Married to the vampire prince

Chapter Seven: A Quiet Resolve

The morning sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting long, golden beams across the stone floor. Draven stood in his private chambers, speaking in hushed tones with Levi, his right-hand man. Levi, with his sharp eyes and ever-present air of composure, had been delivering reports regarding the brewing tensions with a neighboring kingdom.

"Keep the troops stationed for now," Draven instructed, his voice steady. "We cannot move without solid information. The king's orders were clear, but I'll not lead soldiers to their deaths on a whim."

Levi nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood, my lord. And your decision to stay behind for the morning? A strategic move?"

Draven allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. "Something like that. Elara should not always wake to an empty room."

Levi gave a slight bow, his approval evident in the subtle shift of his demeanor. "A wise choice, my lord. If you require anything further…"

Draven waved him off, and Levi disappeared as silently as he had come.

---

Elara sat at the dining table, absentmindedly arranging the silverware as the maids served her breakfast. She had grown accustomed to eating alone, the emptiness of the vast hall echoing her thoughts.

Today, however, was different. She looked up to see Draven enter, his steps purposeful but unhurried. For a moment, she wondered if her eyes deceived her.

"Good morning," he greeted, his tone neutral yet warm.

Elara blinked, startled. "You're… here?"

Draven smirked, taking the seat across from her. "It seems I am."

The maids quickly adjusted their service, bringing an additional plate for the prince. Elara watched as he poured himself a glass of wine, his movements unhurried.

"You're usually gone before dawn," she said cautiously, unsure if her curiosity might offend him.

"Meetings," he replied simply, taking a sip of his drink. "But even I can use a morning off."

She nodded, feeling strangely self-conscious. The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it was unfamiliar.

"You should eat," Draven said, gesturing to her untouched plate.

Elara quickly picked up her fork, her cheeks warming. "Of course."

---

After breakfast, Elara wandered the halls, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. The palace seemed endless, a labyrinth of corridors and chambers. She found herself drawn to a set of carved wooden doors, their intricate patterns depicting scenes of ancient battles.

Pushing the doors open, she stepped into a vast library. Rows upon rows of books stretched toward the ceiling, their spines gleaming in the soft light. A faint scent of parchment and leather filled the air.

An elderly vampire, dressed in simple robes, approached her. "Welcome, Your Highness," he said, bowing slightly. "You've found the heart of our knowledge."

Elara's eyes widened. "It's beautiful."

"Indeed," he said. "Is there something specific you seek?"

She hesitated, then asked, "Could you tell me more about vampires? I… want to understand."

The man nodded and gestured for her to follow. He led her to a section filled with ancient tomes. As he pulled out a book, he began to speak.

"Our kind was born of darkness but not without purpose," he explained. "We endure the sun's burn, yet we thrive in the shadows. Blood sustains us, yes, but we are not without souls."

Elara listened intently, her fingers brushing the delicate pages of the book he handed her. It detailed the history of vampire clans, their alliances, and their wars.

"Are all vampires… bound by blood?" she asked hesitantly.

"In a sense," the man replied. "Blood ties us to one another, but it is loyalty and choice that define us."

Elara nodded, absorbing his words. She spent hours in the library, delving into the texts he provided. The more she read, the more she realized how little she truly understood about the world she had married into.

---

Later in the afternoon, Elara stepped out into the training grounds. From a distance, she spotted Alaric, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he practiced. His movements were precise, his strength evident with each swing.

She paused, watching him silently. It struck her as unfair that Draven, despite not being the crown prince, was the one burdened with the king's dangerous orders. Alaric, with all his skill and position, seemed far better suited to the task.

Her thoughts wandered to Draven's expression during dinner the previous night. The weight he carried was evident, even if he tried to hide it.

Elara turned away, her mood somber. She spent the remainder of her day in the library, seeking solace in the quiet and the words of the ancients.

---

When dinner arrived, Elara ate alone in the dining hall. The silence was heavier than usual, her thoughts too loud in the stillness. She wondered if Draven was safe, if his meetings had kept him away for reasons he didn't share.

