The intimidating crimson liquid seeped into the melting snow. Twisting and dripping to form unfamiliar shapes. Freely flowing from it's newly deceased owner as she lay silent on the cold ground, still with wide, scared eyes and a horrified expression.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Kill was all that was running through Harry's mind, and he loved it. He left his crouching position and stood while wiping the blood off his face with the inside of his cloak. He felt the rush calming and a content bubble shaping in his stomach when he looks down on the crippled body beneath him.
He knows it'd be best to go before anyone wakes up and sees what he's done in the village square, but it's so beautiful he can't bear to tear himself from the incriminating scene yet.
Finally as the sun begins to appear Harry can't stay any longer. He knows people will soon be waking and starting their own days and he can't have them finding their prince hovering over a dead body.
Harry Styles is notorious, amongst the people who live and work in his castle, as a heart quickening, terrifying, evil demon who preys upon the weak and abuses his power far too often. The servants know that if you look him in the eye you're certain to be his next snack, and that warrants a clear level of respect and fear that Harry thrives on. He loves hearing how their hearts race and breaths quicken when he enters the room. How they freeze for a moment before scurrying about to do their jobs as fast and neat as possible as to not upset him. Many things irritate the prince.
He reaches the castle at the top of the eerie hill in mere seconds due to his incredible speed. He has even more improved abilities than most vampires because he's royalty and a born vampire, instead of merely bitten by some scum looking for a bit of refreshment, and he's a pure breed no less. He has many advantages and is well aware of it. His family has been running this kingdom for as long as there has been a kingdom to rule.
He enters the fittingly named entrance hall and finds his father waiting for him with a slight displeased expression on his face.
"How many times must I tell you Harry? If you want fresh blood you can choose someone from the dungeons to be a blood slave. You cannot however go out willy-nilly killing the townspeople," his father gives the words to his son like a slap on the wrist. They won't do any good and both men know this.
"Alright father," Harry says the lie even if they both are aware it's untrue. Harry will sooner kill everyone in the castle than listen to his fathers number one rule of not killing the village people.
"Oh no you don't," the Kings says deciding his warnings obviously aren't working and after 20 years of failing to get Harry to listen he will finally set some consequences. "If you don't stop hunting our citizens I will delay your coronation another 15 years," he threatens. He has been ruling for over two hundred years and he was going to pass the kingdom on to Harry in 8 months time rather than waiting till his own death. Because, as they are not currently at war, and being killed is the only way they die, never of old age. They do age as they are born vampires, but it's slower and can be paused indefinitely whenever the vampire wished. Harry currently has himself paused at twenty-three and has been for sixteen years.
"No! Father," Harry groans, "you know I can't stand that stuff you serve in glasses at dinner like it's expensive wine," Harry speaks of the blood they pass off as fresh every night. Technically it is fresh, usually only drained that same day, but its nothing like drinking from the vein.
"Then do what I said before and get a blood slave, but do not kill our people unprovoked. Do you understand son?" Harry bitterly nods, "good. Then you should be fine to inherit the throne in under a year," with that the king leaves his son to himself.
Harry marches up the stairs and many hallways leading to his bedchambers. As he enters his room he sees the back of a servant making his bed. He thinks it's just a normal maid but then the servant turns and isn't a maid at all, but a male servant. Harry never would have guessed judging by the boy's small frame and soft featured wispy brown hair. He must not have noticed the trousers beneath the generic worker smock.
When the boy sees Harry he gasps, freezes, and looks down not saying a word but waiting for any commands. Harry smiles at the worker’s obedience, this one clearly understands how things work around here even if Harry has never seen him before.
"Continue," Harry says in his low nonchalant yet cold voice. Harry then moves to sit at his desk to look at some documents he's in charge of.
"Yes, your majesty," the boy says and gratefully returns to work, very happy Harry didn't behead him like he thought he would considering how people in the castle speak of their prince.
When the boy finishes he nervously looks to Harry and sees him engrossed in his work. He fears disturbing the temperamental prince, but he knows he isn't allowed to simply leave.
"Do you need anything e-else, your majesty?" He curses his little stutter on the word else, he fears the man will punish him for the mistake.
Harry slowly looks up at the servant across the room with dark, unimpressed green eyes. He thinks for a second and responds, "Yes, this book," he points to the large leather book beside him written about the first fifty years of his great great great grandfathers seven hundred year reign. "I need you to take it back to the Royal library. If you misplace it I will have your head," Harry informs like it's not a big deal at all.
"Yes, sir," he nods and cautiously steps forward to get the book. As he gets closer Harry's senses pick up something they hadn't cared to notice before. He zooms over and stands before the servant boy, before he had even taken three steps. He would have shrieked at the princes sudden appearance in front of him had he not bit his tongue.
