Prince Nathaniel
Standing in the far corner of the ballroom, wearing a midnight black, nicely tailored suit was Prince Nathaniel himself. He stood with his shoulders back and his head held high, liquid silver gaze intent on the dance floor before him. Lazily in his right hand, between his index and middle finger, rested a wine glass. Within said glass was red wine cleverly laced with blood, AB positive, naturally. He lifted the glass to full lips, the left side of his mouth curving into a lions grin as liquid, slightly tainted with an irony taste, met his tongue.
Four hundred years. Four hundred years of the same exact thing; a masked ball. The people of his kingdom came, though he enjoyed their praise, they danced, ate, laughed, and then went home. It never failed that Nathaniel came up empty-handed with no blood bond in tow. Instead, he spent a tedious, boring night with a woman he hurried from his bed chambers the very next morning quickly. They all seemed too easy, speaking of the same thing. Love, marriage, a future together. Disgusting. This year was no different. He could hear and distinctively pick out every conversation in that very room, even outside his castle. The rumors were still going around, swirling around the ballroom along with the dancers.
"Prince Nathaniel is actually a vampire. He is the prince the legend speaks of. The prince and that witch!"
Witch. The Prince had to keep himself from snickering aloud. Edelia rarely crossed his mind nowadays, but when she did the thoughts were not necessarily pleasant. He resented her with every single fiber of his vampiric being. He was almost drug back into his past. Almost.
A dainty, pale hand that teasingly fell on his left arm, tugging at his jacket sleeve, broke him from his trance. Nathaniel's gaze fell and met the wide, green eyes of a frizzy-haired red head. Most likely she was admiring his crimson red mask that only covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose. It was a simple piece this year, but the material it was made of screamed pure wealth. However, it did not take her long to return to staring at his eyes. His seemingly deep, liquid silver eyes that people claimed drew you in helplessly. He waited for the woman to speak, introduce herself though he already knew her name, knew who she was, even her history.
"Prince Nathaniel," she breathed airily, eyelids fluttering gently in exaggerated blinks. A grin crossed Nathaniel's lips, his signature grin, both wicked and charming at the same time. She went on. "My name is Gloria. I moved here a few months ago, and haven't got to formally introduce myself, I. . ."
The Prince stopped listening after that, something suddenly catching his interest. Outside the ballroom and down the hall the castle's heavy, oaken doors opened and with it a gentle breeze. That breeze swiftly moved throughout the castle, and with it it brought a scent. A sickly sweet scent that stirred something inside of Nathaniel. His silver gaze snapped to the entrance of the ballroom. Slow seconds ticked by. The maiden, Gloria, kept talking about how she moved from the neighboring kingdom to the west of Delia. She was now fidgeting and looking in different directions, not noticing the prince was not paying the slightest attention to her.
Nathaniel quirked a single brow when a beautiful woman, for a mortal, strolled into the ballroom. She looked just barely unsure of herself, but her eyes widened as she took in sight of the room. She'd never came before, he decided, dumbfounded; he had no idea who this girl was. Yet, didn't he know everyone who lived within the boundaries of his kingdom?
He looked back down at Gloria, a smirking dancing along his lips. He did not hear much of what she had said, but now held her gaze once more. She did not looked away, though she was visibly trembling as the prince reached forward, and grasped her left, gloved hand. "Gloria," he murmured, bringing her hand up and kissing it softly, letting his lips linger, all the while eyes never leaving hers. Her breath had quickened and so had her heartbeat. "It is a pleasure having you here tonight. Please, enjoy yourself, love." And with that he turned, placed his wine glass on the table behind himself, and was gone, having vanished between dancing, twirling bodies, leaving the young, red haired maiden in awe, staring after him with longing.
Now he was aware of it. Moving closer to the mysterious, golden haired woman, he was aware of the smell- her blood. It smelt sweet and was strong, rattling something inside of Nathaniel, a longing of his own. Women stared as he slid past them gracefully, eyes combing the crowd, searching for the girl.
The found her being whisked along the floor by a tall man he recognized, seeing him at the ball every year for the past five. The man was a blacksmith but nothing grand. The prince portrayed no emotion, moving closer as the music playing slowly came to an end. That's when Nathaniel moved in.
In a swift movement he grabbed the woman's hand from the man's side smoothly, spinning her into his arms in a gentle motion. Another band of music began to play, elegant and low. The blacksmith simply stood there with empty arms, baffled as he stared after Nathaniel and the beautiful maiden. Gazing into her eyes, Nathaniel was struck; this had to be her, his bond. He spun her across the floor, twirling her out before bringing her back, close against him. "Forgive me for how rude I was back there, stealing you away from the man who is courting you." He knew she came alone, already starting to prodded. He kept his gaze intently on her icy eyes with his silver ones.