Page 7

Chapter Seven : Debate and Just the Beginning

"Why did you go to the Healing Center?" I asked, opening the next cup of blue Jell-O he brought me.

"I was looking for you," Viggo said, watching me spoon dessert in my mouth.

"Why?" I asked, talking with my mouth full.

"I was concerned about your injuries," he said as if it were obvious. "I have no reason to use the healing mud."

I nodded my understanding.

Because you're a Vampire you can just go suck some blood down and it'll help heal your wounds... Wait, that isn't how that works.

"Are you wearing makeup?" I asked, getting in his face, and looked him over.

Viggo rolled his eyes and leaned back before softly shoving me away from him by the forehead.

"I know I got a few good hits in that had to leave a lasting impression," I argued before spooning more Jell-O into my mouth. "Wearing makeup to try to save face is rather sad, even for a Prince," I taunted.

He glared at me.

"I am not wearing makeup to hide the damage your scored points inflicted," Viggo said, keeping his voice down because some students started coming in. "I had no reason to."

That made sense since he was of the first Five Houses.

"You have a personal healing pool since you're of the first Five Houses," I surmised.

He gave me a look. "No. What?"

"Healer on speed dial?" I said, suspicious, giving him a look in return.

Viggo shook his head in resignation, causing his hair to fall in his face, and it made me laugh.

I have to admit, it is rather enjoyable to poke fun at him.

"Lost your hair tie, huh?" I said, getting to my feet.

Viggo watched me, suspicious, as I pulled the extra hair tie from around my wrist and went around behind him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

I forced his head forward when he tried to turn around. "Fixing a problem that is annoying me as much as it is frustrating you," I said. "Now stay like a good boy," I scolded.

I pulled my fingers through his insanely silky soft hair that was surprisingly thick, and separated it behind his ears then pulled it back for him, fighting the urge to wrap the thick curling locks around my fingers, then secured it with my hair tie, in a simplistic top knot style that he could more than pull off.

There were very few men, in my opinion, that could pull off a knot-bun, but Viggo was definitely at the top of the list.

"There, now you won't be fighting with your hair all day," I said, sitting back down next to him. "And that was my second workout for the day. Now we're even for the Jell-O."

Viggo looked at me, then patted his head, checking his hair. "Thank you. I am still struggling with having shorter hair."

"Damn, how long was it?" I asked; it went past his shoulders in curls, so when wet it would be midway down his back.

"Very long," Viggo said in a quiet voice, so I didn't press it because it was obviously cut for a reason, most likely for a religious or ceremonial reason. "You have more combat training today?" he asked, changing the subject, sounding curious as to why I would subject myself to more abuse today. "And you plan on actually attempting to actively participate in that class after the injuries you sustained this morning that you refuse healing for?"

Normally I would have punched someone in the face for saying something like that, for asking or suggesting that I was weak or a failure, but his tone was that of concern and curiosity instead of smugness.

"But of course, Your Highness," I said, and he glared at me for some reason. "My last class of the day is Advanced Weaponry. I'm sure Master Kangjeon will allow me to do independent study or something less straining since he saw firsthand what happened this morning. I don't think I could raise a Katana or Bō, or even a Tessen if I tried. To tell you the truth, Slevin had to help me get dressed! Poor kid." I shook my head. "Slevin sees more boobs than any other guy at the Academy, and it just goes to waste."

"Slevin is the short Wizard-born with hair of rose that has been asking questions about me?" Viggo asked.

I shrugged and then winced from the action, my breath catching in my throat. "Shit, that hurts! But yes. Slevin's a bit nosy, but what do you expect? You have to admit that you're unique and this whole tall, dark, and mysterious thing you're portraying is attention-worthy."

"Did I get your attention?" Viggo asked in a rush.

"Of course," I admitted; there was no reason to hide that. "I asked him to check into you because there's something different or not right about you."

His brows pulled together. "Not right?" he mumbled, repeating what I said.

"Yes. There is something about you that is different and concerning to me, so I asked Slevin to look into you," I said.

Viggo nodded and looked away from me to the front of the class. "Why did you tell me that?" he asked.

A normal person would lie.

But I wasn't normal, and I never lied.

"I don't lie," I said. "Never have and never will. You annoyed me at first because you beat my time in evasion today, not to mention, you were following Harper and me along on our last twenty-seven minutes of active evasion for some reason, and then you scored more points on me than I did on you in the sparring ring today-"

"Still hyper-competitive," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah," I agreed. "Very much so. I don't like Vampires, I don't like Royals, and I don't like males who tell me what to do. You are all three."

Viggo nodded. "I cannot help my genetic makeup or when I first drew breath," he reminded me.

"I suppose you can't," I agreed. "But you can help being bossy. You have told me, more than once, to go to the Healing Center, regardless of my repeatedly telling you I don't want to. If you wouldn't have brought me Jell-O as a peace offering and helped with my migraine, I would demand a rematch here and now, regardless of not being able to raise my weapons for beating on annoying French Princes more than this," I said, raising my balled fists before they fell to the table. "So stop being an overbearing, bossy jerk. Okay?"

"I see," Viggo said with a slight huff.

"Do you?" I retorted.

