First Drop

“Do you want me to give you eternity?”

     It wouldn’t have surprised Prince Siméon if the Devil himself had uttered these words.

    A mere golden chandelier still lit his royal bedroom at this late hour. Its flames flickered, dancing over the walls, threatening to bring with them the last remnants of his vitality the moment they would extinguish.

    But, would the Devil have a note of gravity in his tone?

    Lying in the kingdom’s softest bed, breathing the kingdom’s heaviest air, Siméon pondered for a while whether he should humour a voice probably created by his decaying mind. Ludicrous.

    Ludicrous, and yet…

    His breathing shallow, he made the faintest move to orient his lilac eyes in the direction of the window. What Siméon saw then convinced him that he had likely lost the ability to feel either warmth, or its lack.

    For, despite this autumn night, he didn’t realise the window was wide open. A breeze waving the mid-long strands of a man sat on the windowsill. His back pressed to the frame, he had his forearm leant against his knee. In the pale moonlight, Prince Siméon could distinguish the golden tint of his hair, the side glance directed at his bedridden form. Careless, mildly intrigued. It felt like his attention could be lost in the blink of an eye.

“Are you so weak that you can’t even speak?” The same voice resumed.

    Prince Siméon took a while longer to contemplate that peculiar sight, his vision growing clear enough to allow him to notice the crimson irises of his visitor.

“I have my reservations when it comes to speaking with a hallucination.” Prince Siméon finally uttered, his soft voice a breath.

    A grim chuckle.

    With a smirk upon his lips, the visitor seemed amused. Perhaps nobody ever dared to talk to him with a decent level of retort. Which was a shame, because Siméon meant it as an insult. Modest, but still an insult for intruding into his room.

“Well, if the hallucination I am overwhelms you, I can still leave. That said, I’ll bring with me your last hope to heal.”

    As if about to link words to acts, the slender intruder shifted his weight towards the exterior.

“Wait.” Siméon felt like if he didn’t interrupt him, it would be the last time he saw this man in his life. “Do you really know a way… to give me this time I’m lacking?”

“Of course.” The intruder hopped down from the windowsill in a silence too perfect to be human.

    Taking a couple of steps in the direction of the prince’s bed, he raised his arms. His fingers curled with delicacy. His nails long and pointy.

“There’s a simple way to save you. Let me bite you, and in no time this body of yours will no longer deceive you.”

“A bite…”

    There was no doubt regarding the nature of the intruder. If he could achieve what he promised…

“I am no alchemist.” Siméon resumed. “Whatever kind, whatever shape, I don’t seek a philosopher’s stone.”

    At these words, the crimson-eyed visitor was beginning to lose interest. No more smirk was visible on his face. Only a cold, judgmental stare.

    But the prince didn’t stop there.

“I want my kingdom to become a place where people can wake up without scenting the odour of a stiff. One letting them know that their neighbour succumbed to illness in turn.” Siméon paused. He had to, it was already rich of him to use his air for another aim than to breathe. “But if I die, Pomme Rouge will lose its crown prince. With my father already gone, I can’t allow such an outcome. Hence, if you can offer me a longevity which allows me to change this kingdom, then so be it.”

    The prince clenched his blanket with what little strength he had left.

    All he desired was to save, but to do so he had first to accept being saved. And this, even if part of him feared becoming something he didn’t fully understand. An irregularity. A dissonance. A monster.

    And this resolve was exactly what the creature of the night before him expected.

“Ahh, yes.” The intruder uttered with a smirk. “You have it in you, after all. What it takes to become a noble king.”

    It surprised Siméon at first that he had any sense of nobility. But, as the man got closer, he couldn’t help the thought. With his silk, immaculate blouse, its sleeves airy ruffles, he had an elegance that had nothing to do with a low-born. With a mere beast.

    Slowly, the golden-haired man leaned towards him, pressing a hand to the mattress. His face was inches away from his when the intruder paused. His gaze etched into Siméon’s.

“But… If you want me to give you health, there’ll be a cost to pay. A promise to make.”

    The prince’s expression growing cautious, he observed the golden-haired man attentively.

“Ohh? And here I thought that my royal blood would be enough of a delicacy to satisfy you.”

    His smile was faint, not smug enough to conceal the gentle nature inscribed in his features. His long, dishevelled hair cascaded in messy, cream locks over the mattress.

“Your blood?” The man mocked. “With that illness you carry, I’ll have to hold back the urge to spit it out.”

“Then, what is your wish?”

    Outside, the wind was beginning to blow with more intensity, as if echoing the intruder’s darkening gaze.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll exterminate down to the last vampire.”

    Now that was a peculiar request, but Siméon felt that it would have been unwise to make any remark about it. Despite it, he couldn’t help but widen his lilac eyes.

    The number of vampires had grown more substantial in the past years, and anyone would have known that to complete such a task was a feat. The only thing keeping Pomme Rouge safe from the vampires — so far — might unironically be that the lands were filled with ill folks. Unsavoury. Maybe their blood indeed was.

    But… if the kingdom changed, these terrible creatures would end up targetting their lands. Siméon didn’t plan to trade one calamity for another.

“Very well.” He ended up replying. “I will lead a war to bring death to them all, as soon as my kingdom is ready.”

“Do you promise it?”

“I promise it.”

    The intruder remained silent a moment longer, seeking the faintest hint of weakness in the prince’s gaze.

    Then, he lowered his head towards Siméon’s neck. Slowly. The wind even had the time to rush through the window and blow the flickering flames of the chandelier.

“Nghh…”

    The prince couldn’t help a groan when the sharp teeth pierced his tender skin. A hand pressed to his opposite shoulder, the vampire held the prince in place. His fingers grabbing him more firmly as he began to drain Siméon’s blood.

    The pain he felt at first gave him enough strength to reach out his arm, covering his intruder’s hand with his fingers.

    But soon, it became bearable. The tension in his muscles eased, and the prince could focus instead on the tickle the mid-long strands of golden hair caused. Brushing over his cheek.

    He noted the discreet scent of roses. It clung to him more naturally than any perfume would.

    While the vampire’s thumb traced an invisible line against the prince’s shoulder, he could at last feel the warm lips disengage from his bleeding neck.

“Bland…” His visitor breathed.

    One last moist pressure made sure to remove the last drops of blood.

    Straightening up, the golden-haired man didn’t linger. He had already taken a few steps toward the window. Keeping the back of his hand pressed to his lips.

“Our pact is sealed.” He commented. “Don’t forget to honour your words.”

    The side glance he turned at Siméon was enough to make him understand fully the gravity of the events which just occurred in his bedroom.

    Were he to fail his promise, and the prince wouldn’t be the only one sacrificed to calm the grudge of that demon of the night.