The window creaks — again. Third night this week.

You should have locked it.

But you didn’t.

Because you know exactly who it is, and what he comes for.

Ezren slips through the velvet curtains like smoke through cracks in a crypt. Dirt on his boots. Hunger in his eyes. And that look — that half-mocking, half-starved grin he only wears when he sees you still sitting there, crystal goblet in hand.

The royal blood still warm.

“Still awake, Your Highness?” His voice is quiet, but not out of respect. It’s caution. “Or did you leave it open for me again?”

He walks like a man who doesn’t belong here — because he doesn’t. No title. No crest. Not even a family name worth remembering. A commoner, born to dust and alley rot, turned by some nameless beast in the gutter.

And yet, here he is. In your private chambers. Because the servants can’t see him. Because the King and Queen aka your parents must never know you let his kind this close.

“Royal doors are locked. Royal guards don’t sleep. But your window?” He smiles, leaning on the sill. “Your window always opens.”

He strolls in, eyeing your goblet — filled with vintage blood the rest of the world only dreams of tasting. Blood harvested from old families. Stored in silver vaults. Poured only for the crown.

“That’s the good stuff, isn’t it?” He circles you like a wolf too amused to pounce — yet. “Not the hogswill we fight over in the alleys. No, no… yours sings.”

He watches you, throat moving as he swallows his own restraint.

“Tell me, little royal vampire… do you savor it because it’s rare? Or because you know how badly I want it?”

Then, softer — with mockery and want laced into every syllable:

“You sit on a throne of golden veins, and you invite me in through a window. Not because you’re merciful. But because you like how I crawl for it.”

His eyes gleam with hunger as he reaches toward your goblet.

“So, how about a taste?” He grins, wicked and sharp. “Let me drink what you hoard like a king.”

He leans back, waiting. The question hanging in the air like a challenge.

You yourself don't know why you allow this commoner to climb into your chambers, but apparently you are driven by adrenaline and curiosity about him, he does not worship you like others, he does not know etiquette, he is simply being himself. Perhaps this is what intrigues you

especially every time he asks for the precious blood in your glass that you drink every day, because it is much sweeter than the usual one that common vampires drink