The prince towers over him ominously and brings his large hand up to grab the boy's delicate jaw, forcing him to look up. "What's your name?" Harry's asks as calmly as he can.
"Louis Tomlinson, your majesty," he says thanking the heavens he didn't stutter again despite the terror he feels.
"Hmm," Harry hums as he leans forward, still grasping Louis' jaw, to put his head closer to the boys neck. He inhales deeply what his senses had regrettably neglected to notice upon first encounter. That being the delicious smell of the servant boy's blood "you smell delightful Mr. Tomlinson," Harry comments. He can hear Louis' frightened heart beating faster and his nervous breath catch. He smiles into the young boy's neck before licking a stripe up the side. Louis begins shaking in his fear but refuses to move much as he doesn't know how the prince would react.
"What's wrong babe," Harry fake pouts, "you scared?" He teases into Louis' ear, making the boy quiver more, "there's no need, I just ate," then Harry is stepping out of the way as if nothing happened. Louis shakily walks over to grasp the heavy book in his small sweaty hands.
"Is this all your majesty?" The servant boy whispers with his wide eyes trained on the ground.
"No, you will be the one to bring my dinner tonight," the prince states, leaving no room for argument. Louis' throat practically closes at the command.
The prince had just eaten now, but he wants Louis, whom he says smells delightful, to bring his dinner. When he will be hungry. Louis gulps as he gives a courteous bow and a small, "As you wish, your highness," before fleeing the princes chamber as inconspicuously as he can. He shakes like a leaf on his entire walk to the library, gripping the book tightly in both dread for tonight and even more fear of what will become him if he were to drop the ancient text.
Harry smirks at the sound of slow light steps approach his door to the accompaniment of erratic heavy breathing. After a moment he hears a hesitant knock on his chamber door.
"Your Highness, I have your dinner,” says the high lilting voice on the other side.
Harry let’s the silence sit for a minute, to let him squirms, then he says a simple, “enter,” and he doesn't need to shout to be heard as his voice naturally carries.
As soon as the door is opened it's closed again, and the dark prince has the servant held against it. He takes the platter from the boy before he can drop it. Louis tries his hardest to not make a noise and in his stunned state it isn’t difficult. Harry wordlessly grabs the apple and leans closer before taking a big bite, fangs and all, from the crisp red flesh, drops of the juice lightly spraying Louis from the proximity.
It’s a power move, plain as day, but just because Louis knows this does not stop it from being affective. He shudders as Harry holds his gaze. Harry abruptly walks away puts the food on his personal dining table and sits facing away from the entrance and the small boy.
Louis makes the detrimental mistake of assuming he would be permitted to leave now and twists the knob slowly behind his back as he hasn’t moved from where he was pressed. Alas just as he opens it the door is slammed shut once more and this time his front is pressed against it, the ostentatious knob digging into his right side.
“Did I dismiss you boy?” the vampire hisses in his ear.
“No your highness,” he whimpers with the fear clogging his throat.
“Then, I’m curious, Louis, what exactly were you about to do?” The way he says the boy's name is sickening. His cold hands curl around the human's wrists, holding tighter where he has them pinned high on the wooden door.
“I w-was about to leave, I was horribly mi-mistaken my lord, I humbly give you my apologies. I’m sorry I was being so foolish my liege, please forgive my complete incompetence,” Louis begs the prince knowing that he’s tortured and killed servants for less.
“Humph,” Harry scoffs at the boy's pleads. “You can live, but only cause you smell so sweet,” he says pressing closer and inhaling the hair at the back of his neck, “now come sit by me, I think I’ve decided what I want for dessert,” he demands and seals it like a promise with a harsh, but not skin piercing, nip to his neck.
Louis feels his terror spike as he hears the words and is lead over the table by his prince. He knows that the servants are always in danger of being subject to a vampire’s hunger, but he has never been bitten and Harry is the worst. He doubts it will be gentle. He doubts he'll live through it at all.
Louis is forced to sit, listen, and watch as the vampire eats his dinner with close precision and poise.
Louis is relatively new to his job. He grew up in the village with a large family that was very poor. His father worked in the fields with many other men and his mother was a maid in the castle for her whole life. Louis joined her as soon as he was old enough to work (he was twelve and his job was to catch kitchen mice), but when his mother caught smallpox she got so sick she had to stop working. Now Louis does all he can to help her be comfortable with herbs that aren't sold cheap while still keeping his younger sisters fed. Now at just shy of seventeen he’s finally been moved to normal servant status, which pays barely anything, but is still marginally better than before. His new tasks are things like changing beds and cleaning, he’s not allowed to serve at parties or royal dinners yet though.