Her mind drifted to the pendant she'd learned about earlier, and she couldn't shake the image of Draven standing in the sun without protection. The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

By the time she retired to her chambers, the moon hung high in the sky. Elara settled into bed, her body weary but her mind restless. She didn't hear the door open or the quiet steps that followed.

Draven stood at the edge of the room, watching her for a moment. The day had been long, and the weight of the king's plans pressed heavily on him. Yet, seeing Elara's peaceful form, he felt a flicker of something unfamiliar.

He approached the bed, careful not to disturb her. For the first time in a long while, Draven allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, his marriage wasn't the curse he had thought it would be.

---

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently illuminating the room. Elara stirred, her eyes fluttering open to an unusual sight—Draven, still asleep beside her. For a moment, she thought she might be dreaming.

He looked peaceful, his usual stern expression softened in slumber. The faint glow of daylight accentuated his sharp features: high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and dark lashes that rested against his pale skin. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, tousled yet somehow effortlessly perfect.

Elara found herself studying him closely. It was rare to see him this vulnerable, and she couldn't help but admire how composed he was even in such a state. Despite their unconventional arrangement, he had shown remarkable restraint. She thought about their nights together—how, even though they shared a bed with nothing between them, he never crossed any boundaries.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought, and she quickly averted her gaze.

A low chuckle broke the silence, startling her.

"Admiring me, are we?" Draven's deep voice, tinged with amusement, made her freeze.

"I—I wasn't!" she stammered, her face burning as she realized he had caught her.

Draven opened one eye, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "Lying so early in the morning, wife? That's unlike you."

Elara huffed, crossing her arms. "You're insufferable."

He chuckled again and sat up, the sheets falling away to reveal his well-defined chest and toned abdomen. Elara's eyes widened before she quickly pulled the blanket over her head, hiding her embarrassment.

"Are you hiding?" Draven asked, clearly amused. "I thought you were braver than that."

"Go take your bath!" her muffled voice came from beneath the covers.

Draven shook his head, still smirking, as he rose and walked toward the adjoining bath chamber. The sound of water running soon filled the room, but Elara didn't dare peek out until she was certain he was gone.

---

Breakfast that morning was a quiet affair. Draven joined her briefly but left almost as soon as he finished eating.

"I'll be out for most of the day," he informed her. "Try not to cause too much trouble in my absence."

Elara rolled her eyes at his teasing, though a small smile tugged at her lips. She watched as he strode out of the hall, his cape billowing behind him, leaving her to her thoughts.

Later that morning, as Elara sat in her chambers reading, a maid entered with a sealed envelope.

"A letter for you, Your Highness," the maid said, placing it gently on the table before bowing and retreating.

Elara's heart quickened as she recognized the handwriting on the envelope. It was her mother's. She quickly opened it, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded the parchment.

My dearest Elara,

I hope this letter finds you well. I've been thinking about you every day and praying that you are safe and happy in your new life. How is your husband? Have they been kind to you?

The house feels emptier without you. Your father is as he always was, but I manage. I miss seeing your face every morning, your laughter echoing through the halls. Please write back and let me know how you are. I long to hear from you.

With all my love,

Mother

Elara's chest tightened as she finished reading. She could almost hear her mother's gentle voice in the words, feel the warmth of her caring gaze. A pang of homesickness washed over her, and she clutched the letter to her chest.

The palace, though grand, felt cold and distant compared to the modest but loving home she had shared with her mother. For the first time since arriving here, Elara allowed herself to acknowledge just how much she missed her.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. "Get a hold of yourself," she whispered to herself. "This is your life now."

She folded the letter carefully and placed it in the drawer of her bedside table. Resolving to write back later, she rose from her seat, determined to keep herself occupied. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on her emotions for too long.

---

The day stretched on, and Elara wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, her thoughts swirling. Despite the vastness of the estate, she felt confined. Her interactions with the others in the household were limited, and even when she did meet someone, it often led to conflict or discomfort.

She found herself longing for the garden again—the one place that seemed to offer a semblance of peace. Yet even there, her mother's words lingered in her mind, filling the silence with memories of home.