Shadows of Desire

Sometimes, at night, Rowan would awaken from his slumber, slip out of bed and move silently across his room to the small balcony window that overlooked a vast garden. He'd sit on the cushioned bench and peer down to the garden below. There he would catch a glimpse of his mother, padding barefoot along the cobblestone path through the trees, roses, and various other plants and flowers, always humming a mournful tune or singing softly to the flowerbeds.

Her long black hair hung like a shadow around her and he was always dressed in am elegant black gown. Her ghost white skin was illuminated by the moonlight as she walked. Eventually she stopped by a large tree sat in the very center of the garden and she would sit beneath it, head hung, shielding her face and wept. Rowan never knew why she wept, or what had caused her such sorrow, but he would sit, watching her, wishing that he could do something to ease her pain.

Once she looked up and caught Rowan watching her. Their eyes met and Rowan thought for a brief moment that he saw the slightest hint of a smile on her thin, pale, lips. It was the first and only time he'd ever seen his mother smile. It wasn't long after that night that she'd died. She had been found laying beneath her tree, curled up on her side with her arms wrapped around her as if shielding herself from the cold.

There was never any cause given for her death. She wasn't sick. There were no injuries anywhere on her body. Nyana had once told Rowan that she had simply died from a broken heart but would not elaborate from there. Rowan speculated that it had been caused from his father's neglect then eventual abandonment but he was never sure.

It seemed hard to believe that his mother could have loved the man at all, being that he was so cold and emotionless, but what did he know? Maybe his father's cold and cruel demeanor had been caused by the loss of his wife. But, if they were so in love with each other, then why had he abandoned his wife and child to Ravenskeep in the first place? None of it made any sense and Rowan had learned long ago not to ask his father about his mother. Such questions would only earn him a sound beating so any questions he had, largely went unanswered.

Folen washed and rinsed Rowan's long, black hair. When she was done, she stood and wiped her wet hands against the apron of her skirts. "Anything else ya need, highness?" She asked in a soft, wavering voice.

"No, Folen. Thank you." Rowan leaned his back against the tub and let his head hang over the side. He audibly sighed and closed his eyes. Thoughts of his mother invading his thoughts once more. If she were still alive, he thought to himself, my life would be much happier.

"You resemble her a great deal." Folen said suddenly.

Rowan looked over at her. "What?"

"Yer mother, M'Lord. You favor her in looks and more. You're kind like she was. Twas a good woman, yer mother. She's missed by so many."

"You knew my mother?" Rowan sat forward, his curiosity piqued.

"Aye, M'Lord. For many years, I did." Folen sat out clean towels. She was about to leave the room when she stopped and looked back at her charge for a moment. Rowan saw the start of sad smile form on her lips. "You have her eyes." She told him, a hint of melancholy to her words. "I saw her once carrying you through the forest. First time I seen her babe and I had to stop an' watch. Such bright green eyes ya had. Shimmering like emerald jewels. Only ever one I seen with them eyes was your mother. Now you have them too. At least a part of her survived."

Rowan smiled then. "Thank you, Folen." He said.

Folen bowed to him. "I'll go 'an lay your nightshirt out for ya. After that, I think I'll take my leave."

"Have a good night." Rowan bid her. The woman bowed again and left the room.

Rowan settled back into the bath which, by now, was cooling off considerably. Still, he wasn't quite ready to leave the safety of the water. Something about it calmed him. The soft gentle feel of it against his skin as the liquid covered him, up to his neck. He could fall asleep in that water. Had actually considered it a time or two. There was no fear of him drowning. He was a vampire after all. Drowning was the least of his worries.

LORE

Rowan grimaced as a bright ray of sunlight cut through the darkness of his bed chambers and landed on his face. He quickly put his arm over his eyes to shield them from the intruding light. Folen was standing in front of the window she had just opened, letting the sun warm her skin. She smiled as she absorbed the bright light.

The sun seemed brighter to Rowan or maybe his eyes had just not adjusted to it yet. He groaned and pulled the blanket up over his face then turned on his side, putting his back to the light. How other species tolerated the sun he had no idea. He much preferred the safety of the night and the solitude it brought with it. He could lose himself in the night, hide within the shadows, and move around undetected.

