If I had to say what I am I think the answer would be cold. So very cold. I have been cold for as long as I can remember. It was a very long amount of days ago that I felt heat run under my flesh, felt a pulse in my neck, felt something even close to warm. My life has always been cold, when your beyond life itself it always is . Even as a mere mortal I was cold, I rose from being a princess to a queen without ever being given a title. Mother never had much of a rule, maddened by my father she'd shut herself away in one of the wings screaming at the top of her lungs, I kept her hidden because she would have been locked away, beaten and probably killed in some weird exile of hunt for a form of supernatural untrusted. She was weak and pitiful but in every way possible perfect enough to survive my father, a cold and blood hungry man before even becoming immortal. Many a night he would create some flawed plan just in order to get his sword bloody in any way, no matter what the consequence, being a vampire just flawed him some more, instead of using some weapon and giving the unjustly victim a chance of escape or a moment to remember the ones they loved, he'd smile and pounce- drinking only from live victims the screams would resonate in my dreams making me nearly as fretfully mad as my dearly pathetic mother, as sleep began evading me at its every chance.
My beginning of immortality was as pathetically cruel and painful as you'd expect, my father being power hungry, fed lies to a faraway prince of my beauty and of the power that would come if we were to come together in marriage. The cry of a crown had been too much for the poor and pathetic royal, his agreement had been almost instant, with him waving his farewells in order to seek the jewel that was a country, he'd been plagued with the right to rule- only sadly for him his blood called to my father, the battering of his pulse against his neck- through nerves - had pushed my father to far, rendering him uncontrollable as he launched himself at my 'fiancé', in front of a battalion of guard- we never did get the blood from the stone- he killed each and every one, drained them dry- except one. He'd only managed to sink his fangs into the dear prince's neck before he'd been overcome by the surprised attack of the guards and had been pushed off course. My arranged marriage lay in ruins, as the poor boy shook in fear- tear tracks ebbing their way down his cheeks as a shaking hand tried to stem the heavy blood flow; his eyes unfocused on the rivers of red that stained the bottom of my cream gown. I was motionless watching my father, as he dropped the last guard to the floor with a dull thud, the bodies were white; each and every one drained dry- it was then he turned to me.
I didn't see him move until it was too late. He pinned me to his side and bit my neck, his teeth meeting over my pulse; he drained me and then gave me 'life'. The pain was inexcusably agony, the resonating venom made me fight pathetically to feel anything but agony- a pain I couldn't decipher only could feel- for what felt like hours I screamed but it was merely minutes what came next was worse. It wasn't more pain but was more of a desire. A burning passion for blood. And you can guess what happened next. Beyond thirsty and uncontrolled I turned to my 'prince' and bit. Drinking him dry- I will never forget his face frozen in fear, a weak yelp escaping his lips. It was then I turned to my father, a smile toying at his lips- as a predatory glow shone from his eyes, as he took in each and every part of me, his eyes lingering at my breasts. It was then he came at me, pinning me to his side- his strength beyond my weak own.
He ripped my virginity from me, raping my viciously.
It was only then I knew what I had become.
My father wanted a bride.
And I was that bride.
Sadly that was only the beginning of the horror.