Chapter Text
A loud knock on the door roused him from his slumber. He grumbled, shifting under the blankets as though he could bury himself back into his dreams.
It had been a nice dream, too. The kind where thirst cannot touch him, the thirst that agonizingly nagged and pulled at his limbs day after day.
“The Queen requests your presence in the throne room immediately.” Spoke a gruff voice, rudely shattering the silence that he savored so heavily.
The footsteps outside the door thudded away as the guard moved on.
Nevermind, he’s getting up. He knew better than to keep her waiting.
Learning the hard way again is not preferred.
He shivered as he pried himself from his warm blanket cocoon, setting his feet on the cold wood floor. Muscles screaming in protest, he walked over to his wardrobe, muttering in irritation as the air siphoned every ounce of warmth from his body.
It was a wardrobe made of dark wood with delicate engravings painted with silver, quite large too. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to hold all of his outfits.
Perhaps he should ask for another upgrade soon.
His hands gripped the fake silver handles and swung open the doors.
Considering the approaching winter season, it is getting far too cold to keep wearing his usual jester attire, as much as he adores it.
Instead, he grabs his second favorite option, carefully easing it out from the jam-packed mess of his own creations. Gods forbid he accidentally creases something the wrong way, not to mention ripping it.
He slipped on a ruffled white shirt first, before grabbing the coat he would put over it.
It was a stunning outfit, a symphony of blues, blacks, and silvers that he created perfectly to his vision. A fitted black coat cinched at the waist with silver buttons that descended in pairs down the center, its tails hanging down with dark blue ruffles beneath that framed the hips and legs. The sleeves flared out dramatically at the ends, revealing more blue ruffles that spilled around the wrists and hands.
He slipped on the simple black pants that went with the outfit.
His only regret? Having red eyes that stood out from the blues and blacks far too much. Why couldn’t vampires have blue eyes?? Why does he have blue hair??
With a sigh, he slipped a cloak over his shoulders, fastening it in the front. It was another item of his own making, a cape with intricate silver embroidery, growing more frequent and intense as it neared the ends.
He made his way over to his mirror, which was mounted onto the sizable vanity by the tall window in his room.
The windows in this palace were carefully enchanted to allow only a very small amount of sunlight through. Not enough to burn, but enough to cause slight discomfort when walking by. Having a towering baroque, tenebrous palace without the extravagantly designed windows is a no-no.
The one thing that the Queen did allow time for was the time he needed to make himself look presentable.
He huffed as he flopped into the vanity chair. His eyes travelled upwards, gazing at his—oh, wow.
His everything is a mess. Apparently, he passed out before he took off his stage makeup from yesterday.
Meticulously adjusting his outfit, he ensured that everything was straight and pristine. He was always so careful when he put his clothes away, but unfortunately, the process wasn’t always perfect.
Yeah, he’ll ask for a storage upgrade.
Grabbing a rag that was still a bit wet from yesterday, he began the grueling task of removing the makeup that was currently smudged across his face like some abstract art piece. He had left in such a hurry yesterday that he hadn’t had the time to clean up the mess on the vanity.
His mind wandered back to the play he had starred in yesterday. It was a beautiful story, of course, as it was of his own creation.
Well, mostly.
Although he rarely bases his plays on others, this one was largely inspired by Romeo and Juliet. Typically, he can endlessly nitpick at the writing choices of others, but this playwright in particular seemed to speak his language. The tragedy that the author managed to bring to life upon the stage was nothing short of breathtaking.
Vampires tend to have an unsurpassible love for tragedy and complexity, so he liked to draw on that as much as possible.
He set the rag down and instead grabbed his comb, brushing his swooping, white bangs over his face, taking great care to avoid ripping at the snarls.
It had taken him nearly 2 years to spare the time to create the costumes for the whole cast, not to mention the dent he made in the theater’s funds from buying the fabric and supplies for the set. The task of making the set, however, he delegated to others who were willing to assist.
