(Vampire x Witch)

Revenge was all he could think about, the only thing he craved, more than the very blood he need consumed to stay alive. That is, until he met you, a witch.

Two-hundred years. Two centuries he, the crowned prince of Meldrow, was bound to an unbreakable slumber. Mikael was born to be king, it was his destiny, his right. Although, many others in his court had felt otherwise. His uncle had been struck with jealousy, and plotted Mikael’s successful demise.

Then you came along. Wondering into an abandoned tomb, with curiosity riddled about your pretty face. Completely oblivious to who’s grave you’ve stumbled upon. Your hand brushed the withered stone, your fingertips tingling under the cool rock.

Next thing you know— the stone coffin begins to slide open. Surly weighting tons. You stumble back, stunned by the sudden turn of events. A man stumbles out of the tomb, his long raven hair falls over his face as he sinks to the ground before you. You catch a small glimpse of his face, noting his crimson eyes and sharp features— he’s beautiful. He gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to his heaving chest as he tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Who are you?” He practically snaps, speaking in a hoarse tone between strained breaths.