was successful."
Naruto did not return the expression. He never could. Not after the hunts.
He forced his voice steady. "Then—everyone—" His lips pressed together tightly, the words nearly lodging in his throat. "Enjoy the… *refreshments*."
A murmur of gratitude rippled through the crowd as they moved, filing towards the designated chamber—the Akatsuki feeding room. A place vast enough to accommodate many.
Naruto lowered his gaze. They did not look at him, nor did they need to. He could not reveal his sorrow—not here, not now.
Lance remained beside him, steadfast as always. But Naruto barely had the strength to meet his gaze, let alone mask the quiet anguish pressing against his chest.
Sakura was gone, claimed by the hunger that ruled her young form. She had followed the others without hesitation.
And Lance—watchful as he was—could not possibly *know* why Naruto stood so still. He could not *understand* the weight of what plagued him.
Ten years ago, Naruto would have been the first to enter that room. He would have feasted without thought, without hesitation.
Ten years ago, he had believed humans were nothing more than deceitful creatures, fit only to be hunted and consumed.
That was why the hunting rule existed.
But ten years ago—on a day that had changed everything—he had met a human.
And from that moment on, nothing had been the same.
"Lance, join them," Naruto said, his voice quiet, his gaze still lowered.
"No. I will stay with you," Lance replied, as Naruto had expected—had hoped.
A breath of relief passed through Naruto's lips, though the weight in his chest remained unchanged.
The distant murmurs, the shifting figures, the lingering scent of blood—all faded into the backdrop of his thoughts.
Yet Lance stayed.
As he always had.