Vampires had an uncanny ability for seeing in the dark but Rowan seemed able to somehow evade even the oldest and wisest of them. Melting in and out of the shadows with a movement so swift and light almost as though he were gliding through the air like some unseen specter. One would think such traits were common for his kind but the stories of vampires had been greatly exaggerated over the centuries.

Humans thought them immortal beings with supernatural powers and while some do possess such abilities or powers it's simply not true of the species as a whole. Vampires are not immortal as many seem to think. Some are centuries old, yes, and there are those referred to as the 'ancient' ones, vampires who have lived for thousands of years. Tales of the ancient ones are mostly fairy tales among vampires though as Rowan had never met one nor knew of any vampire who had and, there was no proof that they even existed.

Vampires do age. They age extremely slowly, but they do age. Master Kinnerik was proof enough of that. Though Rowan was uncertain of the man's age, he suspected that he was somewhere around eight-hundred years old. Certainly older than the King who, at four hundred years old, only looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was still handsome with his dark hair and brooding brown eyes. He was tall with a muscular build that made him both enticing and intimidating. Women and men alike would swoon in his presence, scrambling to get his attention only to be disappointed when he ignored them completely.

The King was attracted to power and status. Servants were beneath him and not worth his attentions or affections. If what Lord Killian had said about the King visiting whore houses was true, well, it was news to Rowan. He supposed it made sense though. The King would never entertain such services in the palace, or out in the open where anyone might see. He was more discreet than that, more guarded. Despite being a monarch, the King was a highly private man and didn't appreciate being the topic of palace gossip. His personal business was his own and he let everyone know it, violently if need be.

As far as supernatural powers, that was mainly fantasy. Vampires had heightened senses, were stronger, faster, and had more stamina than humans but there were stronger beings. Dragons for one. Vampires feared dragons and with good reason. Their fire breath could burn an entire village to the ground and fire was something that a vampire could not heal from. Luckily for the King, the dragons kept to their territory and seldom bothered anyone else. In fact, there hadn't been a dragon sighting in centuries. Rowan was glad for that. He didn't fancy the idea of being burned to a crisp.

Vampires had enhanced healing but like fire, there were other things that they simply could not heal from. Decapitation being on the top of that list. A stake through the heart could be healed if the stake were removed and the heart still in tact. A silver blade through the heart was another matter though. Like werewolves, vampires were allergic to silver, as were most supernatural beings. Cuts or stabs to non vital organs could possibly be healed in stronger vampires but it would take time and they would be weakened from the injury.

Other rumors that were pure nonsense were ones involving garlic, roses, coffins, religious artifacts, blood and sunlight. Sanguines did require blood to survive but they didn't have to feed every night and could actually go for several months without blood. It also didn't have to be human. Human blood kept one younger and stronger and one who did not feed on blood at all would age faster and eventually death would overcome them, but that would take centuries. Mostly, they ate regular food, drank wine, and hunted animals for sport.

No vampire that Rowan knew of slept in a coffin or grave and while sunlight could be uncomfortable to them, it did not kill them. Like Rowan, most vampires preferred the night as it was their natural time and were most active during the night. During the day, if out, they sought out more shaded areas or went out on overcast days if possible, but they were not confined to their homes and could venture out into the sunlight if they had to. The cold didn't affect them much either and they could remain submerged in water for hours as they had no need to breathe.

Death. That was one rumor which, unfortunately, was true. Vampires were, essentially, dead. Or, in a death like state. The older they were the more evident this became as the old ones tended to take on a more monstrous appearance and were no longer able to blend in with other species. Some resembled stone statues that moved slowly and emotionless throughout their dreary existence. Others became skeletal like beings, white skin, black eyes, and long, gangling limbs with claws rather than hands. They were the things of nightmares and probably the ones who had sparked the stories of vampires being inhuman monsters prowling the streets at night in search of blood.

