Married To Darkness

The door shut softly behind the maids, and suddenly the room felt impossibly small. Salviana stood frozen, aware of every inch of space between them. The air grew thick, suffocating. She dared not move as he stepped closer, the tension between them growing unbearable. 

"Let's go and have breakfast with the royals you prefer over me," he invited, his voice dripping with casual disdain, offering his arm without hesitation. 

He was fine with touch today? she wondered because that was the same arm that she tried to take last night but he pulled away.

His formality must've returned, gloves and all. Silently, she nodded and took his arm, though her pulse quickened.

As they left the chambers, his eyes darkened, a subtle shift in his expression that betrayed his loathing for what awaited them. He hated being around his family, but there was no reason to rebel today. Not yet. 

Once Salviana did her purpose, he wouldn't need to pretend to these hateful fools. What made it worse was the human meals—he disliked them immensely—but he forced himself to partake, keeping up appearances.

He had heard the maids earlier but girls gossip and if was to reacte accordingly, he knew no one would willingly be here with him but that didn't mean they could say it for her to hear, and they were wrong, he was cold but he would try to care for her. He would not be careless.

They walked down the grand corridors leading to the main castle, every step echoing in the pristine space. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, chronicling centuries of battles and royal ceremonies. Above, the ceiling soared with archways supported by delicately carved columns. Chandeliers of crystal and gold cast a soft, ethereal glow, bathing the castle in an elegance that seemed oppressive rather than beautiful.

Salviana's eyes flitted over the meticulous details—the polished marble floors, the uniforms of the maids and guards, identical in every way. Everything screamed order, power, and control. She found herself both admiring and feeling overwhelmed by it all. It was as if the grandeur itself demanded submission, and she wondered if that was intentional. 

As they neared the main castle, her heartbeat quickened. The dining hall was only moments away, and with it, the daunting presence of his family. Her husband could sense her unease, yet he did nothing to comfort her. His silence was clear—she had to stay alert in this environment. They were about to enter the lion's den or the comforters zone.

The doors to the grand dining hall opened with a flourish, and the warden's voice rang out: "The third prince, His Grace, and Her Grace, his bride, the seventh princess, are here!"

Salviana's brow furrowed slightly at the introduction. 'Seventh princess?' She hadn't studied how the royalty titles were arranged before but she expected hers to be titled alongside her husband, the third prince. 

But she wondered why they were announced by title instead of names. Was this another sign that she was already an outsider? Yet, her husband's face remained unreadable, showing no indication that it mattered.

They stepped into the hall, which was even grander than the one they had dined in the previous night. A long table stretched out before them, easily seating forty people, though they weren't upto thirty currently present. Salviana's eyes quickly found the king and queen, but the others—relatives, no doubt—remained unfamiliar.

Her husband led her toward two empty seats. She curtsied to the king and queen, their nods of acknowledgment coming without a word. He pulled out a chair for her two seats away from the crown prince, who sat to the left of the king. For a brief moment, she hesitated, unsure if this was her proper place. But her husband's firm, commanding tone cut through her thoughts. 

"Sit here," he said, leaving no room for debate.

She complied, sitting down with her gaze low. As the murmur of conversations resumed, she did her best to remain unnoticed, though she could feel the weight of curious eyes on her. Just as she began to settle into the chair, the high-pitched voice of a child broke the silence.

"Uncle Dark Prince got his own mother!" the boy exclaimed.

Salviana froze. 'Mother?' She glanced at her husband, panic stirring within her. She had barely survived the previous night without falling apart, but now the child's words sent her spiralling. 

Was she expected to bear a child soon? 

Would it be a demon, a vampire or something even more terrifying? 

The thoughts twisted in her mind, dark and unsettling, until she couldn't help but lower her gaze to her husband's lips, remembering his claim of vampirism. 

'Would he drain her dry? Would they have a child?' Would the child drain her?!'

Before her anxiety could consume her, another voice chimed in, breaking the tension.

"No, Johnny, dummy! She's not his mother. She looks like a doll," said an older boy, Simon, the crown prince's son, his voice sure and dripping with authority.

Heat rose to Salviana's cheeks. A doll? She didn't know how to react. Was that an insult or a compliment? Was she meant to look beautiful and ornamental, or was this a sign of her being seen as weak and fragile?

"So, she's Uncle Dark Prince's baby?" a little girl's voice piped up, curiosity plain in her tone.

Simon rolled his eyes in a way Salviana found utterly elegant before replying, "No, Rose. She's probably his friend. And Johnny, it's 'uncle third prince,' not what you called him." he reprimanded cooly.

Rose nodded earnestly, her wide eyes staring at Salviana with open curiosity. Salviana managed a small, tense smile.

"I've told you both to stop calling him that!" snapped a boy with striking green eyes and red hair, his face a mirror of Salviana's own features. His voice carried a mix of frustration and protectiveness, and Salviana couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude. Everyone looked thesame in this table its almost comical, did they marry based on how alike they looked?

Well her husband went for a different and she felt easily proud of him though she didn't know why he picked her.

"Benedict, why are you yelling?" Simon shot back, his tone challenging.

"I wasn't yelling!" Benedict protested, only for Simon to roll his eyes.

"You just did!" Simon retorted smugly, but Benedict was quick to snap back.

"And so did you!" They kept yelling.

The playful bickering escalated quickly, and another child, Philippa, joined in, her voice laced with exasperation. "Now both of you have yelled." she reasoned, it was obvious she was tired of their bickering in the castle.

Before the argument could get out of hand, a booming voice cut through the chatter. "The king is at the table," the imposing man standing behind the king announced, his gaze stern.

Simon, undeterred, shot back, "Oh, shut it, Albert."

Salviana's eyes widened in disbelief. 'Can they speak like that in front of the king?'

"Do. Not. Be. Rude!" Philippa, the second prince's first daughter hissed, her eyes bulging as she glared at Simon, but he remained unfazed.

"Oh, come on, Philippa. Like you're going to stop talking just because Albert says so?" Simon challenged, his smirk growing.

Philippa always jumps in to defend her step-brother but Simon was always ruthless and ridiculously on point.

The table fell silent again as the argument reached its peak, but Benedict, with a quieter resolve, spoke once more, his voice carrying an unexpected weight. "Don't call him Demon Prince or Third Prince like he doesn't have a name."

The room stilled. All eyes shifted toward Benedict, and even Salviana felt the tension rise.

With an eyebrow raised, Simon leaned back in his chair, a small smirk on his lips. "Then what is it? If we can't call him 'Uncle Demon Prince' or 'Uncle Third Prince,' what's his name?"

The air grew heavy, everyone seemingly holding their breath in anticipation. Even Salviana found herself drawn into the suspense. This was the moment she would finally learn her husband's name, a revelation that felt like a key to unlocking the mysteries surrounding him.