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Sweet Blood | Gwi

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: For eternity, a day feels like a second. A tear like a raindrop. A nightmare like a dream and a shadow like a spear. Specially when that shadow stirs memories dusted since two centuries ago. A vampire found his perfect dessert. His current obsession. His sweet one among his neverending night. But even in darkness, sugar rots against the choking hold of fate. When his yearning poisons not only your mind but your heart as well, you must make a choice whether to live by his dying hand or die within the life of your will. Because death is as calm as a rose, as pretty as a flower long forgotten, with a scent of familiar cruelty and thorns of faded memories. Amidst hunger and passion, Gwi and his sweet Lady dance in flames ready to burn them both.

Warnings: THE WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS!!! MAJOR ANGST! toxic relationship, longing, feelings of betrayal, fainting, typical vampire stuff [feeding, fangs, red eyes], mixed emotions, torture, character death, suicide, manipulation, unwanted touch, lust, yearning, wounded love, being haunted by death, (these two need therapy tbh), historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 10.5k words

A/N: Hello, my dears! As promised, Sweet Blood is here! I hope you will like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been working on this story since August 2025 and today it finally sees the light of day through you, darling.

Mind you, this is a way much darker story than Les Petals D'Amour and I'd like you to read it with a critical point and if you'd like to share your own interpretations with me, I'd be more than happy to share so with you!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

“My Lady, you are being summoned.”

You looked up, through the mirror, your eyes locked with the timid gaze of the young guard. A soft sigh escaped your lips. Your eyes met your reflection once more, the candle flickering at your right made shadows dance over your features. Your fingers, long and elegant, curled around a silver hairpin and you grabbed your long hair, twirling it around and securing it with the hairpin you knew he liked.

“Again? Did something happen?”

The guard didn’t answer. He was momentarily entranced by the sweetness of your voice. At the lack of answer, you stood up from your deep mahogany vanity, the deep red silk of your dress moved with grace as you turned around. The rustling of your skirts filled the bedroom as you walked towards the opened sliding door where the guard stood still to escort you.

His gaze lifted and his mouth opened, but you lifted your hand, palm facing him and he swallowed his words.

“You will not escort me today. I wish to be alone.”

A flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes, but he lowered his gaze as you walked past him.

“Yes, My Lady.”

The scent of your rose water was the only thing that was left of you in the bedroom as you walked away through the luxurious palace hallways. You lived like a princess, dressed like a queen and were feared like a goddess.

But you knew, as the rays of the sun kissed your skin, as the scent of the lavender garden reached your senses that this palace was just your prison and you were no princess, no queen. For no noble blood ran through your veins. Yet it was that same blood that was cherished.

The handmaids who watched you averted their gaze, some in fear, others in bitter envy. The guards did not dare to look at you. Because looking at you, speaking to you and the simple act of delicate disrespect meant death by a cruel hand of a man who was no man at all. Of a monster who dressed like a king and devoured like a beast.

Your feet carried you across the garden, reached the sealed door that led to a tomb of power. The two men who guarded the entrance —the king’s men— opened the heavy double doors with a simple yerk of your hand. A gawking staircase displayed in front of you. Its walls were adorned with torches yet it went down towards the earth you have never been able to gaze into its bottom from the very top.

Your hands fisted your skirts, lifting them slightly as you began the long descent to the dungeon’s paradise. You had once flinched at the sound of the doors closing behind you, now you were able to take in a deep breath once you were in the solitude of those stairs.

The torches’ shadows danced among the walls, licking like wraiths, bowing before your descent.

Your footsteps echoed, soft against the stone steps, the weight of your existence measured in each tap. You no longer feared the cold — it greeted you now, like an old friend, wrapping around your arms and neck like the silken embrace of a velvet scarf. The scent of stone, of something ancient and metallic, whispered secrets in your ear.

You reached the bottom at last, where the corridor opened into the vast chamber he called his sanctuary. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dim crimson glow that spilled from above, the result of bloodstone lamps and cleverly carved skylights that filtered the fading daylight into something… otherworldly.

That’s when you saw him.

Perched on his stone throne, his robes pooling around him in spilled ink of velvet. His eyes, those infernal eyes, gleamed beneath heavy lids. They didn’t need to search for you — they had already felt you long before you had arrived.

“My sweet one,”

His voice, deep like thunder and tender like cotton, reached your ears. You kept walking, your gaze lowered and eyes cast down until you stood in front of him. Waiting. Expecting. Alert at whatever move he may do. At whatever order he may command.

“You’ve come.”

With a gentle curtsy, your skirts puffed around you as you bowed down at him. His eyes gleaming at this submissive side of you he adored.

“You summoned me, My Lord.”

He stood then, uncoiling like a serpent, slow and deliberate. The robe he wore trailed behind him like shadows given form. The silence between you crackled as he approached. His hand lifted and your eyes closed as you felt his fingertips ghost over the skin on your cheek. Delicate. Reverent. As if he were admiring a cracked porcelain doll.

“I summon you only because I miss the sound of your blood rushing beneath your skin.”

You didn’t flinch. Not anymore.

Instead, you stood before him in beauty and grace. In elegance and silent power. For you held something within you that he deeply cherished. Gwi tilted his head, his dark eyes running over your features, savouring the melody of your pulse in his ears.

You felt his fingers caressing your jaw, his skin cold as dead while you were warm with life. The vampire tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his own and for a moment, a second, a heartbeat, you lost yourself in those dark pools of his.

“You wore it for me.”

He murmured. You swallowed, following his line of sight as he looked over your head to the hairpin that adorned your (h/c) locks.

“After all this time, you still wish to please me.”

And you answered in sweetened words, chosen carefully and with meticulous caution.

“I wore it… because I did not wish to displease you.”

His beauty morphed into something cruel as he smirked, his lips curving upwards as he eyed you with lust and want and the need to possess you entirely.

“There’s a difference?”

The silence that bloomed after his question was rich — like red wine left to breathe. He stood so close you could smell the faint perfume of blood and sandalwood slinging to him in beautiful horror. If he had been alive, you could have also felt the warmth of his skin.

He moved again — languidly, like smoke. His fingers trailed from your jaw down the side of your neck, each touch cold, calculated, claiming. Your breath caught. The candles flickered.