"Yes," he informed me with a forced smile that quickly fell. "I assure you I am a fast learner, though it may appear you are the one thing I am slow to know. I am also very generous, considering that I am nothing more than a pompous Royal in your eyes, who is completely self-involved and selfish, so I will offer you the chance to study with me. That way you can learn how I bested you, again and again. Then, when you demand your rematch, so you may save face, you will not make the same mistakes twice, thus resulting in having to go through the week sore, humiliated, and ranked number two in the minds of your team."

Never had I heard anything so smug, and I really wanted to bust his jaw at that moment.

"Have you seen that movie Carrie?" I asked, finishing my Jell-O, trying to keep from lashing out at him.

"I have read the book."

"It's a good thing I'm not an Elemental because I'm trying to invoke fire right now to light your smug ass up!" I informed him.

What I said, or maybe my tone or attitude, amused him and he roared with laughter, startling the students around us.

Burn, burn, burn! Burn, you piece of crap! Damn it, I hate not having any powers.

"La fillette, you amuse me greatly," Viggo said, dabbing the tears of amusement from his eyes.

"Bite me," I grumbled under my breath. "No wait, don't! Stupid Mosquito."

"I would never think of doing such a thing," he said, then leaned into me. "Unless of course, you asked me to," he tauntingly said then smirked when I glared at him.

Thankfully class started before I could attempt to assault the smug Vampire next to me.

Slevin took the seat at the table in front of us and kept looking over his shoulder, his eyes going between me and Viggo, silently demanding that I spill the tea.

I shook my head.

What was there to tell?

There wasn't anything going on other than my already apparent disdain for the smug, egotistical, apparently bipolar, Prince.

"What is it that makes a being of Thaumaturgy turn bad?" Professor Smits asked.

Of course, no one raised their hand to answer, so he randomly picked a name from his attendance list.

"Master de Babineaux?"

Viggo blew the strands of falling hair from his eyes. "When a being of Thaumaturgy embraces Devilry, they lose their white magic abilities and draw their energy and power from the dark realm of demonic magic, also known as diablerie. A Vampyre knowingly killing someone while drinking from them turns them into an Upír, the same applies to Vyras, and they turn into a Garoul. Caul using magic to kill another in any way other than accidentally or defensively extinguishes their white magic and turns their soul black and thus they become a Benandanti, and the males' Brujo or Stregone. The list is endless, would you like me to continue?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Shit, could you sound any more arrogant if you tried?!" I asked.

Viggo looked over at me. "Oui," he said, as uninterested as possible, and I glared at him.

"That is more than enough, Master de Babineaux," Professor Smits warned; they knew I would start a debate if I started in on him.

"That isn't what you asked, Professor," I pointed out; and the debate begins. "You asked what it is that makes a being of Thaumaturgy turn bad. The answer is simple: free will. Everyone has a choice; they choose to do those things. No one can make them. Sure, there are always questionable circumstances, but in the end, you have the option of choosing which life you want to lead."

Viggo turned his body to face me. "You are saying if you were given the choice of becoming an Upír or dying, you would willingly choose death?"

"If I were a vile, disgusting, bloodsucking Vampyre, yes. Of course," I said as if it was obvious. "You see, Little Prince de Babineaux," I taunted with a heavy French accent that I wasn't entirely sure where it came from, "I would fight to the end, and if that means a most likely painful death, I will gladly accept it because I will never allow myself to be turned to the dark side... Cool Vader skills will never tempt me!"

The class laughed.

Viggo gave me a look. "Are you done?" he dryly asked.

I wasn't done.

"That's the joy of free will," I reminded him. "The higher powers that be had the right idea. No one can be turned into anything they don't want to be against their will. The reason why there are so many Devilry out there is because they are weak. Self-preservation is a good thing to have, but sacrifice is even better. However, you wouldn't know anything about that because of you being a Royal and all, would you?"

The class Oooh'd and Aww'd.

Most were unaware he was a Prince.

"Tu es le plus sauvage, impitoyable casse-couille que je n'ai jamais connu!" Viggo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, slipping into French.

I'll admit, it's an honor to know that I'm the most savage, ruthless pain in the ass he's ever met.

"You know nothing of me or what it is really like out there," he hissed, his French accent thick. "When you are staring death in the face, you will buckle just as all of those before you have. You will be reduced to nothing more than a sniveling Devilry that will crave blood and the lives of the innocent."

My hands balled into fists before I composed myself and then shook them out.

"You're wrong," I cheerfully informed him with a smile, confusing him. "The sight of blood makes me sick. When I split your lip earlier today, I almost threw up on you. I only refrained from doing so in order not to give you the easy point," I smugly informed him.

Viggo cocked an eyebrow. "You still suffer from hemophobia? Even after all of the combat training you have been subjecting yourself to?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yup, I'd make a really bad Upír to say the least."

He nodded his agreement. "I recant a portion of my statement. You would make a terrible blood-reliant Devilry. Though there are other options that you could be turned to that do not require a blood diet to survive, thus you did not win the argument."

I gasped. "Is Little Prince de Babineaux challenging me to a debate?" I taunted. "Or do I need to get the chessboard out?"

Viggo's eyes widened. "Chess?" he asked.

I batted my lashes with a smile; it seemed like a good option since Viggo reminded me of the type that would play chess with himself.

"Are you two finished?" Professor Smits asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep the impending migraine my hyper-competitive nature usually causes when debates are involved.

"Non," we said in unison, in French.

"I am rather confident this is just the beginning," Viggo informed him, his eyes moving over my face.

Since we finally agreed on something, I nodded my agreement.