Most vampires, like Rowan, were born instead of made. These were known as pure born and were of an elite class of vampire. Blood born vampires were once human, sired by a pure born and usually kept as servants by their masters. Blood born vampires were not permitted to sire others and when they did, the sire as well as the fledgling would be destroyed if found out. This was done in order to keep the numbers of blood born vampires down and assure the balance of power stayed as it was. If blood born vampires became the ruling class, all hell would break lose.

Rowan assumed that this was due to biology. Blood born vampires were weaker than the pure born and they had to feed to survive. They could live on animals but craved human blood which made them dangerous if not kept in check. Rowan knew of a few around, mostly servants to nobles and even some that worked at the palace though Rowan rarely came in contact with them. They were however, why the palace no longer employed humans. Blood born vampires had trouble controlling themselves around them, especially new borns whose blood lust was near insatiable.

"Come now, M'Lord." Folen said as she turned and pulled the blanket down and off of Rowan's head. "Time for ya to rise and shine."

"I don't shine." Rowan grumbled, trying to pull the blanket back up. "And it's far to early to rise."

"Must we do this every morning?" She sighed.

"Yes, we must." Rowan turned to look at her and Folen put her hands on her hips as she stared back down at him. "How old are you?" Rowan suddenly blurted out, taking the woman off guard.

"What manners!" Folen tsked, feigning offense. "Ya never ask a lady her age."

"I only ask because you look even younger than me and I'm not keen on taking orders from a girl."

"I, M'Lord, am far older than you can even imagine." She yanked the blanket down with a quick jerk, leaving Rowan exposed. "Now, stop yer bellyaching and get yer scrawny arse out of that bed."

Reluctantly, Rowan did as he was told, his feet hitting the floor with a thump as he slid into his house shoes. Just one more hour of sleep. He thought. That's all I need. Just one more hour.

***

The day started like any other day. Folen brought in a basin of warm water and Rowan washed as Folen laid out his clothes for the day. After he was dressed, Rowan made his way to the sitting room where a small breakfast of fresh bread, cheese, and an assortment of different fruits awaited him. On the table next to his plate was a wine goblet filled with a dark red liquid. Rowan sniffed it and frowned. Swine blood. He pushed the goblet away and asked Folen for water instead.

Folen placed a cup of water on the table next to him then stood, her arms crossed over her chest, as she looked at him disapprovingly.

"What?" He demanded.

"Gonna refuse it again I see."

Rowan shrugged. "Don't need it."

"You can't fight what ya are." She sighed. "And ya can't go much longer without it, child."

Rowan watched as she picked up the goblet, removing it from the table. Her hands shook slightly as she moved away from the table and sat the blood on the serving tray near the door.

"You have no need to fear me." Rowan told her. A slight tinge of guilt to his words. "I'm not a monster and going three months without partaking isn't going to throw me into a blood crazed frenzy. I have more control than that."

Folen nodded. "I didn't mean to offend, sire. I know you'd never hurt me. But, you are hurt'n yer-self. Ya think I don't see, but I do. Yer paler than usual and the light hurts your eyes. Those are signs of being blood starved. If ya go much longer you'll only be making yer-self sick, and that I won't stand for."

Rowan slouched in his chair, chewing his bottom lip. "Tell the cook to serve my steak rare at dinner tonight. That should sate me for another month."

Folen rolled her eyes. "Now yer just being a smart arse." She groaned as she walked away.

Rowan smirked and popped a slice of fruit into his mouth, sure that they'd be having the same argument tomorrow.

SCORN

As Rowan wandered aimlessly down the darkened corridor of the third floor of the palace he thought to himself, what am I doing with my life?

Each day presented itself to him as one dreary, monotonous, day after the other. Nothing changed. At least when he'd had lessons with his tutor there was some break in the dullness of his daily routine. Now though, with his studies at an end, and no clear path for his future, he was left feeling empty.

University would have been the obvious next step if he'd been born the alpha male that his father wanted but as an omega, his father didn't feel that further education was needed. Rowan could never rule after all. Would never hold office or achieve high ranks in, well...anything. In his father's eyes, he was useless. There was no place for him at court, his future uncertain, and as he grew older he had less hope of ever becoming more than just a shadow haunting the halls of his father's castle, invisible to all.

