Chapter Text
Vlad Dracula Journal Entry #5029 excerpt
Memories. Stories. Legends. For any simple mortal, stories reside in the rich history of mankind recorded in books or passed down from Father to Son or Mother to Daughter. Generations of such a method of story-telling has been known to alter the flow of words, the motivation of the story-teller, or simply forgotten as the pure essence of the truth is lost for each lifetime that passes. The exception lies in the crimson rush of one’s life that flows freely in one’s veins. With each rhythmic beat of a heart capable of doing such a dance or an Immortal’s passing second in the sea of infinity, every moment is stored and kept in the veiled mysteries of one’s Blood[...]
Blood is Lives. Blood is Testimony[...] The testimony of everyone, mortal and immortal alike, resides in the life flowing through one’s veins[...] In order to acquire one’s rich history, blood must be consumed[...] All true immortals possess the ability to read through the blood, but only the anointed Elders and a few of their descendants alone possess the complete power of organizing their thoughts and memories into a single and cohesive vision. However, there is an unusual exception to this rule. Lord William Corvinus, my father, was able to share his memories with my mother, Countess Minerva of House Dracula, and vice versa without much trouble though she was not an Elder and most certainly not a true immortal. It must be the eternal mate bond that accorded such a powerful skill[...]
Father, your heir has returned. I will take what is due. That murderer Van Helsing will rue his sins on our kind. On our family. On Mama[...]
Blood BEGETS Blood …
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Blood is Lives. The rush of life is rich in the Blood, each carrying a distinct flavor be it the sweetness of a life happily lived or the bitter sorrow of one"s fatal loss. It is the mixture of these tastes that flow through Agatha Van Helsing as she drinks in the blood of the Man who owns her heart.
The former nun closes her eyes and opens them not a moment later just to find herself in the familiar stone walls of the Castle she lovingly calls home in the company of a child with the most innocent diamond sparkles in the rich earth of his onyx gaze…
"I was five years of age…"
**********
Spring 1502
Castle Dracula
The bright light of the glorious Sun envelopes the vast expanse of the majestic greenery of the Romanian Carpathian foothills surrounding Castle Dracula. Wild fauna and blooming flora grace its breathtaking beauty, but the Castle’s immortal residents and the mortal servants that maintain the stone fortress do not have a moment to spare in order to gaze at the picturesque scene before them because today is a special day for the Lord and the Lady of the Castle and the Corvinus Werewolves.
A young boy dressed in a rich maroon shirt with silver buttons and cufflinks, black pants, and a custom-made pair of expensive leather shoes with matching silver adornments is accompanied by a tall and lean man fitted in a plain white shirt and black pants with simple footwear as they march through the maze of the hallways.
The ocean of the former nun’s eyes follow the little boy as he walks while sharing a polite conversation with the man as much as her pregnant self allows her to, but she does not have far to walk because the boy and the man enter what looks to be a kitchen not a moment later. Forgetting that her polite greetings to the unfamiliar staff of the castle will be ignored, Agatha does not finish her words when a servant walks through her silhouette without a passing thought! Recollecting her thoughts and brushing away the unusual action in this memory she is reliving, Agatha dutifully finds a corner in the kitchen that is not busy and patiently sits on a chair, her eyes not leaving the boy as he animatedly chats away about the excitement of the day’s festivities to the man with the most curious ocean eyes… (The most difficult day of his life.)
Servants run to and from this buzzing chamber in order to prepare the castle for the Hunting Ritual in celebration of the Lady"s second pregnancy, but the boy so eager to watch the man cook his mother"s favorite rabbit stew does not mind the hustle and bustle. With every servant that passes by and politely acknowledges his presence, each one is greeted by the boy"s wide sweet smile. (Ahh yes… Mortals in the castle. It has been too long.)
Each moment passes by and Agatha watches the innocent interaction between the man and the boy. Whenever the child emits a joyous laugh, a smile cannot help itself from curling her lips. The only other times she has heard such a boisterous sound are the moments that her and the mature self of the boy have shared. Once the unfamiliar guest of the castle sees that the two are motioning to leave the busy kitchen, she follows them albeit with much care in her haste as the two manage through the long hallways and stop in front of the closed Council Chamber.
The more that the ocean of her eyes takes in the image of the man accompanying the boy in their walk, the more her mind is scrutinizing why he is a familiar face. He seems to carry an air of affluence, confidence, and holds a certain posture that only a man of noble upbringing carries. In addition, little details about his face reminds her of her gr-
“My boy!”
