Lucas Patercide

Lucas approached his father, his face twisted and his eyes wild with emotion; hate, anger, lust. Leopold looked up at the prince and didn’t recognize him. The prince was changing, claws growing, teeth jutting from his jaws. Where was the boy he’d nursed and cherished? The child he’d spoiled and indulged? Where was his son?
‘Lucas?’ he whispered, as his son pounced.
The iron crown flew off the king’s head with the impact, rolling along the flagged floor as the young Lion tore into the old one. The crown bounced, beginning a final clattering spin as it started to turn in on itself. A black booted foot slammed down on to it, the crown clanging against the stone as it stopped suddenly. Vanmorten bent to pick it up with a burned and blackened hand as the king screamed under the murderous onslaught.
Onyx looked at Vanmorten and the Wererat looked back. And bowed.

B2 P5 C8