Rowan sighed as he leaned against the brick wall and stared out the window at the world below. A world that he would never be a part of. For a brief moment he thought of climbing into the window and just letting himself fall to the stone path below. He pictured himself laying there, his head split open as blood and brains stained the cobblestones. Without proper treatment he would surely die. Slowly and painfully, but it would happen. His refusal to drink blood would cause his healing to slow, aiding in his demise.

Would his father care? Would he try to save him, or just let him die? Glad to finally be rid of him? He assumed the latter. No. He thought. I won't end my life today. Why do the old man any favors?

Still, the thought of freedom clung to him, just not freedom in death. He could jump from the window he supposed. Land on his feet like a cat and then run. Run as far as his legs would carry him. Not that he expected that he could outrun the guard mind you, but the chase would be thrilling nonetheless. He smiled thinking of the look of fury that would no doubt cross the King's features if Rowan were to attempt such a thing.

He might make it to the mountains before he was caught. He'd never been to the mountains but had heard of their beauty. Or, he could go east and run to Night-Port, near the sea. He could hide there for certain, maybe get a job as a fish monger or better yet, a sailor. Yes, he could do that. Months on a ship at sea. His father would never find him then. It would also give him a chance to see the world, explore new lands, maybe even find love.

Rowan leaned out the window and closed his eyes. A gentle breeze blew through his hair, lifting it off his shoulders and he imagined it was the breeze from the sea, cool and uplifting. He imagined the feel of the salty sea water hitting his face and the way the light of a full moon would look, spanned out over black waters. That was the life he dreamed of. A life of travel, never resting his head in the same place twice, and far enough away from his father's suffocating hold that he would never again feel the lonely pang of isolation.

Rowan was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a frightened gasp from below. He opened his eyes to see two young servant girls, probably returning from the market, staring up at him with alarmed looks on their faces. Rowan quickly pulled himself back inside, concealing himself once again within the castles many shadows. The poor girls probably thought he was going to fall, or jump, and there was no use frightening them further.

Rowan scuffed the toe of his boot along the wall as he reluctantly continued down the hall to the stairwell at the end. He was dragging his feet he knew but he had no interest in reaching his destination any time soon. It wasn't often that he was invited (or commanded) to join the royal family for the midday meal and he was a little concerned about why his father had extended this invitation in the first place. It wasn't as if the old man actually wanted him there.

There had to be some sinister reason for it. The King wasn't known for his kindness. Especially not to Rowan. He didn't suspect that he was in any trouble either though. His father certainly wouldn't reprimand him in public, would he? No, he normally pulled him into his private chambers to berate him. So, he wondered, what occasion could it be that should require the young Prince's presence? Rowan shrugged. The only way to know was to show up. Not that he had any choice in the matter. Refusing the King would land him in the stocks or worse.

Rowan stopped and gaped, shocked, as he entered the King's private dining hall. The King was already seated at the head of the table, glaring angrily at Rowan. To his right was the Lady Caroline and across from her, the Lady Emilia. Both, he had expected, as they always took meals with the King but the one he had not expected was the gentlemen seated next to Emilia, Lord Killian Thorn.

Lord Thorn rose at once as Rowan entered the room and gave an elegant bow. The King as well as the two ladies remained seated. Lady Caroline raised an eyebrow in irritation at seeing the Prince, then she turned her head and gently sipped at her wine.

"My Prince." Lord Killian smiled charmingly at Rowan. "What a pleasure it is to see you again, your majesty."

Rowan gave the man a curt nod. "Lord Killian." He said, coldly.

"How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence." The King scowled.

Rowan bowed. "My apologies, Sire. I was delayed in the third floor corridor."

The King huffed. "So I've heard. Thought to throw yourself from the window did you? Foolish child. Think of the mess you would have made for the groundsman to clean up."

Rowan pursed his lips. "Not at all, Sire. I merely contemplated turning myself into a bat and flying away."