![jens-erik-ebbesen-1RHsJPr0KH8-unsplash.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/internutter/EpLhxP9mDRMqGkb69P7mJAigXZwsBxSxDjSVTSHYr3nriCwnaPwPGmDZLrSVqi8n1mg.jpg)

> They noticed that their vampiric lover had begun to change their diet. Less bread was being offered, fewer potatoes, fewer baked treats. Instead, leaner meats, more vegetables and fresh fruit, more water, and even a change in the tea.
> When confronted, the vampire looked into their eyes with immense worry and said softly, "Your blood is getting far too sweet." -- Anon Guest

[AN: Calling back to [https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04494-l110-agreement-on-amends](https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04494-l110-agreement-on-amends) ]

Love is a strange beast and takes many shapes. The worst shape is the obsessive love that smothers in the name of protection. That forces the loved one to reshape themselves in the name of relationship maintenance. That hurts and harms in the name of devotion.

Count Dragomyr had more respect for Marzanna to do that. He never demanded, only invited. He made sure she knew what he was. He sought permission. Which was honestly more than most humans would bother with in her experience. It was what made visiting his castle such a relief from the village life that she thought, again and again, of moving in.

This evening was one of the incidents that made her dubious about taking that decision up.

The usual feast was splendid, true, but it had a lot less of her dough-based favourites. A lot more of the fresh fruit and vegetables. Even the beverages on offer had been carefully altered.

Marzanna leaned on one hand and raised her eyebrow at her host. Which was all she needed to do to break him.

He fell on his knees, already clasping his hands in supplication. "My love, forgive me," he begged. "I brashly acted in concern for your health. Your visits are a delight and the gift of sustenance from you all but overwhelms me with joy. Except... I have noticed. Your blood is sweet. More sweet than it should be for my -ah- unique tastes."

"I have sweet blood," Marzanna repeated. "And that's worrying?"

"I collect many books to stay in touch with the wicked world," said Dragomyr, still on his knees. "Which includes a subscription to medical journals. I read about what sweet blood could mean, and how to remedy... I was selfish. I only wanted you in my existence for as long as possible."

"I'm still trying to understand," said Marzanna. "How is sweet blood threatening my lifespan?"

He had a lecture. He had references. He had his own notes. And, oh sweet angels, he had _instructional diagrams_. And, because he lived a life of self-imposed exile from the living world, he had an immense propensity for talking anyone's ears off.

"I'll admit you had a point with the water," she said, when he finally wound down. "I don't get so many headaches or dizzy spells any more. So... I will try your prescription of a new diet. And _you_ my dear, will send for a professional to double check. It will rest both our minds."

"Perhaps... hire the doctor for all of my realm. I have been hearing many things about... public health."

Dinner was delicious. Of course it was. It was just that Marzanna was really looking forward to an indulgent dessert.

[Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@ebbesen?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Jens Erik Ebbesen</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/baked-bread-with-chocolate-syrup-1RHsJPr0KH8?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Unsplash</a>]

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