Could he have done it better himself? Probably. It would have taken him another 5 years if he even tried, considering his schedule. Unfortunately, not everyone can be as skilled in the arts as him, or apparently even close. Ugh, it drives him crazy.
He shifted his focus to the rest of his extremely long hair, pulling the blue and black interlocking curls to the front and carefully picking at the base with his comb.
After he got through the maze of knots, he pushed his hair behind him again, carefully tying it into a long braid that reached nearly to his knees. He adores how his hair looks braided. The black and blue twisted together in a thick, swaying braid always gives such a nice effect.
Now that he had worked on his hair for longer than he should have, he started to put on some half-assed makeup. He had already kept her waiting too long to put much time into this. At least he was skilled enough to do it quickly and make it look good, anyway.
He got up and stretched with a soft groan, sore muscles crying out in protest.
Why didn’t I stretch before the performance?
Grumbling insults under his breath at no one in particular, he snatched a pair of knee-high black boots from by the door and went back over to sit on his bed. He slipped them on, zipping up the sides with more difficulty than he appreciates.
Feeling an awful lot like a lamb led to the slaughter, he left his quarters and started toward the throne room. The sound of his heels clicking against the hard, ornate tiled floors echoed through the eerily silent halls, which were somehow even colder than his room.
It doesn’t help that vampires naturally have a far colder body temperature than humans.
The elaborate architecture towered around him up to the ceiling, and was adorned with dark cherry reds, blacks, and silvers.
It’s quite ironic how much this kingdom uses fake silver in design, considering that it is one of the few things that can harm their kind.
The shadowy recesses created by the sharp, jutting designs in the pillars gave the whole place a foreboding sensation, as though you could be watched from anywhere.
After a walk that felt far too quick, he turned down the final bend that led to a dark hallway. Guards were stationed evenly spaced down the whole length, their dark armor gleaming in the low light.
As he approached the massive doors at the end, two guards stepped forward and pulled them open.
The throne was the first thing he laid his eyes on. The massive, obsidian piece of art had taken years and years for artists to carve, embedding rubies and other extravagant gemstones into the design. At the top was a massive white and red skull with horns that drew all attention, contrasted against the dark obsidian.
He stepped forward, his eyes meeting the Queen’s of deep crimson as she sat upon the throne.
She was as close to a stereotypical vampire as you can get. The black and red flowing cape with the high collar, black and red corset that cascaded off into a flowing ruffly dress of luxurious fabrics… yeah. The whole shebang.
He admired the craftsmanship of the outfit, at least.
“Shadow Milk.” The Queen’s voice rang with false fondness, dripping with arrogance and a twinge of malice.
“Yes, your Majesty?” Shadow Milk kneeled, as he grew accustomed to. Oh, how he hated it. She had him wrapped around her finger. You would think someone as brilliant as him would be able to slip away from her grasp by now, right?
Wrong!
The Queen had prepared for that outcome.
Although not quite at his level of expertise, she is no fool. Starting in his childhood, she had cast numerous binding spells over him. Ones that forced him to tell the truth, forced him to obey her… ugh.
Now, he had been stuck serving as her personal strategist and court jester as she saw fit for years.
“Stand.”
Shadow Milk’s legs moved to obey.
“I need your assistance. A certain human kingdom is getting bolder, and has begun to lead their patrols too far over our border-“
Certainly not unprovoked…
She went around poking the five human kingdoms as though they together didn’t have the power to rival ours.
“-and they must be dealt with.”
“You’re asking for my help in dealing with the patrols?” Shadow Milk blinked, irritated that he’d been awoken for this. “Station more forces at-“
“The kingdom.”
“…what?”
“I am asking for your help in eliminating the kingdom.”
Shadow Milk felt his stomach drop, and a familiar feeling rose in its place.
One giggle slipped out, then another, before he was cackling so hard that tears welled up in his eyes. He hunched over, unable to stand up straight.
The harsh sound ricocheted around the throne room, grating on the Queen’s ears like nails on a chalkboard.
