Married To Darkness

Morning came, and Salviana woke to the soft, hesitant knock at the door. The sound was so faint it barely disturbed her, as if the person behind it would much rather flee than disrupt her rest. She blinked drowsily, caught between the dream world and the present. But as she turned over in bed, seeking a more comfortable position, reality struck her like a bolt of lightning.

'I'm married!.'

Her eyes flew open in a mix of horror and panic. For a moment, she lay frozen, her heart thudding in her chest. 'What would they think if I didn't answer right away?' Unladylike, tardy, undisciplined? The weight of her new status pressed down on her, and instinct took over. She leaped out of bed, her nightdress fluttering around her like a cloud, ignoring the tangled state of her hair.

How had she slept till morning? She'd been sure she wouldn't relax that much and she would've thought it was still night if not for the light streaming in through the windows. She found it hard to believe she'd survived the night. Unscathed and she even slept off her stress.

She rushed to the door, intent on answering the knock as quickly as possible—if only to appear properly human, at least.

Before her hand could grasp the handle, a voice—low, commanding, and far too close—halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The sound of her husband's voice sent a chill up her spine. 

Thinking he didn't return last night was her mistake, this was his chambers afterall, Salviana turned slowly to face him, her heart quickening and searching for company as her eyes met his. He stood near the window, his dark, intense gaze locking onto hers with a coldness she assumed is there now because she slept off last night instead of performing her duties. 

Leisurely he waited for her to speak but his presence seemed to fill the room, and the air thickened, making it hard to breathe.

"There's someone at the door," she whispered, her voice small and unsure, betraying the anxiety bubbling inside her.

His lips curved into a faint, indifferent smile. "I'm aware." he said.

'Then why not answer it yourself?' The thought flashed across her mind, but she didn't dare voice it. Instead, she frowned slightly, unsure of how to proceed.

"They'll leave soon enough," he said flatly, the weight of his gaze holding her in place.

Salviana blinked, thoroughly puzzled. She couldn't make sense of this strange exchange—weren't they meant to be attended to as royalty? 'Shouldn't we welcome visitors, or at least acknowledge them?' Did he plan to shoo—no, scare them away the way he did last night.

Slowly he lifted his body off the wall, he moved with purpose, each step deliberate, closing the distance between them like a predator in no hurry to pounce. His shadow stretched over her as he loomed, and even without touching her, Salviana felt caged.

"But─" she began, her voice faltering, unsure if she was overstepping.

He stepped toward her, cutting off her words as effortlessly as he dismissed her concerns. "I don't want them here," he said softly, his tone final, leaving no room for protest.

Salviana's heart wavered, caught between the absurdity of the situation and the growing tension between them. Before she could say another word, his hand reached out, before his fingers could touch her, he smirked and she glimpsed the sharp, glinting points of his fangs. A cold new wave of realization washed over her—he wasn't just dangerous because of his power or demeanor. 

He was a predator. A predator that she'd been poking carelessly.

And he was going to silence her now, she thought, mentally surrendering herself to die the next morning of her wedding by her husband, but something different happened, she didn't expect a soft touch, his finger brushing lightly, but firmly, against her lips. The touch was unexpected, and her body stiffened as electricity shot through her, making her breath catch in her throat.

The dark prince gazed at her lips, entralled and curious about these defying lips, he wanted to sink his sharp fangs in them but he also wanted to prolonge it, imagine and visionize it untill the time is right and it wasn't now.

Salviana didn't want to breathe, she couldn't.

Her heart raced. 'What am I supposed to do?' She hadn't been prepared for this—no etiquette lessons could have prepared her for the strange man who now stood as her husband. He was different than the gossip she'd heard. Cold yet warm, hard and soft.

Another knock sounded from the door, louder this time, and without thinking, Salviana bit down on his finger. 

The action was purely reflexive. She hadn't even realized she had done it until the moment her teeth made contact. They both froze. His dark eyes flared with a dangerous intensity, burning through her. 

Slowly, with measured calm, he withdrew his hand. The silence between them was thick with tension, and Salviana could feel the panic rising in her chest. 

He was the vampire not her!

How could she have been the one to do such a barbaric thing?

Why did she have to bite him like a rabid animal?

She took a tentative step back, then another, retreating as though the small distance would somehow shield her from the consequences of her foolish mistake. 

But he advanced, his steps deliberate, predatory. Ready for her.

Her back hit the wall, her breath shallow, but she forced herself to stand still, even as every nerve in her body screamed at her to flee. There was nowhere to go. Instead, she focused on keeping her breathe steady, and if she would speak her words measured, but her trembling fingers gave her away.