“You are a painting,”

He whispered, circling behind you.

“A work of art made just for me. Look at you… standing so still, so obedient. So perfect."

You held your breath as he leaned in, his face brushing the curve where your neck met your shoulder. His lips hovered just above your skin — a whisper away. You felt it, the warmth leaving that spot just by his presence alone,

“I can hear it, you know.”

His murmur sent a shiver down your spine. Tingling and electrifying in its sinister nature.

“Even now, your blood sings to me. It’s... divine."

His hand slid around your waist, pressing flat against your abdomen, holding you firmly against him from behind. Your heart raced, your palms grew clammy as they touched the silk of your skirts as he lowered his head and inhaled slowly, deliberately, as though the scent of your skin was a vintage he hadn’t tasted in centuries.

“Do you feel it too?”

He asked in your ear, his voice nothing more than a gentle breath of death.

"This quiet... pull between us? You fear it. But you never fight it."

Your lips parted to speak, to lie or tell the truth. To scream or moan in his hands. But his other hand went up, fingers pressing against your lips.

“Shhh, no lies tonight, sweet one.”

He turned you to face him again, his large palm splayed across your back and the sheer hunger in his eyes made your knees weaken. Not just hunger for blood. For dominance. For beauty. For control. He cupped your cheek, tilting your face up toward his with a tenderness that bordered on cruelty. Because you knew what came next. You knew the crime he committed every time he held you like this. Every time he looked at you with those eyes. Every time his voice softened into that dark murmur that had entranced your soul into a horrible dance of gentle waltz.

“How long has it been?”

The vampire asked. His brows furrowed in stupid mockery. As if he didn’t know already. As if he didn’t remember the last time he had had his dessert.

"One day? Two? It’s so hard to tell, when time melts away in your presence."

You swallowed hard, turning your head toward his hand as your eyes met his, glinting with the flames of the candles and torches around you.

“I am here, My Lord. Take what you desire.”

Your whispered words made him smile — cruel and indulgent. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, erasing all space that existed between you both as he dragged you flush against him. You felt every line of him: the elegance of his form, the power beneath his stillness. He leaned down, lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Good girl.”

He purred, and then came the delicate dance of his kisses. His lips pressed against your skin. Soft bites that made your lips part and eyes close. It soothed your soul yet made your heart race with anticipation.

His eyes turned crimson, the colour of death, his fangs elongated and you didn’t cry as they sank onto your skin. A soundless gasp parted your lips, your head tipping back, your body melting into his. He drank deeply, the suction slow and purposeful, like he was savoring the last drop of a rare wine. His grip on your waist tightened as he fed, his other hand slipping behind your neck to cradle you. The pain got washed away with the gentle caress of his tongue as he drank.

And you? You could only cling to him. Powerless to do anything else.

One of your hands fisted his robes in your palm, the other tangled itself in his dark locks. Fingers scratching his scalp, a groan left his throat at the sensation, the sound vibrating through your very bones.

When he finally pulled away, your body sagged against him, breath shallow, vision flickering at the edges. His lips were stained red — crimson on porcelain — and he licked them slowly, letting the last taste of you linger on his tongue.

“So exquisite.”

You only hummed, your ears felt filled with cotton, your arms heavy as if made of lead and your feet felt as they stood on clouds. One of his hands held your shoulders, the other was looped around your waist.

“I can never tire of such a divine taste.”

Your eyes closed, his scent engulfing your senses. Your cheek pressed against the silk of his robes, his hold was strong around you. Gwi untangled the hand around your waist as he bent down, sliding it under your knees as he lifted you up into his arms. Your weight cradled in his embrace without strain. Your feet dangled over his arm, the fabric of your dress poured from where he held you like an open flower.

You felt as he began walking. You knew where he was taking you. To that lonely place he allowed you to rest in his underground palace. A grand room with a dead tree. The faint smell of cherry blossom clinging to the walls where the tree had once been blooming with life.

You drifted.

Not asleep. Not awake. But something hauntingly in between; where breaths felt burrowed and thoughts a mist. His arms around you were cold, yet you felt them like fire — a contradiction, like him. The steady rhythm of his steps echoed faintly down the stone corridors, a waltz of silence and obsession. You didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t need to. You knew every inch of the path.

Your heart sank slightly when he entered the room. You felt that void that clung to the dying flames of the candles. The tree stood like a monument to sorrow in the center of the vast place, its once-pink blossoms long withered, its limbs skeletal, reaching skyward like fingers mid-prayer. The petals that had once kissed the stone floor were gone now — swept away, or never real to begin with.

He walked straight to the chaise beneath the boughs. Pale velvet, curved and ornate — a throne for his sleeping flower. He lay you down with slow movements, your back meeting the soft cushion and your eyes opened, meeting his dark gaze who spoke of centuries of lonely days and thousands of kills.

The vampire lord sighed, leaned back against the dead tree trunk, his arm resting over his knee, his robes pooling around him like an extension of his shadowed soul. And in the silence of your hatred, in the stillness of your weakened body he spoke in that dark voice you came to recognise and sometimes not fear as much as you were meant to.

“This room belonged to someone before you… a long time ago.”

You only blinked, your tongue was heavy in your mouth, your fingers only twitched over the cushion as you lay on your side, looking at his enthralling beauty sharpened by flames and shadows.

His eyes distanced from the now, going back to a sea of memories that drowned him in tears and joy and smiles that he could no longer admire. A gentle smile painted itself on his lips, and through the haze of your weakness you saw a gentle glistening in his eyes.

“I used to love when she wore white.”

You blinked. His words were spoken in a voice so soft you could have mistaken it for a thought of your own. A dream. An illusion.

“I do not wear white.”

Your words, slurred and gentle, brought him back from the haze of his mind, from the abyss that was his own cruelty. His eyes hardened as they landed on you, his hand fisting the air.

“No, you wear red. Like the good little offering you are.”

You flinched — not from the insult, but from the truth that burned beneath it. He leaned forward, his hand relaxing as his fingers found your chin, tilting your neck more to expose the double punctures on your neck decorated with dried blood.

“You offer yourself so sweetly,” he murmured. “And yet, your eyes still hope for rescue. For rebellion. For freedom.”

