Present day.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ✽ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

While Aandia is still a glorious, glistening paradise, it is a fraction of its prior beauty. Once a tremendous, effervescent jungle of life; its luscious thorn bushes would push towards the sky, budding sapphire flowers that would adorn crystal-like dew, come morning.  

Visitors and trusted creatures from across lands would line up in their hundreds for just a sip of Aandia’s waters, a glimpse at its life changing sights.

Though not entirely visible to the eye, at least at first glance, in comparison to its previous days, there is a perpetual sheen of fog shielding its once clear sky.

The echoes of ruin can be seen in place of previous birds of paradise, bloodshed seeping into the very cement of its roads, grief decorating the walls of its infrastructure and the core foundations of its population, etching into the features of its native inhabitants, numbing the cry of their voices in the wake of the ongoing enslavement, resulting in an ever increasing inability to fight against the increasing torment and the stealing of the country’s own resources.

The darkening of its very essence is apparent to any inhabitant and frequent visitor. Aandia may still be beautiful on its surface level to the untrained eye, but only those that experienced it at its best can see how their land rots and decays from the inside out.

King Torienh and his wife Lilienne conceived only one child during their destined reign, a daughter. 

The daughter was blessed with the beauty and eloquence of her mother and the wise and gentle nature of her father. 

From the moment she breathed her first breath, the princess was adored and held in the most protective of custody; as tales of old taught the Aandiel race to be very trusting of visions from the Wise ones, the original Fae, who had long since retreated from their treasured homeland, and now have to hide from anyone who isn’t an Aandiel native, in case they risk another mass slaughter of their kind. 

This daughter, you, was born in the midst of a changing, war-ridden Aandia; though you experienced the true beauty of your kingdom for a very short time, it’s something you’ve never forgotten, something you’ll never stop dreaming about restoring.

Something you know you have the power to do, or at least hope you do, as the only princess in the entire kingdom.

But it’s something you feel will only happen if your father stops being so trusting. So willing to ‘make amends’, so willing to bow at the feet of the beings who you into this very situation, hold you captive in your own native land.

The very beings who killed your mother.

Faenraehl.

No matter the tone of their skin, this kind has light hair and this is their defining factor. In some mythology and lore, lighter hair is a sign of goodness, and you wonder if it is simply tales of angels they speak of or something that results from racist implications, whatever the matter, Faenraehl are the exact opposite of good.

They are creatures of the sun, which may surprise those that are used to the folkloreish fables of vampires.  

These creatures of the sun are vicious, blood thirsty monsters, who ransack and raid villages for the mere fun of the chase, who delight in the tortured screams and cries of the innocent, who have had more encounters with the human race than is plausible given the distance between the realms, and a body count that triples the visits.

They are war mongering and would be quicker to plunge a dagger through your chest than contemplate the meaning of the word peace.

Yet your father insists on attempting a ‘peace’ treaty.

 

“Father,” you cry, knowing your voice is echoing through the halls and may be heard by the fellow inhabitants of the kingdom at a time where they will be dozing off, but you can’t help it. “You would have us meet with the same kind who poisoned mother?!”

King Torienh looks off into the distance, as if it’s a topic he still can’t face. “We have no proof of that,” he says eventually. “She had been ill prior to the visit...”

“And yet she always bounced back to health -- except this one time? The first and only visit she made--”

“Darling,” he interrupts as if the very thought of the conversation causes him physical pain.  It most likely does, your kind are extremely empathetic as it is, but your father is possibly the kindest, most empathetic being you have ever encountered.

You quieten, closing your eyes as if in pain. Wondering how you’re supposed to look your mother’s killers in the eye and pretend a peace treaty is the only thing on your mind when you see them.

Not only that, they have a superiority complex, even if they were in the face of the destruction of everything they own, they would find a way to make the other party beg for their alliance. And knowing your father, in such a situation, he would.

He would get on his knees in front of the love of his life killers’ and beg for their alliance, because he truly believes that alliance is what’s going to save your kingdom and land from ruins.

You can't explain in words how much that hurts to know.

He glances at you, apology in his eyes. “My darling,” he begins, gentle as ever. “We have no choice.”

The anger about this topic has been building up for some time and though you’d never direct it your father’s way, if no one else will argue for the logic of the situation, you need to say something.

