Chapter Text
The grand halls of the palace slumbered beneath the pale embrace of moonlight, their silence profound, broken only by the faint whisper of bare feet against polished stone. A boy, his hair like smouldering embers and his ocean gaze hollow with enchantment, drifted through the corridors. His movements were sluggish yet deliberate, guided by some unseen force. Soft, melodic murmurs escaped his lips.
Elsewhere in the palace, the Vampire Prince—clad in a wolf tunic that flowed like the abyss itself—moved with purpose toward the gates.
In the heart of the corridor, the boy emerged, his fragile frame limned in argent light, his presence at once ethereal and unnatural. Jongdae stilled, their crimson gaze narrowing upon the child. A faint residue of arcane craft coiled in the air about him, a whisper of meddling forces that had no place here.
"Child," he called softly, his voice steeped in calm yet tempered with curiosity. The sound lanced through the veils of the boy’s trance. He faltered, his steps stumbling as his eyes, wide and cerulean, sought clarity. For a moment, his breaths steadied—but then, the Vampire’s form resolved in his sight, a figure of shadow and dread.
Terror overtook him, raw and primal. His breath hitched, and he staggered backwards, his trembling hands clutching the thin fabric of his tunic as though it could shield him. “D-don’t…” he whispered, his voice a broken plea carried on the wind.
The Vampire regarded him, Jongdae's face an unreadable mask of serenity. He raised his hand, gloved and steady, in a gesture not of command but of peace.
“You are ensnared, little one,” he murmured, his words laden with measured grace. “Do not let fear deepen your bindings.”
The boy’s breaths quickened still, his frame quivering under the unseen weight of enchantment and fright. His gaze darted about, seeking escape, though the halls stretched infinite and empty.
But Jongdae remained unmoving, his presence vast yet unthreatening. He knelt slowly, lowering himself to meet the boy’s trembling stature, the end of his tunic pooling like liquid midnight upon the stone.
“I am no foe,” he intoned, his voice low, steady—a tether to the waking world. “And you, child, should not wander in such dangerous dreams.”
The boy hesitated, his instincts warring with the remnants of the spell. Yet the vampire’s words wove a fragile thread of solace through the storm of his mind. Slowly, hesitantly, he drew a shuddering breath.
The vampire's dark gaze softened further, the intensity fading into something almost fragile. He raised his hands slowly, palms open, a silent gesture of peace. The boy’s reaction struck deeper than it should have—fear, raw and palpable, etched into his small frame. It was not unfamiliar, but it was no less painful.
“Shh, little one,” the vampire said softly as though even the air might break the boy further. “I mean you no harm.”
But the boy’s breathing quickened, his vivid blue eyes darting about for an escape. “You’re… you’re one of them…” he stammered, his voice a thin thread of sound.
“One of what?” the vampire asked gently, tilting his head. He moved no closer, respecting the fragile boundary the boy’s fear had built.
“The ones who hurt people. The ones who… who…” His voice faltered, his words failing him as tears brimmed in his eyes.
The vampire's gaze was unwavering but soft as the moonlight. “Do I look like someone who wishes to hurt you?” Their tone was calm, soothing, like the quiet rustle of leaves in a midnight forest.
The boy hesitated, his trembling easing just a fraction. His instincts warred with reason. The vampire’s presence, though intimidating, lacked the malice he feared. He watched them, clutching his tunic tighter, his knuckles white.
“Why were you wandering, little one?” the vampire asked, his question like a thread of silk, coaxing but not demanding.
The boy’s lips quivered, his words spilling out in a confused rush. “I… I don’t know. I just woke up. I was… somewhere else, but I don’t remember…”
The vampire’s sharp senses caught the faint residue of magic clinging to the boy—old, subtle, and fading, like the remnants of a dream. They furrowed their brow, concern flickering across their face.
“You were not yourself,” they said, more to themselves than to the boy. “But you are safe now. I promise.”
The boy’s breathing slowed as the vampire’s words, steady and sure, washed over him. He wiped at his eyes with a small fist, his fear receding, though not entirely gone. He looked at the vampire again, searching their face for something he didn’t fully understand.
“Are you really not like the others?” he whispered, his voice trembling with both doubt and hope.
The vampire’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it carried the weight of centuries of loneliness and misunderstanding. “No, child. I am not.” They extended a hand, careful and deliberate, as if offering him a choice. “Come. Let me take you back to where it is safe.”
The boy hesitated, his small frame still trembling, but something in the vampire’s gaze—a quiet, unyielding kindness—pulled at him. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his tiny hand slipping into the vampire’s cold, steady grasp.
