He gave a small powerless laugh, a humorless one at that. He couldn't see this vampiress as a damsel. Even through the way she laid and the way she spoke, she was a warrior. It wasn't something you stopped being after stepping onto a battlefield. She wouldn't be the princess in the tower of the child stories, she'd be the dragon.<br/><br/>"I imagine damsel fits you well, Queen Elara. About as well as toy fits me. Although I will try to hide it, the pride of my heritage shines bright. And about seeming angry, well, who knows, I might even enjoy it here."<br/><br/>This was followed by another laugh, this one more genuine. He thought about his life years back, when he'd been to the common school, an attempt by him and his father to get him use to how the less powerful worked in their society. It was an integral part of being a good king, or so he'd been told. But his difference lead to resentment and jealousy, not from him, but to him. Those that were different were ostracized, and he imagined himself back into that type of situation, on a bigger scale.<br/><br/>A whole country of creatures who resented his existence. Twisting his words, using his actions as cannon fodder. Inciting riots, causing large scale rebellion. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a civil war between vampires. Watching her twist and turn on the bed, he realized he was staring. He blinked a few times, not averting his gaze, and tried to think clearly.<br/><br/>"I've seen my fair share, but not vampires, not like this. In fact, you're one of the only vampires I've seen this exposed. Alive anyway. I'm use to seeing your kind encased in a shell of metal, armed to the teeth, literally. Not this kind of sight though."