More Than a Prince
993 Words
Kenneth Valdros stood motionless.
The silence in the courtyard was heavy, reverent, broken only by the wind whispering through the ancient stone pillars of the academy. Dozens of students, all between the ages of five and eight, remained kneeling before him, their foreheads touching the ground in a gesture reserved only for the King of the Vampire Kingdom. The very ground beneath Kenneth's boots seemed to hum, as if the ancient stones themselves were recognizing something… something different.
His soft blue eyes widened with disbelief.
"Wh-Why are you all bowing like that?" he asked, voice small yet uncertain. He blinked as his cheeks flushed red—an innocent warmth of confusion.
The sea of students remained still.
Kenneth took a hesitant step forward. "Please, rise… I'm only a prince. The youngest, even. This kind of bowing… it's only meant for my father, the King. You don’t need to do that for me."
There was a ripple of murmurs, and slowly, like the tide receding from shore, the children lifted their heads and stood. Some looked hesitant, others still wide-eyed. A few exchanged glances that said everything: they hadn’t expected him to be so… humble.
From within the crowd, Veiran—his silver-haired classmate and the son of a high-ranking noble—stepped forward. His pale cheeks were still flushed from the sparring earlier, but his expression was no longer proud or arrogant. It was regretful.
"Prince Kenneth," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaky, "I'm… sorry. For earlier. For underestimating you. For provoking you. I thought you were like your brothers. I was wrong."
Kenneth looked at him for a moment before a small smile formed on his lips. "It’s alright, Veiran. Everyone makes mistakes. I don’t hold grudges."
Veiran blinked in surprise, then nodded quickly. The two of them began chatting casually—about the class, the lesson, even about who had the best blood-box flavor during break. Around them, the whispers began to shift. The cruel rumors that had once swirled around Kenneth—spawned by parents who feared what he was—were already starting to c***k under the weight of what the other children had just seen.
Kindness. Restraint. Strength. Honor. Things not often taught to vampire children bred for nobility.
And yet… here he was.
---
The break bell rang.
The students began to scatter, heading back into the massive obsidian academy. Kenneth lingered only a moment longer before Veiran tugged his sleeve and smiled. "Come on, or we'll be late."
Inside, the desks had been rearranged for their next lesson. At the front of the class stood their instructor, a sharp-featured vampire woman with crimson eyes and silver hair pinned into a neat twist. She gave them all a courteous nod as they filed in.
"Welcome back, children. Today, we continue our foundational training in blood discipline. Specifically—controlling your thirst."
A few students murmured. One raised her hand.
"Teacher Elvera, why do we even need to control our thirst if we have endless blood boxes and access to human donations?"
Elvera gave a small smile. "Because thirst isn't just about feeding. It can be weaponized against you. If you lose control in battle, if your enemy can manipulate your senses, your thirst will turn you into a savage. We are nobles. We are vampires. But we are not beasts."
She clapped her hands. Assistants wheeled in a series of training dummies—roughly humanoid in shape, each with a pulsing red tube simulating arteries, filled with fresh, donated blood from the human world.
Kenneth felt the scent hit him immediately. Sweet. Warm. Familiar.
One by one, the students were called to approach the dummies and stand motionless as the blood flowed visibly within. The goal was simple: stand within arm’s reach of the blood and do nothing. No lunge. No bite. No fangs.
Many failed.
Some barely lasted ten seconds before their eyes turned crimson and they lunged at the dummy, biting into it and setting off warning lights.
Elvera sighed with patience, correcting their form, reminding them of breathing techniques and inner control.
Then it was Kenneth’s turn.
He stood in front of the dummy. The blood inside pulsed gently, alluring.
He took a breath.
Then another.
Then silence.
The class watched, breath held.
Kenneth’s fangs didn’t extend. His hands didn’t twitch. He stood perfectly still—eyes focused and gentle. Not frozen in fear, but calm in discipline.
After two full minutes, the dummy’s blood pump deactivated. Kenneth stepped back.
The room erupted in soft applause.
"Excellent control, Prince Kenneth," Elvera said with genuine admiration. "You are a natural."
A few more students passed, many more failed. But as the lesson concluded, Aravelle looked around with a hopeful expression. "Remember, all of you, thirst is not evil. It is instinct. What defines you is how you wield it."
She clapped her hands again. "That is all for today. You are dismissed."
---
Outside the academy gates, the sun was beginning its slow descent into the crimson sky. The towering obsidian walls of the royal academy gleamed in its light.
Parked just outside the grand archway was a sleek, obsidian-black vehicle hovering just above the ground—its form whispering of ancient tech fused with vampiric alchemy.
Kenneth stepped toward it, his leather boots tapping lightly against the stone path. As the vehicle’s door hissed open, a familiar voice greeted him.
"Ah, young master," Malrik said with a small bow, his silver hair gleaming in the fading light. "How was your first day?"
Kenneth smiled, climbing in beside him.
"Weird. Exciting. Strange. But… kinda fun," he said, still processing everything.
Malrik chuckled. "All the right ingredients for an interesting beginning."
The door closed behind them with a gentle thud, and the vehicle hummed softly as it lifted from the ground, carrying the youngest prince home—unaware that the ripples he had begun today would soon become waves that would change the kingdom forever.
- Writer