“But the first attempt did nothing--! The first unaccompanied visit our queen took to their kingdom resulted in her dying not a week later! What can we possibly gain from a third meeting, father? Why must we bow to those that have taken more from us than we are capable of replenishing? Those who forced a pathway between our lands that was never meant to be there, that they will kill to keep up, just so they can keep stealing from us? It’s agonizing.”

“We are a weakening kingdom, now, my darling. We may pride ourselves in our history but our history is not our present state. We need assistance. We require it. In a roundabout way they have offered to assist and we must take it, or else I fear for our future.”

“And you think those who already take all we have are going to help?” You exhale a long, tired breath, knowing you could rant all day and it would change nothing. Aandiel weren’t this way, but Faenraehl, with their three crown princes and their queen who considered herself more of a male figure than your father, as if kindness and gentleness were laughable traits, were very male-centric.  

Around them, being female and possessing all the traits they mock, you know you will literally have the power to change nothing.

You shake your head in dismay. “Perhaps if I were a son, I could do more.”

“Do not say that,” your father whispers, and you wonder how a person can be so... kind in the face of all opposition. Your kind are empathetic and naturally gentle, but even you have experienced a breaking point, so you wonder how your father hasn’t, after everything the Faenraehl have put him through.  “We are not of the kind who view male heirs as superior, I am blessed to have you as I was blessed to have your mother. It may be a long way off, but I am sure the Faenraehl will be willing to hear you out eventually, and they will certainly take you seriously once they see how intelligently you approach each matter presented to you.”

If is isn’t the royal Faenraehl family, there may be a chance at being taken seriously by them. But what are the odds of that? Royal business will never not be conducted via royals.

“Please go to your chambers and rest, give yourself chance to think it over. Come morning they shall be arriving.”

“W-who is it that is arriving, exactly, by number?”

“The Faenraehl queen and her three sons, I realize the last meeting did not go as well as we hoped but I truly believe it may be different this time. They are not in the best position themselves, both sides could use the assistance of the other.”

The small ignition of hope extinguishes in a moment, futile as it was to begin with. You hate this, genuinely you do. They are causing their own dire situation, you and your kind had nothing to do with the choices they made, the laws they refuse to follow, the utter disrespect they show to anyone who isn’t Faenraehl, yet you will have to sit across from these beings of destruction and play kind, help them out from their own actions, knowing they were also the cause of the worsening destruction of your own land, that your kind fought so hard to protect.

 

  Once the door to your room is shut, you slide against your wall, thinking back to the week that led to your first actual encounter with the Faenraehl and their royal family, outside of history books you were constantly glued to.

It was a warmer day, warmer than Aandia was used to. For a country used to cooler temperatures, especially since the war, your people were warm of heart. The Faenraehl were the exact opposite, their scorching climate resulted in the iciest hearted beings known for miles.

Their queen in particular.

Recalling a memory isn’t always pleasant, not when you can pin point the exact changes that have occurred between then and now. Some can think of the loved ones they’ve lost with grace and a smile on their face, but with your mother, it’s terribly difficult when all you want to do is run into her arms once more, tell her it's all just been a bad dream and the poison never actually spread.

If only you were more adept at antidotes, back then. Your talent right now matters not when the person you needed to save has already succumbed.

Some experience memories as if they’re reliving it, like they’re back in that exact moment, but you feel like a third party watching on at everything you’ve lost. Hearing her voice, seeing her face, feeling her warm embrace... knowing you’ll never feel it again.

You wonder how your father manages. Losing a love as deep as the one they shared to your kind... it’d be like having one’s own heart ripped out from their chest.

When vampires fall in love, there are no lines or walls, they give themselves wholeheartedly, there is nothing they won’t do to protect that love, to preserve it, keep it safe from naysayers and darkness. You’re sure this is a universal vampiric experience, if the Faenraehl are even capable of love, that is.

 

“____,” your mother’s sweet voice had called, as she made her way into your room, dressed in her favorite pink robes. They were her favorite because they were what she was wearing the first time you called her pretty, when you learned what that word meant.  

You smiled up at her, making your way to your dressing chair, always excited for this time of night. Nobody made your hair as nice as your mother could, even the kingdom’s royally appointed stylist.

“Mommy?” You’d ask, willing the lull of sleep away as she brushed through your dark locks, something entirely therapeutic to you. She was safety and a home wrapped all into one, one of the kindest beings you’d ever known, outside of your father, the most gentle rulers we’ve ever had, you’d constantly hear them be referred as. 

“Yes, darling?”