The vampire rose as he led the boy back through the grand, moonlit halls. Behind them, the shadows seemed to deepen, as though watching, waiting, and in their depths, the faint traces of the spell that had bound the child lingered still, unravelling into the night.
The boy, his name spoken as Suho, stood in the dim light like a flickering candle, his form both frail and radiant with some hidden, ethereal power. With a hesitant motion, he beckoned the vampire, Jongdae, to follow him deeper into the heart of the palace. His movements, though quiet, carried an unspoken urgency, as though he feared something untold lingered in the shadows of his mind.
Jongdae followed silently, his keen senses aware of every echo of the boy’s footfalls, every tremor in his breath. The chambers to which Suho led him were simple but elegant, a quiet respite from the grand halls of the palace. There, Jongdae gently coaxed the child into his bed, pulling the blanket over his fragile form. The weight of it seemed to comfort the boy, but his gaze, though soft, betrayed a lingering unease.
Suho’s voice, fragile as the rustling of autumn leaves, cut through the stillness. “What is your relation to my parents?” he asked, the words hanging in the air, as though searching for truth hidden in shadows.
Jongdae hesitated but only for a moment. Truth, after all, was the only thing that could be trusted in a world woven with lies and deceit. “I am... bound to them,” he replied softly, his voice steady but laced with something ancient, something that had settled deep within him. “They are my mates, my protectors. My family.”
Suho’s gaze fell to the stone beneath him, his expression unreadable, as though weighing the gravity of Jongdae’s words. For a long moment, the child remained silent, his eyes clouded with thoughts too heavy for his age. Then, at last, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good night, then.”
The words hung like a benediction in the air, and with them, Suho's form seemed to grow smaller, as if retreating further into the shadows of his chamber.
As he turned to leave, Jongdae couldn’t shake the feeling that something had passed between them, something unspoken but understood. The weight of the moment pressed on him as he closed the door behind him. What had just transpired? The vampire could not say, but the questions gnawed at him like the rustle of wind through dead branches.
He knew, however, that this was not the time to dwell. There were matters to attend to—matters that could not wait. The chamberlain, Baekhyun, would need to hear of this, as would Chanyeol. The following evening, they would discuss it all. But for now, the weight of the kingdom beckoned, and Jongdae’s thoughts turned toward the town.
With a deep breath, he steadied himself. Yoora awaited. Tonight, they would venture into the heart of the town. The streets of the town would speak their own secrets, and Jongdae would listen.
“Jongdae!” Yoora’s voice rang out, bright as a star in the darkening streets of Shadowfang Keep. She appeared before him, a vision in her wolf tunic, the soft gleam of her snow-white hair catching the moonlight like fresh snowfall under a winter’s sky. Her eyes, gleaming gold and full of life, lit up the quiet night as if they held the very fire of dawn.
For a moment, Jongdae paused, overwhelmed by the warmth that the sight of her brought. It was good to be back in Shadowfang. Though his time in the city had not been long, there was a deep, undeniable pull here—a sense of belonging that the grand city had failed to provide. The city had felt hollow, like a half-finished story, and now, standing in the village that had been his haven, it was clear. The city was missing something—something that could not be named. And now that Jongdae had glimpsed the life of this village, he could never return to the way things were before.
Yoora tugged on his cold hand, pulling him out of his thoughts, her small fingers warm and eager against his skin. They walked together through the lively market, a contrast to the quiet halls of the palace—there was laughter, chatter, and the bustle of merchants peddling their wares under the gentle moonlight.
“So... anything you want to say, child?” Jongdae asked, his voice soft, yet carrying a weight he couldn’t shake. Yoora’s heart fluttered, and for a moment, she hesitated. She shifted closer to him, her cheeks blooming with a delicate crimson hue.
“I swear I didn’t know who you were!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with both embarrassment and an earnest sincerity that made Jongdae’s heart twinge. “I just—at first, I didn’t…” She stumbled over her words, fumbling to explain herself, but the weight of her guilt was palpable in her shaking hands and averted gaze.
Jongdae chuckled softly, his amusement tempered by a gentle understanding. He stopped walking and knelt beside her, lowering his gaze to meet her wide, sincere eyes. "It’s all right, Yoora. I understand," he said, his voice carrying warmth. “The things we don't know often lead us down unexpected paths. But I believe you now." He smiled reassuringly, offering her a hand to steady herself. Jongdae let out a slow, quiet sigh as he watched Yoora, his eyes softening with an unspoken understanding. Her words floated in the air between them, tinged with a certain innocence that was strangely disarming.