You swallowed, never breaking eye contact with him.

“There is no freedom in your kingdom, my lord.”

He smirked, looking at you with pride and disdain. A bitter mixture of both. He stood up, his robes whispering against the ground and your eyes closed, knowing he was about to leave you to the darkness of your solitude.

“You haven’t spoken truer words, sweet one.”

Gwi turned around, not sparing you another glance. You succumbed to the tiredness, to the weakness and quiet longing of a freedom you would never taste. Like a forbidden fruit he always played with. Tempting you. Telling you what you could never have.

The seasons changed. The warmth of spring turned hellish as summer arrived only to cool down with the gentle caress of autumn until the cruel winter arrived over Joseon once more.

You were in your room in the royal palace. The one where you rested during the day. It was as luxurious as the one the Queen herself used yet it was as empty of life and cold as the tomb of your ancestors.

A golden comb was heavy in your hands as you brushed your hair, despite the warmth of the hearth, you were still shivering.

Gwi had not been merciful with you. His feeding became constant, cruel and full of a hunger that grew day by day. A hunger you were meant to satiate.

“My Lady, you shouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

You sighed at the gentle words of your young handmaid. Your eyes met her reflection through the mirror and you put the comb down before turning around and facing her with dull eyes.

“You know I cannot deny him.”

You murmured, your voice soft as a ghost’s whisper. The weight of resignation settling deeper into your bones. The chains of your captivity pulled your will to life into the depth of despair that plagued your mind in tortuous nightmares.

The young maid, barely sixteen, frowned in concern of her lady.

“But, my lady, you are not alright. He is taking too much.”

You stood up, the spark that once lived in your (e/c) eyes was gone with the winds of death. Your fingers touched the silver hairpin you knew he liked when you wore it. You were not cherished by him, not in the way your heart had yearned once before. You were possessed, commanded by the nature of his existence. He owned you. And you were his to play with for as long as he wished.

“He takes what he believes is his. I am nothing but an offering, and he is the predator who demands his due.”

“My lady—”

Your hand lifted, shushing her gently as your palm faced her and you spoke with quiet authority.

“Please, Suna. Do not make it more difficult than it already is. Do not question me. It is not your place.”

The girl bit her lip, her eyes stinging with tears. You weren’t cruel with your words. You didn’t shout at her, never scolded her for her mistakes. She was devoted to you in a way it estranged you beyond words. And she understood what your words meant. You have never looked down on her for being a commoner, a maid nonetheless. But because you knew that if she stepped out of line, you’d find her drained body in the vampire’s palace one day.

“Yes, my lady. Forgive me.”

Your eyes softened and she sniffled. You walked towards her and made her look at you with those brown eyes of hers. A gentle smile touched your lips and you told her in a soft voice that soothed her nerves if only slightly.

“I will not spend the night in the underground palace. Have my night tea ready when I return, please.”

She nodded, her long braid bobbing with the motion. She curtsied at you, her smaller hands fisting the blue skirt of her hanbok as she turned around and obeyed your orders, not trusting her voice to speak another word in your presence.

You watched her retreat down the corridor, the echo of her footsteps fading into the stillness of the palace night. The warmth from the hearth no longer reached you, swallowed by the cold dread settling in your chest like a stone. The golden comb lay abandoned on the vanity, forgotten as your fingers trembled around the silver hairpin—his token, your silent surrender.

Outside your chamber, the palace was wrapped in a heavy silence, but inside you felt the suffocating weight of your fate pressing tighter with each passing moment. You moved slowly to the window, the moonlight casting pale slivers across your face, highlighting the hollow shadows beneath your eyes. The world beyond felt distant, a realm you could no longer touch.

The torches blurred as you walked through the empty corridors of the royal palace. The sweet lavender that had bloomed in spring was now covered in thick snow in the once luscious gardens. The cold numbed your fingers, your eyes stinging against it. The hem of your black hanbok got soaked in a cold embrace as you walked toward the entrance of the underground palace.

The wind made your hair fly, your heartbeat resonating in your ears. You knew one of these nights, you were meant to break your promise to gentle Suna. One night, you wouldn’t return to your quarters. One night he’d end your life in the gentleness of his embrace and the coldness of his heart.

Gwi had not spoken much when you arrived, his magnificent palace felt heavy with dread and blood. The air damp, the torches dim. He had commanded you to kneel by his feet, your dress puffing around you. One of his hands played with a strand of your hair, silently marveling at how soft it felt against his cold and rough fingertips.

You felt his gaze on you. It weighed on your conscience, on your heart. It was dark as the shadows surrounding you, possessive as the hold he had on you.

“You don’t look happy to be here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. A beat you were sure he heard. Your tongue moistened your dried lips as you spoke with your eyes fixed on your dress.

“I am tired, My Lord.”

He hummed. It was a dark sound that reverberated through you, making a shiver run down your spine. Gwi let go of the strand of hair he was playing with before his fingers grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. Yours were wide and tired and expecting while he looked at you with a serenity that made your blood run cold.

“Do not fret. I shall dismiss you for the night after I had my dessert.”

He felt you gulp down your nerves. His touch left your chin and instead, his palm opened toward you. An offering to anyone else. A command to you. With a heavy heart, you placed your hand in his with your skin as cold as his own.

You stood up right in front of his throne, for once towering over the vampire man who looked at you with false mercy. His grip tightened against your fingers and he stood up. The distance that remained between you both was improper, intimate in its nature. Before you could take a step back, his hand snuck around your waist, pressing you against his front with surprising ease and calm.

“I have never tasted a blood as sweet as yours,”

He murmured, his head leaning down until his nose nearly touched yours. His breath mingled with yours and you felt your heart nearly stop beating right there and then.

“And yet, it is not merely your blood I enjoy when it comes to you.”

His other hand came up, caressing the side of your face, pushing your long hair over your shoulder so it trailed at your back in a silken curtain.

“There have been few humans I have found intresting in my lifetime, yet you —sweet one— however randomly, fascinate me as well. So. Much.”

His lips were a breath away from yours. Your eyes were wide, searching his. Trying to understand the cursed meaning behind his wicked words. Gwi had always been like this. A blade wrapped in silk. A poem written with poisoned ink. He was magnificent in the darkness that governed his heart. He was powerful in the fear he commanded of his subordinates. And he was beautiful in the way he spoke with words made of thorns.

