Married to the Vampire Prince
Chapter One: A Wedding in the Shadows
The carriage jolted as its wheels rolled over a root, sending Princess Elara forward in her seat. She gripped the edge of the window frame, her eyes scanning the dark woods beyond. The night was unnaturally quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves on the dirt path.
"How much farther?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound calm.
The coachman didn't answer. He hadn't said a word since they left the Human Kingdom's borders. She didn't know if it was fear or strict orders that kept him silent, but the lack of reassurance only made her nerves worse.
Elara sank back into the seat, pulling her cloak tighter around her. The air was cold, and the moonlight streaming through the dense canopy of trees cast eerie shadows that danced across the carriage interior.
She shivered, though it wasn't just from the cold. Her mind drifted back to the stories she'd heard about vampires—their sharp fangs, pale skin, and glowing red eyes. As a child, she'd seen a captured vampire in the palace dungeons. Its monstrous face and snarling demeanor had haunted her dreams for years.
And now, she was marrying one.
The thought made her stomach churn. She'd always imagined her wedding day as something magical—a grand ceremony in a sunlit cathedral, flowers in bloom, and her people cheering as she stepped into a new chapter of her life.
But this wedding? It was the opposite of everything she'd dreamed. A nighttime ceremony in the depths of the woods, surrounded by creatures she didn't understand, marrying a man she'd never met.
Her hands trembled as she smoothed the folds of her ivory gown. It was beautiful, but it felt more like a costume than a symbol of joy.
The carriage came to a sudden stop. Elara's heart leapt into her throat as she heard the faint rustle of movement outside. She peeked through the window and saw shadows shifting among the trees—figures too quick and too quiet to be human.
The door opened, and a tall figure loomed before her. His face was pale, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "Princess Elara," he said, his voice smooth and formal. "We have arrived."
She hesitated, her legs refusing to move. The figure extended a hand, waiting patiently. Taking a deep breath, she placed her trembling fingers in his and allowed him to help her out of the carriage.
The scene before her stole her breath.
A grand hall of black stone stood in the center of the clearing, its towering spires piercing the night sky. Torches lined the path leading to the entrance, their flames casting flickering light over the gathered guests. They were vampires—hundreds of them, their pale faces watching her with curiosity and something darker she couldn't name.
Elara's steps faltered as she walked down the path, escorted by the silent vampire. Her heart raced, and she fought to keep her breathing steady. She felt like prey walking into a den of predators.
The hall was just as imposing inside as it was outside. The walls were carved with intricate designs, the air heavy with the scent of night-blooming flowers and something metallic she couldn't place. A dais stood at the far end, where the ceremony would take place.
Elara tried to focus on the details—the smooth marble floor, the glittering chandeliers—but her mind was consumed by one question: What will he be like?
The room grew silent. A chill swept through the hall as the doors at the far end creaked open. Elara's breath hitched as a figure stepped inside.
Prince Draven.
He moved with an effortless grace, his tall frame draped in a black and silver suit that seemed to shimmer in the low light. His features were striking—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing blue eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. He didn't look like a monster. He looked... breathtaking.
For a moment, Elara forgot to breathe. The room faded away, leaving only him.
He stopped before her, his expression unreadable. "Princess Elara," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You honor us with your presence."
She struggled to find her voice. "Prince Draven," she managed, her words barely above a whisper.
He extended his hand, and she placed hers in his, surprised by the warmth of his touch. She had expected coldness, but his hand was steady and strong.
"Shall we begin?" he asked, his gaze locking onto hers.
Elara nodded, unable to speak. Her fate was sealed, and the ceremony began.
The priest, or whatever the vampires called the officiant of their ceremonies, stepped forward. His robes were deep crimson, lined with intricate silver patterns that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. His eyes glowed a dull orange, and his presence felt heavy, as if the very air around him bowed in respect.
Elara stood frozen, her hand still clasped in Draven's. His touch was steady, grounding her despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. She tried not to look at the crowd of vampires watching their every move, their pale faces unreadable in the dim light.
The officiant raised his hands, and the room fell into an unnatural silence. Even the crackling torches seemed to quiet, their flames flickering in unison.
"We gather under the ancient moon to unite two kingdoms through the binding of these souls," the priest began, his voice deep and resonant. "Princess Elara of the Human Kingdom and Prince Draven of the Vampire Court, you stand here to forge a bond that will alter the fate of both our worlds."
Elara's pulse raced. She wasn't just marrying Draven—this union was a symbol of peace, a fragile truce that could shatter with a single misstep.
Draven turned to her, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity. He bowed his head slightly. "Do you accept this bond, Princess Elara?"
Her throat felt dry, and her voice caught. She knew there was only one answer, but the weight of the moment pressed down on her like a storm cloud. Finally, she nodded, her voice soft but firm. "I do."
Draven's gaze didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, or perhaps curiosity.
The priest turned to Draven. "Do you, Prince Draven of the Vampire Court, accept this bond with Princess Elara, and vow to protect and uphold this union for the sake of your people?"
Draven's reply was immediate, his voice steady and commanding. "I do."
The priest raised his hands again, chanting words in a language Elara didn't understand. The torches burned brighter, their flames turning an eerie shade of silver. The air grew colder, and Elara felt a strange pull in her chest, as if an invisible thread was weaving between her and Draven.
"This bond is sealed in blood," the priest declared, his voice echoing through the hall.
Elara's breath hitched. Blood. Of course. This was a vampire wedding, after all.
A small ceremonial blade was brought forward, its hilt adorned with intricate carvings. Draven took it first, slicing a shallow line across his palm without hesitation. Crimson drops welled up, shimmering unnaturally in the torchlight.
The blade was handed to Elara. Her hands shook as she held it, the weight feeling heavier than it should. She hesitated, glancing up at Draven. His expression softened, just enough to be reassuring.
"You won't feel it for long," he said quietly, his voice meant only for her.
Swallowing hard, she drew the blade across her palm. The sting was sharp, and the sight of her blood made her stomach churn, but she didn't flinch.
The priest took both their hands, pressing their bleeding palms together. Elara felt a jolt, a strange warmth spreading through her hand and up her arm. The silver flames flared brighter, and for a moment, she felt as if the world around them had vanished.
"You are bound," the priest said, his voice reverent. "As night and day, as shadow and light, so shall you be."
The room erupted in applause—or something like it. The vampires clapped lightly, their movements elegant and restrained. The sound was unsettling, a reminder that she was now part of a world she didn't understand.
Draven released her hand, though his gaze lingered. "You did well," he said, his tone low but sincere.
Elara couldn't find the words to respond. The ceremony was over, but the weight of what had just happened settled over her like a heavy cloak.
"Come," Draven said, offering his arm. "The feast awaits."
She hesitated, then took his arm. The touch of his hand was steady, grounding her once more. As they walked through the grand hall, Elara glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was nothing like the monster she had imagined, yet he was still a mystery—a puzzle she wasn't sure she wanted to solve.
The feast awaited, and so did her new life.