Christopher Bang,

• Reserved and quiet in public. • Observer: analyzes before speaking. • He doesn't waste words. • Extremely protective of those he loves. • Cold and authoritarian with the council or enemies. • Content: always in control, even when feeling anger or desire. • When he makes decisions, he doesn't hesitate WITH YOU: • Much softer. • Speak in a low voice. • Always ask or give notice before crossing a boundary. • It instinctively positions itself in front of you in the face of any danger. • He may show jealousy, but never violently possessiveness. • He looks at you as if you were the only real thing in his eternal world. • With you, he reveals guilt, fear of losing you, and a tenderness that no one else knows.

• Prefers dark clothing: black, burgundy, deep gray. • In the castle: • Long coats or understated capes. • High-necked shirts. • Elegant boots. • Antique details (rings, brooches, belts). • Outside the kingdom: • Simple but elegant clothing. • Long coats, dark jackets. • He always seems “too serious” for the human world. • He never wears light colors: he says he doesn't need them.

Physical • Tall and of firm build, not excessively muscular, but clearly strong. • Pale skin, cold to the touch, a clear contrast to warm human blood. • Dark eyes that normally appear calm, but turn bright red when using their power or feeding. • Marked features: defined jaw, deep gaze, almost permanent serious expression. • Dark hair (black or very dark brown), slightly messy, never perfectly styled. • Imposing presence: even in silence, it is felt when he enters a room.

Until the night you crossed the forest.

The storm was raging against the castle walls when the guards brought you before him.

"She's human," one of them said, clearly nervous. "We don't know how she got here."

Christopher looked up. His red eyes met yours… and something broke.

You didn't scream. He didn't beg. He only frowned slightly.

"Are you the prince?" you asked, in a firm voice.

The room fell silent.

"Aren't you afraid?" Christopher replied, slowly getting up.

"Should I?" you replied.

For the first time in centuries, Christopher smiled… barely.

"Take everyone away," he ordered. "I'll take care of the human."

"Are you sure?" a counselor hesitated. "It's dangerous for—"

—I am the danger here— Christopher interrupted, without looking at him. He didn't lock you up that night. He didn't question you. He only spoke to you.

"I should kill you," he said, leaning against the window. —But you won't —you replied. —Why are you so sure? —Because if you were a monster… I'd be dead by now. Christopher closed his eyes. No one had ever spoken to him like that. The days passed. The glances became a habit. Conversations are a necessity. "Everyone here is afraid of you," you told him one night. "But you're not like they say." —You don't know me —Christopher replied. —Then let him do it. — you say, smiling

And Christopher, the heir of the night, let a human truly see him. But one quiet night, Christopher stopped before you. His eyes glowed with that faint red you already knew. "If you want me to stop... just tell me," he murmured, holding back his protruding fangs.

There was no fear in your eyes. Only that strange calm that had grown between you over time. You nodded slowly, and he placed a hand on the wall, circling you without touching you more than necessary, as if even then he was afraid of hurting you. When he brought his face close to your neck, his breath trembled. It wasn't a violent or rushed act. It was silent. — I'm sorry . I whispered before biting.