“It was… the last day you were here that I heard from my parents about a vampire… with the same name as yours,” she said, her voice sheepish, her fingers nervously tracing the hem of her tunic. She offered him a small, apologetic smile, but Jongdae could see the conflict in her gaze. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just thought you were some random vampire. And… well, if anything, I’m not upset. You know.”
Jongdae tilted his head slightly, his mind racing to grasp the meaning behind her words. The gentle breeze of the night rustled through the trees, but in that moment, the world felt still. Her words echoed in his mind, each one carrying a weight of its own. What did she mean by “not upset”? And what was it about this name, this connection, that she was skirting around?
“I don’t mind the new arrangements really…” Yoora continued, her voice softer now, though there was a hint of something more in her tone, something uncertain yet trusting. “My dad told me about you, and... for now, I’ll call you Jongdae. He told me to make sure to ask you first if I want to call you… something else.”
Jongdae blinked, the implication settling slowly in his chest. He stared at Yoora for a long moment, the air between them thick with a quiet realization. The thought of someone—someone so young and innocent—calling him family, it struck a chord deep within him. If he were still human, perhaps he would have felt a flush of warmth on his cheeks.
A sibling. A child. The thought both startled him and comforted him. For centuries, he had lived in isolation, his existence marked by the passing of endless years with no true bonds to tie him down. Yet, here was Yoora, so different from the cold reality he had known, bringing with her a sense of possibility, of warmth, of something genuine.
Though his vampire nature had long since hardened his heart, Jongdae couldn’t deny the stirring sensation that was beginning to take root inside him.
“You can call me whatever you like, Yoora,” he replied softly, his voice steady but not without a hint of warmth. "For now... let’s take things one step at a time."
Yoora’s face lit up at his words, her earlier hesitation replaced by something more at ease. Jongdae could feel the subtle shift in the air, the quiet understanding growing between them.
In truth, it was a surprising turn of events, one he hadn't expected, and yet... it felt like something he could learn to embrace. He had always longed for a connection like this—a family, a bond of sorts, something more than just an endless cycle of survival.
Jongdae felt a warmth spread through him that didn’t quite match the chill of his vampire skin as he curled his cold fingers gently around Yoora's small, warm hand. The contrast between them was sharp, but somehow, it felt right. He gave her a soft, almost tender smile, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.
“Did you really stay awake all this time because you… wanted to leave the palace?” Jongdae asked, his voice quiet, yet laced with curiosity.
Yoora faltered for a moment, her steps slowing as she clutched his hand a little tighter. She seemed to retreat inward, a hint of uncertainty flashing across her face. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson, almost as if the weight of the question had startled her.
“… Well, I usually do it in the afternoon and evening. But when you were here…” Yoora paused, her words stumbling over each other. She blinked up at him, her blue eyes wide and earnest. “I... I missed you. You’re... a friend.”
Jongdae's heart skipped a beat, an unexpected warmth blossoming inside him at her words. A friend. The word echoed in his mind, reverberating through him like an unfamiliar melody said by a warm blooded being.
He chuckled softly, a sound far gentler than he was used to, and leaned down slightly to meet her gaze. "Well, I apologize if I took too long to get out of the palace," he said with a sigh. "I had so many things to learn. I’ll try to come earlier once the sun goes down."
Yoora’s blush deepened, but she quickly shook her head, her hand squeezing his in reassurance. “It’s really okay! Dad says you need to get used to the palace. He says it's important."
Jongdae nodded slowly, his smile a little more thoughtful now. She wasn’t wrong, of course. The weight of royal duties, of the intricacies of palace life—it had been overwhelming at times. And yet, here in this moment, walking side by side with Yoora through the quiet streets, it felt like a fleeting escape from the weight of it all.
But there was still a piece of the puzzle left unsolved. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “You still haven’t told me, though. Why do you leave the palace like this, on your own?”
Yoora hesitated for a heartbeat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. It was as if she was trying to summon the courage to say something she hadn’t quite put into words yet.
Finally, she spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "Sometimes... I just want to feel free, I guess. Away from all the things that are expected of me." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with quiet wisdom. “I know it’s important, all the things I’m supposed to do, but... it’s nice, sometimes, to just be… me."
Jongdae understood more than she likely realized. There had been times, long ago, when he too had craved freedom—before he became bound to his fate as a vampire, before he became a piece in the intricate web of power and politics. He understood the yearning for something simple, something untouched by duty.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, offering a soft smile. "I get it," he said quietly. "We all need a little space, a little time to just be ourselves. I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long next time. I think we both deserve that, don’t we?"
