"The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse."

-Edmund Burke

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[that someday we would see them again

perhaps it was no more than wishful thinking

but after the long calm

there are now the beginnings of a stir]

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His first life, he was a priest.

An ironic job, considering how often he was punished for being a freak, or "Son of the Devil" during his childhood. He didn't do much during that life, he read to the poor, he praised the lord for all it was worth. He spit out harsh words against those who disagreed with him, against the Devil, witches, those who stole.

(Ha.)

His second life wasn't quite interesting either. A mercenary, a thief, stealing money no matter where he went. It was a short life, one full of booze and women, and a quick ending with a sword piercing him through the heart.

His third life was better. A tailor, spending all of his days listening to gossip as he sewed pretty dresses for the high-end women.

(If there were secret pockets in there, perfect for hiding small bottles or daggers, well, that was for only him and them to know.)

He was loved during that time, at least by his clients, who would put up with anything just to see him smile.

"You've got a lovely face, darling." One would purr, and he would grasp her chin and pull her in close, just to see the lust in her eyes, and he would grin, showing off too sharp teeth.

"I know."

His fourth wasn't worth mentioning, but his fifth was his favorite.

They called him 'Sanguini' those days, and perhaps that was why during his sixth and seventh lives, before he was forever caught on his eighth, he choose that name again.

He was a Prince, a beloved one. He'd lure men and women both to his bed and enjoy the way they fell over him. Some called him frivolous, a manipulator, but as he sat on the throne the day after his father was poisoned, he'd only laugh and agree with them, to happy to do anything but watch as his plans were set into motion.

He was killed a year later, by a coup d'etat, but he had only laughed as they swarmed his throne room, armed with swords and daggers, and continued laughing as they cut off his head.

(He knew he'd be back, anyways.)

His sixth was a short one, dead by a plague, and in his seventh he was burned at the stake by his own parents when he was a child, but his eighth was the one where he started to enjoy it.

His eighth was a powerful one. They called him Sanguini, and they said it in both fear and lust, just like his servants had done all those years ago when he lured them into bed with him. That was when he learned about the wizarding world, about the power they held, and it didn't take long for him to convince a vampire passing through to bit him.

(Perhaps it was because he offered oh so nicely, spread out on the bed with the vampire barely holding onto his sanity, but that could only be a part of it.)

And then he was immortal, powerful, and just like before humans and supernatural alike were easily swayed under his charisma. He built a strong coven, of vampires who wouldn't dare go against him, not with his too sharp teeth and too beautiful eyes, and watched as the world formed under his grasp, even two thousand years later when he had moved on from ruling the world.

(And if people didn't know that he was guiding them, well, he had learned when he was a prince that people didn't take very well to others telling them what to do. It was best just do it yourself, and Sanguini was very good at that.)

Sanguini sat back on his throne and watched, as people fell over themselves to come for his every whim, every beck and call, and laughed.

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part 3.

prompt: quote up there.