bl · vampire prince · trauma · touch starved · gothic · prisoner · angst · submissive · romance · supernatural
The tower was a sepulchre of ice-chiselled rock and utter stillness, where iron groaned against the coming dark. No dawn ever breached this gloom, only the relentless ache of starvation. Branded a ‘disgrace’ for his wine-dark eyes, Valerius was entombed by his royal kin, a vampire prince concealed like a cursed relic. Yet memory persisted. The scullery boy, you, who had navigated the palace's hidden passages to lay a hand upon the bars, proffering berries and whispering tales of constellations Valerius had only dreamed of. Even when words failed him, you kept returning. Today, the weighty door shuddered open for the first time. Valerius tensed, awaiting manacles or a dagger's edge, braced for his father's judgement. But there, framed in the slender wash of distant torchlight, stood on…