His hand reached toward her face, and Salviana flinched, her eyes squeezing shut as she braced for whatever was to come. 'Would he strike her? Do magic on her?' Her thoughts spiraled. She had no idea what he was capable of. She had heard whispers, rumors about the "demon prince," and now they seemed all too real.

But instead of the pain she expected, she felt the warm brush of his breath against her cheek. Her eyes flew open, locking onto his as a sense of disorientation filled her. His lips were so close, and now, with him this near, she saw them—sharp, white fangs glinting in the soft morning light.

Her breath hitched. 'Had she touched them earlier? Is that why he had reacted so coldly?'

Before his fingers could touch her, the moment was interrupted by a voice from behind the door. "Your grace, we're here to prepare you for breakfast. We're your chambermaids."

The prince let out a low, irritated sigh, his focus shifting just enough for Salviana to breathe again. She watched as his gaze lingered on her for a second longer before he turned away, retreating like a shadow fading into the dim light of the room.

Salviana remained pressed against the wall, trembling, as the tension in the room slowly ebbed. Her legs felt weak beneath her, but she managed to force herself to stand tall. She turned to the door in a daze, her fingers fumbling with the door handle.

When the door opened, she was met by a small group of maids, all watching her with varying degrees of judgment. The head maid, a severe woman with piercing siren eyes, stepped forward first, her expression cool as she took in Salviana's disheveled state.

"I'm the castle's head maid, welcome" the head maid introduced herself.

"Thank you," Salviana replied.

"I'm Emma," the first maid said curtly. "Your personal attendant."

"I'm Priscilla," another maid added, her blue eyes flicking over Salviana with a touch of disdain.

"And I'm Sarah!" chirped the third maid, her bright energy a stark contrast to the others. She smiled warmly, her bronze skin and curly hair giving her a friendly demeanor that almost made Salviana relax.

Before she could respond, The head maid cut through the pleasantries with a sharp tone. "Next time, answer the door sooner. You're royalty now." Her words stung like a reprimand from a stern schoolmistress.

"I… I'm sorry," Salviana stammered, but the woman had already turned her back, dismissing the apology without a second glance. The group of maids bustled into the room, their chatter low but pointed.

"We would help you get ready for the day," Emma said while Priscilla looked around the room with eyes Salviana couldn't pin to a reaction.

She thought her husband would be in the room at their entrance but he wasn't anywhere in sight, she didn't if that was a good thing but the maids visibly relaxed when they didn't see him.

Perhaps he was in his office.

As they helped her into the bath and began their work, Salviana caught snippets of gossip.

"Why would anyone want to be here?" one muttered under her breath.

"Probably forced," another scoffed.

"The demon prince doesn't seem like the type to care," said a third with an air of disgust.

"Stop talking nonsense. She's here now," a quieter voice added, though Salviana wasn't sure if that was supposed to be reassuring.

She found herself curious about that detail too. As they whispered, their voices low, but not low enough, her stomach knotted. 

Did they think her deaf? Or did they want her to hear? That was utterly disrespectful.

But she didn't say a word.

Emma, the one with chestnut hair said, her tone professional but distant. As she adjusted the folds of Salviana's dress, her eyes lingered a little too long on Salviana's face, as if silently judging her. The second one, Priscilla, was brisk and efficient, barely sparing Salviana a good glance. "Hold still," she snapped, her fingers cold and quick as they fastened the buttons at the back of the dress. Sarah was different, her smile warm and unexpected in this chilly place. But even that couldn't erase the unease building in Salviana's chest.

They dressed her in a dark green gown, the fabric loose and unfamiliar against her skin. She barely felt like herself anymore despite this being how she was taught she'd be clothed here—she felt like just a pawn in this new, unsettling world. 

The maids worked in silence for a few minutes, until Emma stepped back and announced softly, "Your Grace, you're ready."

Salviana stared at her reflection in the mirror, drawing in a shaky breath. Before she could ask what came next, her husband's voice sliced through the room once more.

"You may leave." 

Had he been listening all this while? She wondered and if so, would the maids be ok?

The maids scrambled out of the room in a flurry, leaving her alone with the prince once more. The door shut softly behind the maids, and suddenly the room felt impossibly small. She stood frozen, aware of every inch of space between them. The air was thick, suffocating. Salviana dared not move as he stepped closer, the tension between them growing unbearable.

She didn't dare turn around, not while she could still feel his gaze burning into her back.