A cheerful soprano emits in the air as the boy hears his mother’s call. Without a thought, Vlad drops the hand of the Man and cheerfully runs to his mother’s open arms. On his mother’s side stands his father, tall and proud, while a twinkle of contentment shines with life in such bright heavens of his blue eyes. Loud giggles merrily echo in the stone walls as the woman peppers her son’s face with loving kisses while her mate watches her and his son with gleeful gusto.
“My sweet child. Have you been kind to your father’s trusted hand?” she softly inquires while gently brushing stray locks of hair away from her son’s face. Then, his father motions to pick him up when he kneels to his son’s height with open arms. Vlad happily jumps to his father’s arms and lazily embraces his strong neck.
“Yes, Mama! Niemand, I’ve been a good boy, yes?” he giggles heartily and turns to the servant standing not far from them with a toothy grin.
“Of course, my young Lord. You have been a delightful companion.” the man who calls himself ‘Niemand’ answers courtly with a nod.
Agatha continues to watch the kind interaction between the sweet family and their servant. A few words are being exchanged between the boy’s father and the servant while the child is being carried by his father though he continues to chat animatedly with his mother who happens to be caressing the heavy swell of her pregnant self. The former nun takes this chance to study the child’s parents. (If they were alive, they would’ve loved you, my dear.)
It is no wonder Dracula’s features are breathtaking, for his mother and father are equally blessed in their divine beauty. William Corvinus, though he once was a savage beast of immeasurable terror, is a handsome man. Tall with a lean musculature proportional to his size, he is breathtaking! Complete with a rich shade of fiery auburn hair and sky-blue eyes, his thick beard and mustache only enhances his strong jaw and the outline of his strong nose which, Agatha notes, his son inherited. His long and thick tresses are neatly styled as if to keep his hair away from his face.
“Mama! I am a big boy now!” Vlad giggles loudly enough while squirming in his father’s arms. William gently lowers his son down after giving him a little kiss on the top of his head and smiles as he watches his son return to his mate’s loving arms. Though she is heavily round with child, she is still strong enough to carry her most precious son. (A sweet sweet picture…)
“Yes, but you will always be my sweet boy. Don’t ever forget that, my little love.” she insists, pressing her nose against her son"s with a small smile. The smile that curls Vlad’s lips is enough to soften the coldest of hearts. Though he is aware that his new sibling will grace the halls of their home in the near future, Vlad is certain his parents’ love will never be less than the love he has always received from them. Not even when his sibling’s birth is the current scintillator around the castle. He will be the greatest older brother that History will ever witness, mortal and immortal. Vlad motions to be put down and his mother does so.
“Mama, is my brother or sister doing well?” the boy mutters against the soft swell of his mother’s womb while gently patting the velvet fabric of her dress.
“Yes, my love. Your little sibling…”
William Corvinus is a beautiful beast, but his mate is a stunner to the heavens! Agatha takes note of how most of Dracula’s features are from his mother. Thick dark locks, the same earthly onyx eyes as rich and warm as the soft Romanian soil, and a smile as mesmerizing as her son’s; Dracula is as beautiful as his mother. Dracula’s mate continues to watch the mother and her child in their endearing exchange. Agatha Van Helsing has seen the various forms of love in all of its purity, but the only form of love stronger than what she and Dracula has is that between a mother and her child. At this, she rubs her own belly and smiles.
“Light of my Life, the ritual for our child is about to commence. We must join my brothers and sisters.” William beckons his mate and their son to him. Once she is within his arm’s length, the Father of all Werewolves presses a soft and quick kiss on her hair while holding her and their son protectively. “Niemand, would you kindly oversee the completion of the servants’ duties?” William then suddenly turns his face to the servant and confirms his command with an authoritative, yet kind tone.
“Of course, my Lord. Will that be all?”
“Yes, Niemand. Thank you.”
With a bow to the Lord and Lady of the castle in addition to the smile for the young Dracula, Niemand returns to his duties. (If only…)
Agatha follows the family inside the grand chamber and, as expected, the ocean of her eyes take in the expanse of men and women clad in different styles of gowns and suits as the Hunting Ritual begins. The men bow while the women curtsey as the family walks to the front where the Elder’s seat rests. The scene in front of her is as if Agatha is merely watching from an observer’s stand. Though she has been through this before as Dracula’s mate, this is her first true opportunity to see such an ancient tradition unfold. Once William has initiated the ritual and the Wolves have set forth to hunt for their dearest Lady, Agatha watches as the Lord pulls his mate and their precious son to him.
“Has your taste for rabbit changed at all, my love?”
“Not at all, my loving Moon. Our Vlad’s little brother or sister has an eager appetite for rabbits.”