You turned your head to the right just as he leaned down. His lips kissed your cheek and a shudder wracked through your body at the contact. The intimacy. The intention he had had.

You felt him grow rigid against you. The walls that had crumbled down around him were up again and high as ever.

His dark eyes fell on the two puncture wounds on the left side of your neck. They were still fresh, still read and inflamed and tender. They hadn’t healed. They hadn’t healed in two months since he started to have you as dessert each and every night.

“I beg you, do not torment me anymore, My Lord. Take what you wish.”

A frown pulled at his brows at your words. You refused to look at him and silently insisted on him to just take his dessert as you presented your neck to him on full display. His grip around your middle tightened to the point where your breath hitched and your hands came to rest on his arms for support.

“Is that how you see me? As the one who tortures you without rest?”

His words were sweet. Wounded even. If you hadn’t known him you would have turned your gaze to meet his own. You would have fallen for the venom in his words.

“Just take what your heart desires, My Lord.”

You felt his chest vibrate with the growl he let out through clenched teeth at your whispered words. Your eyes instinctively closed as white hot pain burst through your neck. His fangs had sunk into your flesh as he drank greedily. Your fingers fisted his silken robes, the grip he had on your body became to the point of bruising.

He drank like a thirsty man. He drank as if he were on the brink of death and would never taste anything as delicious as your life’s essence. He drank in gulps of lust that left you breathless.

Gwi parted from you, his lips stained red, his arms letting you go and you fell on your knees at his feet. The puffiness of your skirts cushioned your fall as you panted while tears ran down your face. Your neck hurt, you could feel the burning of the harshness of his fangs, and the warmth of blood pooling slowly from the wounds yet again.

“If you insist on me taking what I desire, then I shall drink from you until my hunger is satiated. Until I find your blood repulsive and the mere smell of it kills me from wanting you anymore.”

His words were harsh. Your chin wobbled and you cried harder. He looked down at you with disdain, in frustration and irritation. He walked down the steps that led to his stone throne, you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your breath was shallow, your eyes blurred with tears and dizziness. Your knees felt weak and your feet numb. Your hands shaking even as you fisted the midnight darkness of your dress.

“When I return I want you gone from my presence.”

A hiss escaped your lips at the pressure on the wounds at your neck. Suna gasped, biting her lips before she spoke in reverence.

“Forgive me, My Lady (yn).”

Your eyes closed, your hand went up and seized her wrist. Your hold had no strength in it, you had none to spare. Yet it was firm in its softness. She halted, the maiden's eyes widened as she looked at you with expectation and concern.

“Did he harm you, My Lady? Apart from the feeding?”

You turned to gaze at her. Your eyes were tired, soulless and empty. Yet they softened when you saw the tears gathered in her lashes.

“No. He simply drank… greedily this time, that’s all.”

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the wet rag smeared with your dried blood from the wounds. Your heart ached for the girl. She reminded you of your own youth. When you were her age, your life was all flowers and smiles. Silly games and gentle hearts. With the promise of a future and a happy life.

Yet it seemed you had spent a lifetime being Gwi’s fascination.

“Do not cry, my girl. Bring me my night tea instead, please. I’m exhausted.”

Suna obeyed. She stood up and went to fetch the tray. You sighed, your hands fisting the fabric of your night white dress. A dread coiled in your stomach, a knot formed at your throat. For you realised how trapped you were in his gilded cage. You lived like a queen yet obeyed like a servant. Your luxuries were an illusion. A truth you now saw with clear eyes and a hurt soul.

The royal palace felt empty despite the hundreds of servants in it. Despite the invisible company of the royal family. Few were the people who spoke to you, fewer still the ones who sought your company.

Within the royal grounds, everyone knew who you were. What you were to the vampire king. Suna returned with red rimmed eyes and clumsy movements. She stumbled over her skirts and nearly spilled the tea; however, your hands raised, steadying the wooden tray with her.

She looked up at you with eyes full of hurt and heartbreak and helplessness. It broke your composure to see her like that. For she was innocent in a world that did not forgive the pure ones.

“Forgive me, My Lady. I—”

Her words halted as you smiled at her. It was a broken smile. A gesture born of sympathy and not happiness.

You brought the tray to rest next to you and poured your own tea as the girl watched you with widened eyes. The first cup, you offered it to her with both hands.

“Sit with me?”

It was a question. An option and not an order. A plea and not a command. Something you hadn’t been offered in so long, something it was left for you to give instead. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the warm cup with her two hands and sat down in front of you with awkwardness in her posture. You smiled again at her acceptance. At her company. You poured yourself a cup with an elegance Suna secretly and tenderly envied.

You drank the steaming jasmine tea, the bitterness of it grounding your wandering mind. Suna didn’t take a sip. She simply stared at the liquid inside her cup.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”

The girl looked up sharply, her eyes panicked. Her lips loose as she tries to find what to say. That look she had was probably the same one you gave Gwi each time he summoned you. Afraid of overstepping. Afraid of making a mistake. Afraid of breathing too loudly. Afraid of daring to exist too bluntly in a world that punished courage.

“No, My Lady, it isn’t that. I–”

Suna took a sip and scrunched her eyes as she burned her tongue with the tea. She suppressed a yelp of surprise and put the cup on the tray with more force than necessary, making some of the tea spill a little.

“Suna,”

At the sound of her name on your lips, the girl looked up. Her braid fell over one shoulder, her eyes expectant.

“If you were given the opportunity to choose, in which palace would you like to serve?”

She blinked, startled by your question. She straightened, folding her hands in her lap in a clumsy way of mirroring your impeccable posture.

“I’d like to serve where you are, My Lady. I only ever wish to remain in your service until you no longer desire me by your side.”

Her words weren’t rushed. They were deep, sincere. Submissive.

“Loyalty is dangerous, my girl. You of all people should know that.”

Suna swallowed, a knot forming at her throat.

“I know, My Lady. It is the reason I have no one in the world except for you.”

You offered her a smile. It was bittersweet in its nature. It held pain and tenderness for the girl. Compassion and tears in equal parts.

