Married to the Vampire Prince [BL]

Rolfe didn't head into the castle, instead, he walked grim-faced to where the Queen and Princess were buried.

"I went to personally inform your brother to prepare to be Eleanor's replacement." The King said, he had his back to the Crown Prince, his hands behind his back, two blinding white headstones in front of him.

So he missed the gleeful expression Alexander wore, "Silvan would never agree to-"

"He did." Rolfe cut him off, an empty quality to his hoarse voice. Silvan hadn't said a word of protest, not even one.

Alexander bit his tongue, old anger bubbling up. He couldn't say which drove him mad, his father defending Silvan at every turn, or Silvan doing everything right to spite him.

"Silvan hates Vampires," He said in a cold voice, "And he'll hate you for sending him to Vallyn. Who is to say that he wouldn't take out his bitterness on the Vampires and destroy the alliance from the inside."

Rolfe locked his jaw, he had never considered that because Silvan would never do that. And even if Silvan were to do that, it was well-deserved for all he had to sacrifice.

"You barely know your brother," He chastised his first son for his words, turning around to leave.

Alexander didn't follow him this time. He stood a short distance from the gleaming graves, his dark blue eyes looking off into the distance.

-+-

Silvan stood for what felt like hours after his father left - it might have been naught but a few hours but it felt like an eternity.

His father wanted him as a replacement for Eleanor.

He felt the sudden urge to laugh, he was being driven to the brink. Silvan should have seen this coming, certain things were unavoidable. His father's hands were tied and so were his.

At least, he was lucky to live twenty-two years for himself, Eleanor would have given up her entire life for this.

Silvan quickly came to accept his new fate. He had been prepared to take up his princely duties; what was the difference between that and what his father had asked of him? He paced absently in the small space, his eyes drifting to the mosaic on the wall. The haggard Vampire seemed to be grinning at him, a mocking light in its sinister red eyes.

There was only a fortnight left till his sister's eighteenth birthday. There was only a fortnight left until he lost his freedom. He needed to mentally prepare himself, he couldn't do anything to offend the Vampires. Eleanor had died for this, he would not be careless.

Silvan turned and headed for the door of his living quarters, there was nothing in this room he wanted to take with him. Despite living in there for the past four years, his effects would barely fill a satchel.

The sun blinded him for a moment when he stepped out of the temple, it was late in the afternoon, the day was ending, the sun a blood red. Silvan's neck was bare for the first time, his heavy golden stake left behind in his priestly quarters. It was strange not having the familiar weight around his shoulders, it made him feel uncomfortably light, untethered, like he would float free from the solid ground.

He attracted stares from the servants as he made his way into the castle. He was rarely seen outside of the temple, only leaving whenever his father summoned for him.

Despite living in the temple for years, the North wing of the castle was spotless, everything the same way he left it. He lived at the castle while he was still a disciple. As soon as he was ordained as a priest, a temple was built at the castle, and that was when he moved into the quarters provided at the temple.

Silvan didn't care for the lavish living conditions in the North wing, taking off his priestly robes with a kind of grief that couldn't be explained. His motions were sluggish, his blue-green eyes unfocused. He might have accepted his father's words but he was still in shock.

This was the very last time he would adorn the robes of the Faith. He had worn robes since he was a teen, it would be strange not to put on the flowing garments. Silvan made his way to the washroom, pausing for a moment at the bath that had already been prepared, it was almost like his return had been anticipated.

Although High Priests were allowed altar attendants to serve them, Silvan didn't take any, choosing to live the way he did while he was still a disciple. It meant that all these years, he had cleaned in icy cold water. The bath was steamy when he stepped in, a huge wooden tub filled with warm water and scented soaps the cause for the humidity.

He sank into the tub, the temperature of the scented water was uncomfortable. He had gotten accustomed to the freezing cold water from a simple bucket, this large bath filled to the brim with heated water stung his skin. Silvan didn't rise from the bath despite that, the mist rising from his skin clouding his expression.

From spending years in the temple, his skin was pale, the water quickly giving him a soft red hue. He pushed his hair out of his face and sighed, his breaths visible. The steam from the water was giving him a headache, and coupled with going days without sleep and proper food, it made Silvan lightheaded.

He didn't stay in the bath long, putting on the clothes he found in his wardrobe. All of his old clothes had been cleared out, he wouldn't be able to fit in them anymore so it wasn't surprising.

The dress shirt fit uncomfortably, he had been wearing robes ever since he turned sixteen, normal clothes restricted his movements, the cravat laying uncomfortably against his throat.

Silvan stopped by the mirror when he was dressed, a black overcoat thrown on the dark green dress shirt he wore. He couldn't recognize the person in the mirror, and that was ideal because he had left himself in his priestly quarters. He was still kneeling at the marble altar, saying words of penance and the benevolent protector, Saint Kalla was smiling down kindly at him.