Whispers in Crimson Halls - In the grand bloodstone corridors of Lucien's kingdom, chandeliers of crimson crystal cast a soft, haunting glow. Elegant music drifted from a distant chamber, while the scent of nightflowers mingled with vintage wine in the air. The weekly noble gathering had begun. Lucien stood at the center of attention—draped in obsidian velvet, a silver chain gleaming over his chest, dark eyes enigmatic, a smirk always resting at the corners of his lips. With every smooth word and calculated glance, he had the court wrapped around his fingers. Near the arched pillars, in a circle of murmuring vampire princesses, hushed gossip bloomed like forbidden flowers. Princess Ivessa, adorned in a blood-red gown, whispered to her companion, eyes trailing Lucien. "Alena has every right to be with Prince Lucien. She's noble, graceful, the strongest of our lineage. She'd make the perfect queen." Another princess, cloaked in icy lavender, lifted a goblet lazily. "True… many of us want him. He's... dangerous in all the right ways." Her gaze flicked toward Lucien as he gently brushed a strand of hair behind Alena's ear. But then her expression shifted—more curious, almost jealous. "But I wonder… why is he still so caught up on that pretty little immortal? That human girl. The one with the brown eyes." Ivessa's brows narrowed slightly. "Ariana… right? She isn't even of our kind." A quieter princess spoke softly but firmly. "She may not be one of us… but I've seen her. There's something about her. A light in her aura… it burns deeper than most of us can even fathom." A hush fell over them. "She isn't powerful by title," she added, "but by something even more dangerous—the power to change him." At that moment, Lucien turned his head, sensing something—a pull in the air. His eyes, even through the crowd, searched unconsciously for a presence that wasn't there. Ariana. But she was gone. He hadn't seen her in days. And yet, even surrounded by elegance, loyalty, and beauty—no one had her fire. No one haunted him like she did.
Truth Beneath Crimson Wine - Nightfall deepened in the moonlit study of Lucien's palace. Shadows danced against tall stained-glass windows, colored red and silver by the vampiric moon. The scent of old books, night roses, and burning cedar filled the air. Lucien stood by the arched window, his back turned. His jaw clenched as he spoke, voice low—dangerously calm. "Why did you make me drink that much… on purpose?" Behind him, his friend—Kael, a loyal but nervous vampire noble—stood stiffly. Guilt hung over him like a heavy cloak. "I… I didn't mean to—" Lucien turned sharply, eyes glowing faintly crimson. "Don't lie to me, Kael. You thought you could get away with this?" He stepped closer. "You knew what would happen. You knew I was barely holding back." Kael lowered his gaze, throat tightening. "I'm sorry, Prince… truly, I… I was told to. I didn't want to—" Lucien's voice dropped to a whisper that cut like a dagger. "Told to? By who?" Kael hesitated, trembling slightly. His fingers curled at his sides. "Some… nobles. Vampires of the high circle. They… they feared what you'd become, Prince. They saw your obsession with a human. They thought if you lost control… maybe… you'd let her go. Or maybe you'd turn her. Either way—she'd be out of your heart." Lucien's breath stilled. Then—a deafening silence. And finally… a bitter smirk curved on his lips. "So they fear her… They fear me being anything more than what they made me." Kael looked down, ashamed. Lucien leaned in close, voice barely a breath. "I should kill you for this. But I won't. Because now… I know what I'm dealing with." He stepped back, fixing his collar, composure cold and regal once more. "Go. Before I change my mind." Kael bowed deeply and vanished into the shadows. Lucien turned to the night sky, anger burning in his eyes. "They want me to let her go?" "Then I'll burn every throne they sit on."
Whispers in the Market Wind - The days turned golden and quiet in Ariana's kingdom—at least on the surface. But beneath every sunlit stroll, beneath every soft laugh shared with her friends, there was a storm in her heart. A storm named Lucien. Ari often visited the bazaars, blending into crowds with her cloak drawn tight. The scent of spiced bread, the colors of silk, the clinking of coins—none of it comforted her anymore. Because he always appeared. Sometimes, he stood leaning beside a marble column as she passed the florist. Other times, he silently watched from the rooftops, half-shadowed by dusk. And once—when she wandered too far from her friends into a quiet alley—he simply stood there, waiting. "Ari," he whispered once, voice deep and aching. "Just look at me." But she never did. She gripped her skirts tighter, kept her gaze forward, never once meeting his eyes. Her fear overruled her longing. Her confusion clouded everything. Lucien, each time, stood frozen for a while… then vanished into the air like a sigh. He didn't understand. "Why do you tremble when I come close?" "Why do you look away like I'm a monster?" "Didn't you once say… you liked me?" His heart, though undead, felt every silent rejection. And yet… he kept appearing. Watching. Waiting. Hoping she'd stop. That she'd speak. That she'd say anything. But she never did. And so… he stopped coming.
Flames by the Fountain - The garden was quiet, touched by the soft hush of falling leaves. The fountain shimmered, its waters catching the light like scattered diamonds. Ariana sat on its edge, her fingers trailing the cool stream, eyes distant. And then—a whisper in the wind. A presence at her back. "Ari," "Have you forgiven me… or not?" Her breath hitched. She turned, heart thudding—Lucien. His cloak billowed faintly, his eyes unreadable yet glowing with a strange softness. She looked at him. Truly looked. "…Yes," she said, her voice quiet, but firm. A pause. Lucien stepped closer, the air between them tight like the pull of a bowstring. "Then why," he asked, "are you always ignoring me?" Ariana lowered her gaze. "Because I was ordered to," she whispered. "By Prince Rowan." Lucien tilted his head. His fangs didn't show, but there was a familiar gleam in his eye. "You've become the old, scared Ari again," he murmured. "But you forget something…" He stepped closer, just enough for her heart to falter again. With a slight smirk and a voice dipped in velvet, he said, "You can't always ignore me, my flame." And with that—he vanished into the breeze, leaving only the scent of midnight roses in his wake. Ariana stood frozen, the sound of the fountain seeming louder now.