“There is something I need you to do for me, Suna. However, I will not order you to do it. It shall be your choice alone but I warn you, it is a dangerous request, girl.”

She squared her shoulders, blinking back the tears that had gathered in her lashes. Her gaze hardened and for a moment, she looked ten years older than her true age.

“My Lady, whatever wish your heart possesses it is my command alone. I will follow you to the very ends of this world. I plead you to never question it.”

The pain became bearable after his fourth sip against your neck. Gwi drank and drank until at last he left you nearly dry. You felt yourself being lifted in his arms once more. Each night was the same. Over and over. You barely had time to recover before he was feasting on you once again.

He lay you down under the dead tree in the far chamber in his underground palace, his movements careful. Your eyes opened as you felt his large palm cupping your cheek and you saw the exact moment where his crimson eyes returned to their natural onyx colour.

“Your blood tastes different… diluted even. Have I been taking too much?”

But you couldn’t answer him. Not even if you so much desired to scream at him that he had, indeed, been taking too much from you for months now.

The vampire did not feel pity. Nor remorse. Only a subtle frustration that his favourite dessert didn’t taste quite as he liked it.

He huffed and went to sit down under the dead tree, his robes pooling around him this time in dark blue shades of silk.

“I’ve told you this before, sweet one, but you remind me of someone.”

“The woman in white.”

He smiled at your whispered words. Your eyelids were heavy, your shivers making you sweat cold drops of agony.

“Yes, the woman in white.”

He leaned his head back on the tree trunk, closing his eyes and drifting far away into a world of poetry and flowers that now remained only a memory in his heart. Despite your exhaustion, you looked at him. You marvelled at his otherworldly beauty, at the sharpness of his features. At the manly build of his eternal body. Another one before you had lived in this underground cage, had slept in this very same room. And you couldn’t question whether that woman had loved the vampire for he lacked not in beauty. And, perhaps he had also possessed a heart before he himself killed it with his bare hands.

“What happened to her?”

Gwi opened his eyes, his gaze locked with yours. Suddenly hardened and cruel.

“I killed her.”

The words were simple, drawled out in his deep voice that haunted your dreams and shaped your nightmares. They made you shiver. You closed your eyes, unable to keep looking at his unblinking stare as he gazed down at you with disgust at the torment your presence caused his soul.

“She was as beautiful as a rose, but even flowers were plucked from the ground.”

That was the last thing you heard before you surrendered yourself into unconsciousness, falling in the arms of darkness once more. You welcomed it like an old friend, a place where Gwi couldn’t harm you nor torment you anymore. A palace of partial peace.

The vampire lord watched you sleep, his head tilting to the side. It bothered him how much you resembled her. How your shadow came from another lifetime. How your eyes sparkled just like his dead flowers had once done when she had gazed at him with love.

But your (e/c) eyes held everything in them except for that same human sentiment. You did not love him, you never will. It was a truth he had come to terms with. But it still stung his pride.

It was as if he had her back in the times when you closed your eyes, in the times in which he held you in his arms. In the times where your shadow appeared before you in the torchlit chamber. In the way your hair felt between his fingertips.

But his flower was dead.

And in her place he had you.

A marionette of sweet blood meant for him to possess for eternity.

“My Lady, you are being summoned.”

That command had come hours ago. Hours. Night had finally fallen over Joseon and the first snowflakes of the season danced down to the royal place like a gentle mercy of the heavens. You were laying on your soft silken bedding. Despite the warmth of the chamber, you were shivering under the thick coverlet.

Suna was by your side, brewing some tea. A tea you had explicitly explained to her how to make.

The girl’s head snapped to the closed door as she heard a distant scream. She looked at you, noticing your furrowed brows, your closed eyes and the quiet chattering of your teeth. The corridors of the royal palace were silent, her heart drummed in her throat. Her hands stopped stirring the herbs in your tea as she looked with wide eyes at the closed doors of your room.

She heard rustling in the hallways, she heard her own breathing stuttering. Her clumsy hands hovered over your shoulder before she tried to wake you.

“My Lady, My Lady wake up, please. There’s someone in the palace, My Lady, please—”

A gasp escaped her lips as the bedchamber doors burst open, they rattled against the wall and a gust of cold wind entered the room, extinguishing the candles within it. Only the paper lamps remained lit, the light dimmed and Suna staggered back.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, framed by the shadowed torches of the corridor. A soundless gasp escaped the girl’s lips, the vampire took a step forward and she crawled back until she touched your bedding with her hand.

“Move, girl.”

His words were hissed. Like a serpent’s venom. Suna could see the vampire lord’s eyes glowing crimson and tears of fear blurred her vision.

“My–My Lady is unwell,” She stammered “Please—you cannot—she–”

But he moved faster than thought. One moment he stood at the threshold, the other second Suna was lifted off the ground by her throat, her feet kicking uselessly in desperation as his grip tightened.

“You dare to deny me of what’s mine?”

His words were dark, an echo of the underworld. Suna whimpered, tears gathered in her eyes and spilled down her round cheeks in utter terror. The vampire hissed, bearing his fangs to the fading candlelight.

“Stop.”

The world halted his movements. Despite its softness, its voice, it did stop him. At least for a second. Gwi looked down at you, his eyes crimson and empty and regal in their horror. Your loyal maid clawed at his wrist but his nails only bit deeper into her delicate skin.

“Stop this, please.”

You sat popped on your elbow, the coverlet covered your body from the waist and down. Your eyes were tired, scared and firm. A firmness that startled the vampire king. He snarled and his grip loosened, Suna crumbled to the ground, her hands cradling her neck as she gasped for air.

For a moment, just a heartbeat you were locked into his dreadful gaze. His handsome features revealed nothing, his beauty tricked you once more into the illusion of expectancy. You stood up, dressed in your white night hanbok, your hair was loose, it trailed down your back like (h/c) silk. And all the time, he didn’t even blink. He noticed the struggle it took you to stand up, the abnormal pallor of your skin. The absence of colour on your lips and the gauntness of your face.

“I summoned you.”

He stated. His voice echoing through the silent chamber. You could only hear the faint lullaby of the candles that had survived his wrath, Suna’s gentle sobs and your own heartbeat. For it was slower than it should have been.