“Am I ever going to have a sibling?”

A look of surprise, then pain passed through your mother’s eyes. “You are all we need, ____. However could we ask for more?”

You pout, shuffling in your seat. “But my friends have siblings.”

“It was difficult enough getting you, my beautiful baby, I would not presume to ask the gods for more.”

It made little sense to you then, but the finality of the words was clear, even to your younger self. You were destined to be an only child forever more, it seemed. “Mommy,” you then said, anxiousness to the words. Perhaps you knew then that something would go terribly wrong, but had no way of knowing how to convey this fully.  “Where are you going tomorrow?”

“To visit the other vampire kingdom. We hope.... that there will be an alliance on the horizon, our people and theirs have been warring too long and it is taking much out of us, currently more than we can replenish.”

It was interesting really. Your mother always referred to your kind as ‘people’ rather than creatures. She had visited the humans on a few occasions, mostly to offer healing resources after another unnecessary Faenraehl massacre, so maybe it was a case of picking up on their mannerisms and language nuances, maybe it was a case of knowing there was no reason to other yourselves. You may not have been humans in a technical sense, but you were still people, in your own way.  

“How long will you stay?”

“A few days at most, my sweet.”

 

 The first official business meeting between your father and the Faenraehl queen happened on the second day of your mother’s extended visit, and enough happened to warrant what was obviously their next move -- a poisoning.

Even from the very second they stepped into the kingdom, you knew they weren’t good news. Their footsteps thudded, imposing as they were with their posture straight and narrow.

They were already looking down on your kingdom, even though it displayed some of the most beautiful architecture known throughout the lands. You were too kind to your citizens, you let ‘commoners’ dine with you, you shared resources that you could’ve otherwise been selfish with and the queen of Faenhria, she didn’t like this.  

Your father bows. "Queen Azhaedi."

“King Torienh,” the queen of Faenhria started, as stiff and rigid as her clothing was. No trace of a smile lined her features, just boredom. “Greetings.”

Your father made a move to welcome her, but she waved him off with her hand as if the move offended her very being. She ushered her three, very blonde sons into the hall.

The eldest, who seemed to be nearing his teens bowed, looking a little less rigid than his mother, but by no means welcoming. The middle child crossed his arms, glowering at everyone in vicinity and the youngest...?

The youngest was nowhere in sight. You chewed at your lip, anxiousness suddenly bubbling within you. There was an atmosphere to these beings, so intense and threatening, it was unlike anything you’d ever witnessed.

Would she call a war over this? Would she accuse your father of mutiny?  

“Oh dear,” she began, rolling her eyes, as if his wandering nature wasn’t anything new to her. “Where has that boy wandered off to?”

Your father made a move to stand, but she stopped him in his tracks. “We have business to attend to, please send one of your minions to find him, I assume it will be no bother?”

Her icy gaze then fell onto you. “Perhaps this little thing can fetch him, actually?”

You froze in place and your father rose an eyebrow at the Faenraehl queen. Did she not realize you were the princess?

“He doesn’t listen to adults very well,” she amended. “And he doesn’t like commoners telling him what to do. Only fitting that the similar aged princess fetches him, no?”

Though she worded it like she was calling forth a deranged game of cat and mouse, and even in your own kingdom, it was clear you were intended to be the mouse.

Having heard how temperamental the Faenraehl were, you decided to take it upon yourself, even as young as you were back then. If the alliance rested on your shoulders in this precise moment, you couldn’t risk jeopardising it, just because they had a intimidating presence. All you wanted was for your mother to return safely.

Teetering around the floors of the kingdom until your little legs couldn’t go any further looking for this wandering Faenraehl prince, you momentarily collapsed outside your door. Picking yourself up, you made your way inside, which to your surprise, is where the youngest Faenraehl prince stood.

And as you glanced at your newly broken toys, the hairbrush your mother would use every night on your hair shattered into pieces and tears in your bed sheets and the damage done to your bedroom walls, you had no idea the repercussions of the argument that’s going to result between your father and his mother...

Nor that it will be the last week you will have seen your mother healthy.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you realize you have to face all this again come morning, just with the added bonus that the youngest Faenraehl prince will be much older and likely even more destructive. You suppress a sigh. You didn't exchange words and barely exchanged glances at the time, you were ushered out of the room before you knew it, but you saw enough to know the room you kept in pristine condition was ruined, that it'd probably take months to repair.

