In the late eighteenth century, the Queen consort Charlotte bore a son, her ninth, prophesised to rid the world of vampires. However, knowing her child would be at risk from the vampire community, she hid him in a blood orange growing in the palace's orangery.
Safe in the sun during the day, and watered with holy water at night, the blood orange tree flourished, producing a single blue fruit every year.
As the years went on, Queen Charlotte lost her mind* and the unique nature of the blood orange tree, along with the instructions for its care, were lost in time and outdated superstition.
It wasn't until I took a wrong turn on the way back from Europa** that the prophecy was thwarted.
Coming out of the cloud cover, I didn't have time to pull up, and crashed through the orangery glass and into the tree, my mouth open in surprise. Which, in hindsight, was a fortunate lapse in etiquette, as I ended up piercing the fruit with my fangs. It's bloody juice filled my mouth and I swallowed before I could stop myself.
As you should all know by now, I'm not a spitter by nature. It's uncouth.
Anyway, after extricating myself from my predicament, Immolation and Infernal DeVize stopped by to say thank you.
Which was nice.***
* Well, it was in her head which was chopped off because she was accused of being a witch. Of which she was, of course. How else do you think she managed to get a baby inside an orange?
** I indicated to turn left before I should've done, so had to turn, lest I feel the other commuters wrath.
*** Again, not really incest!