You placed yourself between the vampire and the girl. His vessel of sweetness. His unpredicted delight.

“Yes, My Lord.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. He took notice of the wounds on your neck. They weren’t healing anymore and the skin around them was permanently bruised. Ugly and disfigured and tender under his touch if his fingertips had dared to grace it.

“And yet, you did not come. I waited, sweet one.”

You swallowed. He stepped forward, the rustling of his robes startling you back from your hazy thoughts. You craned your neck to look at him, not once daring to lower your chin, your pride, your honour. Not anymore.

“I sent word. I wasn’t feeling well. I wouldn’t have wanted you to spend a sour evening because of my failing body, My Lord.”

His hand lifted, you didn’t flinch. His fingers relaxed and his knuckles traced your cheek. Suna watched from her kneeling position on the polished floor, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Gwi tilted his head, his eyes softening.

“I’ve been taking too much, haven’t I?”

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was poison, his eyes an addiction. His touch a need that coursed through your veins like acid. You answered him by lowering your eyes. A silent confirmation. A bitter declaration. And a sacred truth you would have never dared to speak out loud.

His other hand snaked around your waist and you suppressed a gasp as he pressed your body to his own. Only the fabric separated your searing hot skin from his cold corpse. His touch turned sharp, no longer tender. No longer the whisper of a lover but the roar of a beast. The fingers caressing your face pinched your cheeks, forcing your head up and your eyes to meet his own once more. You drowned in those dark pools, your hands fisting the ivory fabric of your silken dress.

“I told you once I’d drink from you until my hunger is satiated. Until I find your blood repulsive and the mere smell of it kills me from wanting you anymore.”

You sighed in surrender, a gentle breath of death. He leaned in, your heart beating wildly in the cage made of bones that trapped your soul. But instead of his fangs meeting skin, his lips locked with your own. He kissed you.

His hands roamed your body. Gripped your dress. Pressed you to him. You couldn’t move. The candle flickered as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere. You stood rooted to the ground, frozen in place. Your eyes wide, your lips softly parted as he kissed you, claimed you.

But then your eyes closed and you surrendered to his cruel embrace. You kissed him back. Your fingers ran down his dark hair, you stood on your tiptoes to reach him fully. The hand that rested between your shoulder blades shifted higher, it landed on your nape. You didn’t have time to move, talk or gasp before he angled your head and bit your neck so harshly you did moan in pain this time.

After moons of feeding from you and getting only silence. Now his actions brought him a sound from your throat. A sound you now wished you could have swallowed.

Gwi drank until blood overflowed his mouth. Until it dripped from his lips. He drank until you grew heavy in his embrace, until your hands escaped his hair. And just as you began to see dark spots in your vision, confusing shadows with candlelight did he let go. You fell down onto your unmade bedding in a blur of silk and blood.

Suna managed to catch you, holding you against her so you wouldn’t slump sideways. The vampire lord traced his bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the evidence of your pain in his porcelain skin. Like a canvas meant only for Death to paint.

“You cannot deny what is rightfully mine. Remember, sweet one, you are mine forever.”

Suna looked up as silent tears ran down her face. Tears of pain and horror and fear. Her grip tightened around you and with what little strength you had left, your eyes opened. You looked at the vampire with a dead stare. Empty of emotion, cold as snow. Mirroring his own selfish desires and his own consuming hunger.

Insatiable.

That’s what he was.

An insatiable monster that claimed your soul and upheld the beat of your heart. He didn’t love you, he wanted you. Your body, your obedience. Your mind. He wanted to possess the beautiful doll that resembled the shadows of his grey past.

But now, his existence was nothing but black control.

“Then, I shall see you tomorrow so that you enjoy your dessert once more, My Lord.”

His eyes glinted with mischief. His lips curled in a smile that would have been gentle had it not been for the blood that framed those very same lips that had just kissed you in sweet agony.

“Yes, you shall wait.”

He blinked, turning around to exit your chamber. His robes swished against his ankles, the movement stirring the last remaining exposed candles in the room. The lights dimmed, your eyes closed and you heard his steps as he left your little corner of illusions and peace.

“My Lady! — My Lady, let me look, please–”

But you only sagged against her. Suna whimpered as more of your weight fell onto her thin arms. Your fingers clenched the fabric of her skirts, she bit her lip to stop the sob that wanted to escape her heart at the sight of you.

Your skin held an unnatural pallor, your strength gone like sunlight after dusk. With tears in your eyes you looked up at the girl who held you with desperation and effort in her muscles.

“Suna…”

The girl cried at the sound of her name whispered in your voice in such a delicate way. You tried to push yourself up, your arms straining, fabric bunching under your palms.

“My girl… are you alright? Did he– did he hurt you?”

She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. Strands of dark hair had escaped her braid, they framed her round and youthful face and stuck to her moist cheeks.

You sighed in relief, leaning your head against her shoulder and you felt her grip tighten around you.

“...that’s good then.”

The words barely left your lips, your lids were heavy, threatening to close forever.

“My Lady! Lady (y/n), please, PLEASE don’t— don’t–”

The tremor in your hands stopped, your grip on her skirts loosened as your hand went slack. Death embraced you in its gentle arms. Your heartbeat slowed until it was the only thing you could hear.

A heartbeat.

Just a heartbeat.

Or a ticking clock that counted your breaths.

“My Lady, wake up! Wake up, please!”

Suna lay you down on the disarray that had once been your bedding. She leaned over you, her tears dripping down her chin and landing on the bodice of your hanbok.

“You can’t leave me! Please, My Lady, please…”

She kept crying. But in her fear there was action. She grabbed one of your thick ribbons and pressed the silk to the wound on your neck. It soaked quickly but the bleeding slowed. She sniffled, tying the ribbon around your neck before she began cleaning the place. The teared fabric, the overturned candles. She lit them all once more.

Lighting the bedchamber. Extinguishing the shadows of her nightmares.

With loyal steps, she returned to your bedside. Her fingers trembled as she hesitated before she grabbed your hand in both of hers. You lay on your right side, the quilts covering you warmly. The knot she had tied on the ribbon had stayed, your breaths were deeper, controlled.

Alive.

“Please wake up, My Lady. You can’t leave me too.”