Yoora looked up at him, her face brightening, her expression softening into something that almost felt like relief. She nodded enthusiastically, her steps now lighter as they continued walking, side by side, into the unknown of the night.
In that moment, the weight of his responsibilities, the palace, and the expectations seemed far away. Jongdae walked beside Yoora, a quiet promise hanging in the air—one that even the centuries-old vampire wasn't sure how to keep, but felt an instinctual need to.
For the first time in a long while, Jongdae allowed himself to just be—to embrace the simplicity of the moment, and to hold on to something more precious than power.
As they resumed walking, the noise of the market filled the air, blending with the quiet hum of their thoughts. But Jongdae knew something was stirring beneath the surface, something in the heart of Shadowfang Keep, something the village’s moonlit streets held in its shadows.
And Jongdae, for all his centuries, felt that pull too.
The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting its eerie glow across the winding path through the palace grounds. The lake shimmered like liquid glass, its surface mirroring the sky. Yoora was a small, lively figure by the water's edge, her bright tunic a splash of color against the serene backdrop. She danced around the rocks that jutted out of the water, her movements graceful and carefree, her laughter light as it echoed across the stillness of the lake.
Jongdae sat a little ways back, leaning against a large tree, his legs stretched out before him. He watched her quietly, his crimson eyes glowing now, tracing her every movement, making sure she wasn't hurting herself, noting the way she seemed to lose herself in the joy of the moment. There was something almost ethereal about the scene, the way the fading light bathed everything in a soft, warm glow. For a brief moment, it almost felt like time had stopped, like the world had faded away and all that remained was the sound of the wind in the trees and the gentle ripples on the lake.
The sound of Yoora’s footsteps crunching through the grass broke his reverie, and he glanced over just in time to see her run up to him, her face flushed with excitement.
"Come on, Jongdae!" she urged, her voice full of energy. "You have to come play with me! It’s so much fun!"
He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. There was something about her infectious joy that made it impossible to resist. She was like a spark of warmth in the coldness of his world.
“I’m not much for running around like you do,” Jongdae replied, chuckling softly. A very pretty lie, of course, but only because he didn't want to beat a child in a running match. “But I’ll watch you, if that’s okay.”
Yoora pouted for a moment, her hands on her hips, but then her face lit up again, and she dashed off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll win anyway!”
Jongdae leaned back against the tree, his gaze following her as she ran around the lake, her laughter carrying on the breeze. There was a peacefulness to the scene that felt unfamiliar, but welcome.
Yoora returned to his side, her cheeks rosy from her exertions, but her smile never faltering.
“See? I told you I’d win,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jongdae chuckled and nodded. “You’re right. I should have known better than to doubt you.”
For a moment, they sat together in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night beginning to emerge as the world shifted into darkness. In this fleeting instance, he felt like he was no longer just a vampire bound to the endless night, but part of something—something warm, something human.
As Yoora stepped away for a moment, her delicate hands brushing through the soft grasses, Jongdae's gaze lingered on her, watching her as she knelt by a patch of wildflowers by the lakeshore. She had spotted a particularly rare flower, its petals as white as moonlight, and she moved toward it with a soft smile on her face. Jongdae, content in the peace of the moment, leaned back against the tree, letting the calm of the evening settle over him.
However, that peace was soon shattered.
The wind shifted. A subtle, unnatural chill ran down Jongdae’s spine, and he straightened, his instincts alert. He turned his head slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing as something in the air seemed to thicken. The faintest of whispers danced on the wind, carrying a dark magic that tugged at the edges of his mind. He knew the feeling well—darkness, a creeping force that had no place in the quiet, moonlit world around him.
Before he could fully react, the air around him seemed to shift, and a surge of shadowed energy erupted from the trees, quickly surrounding him. He rose to his feet in an instant, his gaze flashing, as a group of witches materialized from the shadows of the surrounding woods. They were cloaked in dark robes, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Each one seemed to hum with a sinister power, their hands raised as they muttered incantations under their breath, weaving curses into the air around Jongdae.
One of them, a tall woman with silver hair and eyes like glowing amber, stepped forward, her voice smooth and cold.
“We’ve been watching you, vampire. The time has come for you to fulfill your purpose.”
The faintest whisper of a spell caught Jongdae's senses. It was the same energy that tangled with Suho. Before he could react, a blur of movement erupted from the darkness, and a witch, cloaked in shadow, lunged at him.