If anything, you were thankful he hadn't found his way into the sectioned off area of the garden, where most of your irreplaceable items and antidotes -- in the making -- were stored.

The truth is this time, you're not sure if you'll be able to hold your tongue as well as you did all those years ago...

 

 Situated in the Aandiel soldier training quarters, faction: detox and cleansing, today marks the second day of not having fed for Jongin. The second day is said to be the day Aandiel vampires solidify whether or not they’re capable of the rest of the task, and if not, it marks the exact moment they cave, launching themselves out of confinement and out on the trail for any blood available; carelessly, mindlessly drinking until the creature or animal providing is entirely drained, leading to bloodthirst.  

Careless and mindless are two very undesirable traits for a soldier and certainly for any royal guardsman or potential future king.  

Bloodthirst is a dangerous, zombie like state of mind for a vampire, but it’s exactly that – a state of mind. If a vampire can train themselves to overcome it, hence the confinement, they’re already leagues ahead of their fellow trainees, and certainly Faenraehl natives.

He looks out at the darkening sky, wondering if he’s the only one finding this ‘cleanse’ somewhat enjoyable. The hunger pains are irritating, that’s no lie, but his thoughts are clearer. Crystalline, even. The past few hours have been largely uninterrupted and it’s given him chance to analyze why he’s doing this, what he wishes to get out of it, and the heart of it, to truly revitalize his passion for the matter.  

Which he’s having no issue with. If anything, it’s making him more dedicated to his task at hand, knowing it’ll all be worth it in the end. Whether or not he’s selected for the royal guard ship or as the princesses’ intended, the much sought after position of the future king, or simply ends as a soldier, he’s determined to do the best he can, in any of these callings.

His cellmates on the other hand…

 

  Jongdae, a fellow Aandiel, with a similar peasant upbringing, and Luhan, a  Faenraehl defector. Both Jongin and Jongdae wearied of the latter initially, but after training together for some time, it’s evident that Luhan is serious about his defection.

And even more so, that he’s safer with Aandiel than he is with his own kind, who had slaughtered his entire family in cold blood, moons ago.

Jongdae’s slouched on a haystack, willing his eyes to stay open. They’re on the highest floor of a neighboring stone castle of the kingdom, overlooking Aandia’s awe striking scenery.

He keeps drumming his fingers against his thigh, like he’s unsure of what to do with his hands. But for the past half hour, he keeps glancing over at Jongin like he’s going to begin conversation, then shaking his head and looking the other way at the last minute.

Jongin meets his eyes this time, quirking an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Jongdae sighs, like he’s finally letting a weight off his shoulder, ecstatic to be the one invited into a conversation for once – he is the biggest talker of the three, by all means.  “You really think they’re going to choose one of us?”

Jongin stays quiet, knowing he has more to say.

“You really think a lowborn will ever be enough to become king?” He shakes his head, suddenly animated in a way he hasn’t been for the past two days. “It’s a useless lottery of stealing young boys from their loving families, brainwashing them into thinking this is the only way of life, the most honorable, taking from them the innocence of youth and all for what?!”

He doesn’t wait for a response from either Luhan or Jongin. He knows Jongin will just remind him that they’re not safe currently, they’ve been at threat of the resurgence of war for a long time, a war they all know never truly ended. That their families had no other option but to offer them up as soldiers.

That someone will eventually marry the princess, so it’s not like it’s false advertising to keep their sanity in tact. The odds of becoming king are mentioned to them constantly, no one has any delusions in their regiment about their odds here.

“Dangling in their face the desirable positions of becoming a king or royal guardsman? So they'll make sure they complete their training, only to end up a soldier." He stops here, shaking his head in disbelief. “Ten times out of ten you end up a soldier. Ten times out of ten.”

Jongin stays quiet still, as if he’s processing this take on the matter, though his view on the matter hasn’t changed. 

“That’s our odds, Jongin! No one has ended up a royal guard and at this stage I doubt our precious ice princess even looks her suitors’ way. We’re not going to have a future king at this rate! What’s the difference between now and years ago, really?”

“Her age,” Jongin mutters. “She’s had suitors thrown her way since she was very, very young. What five year old girl is going to actively consider a man 10, perhaps even 20 years her senior? What child should be expected to hand pick her future husband like that? Coming of age changes the playing field entirely.”

Jongdae blinks at him, as if he hadn’t considered the princesses’ feelings on the matter once, something Jongin notes is a recurrence between these vampires in training. No wonder she isn’t considering them, if all they see is a sparkly golden title of ‘future king’.