The underground palace was suffocating in its immensity. The endless and treacherous halls were disturbed by the mere existence of its master. Gwi paced,his robes swishing around his feet. His tongue still tasted the diluted sweetness of your blood. His sweetest blood. His dead heart hurt with an emotion he tried to suppress. An emotion that once had nearly drowned him. A spark of life that had almost been his demise decades ago.

In another lifetime.

He hated you and wanted you and misunderstood you all at the same time.

His steps carried him through ancient corridors, the torches flickering, the shadows bending under his presence.

He pushed open the double doors that led to the cherished chamber in his palace of darkness. The room where once flowers bloomed, the one it now held a horrible skeleton of nature and secrets and broken vows.

The dead cherry blossom tree stretched its naked branches toward the sky, curving gently forward. As if a monster wanted to cradle him in its boney fingers. His eyes darkened, fists clenching behind his flowy sleeves of silk and embroidery. For his heart — the treacherous heart — mimicked a song he had once enjoyed.

A melody lost to time and blood. A harmonious composition of love. Yet it was now corrupted with thorns of power and lust.

If a flower blooms in darkness, it belongs to death.

If it dies in shadows, a mistake has been made.

Betrayed by a heart born of poison.

For the master had yearned for the impossible.

Seduced by passion, tricked by words.

It was never safe to play with such thorns.

In a world governed by men and lords,

The flame burns until there is no-one to warm once more.

Life is a cruel thief,

A liar who smiles and speaks without words.

Death is a cruel judge.

Carrying burdens that were never her own.

And to the one who danced with her,

Death became a man's fractured reflection.

Mirror of painful truths, owner of his soul.

Lady of a heart that was never alive.

Those words would have been heard by the walls of the room had his heart not been lost to loss. Like his lips had once recited poetry for his beloved, now they commanded sentences for the innocent.

It is said that death changes people. But death had not spoken her name, death had not bruised him in vain. For he had been no man and her passing had been no accident. Gwi’s pain had been drowned in lust for you.

The one who resembled his love. The reincarnation of his sin. The saint of his misfortunes. He loved the memories you stirred in him. He despised the truths you made him remember with only a look into your eyes.

He lusted over your carnality and mortality, he respected your dignity enough for his touch to be gentle. But as he turned to look at the dead tree, at his dead love, he could only hate you more.

Because hate and love are one and the same. To love is to suffer. To hate is to condemn oneself.

He took in a sharp breath, his eyes picking up the sound of footsteps in the corridor. The scent hit him instantly. His eyes closed as he savoured the aroma he had missed for nearly a century.

Roses.

Fresh roses.

The rustle of fabric became noticeable to him next and as the vampire lord turned around, he saw you standing at the entrance of the room. Your eyes did not look at the mess he had made, at the overturned cushions or the spilled jewellery like tears of pearls. You didn’t turn to look at the pages of poetry with ink smudges and crossed lines.

You looked at him. Directly and with no hesitation. The intensity in his gaze made you shiver, as if he had run a cold finger down our spine.

The vampire drank you in. Your beauty, your grace. Your lips were gentle, your eyes intense. Your hands were clasped in front of your waist. Your hair was down, trailing down your back in a river of (h/c) while only two strands were pulled back, secured by the hairpin he had once given you.

The hanbok you wore was the colour of snow. Perfect, gentle white. The torches and candles made you look angelic in a palace governed by darkness. Gwi straightened, his eyes narrowing before he spoke, his voice echoing in the large cavern-like bedroom.

“I did not summon you, sweet one.”

You inclined your head. A minimal movement, never once breaking eye contact.

“Will you send me away, My Lord.”

He looked you up and down, your words resonated within his mind despite the softness of them. Almost innocent, almost perfect and submissive.

“No.”

He took a step forward, you swallowed. He took another one and your heart skipped a beat. Another one and your fingers clenched in front of you in their own tangled mess. He stood in front of you, forcing you to tilt your head back to feel his scrutinising eyes on your skin. That black gaze of his picked at your skin layer by layer.

He noticed that there was something wrong but the scent of roses was too strong. Sweet and earthly to the point it nearly made him sick in the resemblance of his favourite perfume. The allure of your eyes made his lips part and before you could even say a word, his arms encircled you. A gasp escaped your lips as he embraced you, pressed you against him with a grip of soft desperation. One of his large palms cradled the back of your head, fingers brushing his favourite hairpin. The only red you dared to wear today.

“If only you knew the weight your presence puts over my soul…”

His words trailed off, lost in his grief and sick devotion. You stood rigid in his arms, hearing the slow and spaced beating of his black heart.

“Then enjoy your dessert, My Lord. Do not hide your desires.”

Tears had gathered in your eyes as those whispered words left your lips. A gentle frown pulled his brows together, wanting to look at your face. However you buried your senses into his chest, the fine fabric of his robes brushing your skin.

“Please.”

A huff left him, a rumbling sound resonated within the walls of his ribs and it vibrated all the way to your soul as he chuckled. Your body shivered in his grasp as if you were naked during a winter night yet the heat of his taller frame engulfed you with a cruel gentleness.

“You are a curious little thing,”

Gwi murmured in your ear, you stilled. The hand that cradled the back of your head moved, shifting your hair away and exposing your neck to his monstrosity. Your fingers curled on his robes and he fed from you.

Tears ran down your cheeks in the absence of the pain that had once been agonising and excruciating. A nightmare while being awake. He drank not in greediness but in pleasure this time.

He was meant to savour it, to cherish and appreciate the delectable sweetness of your blood. He gulped once, twice, thrice and then he pushed you away.

The motion surprised you, you staggered a step back before your heel stepped on the white fabric of your skirts and you fell to the ground in a heap of silk and lace.

Gwi gasped, his chest moving in rapid, panicked motions. His eyes were crimson, his hands shook as he lifted his right palm and touched his blood-stained lips.

“What have you done?”

Despite the tears, despite the haze in your mind and the pain in your heart, you smiled at him. You smiled in crazy clarity. You smiled in victory and surrender. You smiled at the beauty of his horror.

“I’m freeing us.”

He growled at your answer, the blood he had drank left an acid aftertaste in his tongue. A taste of arsenic and belladonna. Of lies and betrayal. Of love and hate. He took a step forward and his vision swarmed, making his knees buckle as he fell in front of you like a fallen angel of darkness. A forgotten king.