With inhuman speed, Jongdae twisted aside, his body a fluid shadow. He raised his arm, his long fingers curling like claws, and struck at the witch’s face. His nails, elongated and sharpened, sliced through the air, meeting flesh, and the witch let out a scream as she was hurled backwards, skidding across the ground.
“You think you can sneak up on me?” Jongdae’s voice was low, almost a growl, his eyes blazing with fury. He whipped around, eyes scanning the shadows for more of them. The witches had masked their scent and presence well, but he could still feel them, hidden just out of sight.
Another witch lunged from the darkness, her staff crackling with dark energy. She sent a bolt of arcane energy toward him. Jongdae sidestepped, feeling the surge of magic pass him by. He countered with a swipe of his hand, his fingers sending an ethereal, vampiric wave of energy that slammed into the witch, throwing her into a nearby tree with a sickening crack.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, stepping forward.
The witches cackled, their eyes narrowing with cruel amusement as they circled around him, chanting louder now, their magic pressing in on him from all sides. It was a power he hadn’t felt in years, old and twisted magic, the kind that came from those who sought to control others through fear and domination.
But then, from the woods, another figure emerged—a wolf. It was large, its fur as black as the night, eyes gleaming with a golden intensity. Jongdae’s eyes narrowed. Wolves? More of them? But before he could make sense of it, the sound of a child’s frantic voice cut through the tension.
“Jongdae!”
The little wolf girl, Yoora, appeared from behind a tree, her small form glowing faintly in the moonlight. Her red hair framed her face, but her eyes, wild and panicked, were locked on the creatures attacking her protector.
“Yoora!” Jongdae shouted, his heart racing. His instincts screamed at him to protect her, but the scene was turning into a chaotic maelstrom. Wolves had now surrounded him, their golden eyes gleaming with a strange familiarity. But were they allies or foes?
Without thinking, he moved toward Yoora, slashing at another witch who appeared in his path. The witch stumbled back, her spell undone by his strike. “Stay back, Yoora!” Jongdae ordered, his voice sharp, but it was clear she was too terrified to listen.
The wolves, though, were acting in unison, their snarls resonating through the night. They moved with precision, their strikes coordinated with the vampire’s fluid motions, as if they were working together. Jongdae’s eyes darted from one wolf to another, recognizing their movements—his wolves.
“Who sent you?” Jongdae growled, dodging another bolt of magic from one of the witches. He lunged forward, grabbing the witch by her throat, lifting her off the ground. “You’re not going to answer, are you?”
“You don’t know what you’re meddling with,” he said, his voice steady despite the growing power of the witches. “Leave, now, and I will spare you.”
The witch with silver hair laughed again, her voice dripping with malice. “Spare us? You are nothing more than a pawn in a game far beyond you, vampire. And we are here to collect.”
With a wave of her hand, the witches sent a surge of magic toward Jongdae, but he was quicker. His fangs gleamed in the moonlight as he dodged, moving like a shadow, his body fluid and fast. With a swift motion, he drew his blade and slashed through the barrier, the magical force cracking with a thunderous roar.
The witches stumbled back, momentarily disoriented by the strength of his attack. It was enough for him to move, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination as he reached out, grabbing one of the witches by the arm and slamming her into the ground. She screamed, her magic fizzling in her hand as she struggled beneath him.
But the others were quick to retaliate, summoning powerful windstorms and fire, their power flaring as they tried to overwhelm him. The air grew thick with smoke and dark energy, and for a moment, Jongdae felt the weight of their power pressing down on him. He gritted his teeth, knowing he had to act fast, before Yoora was caught in the chaos.
“Yoora, get back!” Jongdae shouted, his voice strained as he deflected a blast of dark magic with his blade. The witch he'd knocked to the ground struggled to her feet, ready to unleash another wave of magic.
Yoora, trembling but resolute, backed away slowly, clutching the white flower in her hand. Her heart ached to see Jongdae in such danger, but she knew she had no power to help him. She needed to find a way to alert the others—her father, Chanyeol, would come if she could just make it to the palace.
Jongdae’s blood burned with fury, but his focus remained sharp. He would not let these witches take control. Not of him, and not of the village. Not while he still stood.
With a final, blood-curdling roar, Jongdae summoned his full power, his form flickering like a wraith in the night, and he lunged at the witches with a speed and ferocity they were unprepared for. The night air crackled with energy as the battle began in earnest, the peaceful evening shattered by the violence of magic and steel.
Yoora’s voice trembled as she whispered under her breath, “Please, don’t let anything happen to him…”