"I was never that much into guys, let alone posers or vamps.
But he was the real thing and a force to be reckoned with.
And I surrendered without a fight."
Smut, language, sexual themes, mature themes, mild violence, mentions of blood, mentions of...
A/N: Hello peeps! This is a bit of back story for Chan.
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🎵 Song suggestion: Dearly Beloved by Yoko Shimomura 🎵
They exiled him on a morning of frost. There was no ceremony, no last words from the Prince - only a whisper from one of the advisors, spoken like a death sentence: "Your blood is cursed."
And that was it.
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Chan, a young scholar at the Prince's court, is dismissed from his duties. His chambers are emptied before noon, his precious manuscripts thrown into the muddied yard, his meager possessions burned in a cathartic pyre.
By nightfall, he is stumbling past the outer gates with only a thin coat against the bite of the winter wind, coughing blood into a silk handkerchief he no longer has the strength to hide. His bones are brittle, his blood failing. And his limp makes him appear even weaker than he really is.
As he walks through the streets, everyone turns away, for the Prince has issued an edict: the scholar Chan of the Bahng clan is to be avoided.
Even his parents cannot accept him back without risking the Prince's displeasure.
When he appears on their doorstep, his father doesn't let him pass, even though his mother rushes towards him.
"We should send him away," his father insists, avoiding his son's eyes.
"He is our son," his mother cries, reaching out to hug Chan, but his father holds her back with a firm grip.
"The Prince doesn't want him here. He is bad luck."
"He is not bad luck! He is just frail!"
"Frail means useless, woman!" his father snaps.
"He will die on his own," his mother weeps.
"He will die if he stays here too. We have five more children to look after. We cannot risk the Prince's wrath."
Listening to his parents bitter argument, Chan finally speaks up. "Omma, I will leave."
His mother turns to him, her face streaked with tears, while his father still refuses to look at him. "I am sorry, my son," she whisprers.
She packs him a humble meal in secret, pressing it into his hands. "Here, it will last you a few days. Where will you go?"
"I do not know."
What Chan does know is that he is already dead. To the Prince, to his colleagues, to people he considered friends and -most dishearteningly- to his own family. He is entirely alone.
