Vamp Guards ✔️

T H I R T Y-S I X

In just three days the prince of Vridora would officially turn sixteen years-old. In many kingdoms like such, sixteen is the age in which the teenager is viewed mature, and should start taking on more adult tasks. They are also allowed to be in contact with the vampire guards their parents own; it's said that their development isn't stable yet until they are sixteen, so someone long ago had settles on that age. That also meant they now had their own authority over the vampires. If their heart desired to, and if a King or Queen approves, they could do anything to the guard. From torture to death. 

It may sound overdramatic, thinking a young teenager could do such an unspeakable thing, but it's a written law, which means there's an origin. And it happens often than most would expect it to.

Despite the exciting date being three days away, preparations were already starting to be made. In their grand dinning room, the King watched as his workers moved things around where he ordered them to go. They brought in furniture and decorations, all colors of black and gold.

While observing their work, he caught sight of his son sitting at a table, his eyes also wandering around. But his face showed gloom and melancholy.

The King smiled at one of the village helpers as he walked past them to get to Iris, who, once he caught sight of him, sat up straight to seem less low-spirited.

"Why the long face, son?' Arlo asked, though he knew the answer. "Your big day is coming up."

Iris returned his cheek against his knuckles and sighed. It was a big day, and he didn't like it.

The coming of age was the third biggest celebration where hundreds gathered. The crowning of a King was the first. Then it was a marriage, whether that be for a King, Queen or their children. For Iris, the local kingdoms were expected to arrive, which were only two, but that included half of their villages, too. Now that was a lot of people.

"I don't see why it has to be so public," Iris muttered when his dad took a seat next to him.

"Well, it's always been like that. Many are coming here for you to celebrate. For you." Arlo thought that if he emphasized exactly why they're having so many guests–which is for him–then maybe he'd have a changed heart.

Iris picked at the ghostly white tablecloth, still keeping a foul expression on his face, "I don't want a party."

"Well we're having one. And you're going to enjoy it."

"Yeah, right."

"Maybe instead of moping around you can pick out an outfit Allison has chosen for you."

"I'll just wear the first thing she suggests."

Arlo shook his head, again bringing up their visitors, "Two other kingdoms aren't coming over to see you wearing low effort."

"Not my fault."

"You need be a little more considerate, Iris," Arlo turned to face his son better, now a lecturing tone in his voice, "A lot of people are coming here for you, some further than our neighboring kingdoms."

"Considerate," Iris shot his dad a look, not a glare, but it was close to one, "You should be considerate of how I feel. I don't care about being recognized as an adult. And you're a King, you shouldn't have to follow an old stupid law anyway." While he bursted in a hushed angry fit, he stood up from his chair and curled his fingers in the tablecloth. "I don't care what you say, I'm not pretending to love your precious party." With a stern declare in his voice, he pushed himself away from the table and started marching towards the nearest exit.