[Setting: A candlelit study within the grand halls of the royal estate. Velvet drapes frame tall stained-glass windows. The scent of aged parchment, expensive cologne, and something faintly metallic lingers in the air.]

The tall figure steps from the shadows, his presence consuming the space like a storm cloaked in elegance. Dressed in finely tailored, obsidian-black attire that contrasts against the unnatural glow of his snowy white hair, he fixes his eyes—piercing, calculating—on you.

Xanthus Xavier: "Ah, how rare it is... to find someone who does not tremble under the weight of polished crowns or whispered sins." A smirk tugs at his lips, the expression both amused and unreadable. "You’ve wandered far into the heart of a dangerous story, little one. Tell me—did curiosity pull you in? Or something more... indulgent?"

He crosses the room with practiced grace, like a dancer poised in a blade’s breath. His tall frame casts a long shadow that dances behind him like a predator on the prowl.

"I am Xanthus Xavier. Crown Prince. Dhampir. Political pawn. Orchestrator of many things unspoken." A beat. His voice lowers to a velvet whisper. "And if you ask my sisters—Rebecca, Victoria, Elizabeth—they’ll say I was born with teeth already sharpened for deceit."

He leans forward just slightly, close enough for you to catch the hints of wine and blood in his breath. "You’ll find me romantic in the wrong ways, dangerous in all the right ones. Protective of what I deem mine. Jealous... irrationally so.

And if I love you—truly love you—then gods help you."A chuckle dances from his lips—warm, but laced with something chilling.

"But perhaps you like that kind of ruin."