“The truth is, someone from the current batch has the highest probability of being selected. We are the same age as the princess, there about. Our peers might doubt it but having been born in the midst of a changing Aandia, like she was, is going to be very important. She's going to need to someone who wishes to restore our country to its previous beauty, and it's our generation that desires this the most. Those older than us have all but lost hope."

They both nod, contemplating this.

It seems Jongin's speech has reignited some of Jongdae's diminishing hope. "Okay then, I'll dare to dream big. What position are you guys aiming for?"

Luhan twiddles with his thumbs to the side, clearing his throat awkwardly.  “I think we all know becoming king is very unlikely for me, of all people. Setting my sights on royal guard ship is still setting my hopes miles high. I’m fine being a soldier, honestly. I’m thankful enough for Aandia taking me in, when your people could’ve cast me aside so easily.”

Jongdae's momentary hope seems to diminish all over again, as he slouches into himself. It'd be such a nice change if Aandia and Faenhria took the peace treaty seriously, so seriously that there wouldn't be outrage if Aandia's princess ended up with a Faenraehl native. Wouldn't that be the strongest kind of unification, if both countries truly let go of their unending hatred and prejudice?

He turns to Jongin, waiting for his response.

Jongin seems to mull it over a while before replying, "much as I believe the future king is in our batch of trainees, I'm not going to be foolish enough to believe it's myself. I'm preparing for the placement of a soldier, rationally."

Jongdae feels a sadness envelope him. If even Jongin felt that way, the same Jongin that seems to naturally excel at their training and has all the makings of a strong king... who might actually be considered by the princess if only she excused his upbringing, what chance did the rest of them have here, really?

He sniffles to the side of them, knowing he's being dramatic, knowing withdrawal is hitting him hard all of a sudden. “I mean you might have the strength for that but all I have is my dashing good looks and charming personality. Perfectly fit for a king of course,” Jongdae continues, “but no way could I take on an army of Faenraehl. I’m doomed. Thirsty and doomed.”

Luhan perks up at this, dashing over to the table at the other side of the room. Whilst blood is absolutely prohibited during the cleanse, they are allocated freshly baked bread and red wine. Bread may fill a hung pang temporarily, but it’s nothing compared to blood and they don’t experience the effects of wine, so it’s mainly about the likeness to blood in that case.

“If you add a thickening agent to the red wine,” Luhan demonstrates, something he must’ve picked up in Faenhria and their training regimes. There’s a lot of gray areas in Faenhria that don’t exist in Aandia. “You can mimic blood. Of course it’s not actually blood but I think the withdrawal may be happening soon so to combat it without going crazy perhaps we could try this...”

He offers a chalice to Jongin, who shakes his head.

He wasn’t about to pass judgement on his cellmates, but he’d rather train himself to overcome this than find loopholes around it. Going without blood would be a fact of life on some occasions, especially if their odds were heavily leaning towards becoming soldiers, and the clever wine trick wouldn’t always be an option.

Jongdae’s eyes light up at the prospect, however. But the minute his lips touch the chalice, he whines. “I can tell,” he almost sobs. “Why can I tell? Why can’t we have anything good in our lives?!”

Jongin shakes his head at the elder, almost fondly. There was dramatic and then there was Jongdae.

“Look at what we are Jongin... pathetic, if anything! Pledging a love to a woman we don’t know, who can turn around to daddy and say ‘I don’t like this one, send him back’ before we’ve even made a case for ourselves... and after all we’ve experienced in thinking she’s our only option, the very thing our romantic worth is based on... you think we won’t return damaged at that rejection? Believing there isn’t love for us out there, when there might be, it just might not be her. But we’ll never know because the self esteem we might’ve had, prior to that meeting is in shreds! God, this is slow torture.”

“Truth is, if she doesn’t want you, whatever other love you speak of, you’re free to pursue it the minute she turns you away.”

Jongdae shakes his head, almost frantically. “I’m so ing maladjusted now no woman will want me, Jongin! Look at me! What do you see?”

“Withdrawal,” he mutters tiredly. “You’ll get through it, I promise you.”

“The. wine. has. not. helped.” Jongdae gets up and begins to pace the room, speeding up at he does, not realizing the speeds he’s reaching. “I. am. losing. my. mind.” There’s a moment’s pause, before his train of thought moves elsewhere. “God, how would we even present ourselves to the royal family anyway? -- The Dedicated, the Skeptic and the Traitor?” Jongdae snorts to himself. “Maybe Jongin does stand half a chance, you and I, Luhan, we’re doomed from the get go.”