Her unamused glare gave him unparalleled satisfaction.
After finally getting a hold of himself, he leaned back with an amused grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“With all due respect, your Majesty-“ His sentence broke off as another giggle slipped from his lips.
“Speak freely.” The Queen snapped, already getting tired of his forced formalities.
“It’s stupid. It is very, very stupid.” Shadow Milk stated bluntly, all laughter immediately gone, yet still wearing a smirk.
“I thought you were smarter than that?” He taunted, summoning the confidence to take a jab at her.
The Queen’s hands gripped the arms of her throne tighter, her face twisting in anger. She’s so easy that it's amusing. When someone has an ego bigger than his, it's exceedingly fun to rip at.
…
“You dare-“ The Queen hissed, before stopping herself abruptly. Shadow Milk is only trying to get under her skin. She won’t give him that satisfaction any longer.
She took a deep breath and cleared her head.
“I have a plan.” She relaxed her grip on the arms of the throne, leaning back with a smile.
Just as expected, she saw the intrigue flash in Shadow Milk’s eyes before he could mask it. He is easy.
“Oh, is that so? Do enlighten me!” Shadow Milk sneered, bending slightly at the waist with his usual cheshire grin.
After he started performing at the theater 10 years ago, she noticed that the theatrics seemed to drip into every other aspect of his life. It was irritating, but the skill he gained from it is undeniable.
That is why she needs him specifically for this task.
If she throws out a vague enough idea, perhaps he will hone it in more accurately than she.
“If we attack one kingdom with sufficient speed and lethality, we can dispose of them before the others have the chance to mobilize their forces, no?” She said thoughtfully, her fingers thrumming against the arms of her throne.
This time, Shadow Milk didn’t bury his intrigue. This only meant that it would be part of the act.
“I suppose soo…” He drawled, tapping his chin with mock thoughtfulness.
“However, attacking a kingdom that we don’t understand the landscape or layout of—“
Shadow Milk’s grin widened impossibly with glee, his fangs glinting in the low light.
“You want to use me as a spy.”
The Queen felt her smile grow almost imperceptibly.
“Tell me!” Shadow Milk sing-songed. “Which kingdom is the one that you want to give the special privilege of my presence to? Which kingdom dared to venture within our borders?” Shadow Milk stepped forward, gazing up at the Queen upon her throne.
…
“The Vanilla Kingdom.” She said simply, as though it wasn’t the most outrageous thing she’d ever said in her life. As though it was obvious.
Shadow Milk felt his stomach drop, and this time, there was no laughter to follow.
“A-whuh? Excuse me?”
“The Vanilla—how many times are you going to make me repeat myself?”
“The Vanilla Kingdom. ” Shadow Milk repeated, as though testing the name on his tongue.
His eyes fell for a moment, processing everything that had happened thus far, then traveled back up to the throne.
“Are you trying to get me killed?” He hissed, his crimson eyes narrowing with rage.
Once upon a time, he’d try to keep his grinning facade up while refuting these ridiculous demands. But now? He’d learned that he has to fight it with all he can. How pathetic that the Queen managed to reduce him to an animal that might as well be begging for its life.
He can no longer play his role in the way he wants.
“Why not? That foolish kingdom has been our greatest adversary and roadblock for centuries.” The Queen said with a sigh, once again, as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She rested her head on her hand, gazing down on Shadow Milk with slight irritation.
“Must I remind you that they specialize in light magic? The kind that can disintegrate us with a snap of the fingers?” Shadow Milk stepped forward, growing increasingly agitated.
“Their kingdom is so bright that they might as well worship the sun! What is your brilliant plan here?”
The Queen grinned uncharacteristically. Too widely to be normal. Much like himself, it was never a real smile. On his face, he wears that grin perfectly.
On her? It is beyond unsettling.
“I have unearthed a way to temporarily make you immune to the sun.”
The Queen leaned forward on her throne, clearly articulating every word of her next sentence.
“I have become enlightened with the magic of the gods.”