His heart felt as if it was drowning. His soul sliced with the silver knife of your betrayal. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to blink. It hurt to exist.

His stomach spasmed, his chest constricted and he coughed up the blood he had drunk. The blood he had stolen. His throat ached as if burned with hellfire, his fingers clawed at the pale skin of his neck as his eyes locked with yours.

You were crying, sobbing and smiling so sweetly so innocently it broke him all over again. A trail of blood escaped your nose, tainting your lips. Your hands were shaking so bad you couldn’t even fist your skirts. The collar of your bodice was staining crimson where his bite marked your skin like a scar of false ownership. That was when he realised it. When it dawned on him what you had done.

The vampire smiled, his fangs stained, his eyes wild as he shook his head. His dark hair stuck to his sunken cheeks as he was drenched in cold sweat. And yet, he found a magnificent pleasure in playing your deathly game.

“Sweet one… you can’t kill me. I cannot die by a mortal’s hand.”

You sobbed, feeling your heart racing within your ribs. Your lips trembled with the desire of spilling words of desire, of hate and freedom you had long since kept hidden in the chambers of your heart.

“It doesn’t matter. Seeing you suffer is greater still.”

His eyes filled with tears, his stomach burned once more and he gasped in pain.

“And for that gratification… you had just killed yourself.”

Gwi rasped, his once deep and commanding voice was reduced to a tender whisper. You sniffled, trying to wipe the blood that trailed down your nose, it stained your skin like ink on paper.

“No, it was you who killed me. Years ago and every day since. You chose this.”

Your eyes screwed shut, your mouth opened to breathe but air no longer filled your lungs. They were filling with blood, you were drowning in the nature of your sins. Of his temptation. Of life.

With the last of your strength, you managed to lay on your side. Your eyes never left him. You witnessed as Gwi watched in horror as you succumbed to the poison you had drunk willingly. All to tarnish your very own blood.

Tears escaped your eyes, rolling through your temple and losing themselves on the stone below. Dripping like morning dew from your nose onto the sanctuary of his soul. The vampire tried to crawl toward you, to reach you and grab you and hold you. But the poison he had consumed made him hunch within himself. He embraced the stone below, watching you with wide eyes, eyes so dark and filled with fear and terror your heart ached. This time it wasn’t the poison stirring it.

With a trembling hand, he outstretched his arm toward you. Almost as if he wanted to reach you. To touch you one more time. His heart was slowing, yours was accelerating. And in one last act of mercy, you also extended your heart toward him.

This was it.

You were going to die.

You were going to leave this wretched world. And it had all been for nothing.

Monsters do not die.

With a shuddering breath, your fingers reached for his. You exhaled, the poison choking the life out of you. Your body went limp, your eyes closed.

And your touch did not grace his skin one more time.

Pain. That was all he felt. Everything hurt, everything burned. His eyes opened, the candlelight made him hiss in discomfort. His cheek rested on something hard and cold. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his hands slack.

His lips parted, a groan escaped his chest. And he realised he was laying on the unforgiven ground. His eyes adjusted, glowing faintly crimson before returning to their normal dark brown. He noticed the dead branches and the emptiness in his soul.

His head was laying on his extended left arm, his fingers twitched before he pushed himself up. Black and crimson silk pooled around him. The luxury of his robes, the power of his darkness made clothes.

But then his eyes found your form. Laying in front of him in a pool of white tulle and lace and silk. Your eyes were closed, your fingers lax and your arm extended toward him as if you had tried to reach him in one of your nightmares.

“(y/n)...”

The sound of your name was empty. Soulless, like him. Gwi felt his chest tighten, his hands shaking with the horror of what he was seeing. His breath came in rapid puffs that made him dizzy. He crawled to you, his robes tangling at his ankles, his hands desperate to touch you, hold you, feel you alive.

But as he knelt next to you, his hand cupped your cheek and was as cold as his dead skin. A smile graced his thin lips, his eyes filled with bitter tears. A horrid sound escaped him, something between a sob and a laugh that ended him completely.

“Crazy little creature,”

His long fingers brushed some hair away from your beautiful features. He had always known you were beautiful. It had been that same beauty that captivated him in the first place, that anchored you to him. That made him want you by his side.

And yet, despite it all, he found in your expression something the vampire had never seen: peace. As if you were merely sleeping next to your lover instead of at the feet of your killer.

Gwi picked up your limp body, hauling you half up into his arms. The white of your dress and the black and crimson of his robes mixed together under the candlelight as he held you against him. Cradling you with the same tenderness he had always used when it came to touching you. But his fingers strained as he fisted the fabric of your bodice on your back.

Your head rested against his shoulder, your cheek brushing his collarbone, your hands were limp in your lap as his arms wrapped around you.

“I pondered on killing you many times…”

He murmured as he looked down at your face, your lips colourless, your lashes resting against your cheeks like heaven’s last mercy.

“Yet something stopped me every time the thought crossed my mind.”

A tear fell onto your cheek, dripping down his chin and landing on your skin. Your hair trailed down his arm and the hand that rested on your waist came to cradle your cheek against him. Gwi held you with desperate tenderness. With a dead heart that whispered your name and a mind that screamed your presence in his memories.

The memories you had stirred in him were gone now. The shadows of his past you resuscitated from his soul were dead along with your mortal body.

“If you wanted to die so much, then I shall grant you that last mercy, my sweet one.”

And so he embraced you, rocked you against him as he buried his face on your hair. The faint scent of roses hitting his senses and unlocking the rest of the tears he had tried to keep at bay.

His sobs echoed in the empty room, followed by an empty laugh that he could no longer control. His mind was gone with the memory of the woman he had loved and the shadows you had stirred within him.

Your presence, once harmonious, was now a blasphemy. Your voice, once a melody, was now an echo forgotten to the walls of the underground palace. And the essence he now smelled in your clothes was no longer the sweet blood he once cherished.

Gwi poisoned you. With his dominance, his possessiveness, his power, his induced fear. He killed you, his little shadow of memories, his servant dressed as queen.

“...My sweet one.”

December/31/025

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~ Masterpost