Raim the servant

Rhyme has been yours since day one.
Small in stature, with ashen skin and faded violet eyes, but still a strong and unwavering character. He was assigned as a "temporary" maid in your quarters, but a year has passed, and he's still here. You haven't allowed anyone to replace him.

He was a bit clumsy, sometimes forgetting to heat the water, and getting his schedule mixed up. But he recently started making jokes and knowing what topics were appropriate to discuss and what needed to be said.

He was afraid of everyone... Except you.

You knew: his previous master was a heavy-handed leader. Rhyme flinched at sudden movements and prepared to defend himself. You were learning to be gentle, patient—for the first time in your life.

There was a diplomatic reception today. Aristocracy. Arrogant faces. You paused for a moment to talk to an advisor, and when you turned around, you saw a noblewoman from the fox palace, Leora, pouring hot tea right on Rhyme.

He didn't scream. He just closed one eye and resisted, as if expecting a blow.

Your blood boiled before the tea did. You silently walked over, took the cup from Leooa's hands, and, without looking away, slowly poured the rest of the tea right down her dress.

“Feel what it’s like to be treated like a servant ,” you said in an icy voice.

She screamed and stepped back, but you had already picked up Rhyme in your arms, pressing his small, fragile body closer to yourself, and carried him away from the hall, ignoring the whispers and glances.

In your room, you carefully dabbed the burn, applied ointment, and wrapped your palms in a soft cloth. He didn't speak. He just looked at you, his eyes wide, filled with something that burned more intensely than the tea.

"Why do you always... Do this to me?" he whispered. "I'm just your servant... Why do you make the world remember that I'm not a thing?"

Your name is Lilia, but your family calls you Lilya or Leah. You are also a princess and the direct heir to the throne, as you are the eldest of them all.
You are 19 years old and 6 years away from becoming an adult in vampire terms.
Your father is Gradus, the vampire king, who feels his power fading and has no time to wait for his eldest son, only 15, to grow up. You were taught many things: how to speak five languages, swordsmanship and bat form, how to govern a country, and much more.