As Harry bites into a large turkey leg he looks straight at Louis with a hunger that this meal isn’t sating. As he finishes he sips his water and carefully wipes his lips. He gets up without speaking and takes off his leather vest as he walks away. This leaves him in brown pants and a loose silky white shirt with the strings at the top undone. He removes the black ribbon from his hair and shakes it out before carefully laying it out on the vanity table next to his bed. He sees Louis through the mirror, watching him undress.
Louis marvels at how different he looks with so subtle changes. He still looks very beautiful in the scary way all vampires do, but not quite so put together, not so princely.
“Come here boy,” he commands as he turns back to see the boy standing up. Louis makes his way over to the man, knowing there is nothing he can do to stop this. He only hopes that if he is compliant that maybe Harry will leave him enough blood to be able to walk away from this.
When he reaches the Prince all he can do is stare at their feet awaiting the pain until Harry touches his face. He strokes the smooth skin before making the boy look up at him. His eyes are dark and the younger is trembling as the situation overtakes him.
Harry grabs the blue eyed boy's waist and lifts him to lay his back on the bed. He looks over the boy and slinks over him crawling with a predatory gaze and buries his nose in Louis’ chest then his slightly sweaty neck.
“Have you ever been bitten before, Louis?” he asks from where he is.
“No master,” the words come out breathy, and clearly scared, but more steady than one would think.
“Good,” Harry says as he brushes the longer hairs on Louis’ nape to the side and then he is extending his fangs even further and piercing them into the boy's soft unblemished skin.
“ahh-uh-hh!” Louis shudders out a screech at the initial feeling then he calms. The feeling is surprising because after the penetrating puncture of the vampire’s teeth it doesn’t feel so horrible. He would not describe the feeling as pleasant exactly, but it was more of an emptiness, a lack of feeling, numbness. His mind feels empty and he is the most calmed he’s ever been. He is frozen and pliant like a kitten who has been picked up by their scruff.
He was so tranquil that when Harry pulls out he startles as reality floods back into his scope. Then the pain returns and he sees a wild Prince Harry with his blood dripping down the man's face, and a once pure white shirt ruined with specks of crimson. He is not as delicate with blood as he was with the foods.
“You're my new blood bitch,” the man declares darkly before Louis passes out completely.
The next day Harry has a meeting with his father and many diplomats who come with information about their foreign relations. Which is mostly boring restatement of last month because nothing has changed on the peace front and it hasn’t for four years. After they all leave with their new orders from the king. Harry is ready to depart as well after the lengthy meeting, but his father holds him back.
“No one is dead today, does that mean you’ve done what I asked son?” The king inquires.
“Yes, I suppose, I’ve taken one of the servants for my uses,” Harry tells the man.
He sighs before responding, “I did say to take one of the prisoners did I not?” he says in a voice as exasperated as his can get, which isn’t much, but before Harry can speak he goes on, “it’s just as well if it stops you from killing the village people, but as they’re a servant and not a slave make sure to raise their pay and try not to kill all my servants in the process when there are more expendable lives in the dungeons.”
“Yes father, now if you will excuse me I have work to do,” he informs while getting up and giving a formal nod as he exits the room quickly.
Harry is in the royal garden sitting against a willow tree in the snow with a book in hand. This book was empty when he acquired it, but after only a couple years it is overflowing with words and verses and sketches. When he is writing in that book in this garden under the willow, it is the only time he feels even a little peaceful. His mother used to play with him in this garden when he was a boy.
He sighs as he leans back and let’s his eyes drift shut. It’s been awhile since he was last here even if he does live less than 200 yards away. He opens to a new page and begins to mindlessly draw lines, soft ones that feather into curves. He hums a tune all his own as he drifts off in his mind. He can let his guard down here because all the servants and other castle residents know better than to bother him.
After minutes have passed in a distant mind frame he zeroes into his drawing and it looks like a young boy with soft hair and an innocent countenance. He snaps the book shut abruptly upon the image and scowls at the leather cover. There are little flakes of dried blood on the cover but he does nothing to remove them as he rises and stalks inside and up to his room.
When he arrives the room is empty. The boy must have left sometime this morning, it’s well past midday and he hasn't returned since he left for this morning's meeting. Nevertheless he can smell the human's scent, especially when he buries his head in his pillow where the boy had laid. It’s an addictive smell and he wants the servant boy back here already.
He needs him back. Harry buries his face in the pillow to chase the scent and quickly rises. In less than a second he is outside his room ordering the first servant he sees to find the young boy with the rich blood and soft skin.