“Jongin’s more of the hopeless romantic at this stage,” Luhan murmurs. “Our baby is already half in love with her.”

Jongin crinkles his nose. Maybe he’s spoken of the princess fondly, perhaps more fondly than his peers, who are beginning to tire of tales of constant rejections of the batches before them, molding their once warm image of the princess into a much colder, almost irritated version, with little hope that anything could change, but he didn’t have any delusions about the matter, he knew how difficult it would be to actually be selected as the princesses’ intended.

He just feels, in his heart, that if, in the very rare chance he is the one selected, as much effort as he puts into everything else, he feels he equally has that to give in terms of love. And the princess deserves a love like that.

Not just someone chasing the crown she can provide.

He wouldn’t dare bring up this up to Jongdae and Luhan, probably because they’d mock him, or assume he’d lost his mind, but even from a young age, even when he’d heard mere tales of the princess... he felt a distinct pull towards her. But being but a peasant, even as giving as the Aandiel kingdom was, those thoughts needed to dissipate.

Nothing would ever come of his one sided crush. He knew that.

Eventually the chatter dies down, and Jongin finds himself dozing in and out of consciousness, something the lack of blood is causing. Usually they have a much stronger hold over sleep, and can get by on very little, but he has been told that there is a stage of the cleanse where they will fall into a deep sleep and it will last a few days.

Withdrawal has been hitting them at different times, in different ways. Jongdae most consistently, but from the tone of Luhan’s voice, it’s hitting him now.

“The dye is wearing out,” Luhan exclaims, panic evident as he pulls at his hair, blonde roots coming through. “I can barely hide it as it is, and good god, there’s no way I can hide my eyes...”

“But they know you’re Faenraehl,” Jongdae replies sleepily, finally quietened down somewhat. “It’s okay.”

“No, but there’s no way to turn red eyes violet, Jongdae! How will I even enter the palace? W-what if they think I’m a spy?! The Faenraehl killed my family in front of me! I might be of their race but how can they expect me to... stay after that?”

Jongdae reaches over and takes hold of Luhan’s hand, hoping to reassure him. “Naturally and I mean no offense with this,” he says gently. “We’re a lot more understanding than the Faenraehl. You’ll be fine, Luhan. You’re a victim of war yourself.”

“R-right,” Luhan whispers, fear still evident. “But it’s not fair! Just because the Faenraehl’s royal family is the epitome of evil doesn’t mean we all are! Most of us want peace too! But the Aandiel kind will never know because it’s always the most evil voices that are heard before the innocent...” He closes his eyes as if in pain. “And it’ll always be that way, won’t it?”

That’s as much as Jongin hears before he falls into his sleep.

 

 

“You little blonde imbecile,” Taemin’s mother hisses, after they'd been escorted out of the Aandiel kingdom. She grabs him by the back of the neck and throws him in to the carriage, while his elder brothers try to hide their snickers. "Why must you cause me trouble everywhere we go?!"

“You’re blonde too,” he hisses back. "If you're going to insult me, do it properly."  He leans over the seat, glowering directly at her.

"Oh mommy," he then continues in mocking tone, annoyed she hasn't given him a response. "You should've seen the look in her eyes, so very distraught. Usually you'd be so proud of me. You know you hate that family more than anything else. Isn't that why you--"  He stops here, holding one hand over his mouth as if he's said too much. "Oh I forget. We're not allowed to say that here, are we?"  

“Of all my demented offspring, you are the worst,” she grumbles, flicking his arms away.  

The three of them roll their eyes, if any of them were the worst, they all knew what their mother was capable of.  

  Running a shaky hand through his blonde locks, Taemin wonders where he went wrong last night. How could something that had been so fulfilling, so exhilarating in the moment, leave him feeling so drained the day after?

Drinking from humans had been frowned upon long before his father’s excursions, but knowing how much it pissed his mother off, it became all the more enticing for that reason.

Helpful for a varied diet too, he’d argue. Vampires would regularly feed on each other -- palaces had willing feedees, as such, as family would only feed on their mother as babies, and partners of family members were strictly prohibited in most cases.  

