The Extra Wants Control

In the chamber of silence was heavy between Verona and the black haired man. The two imposing black coffins stood placed on the stone altars, surfaces reflecting the flickering flames of torches lining the room which were lit by Verona.

In the center, a small ice table shimmered, conjured by Verona with a flick of her wrist. Two etched ice wine glasses, they were thin and cool, with small frosts forming on the tips.

Verona knelt on the floor sitting in a seiza position, since she wore a long dress with long sleeves she rolled up her sleeves as she held the glasses.

The man, his long black hair tied with handsome framed a face looking youthful sat with his legs crossed opposite Verona and close to the table. Verona then conjured two bottles of wine.

"You can have some, right?" Verona offered, her voice cool.

A humorless chuckle escaped the man's lips. "The gesture is appreciated, Verona. though I suspect it'll disappearbefore it touches my throat."

" Right... It's about the gesture... " Said Verona pouring the black haired man a drink on his wine glass.

" I feel like you are pouring libations." Said the man trying to make the mood light but Verona just nodded her head in silent acknowledgement.

They sat in silence for a time, the only sound the quiet clinking of the wine bottle head against glasses as they refilled their wines. Finally, the man spoke.

"How have you fared, Verona?" His voice held heavy with concern as he looked right in her eyes with a solemn look.

Verona's response was short. "Good." The single word offered no room for further inquiry and the room fell into awkward silence.

He cleared his throat, then hesitantly brought up the name that hung heavy in the air. "And that brat... Neveah I think? Your… blood kin. When are you planning on getting a real son."

The emphasis on "blood kin" and ' real' hung in the air, a silent challenge. Verona just silently sipped her wine and said. "Neveah is my 'real' son," she stated, her voice firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"An outsider nonetheless, he isn't like us" the man countered, his voice taking on a hard edge.

Verona slammed her goblet down on the table, the loud impact echoing in the almost empty chamber. Refilling her glass with a slow movement, she met his gaze head-on fiercely. She finally showed emotion.

"Real," she said her tone heavy and authoritative leaving no room for arguments. "Neveah is my real son. He's no outsider"

Silence descended once more, this time thicker and more oppressive than before.

The reunion of father and daughter was anything but warm and wholesome.

After an awkward amount of silence and a not so hidden standoff between Verona and the Man, she cleared her throat and began her gaze never leaving the man who now had a frown on his face.

"Tell me," she demanded, her voice a low growl, "what are your plans for my son?"

The man, raised an eyebrow. "What are you..." he started, but couldn't finish off as Verona raised a hand, silencing him with a gesture.

"I haven't time for games," Verona snapped, her voice laced with ice. "Speak plainly and ever so clearly"

"Little Ver…" he began.

"Don't play coy with me, and don't call me that again" Verona interrupted, a dangerous tone creeping into her voice. "That's not something you can do... Not anymore more..." Her voice trailed off.

"Will he be harmed?" she pressed, her crimson gaze boring into his.

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The man shifted and sighed. "I… I don't know, that depends on him" he said, his voice resolute.

Verona's lips thinned into a hard line. "Don't know?" she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You are tampering with hi., his very essence by changing him into something, Don't think I don't know, and now you claim ignorance of the consequences saying you don't know? I think you know very well..."

"It's not that simple, little Ver…" he started, attempting to placate her.

The nickname sent a jolt of rage through Verona.

"I said," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Never call me that again." Her tone and gaze dangerously cold

The man of course wasn't bothered because of plenty of reasons, one, he was dead and even if ge was alive and Verona did attack him, he was confident to come out unscathed...

Verona watched the man shrug off her warning with annoyance.

" What are you making him into. Do you plan on using him then disposing him?"

" That's not for you to know." Said the man.

"You want to make sacrifices for the greater good, a necessary evil you call it," she began, her voice calm amidst the storm. "I've been thinking… is that what happened with Mom? Was she one of..."

Suddenly the aur became heavy with pressure and the man's hair began to levitate... Crackling sounds were heard not only from the now breaking table, bottle and glasses even the air itself was crackling. Yet... Verona was unfazed she just looked at him, and sipped her wine while closing her eyes.

While the man said in rage,"Why you insolent…" he snarled, his voice strained. "Never in your existence ever say that again... I outta…"

Then the heavy presence was gone. He then stopped himself, the anger replaced by a very deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Verona," he said, his voice softening considerably. "I'm sorry. I loved her – never think like that again." He said his eyes showing sadness.

Verona remained impassive. She seemed like didn't hear nor care what he said and just continued"I'll ask again," she stated, her voice cold, "what are your plans for my son?"

The man then sighed and answered, "He is to be groomed,"he said.

" Groomed for what?" Asked Verona.

A tense silence stretched between them. Finally it clicked, then Verona spoke, her heavy with growing rage, "Into a weapon... isn't that right?"

The man remained silent... yet his silence spoke volumes.

Verona her rage barely contained. "Are you trying to pit him against the gods... Your enemies?" she yelled.

The man remained stoic, his expression unreadable. "That shouldn't concern you," he stated coldly.

Verona then yelled, "Like hell it doesn't!" she roared, her voice vibrating with a dangerous edge. "That's my baby you're talking about!"

A fierce protectiveness surged through Verona, eclipsing all prior reservations and decency. This man spoke so casually of fate and sacrifice was about to gamble with her son's life

Frustration laced the black-haired man's sigh. "It's not that simple, Verona," he insisted.

"Then what is it like?" she demanded, her heavy.

"The plan…" he began, "It's not what you think."