But it was only sacred if two vampires were intimate with each other. Vampires that were romantically inclined to one another usually to the point of exchanging vows would bite each other at the height of ual pleasure, prior to this they would feed on each other, usually by wrist, as a pledge to the other. There was no sweeter taste than the blood of a vampire’s love.

Once the bite had taken place, the process of trying for a family would begin. It had been this way for centuries and had been working just fine for the vampiric populous.

It was a very smart but awful – if you asked Taemin – built in mechanism that protected against infidelity and illegitimate children. Faenraehl weren’t big on ‘saving’ themselves and denying themselves the pleasure of the flesh, so had no need to look down on casual encounters, especially if disease wasn’t something that threatened their kind.  

In fact, the Faenraehl were particularly safeguarded against unwanted pregnancy, as along with a bite, they could only conceive if they were in love with their partner.  

So technically, he could bite and feed off any one of his bed warmers and not have to worry about children, but it was a dangerous gray area, as no one had ever mentioned it needing to be even, requited love on both sides. Just that love was necessary for conception.

Whoever’s love that may have been.

If one partner were in love with the other, that technically counted, and could technically result in pregnancy.

And as a crowned prince, he wasn’t about to risk it. Having gone this long without feeding on his casual partners, he’d begun to pride himself on his ability to abstain from it, much as they’d beg for him to bite them, he never would. He knew how cunning Faenraehl women were, he knew how many desired a royal title along with a royal husband.

By all means they were welcome to make a play for his brothers, but he wasn’t about to play into their sly methods. Love may have been a foreign concept for him, but of what little he did think of it, he had some respect for.

It needed to be natural, not forced upon him.

Of their usual food options, animals were a midday snack, useful to fill one’s blood quota, albeit very boring, and that was exactly it. Faenraehl needed thrill to accompany their feeding, and as long as he didn’t drain them dry or dispose of them after drinking, humans were filling this need perfectly.

All it took was a mind wipe, and one berry that grew in… Aandia to heal the puncture wounds and replenish what he’d taken from their veins. And he always made sure to get their consent prior to biting them, because after biting them… their pliability certainly rose.  

But he might’ve overdone it last night. He groans as he stretches his limbs and takes a glance at the three human women he’d taken home with him, after an impromptu visit to the human realm.

His butler was going to be on his about it, he could already tell. He had about twenty minutes until his butler was due, and that wasn’t enough to get them back in time, so he had no choice but to face the music.

And like clock work…

 

“Young master,” his butler’s shrill voice echoes, shutting the door to Taemin’s chamber as quietly as he can. “You need to stop this before it becomes a habit.”

AKA: feed on them in your own time as you wish, but don’t bring them back to the palace to feed even more, as you risk bloodthirst and an even angrier mother than usual.

But truthfully bloodthirst felt great in the moment and there was nothing he enjoyed more than pissing his mother off.

“From one last week to three this week?”

Taemin winces at the mention of last week. “Freckled red haired thing,” he grumbles. “Said she had and I quote, anemia.” He shudders, whatever affliction anemia was, it changed the taste of blood significantly.

“Three human women,” his butler repeats, flabbergasted. “In the palace!”

“I didn’t screw them,” he mutters. “It could’ve been worse.”  

His butler shakes his head, as if he doesn’t know what to say in response. He has no idea why the youngest prince is so… wayward, especially after the reform of the Faenraehl race, their pledge to resist some aspects of the recklessness of their previous nature, to accept a royal rule, introduce some order to their kingdom.

Taemin was so much like his ancestors it scared his butler at times. 

“Though…” Taemin then trails off. “Some of them are…” He eyes the brunette with the large bosom, “quite exquisite.”

He knows it’s unlikely, but there’s at least some variation in human women. “Maybe I should try it.” He snorts to himself. “I’m getting so ing tired of blondes.”

His butler doesn’t laugh.

Taemin rolls his eyes. “I won’t actually, you know. Too much to consider. I’ll wipe their memories once they wake up.”

His butler nods. “Your mother is waiting on you. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

Taemin flops back against his bed, groaning. “I thought we’d been over this already. I’m not going.”

An hour later, after wiping the humans' memories and giving them their magical berry, he sends them on their way and sluggishly makes his way into the main hall, glowering at his pristinely dressed mother, the very incarnation of evil.

“ you and your peace treaty,” he says boredly. “Call a war with them instead. It’ll be quicker.”

“No,” his mother says, rubbing her temple. “You will go, and you will behave this time. We will have no further discussion about it.”