“Then rabbits you and our child shall have.” one sweet kiss. Vlad merely gags obnoxiously loud and wrinkles his nose at his parents’ sweet show of affection which causes his Mother and Father to break their kiss with a laugh, and pull him in for a series of quick little pecks.
“Mama! Papa! I am a big boy now! No more of the icky things!” he protests, but his delighted cackling and how he is melting in his parents’ warm embrace and kisses has them in a puddle of sugary sweet family love. (Such hypocrisy! He now craves the "icky things" on a daily basis!)
The smile on Agatha’s lips widens with each second of the sweet moment in front of her. However, her heart hurts intensely at how, once upon a time, Dracula had a family.
A loving family. (There is a reason for such pain on his end…)
The ancient legends did not, even once, mention the Beast she fell irrevocably in love with was once an innocent child with a loving mother and a protective father. That he was a naive child who held a certain type of trust towards mortals such as Niemand. That Vlad Dracula was simply a young boy who held the hope of life and the childish grace of love in the rich earth of his onyx gaze.
A naive little boy.
“Our little Wolf. Be good to your mother, please?” William drops one last soft kiss on his son’s hair and ruffles it. Vlad smiles up at his father with that toothy grin and nods, but then starts to squirm as any impatient child would. The rich earth of his eyes keeps motioning towards the double doors of the Council chamber, but his mother’s arms around him keeps the boy in place.
“Hurry back to us, my love. You know I despise it when you are away from me. I love you.”
“As you wish, my Sun. I love you. As for our youngest, please,” he bends slightly to press a firm kiss on Minerva’s womb, “don’t kick your mother so much.” he whispers against the swell. Not a moment later, a soft kick is the response William receives as if his second child is acknowledging his request albeit by not following his request. He merely shakes his head, smiles, and stands all while the bright heaven of his eyes locks with the rich earth of hers.
“Thank you, my Min. There are moments I fear I will awaken just to find myself weakened and in chains with my brother and Amelia as the only ones who accepted me as I am. I still cannot believe I have a family. You,” he kisses her forehead oh so sweetly, “are the greatest gift the benevolent Ones have given me. What did I do to please them enough to have such a blessing?”
“By being you. Just you." a sweet kiss. Vlad may not understand why the Sun sets in the West and rises up in the East, but his young and naive mind is happily aware that no love is as great as the love his father has for his mother.
"Now, enough of this sappy nonsense and bring me my rabbit! Your child demands it so!”
One last sweet kiss. (If only William held his Light for a little longer…)
Agatha watches with a sad smile when William firmly embraces his love and his son, peppers her belly with quick kisses, and then takes his magnificent Wolf form and leaves through the doors. Before she can motion to follow the mother and son as they turn to leave the chamber, the scene before her blurs…
**********
Agatha sees that they are now situated in the kitchen where she sees the mother and child. Servants are nowhere to be seen, but it seems the Lady does not mind it as the former nun watches her reach for some fruits neatly arranged on the table where Agatha herself eats her berries in the morning when she can. The boy eyes his mother with wide-eyed curiosity while taking in the image of her peeling a red apple.
“Mama, can we play after? I’m bored. Will Papa take long?” the child complains, his elbows pressing on the table as he rests his chin on his knuckles. Feeling restless, sighs one after the other leave his pouting lips while his mother is holding back her smile though the intense stern gaze of her onyx eyes lock with that of her son’s.
“Patience, little Wolf. It is unbecoming of an Elder’s and a Noble’s child to act so displeased.”
At his mother’s words, Vlad calms himself and corrects his disgruntled features and posture.
“Can we play?” he pleads not a moment later. (If only his stubborn streak did not show itself…)
“Of course, my love. Allow me to sate your sibling’s hunger and we shall play any game that pleases you.” Minerva continues to peel the apple with eager gusto. Once she is finished and is feasting on the fruit"s tart sweetness, she observes her son who is watching her rub her belly. A kick nudges her front and she thinks of this moment.
"My boy, would you like to feel your sibling"s kicking?"
Vlad looks up and nods furiously. With his mother beckoning him to approach carefully, the boy excitedly presses his hand where his mother is guiding it.
"A strong kick, yes?"
"Uh-huh. Mama, can my sibling hear me now?"
"Of course. Would you like to tell your brother or sister a few w-"
"I"m Vlad, your big brother! Come out now so we can play! You can have my wooden swords and I"ll show you how to use them. Papa said…"
Agatha watches Dracula"s mother tear up at the exuberance of her son"s loving words to his unborn sibling. While the former nun listens in on Vlad"s enthusiasm for his sibling"s arrival, her empathy for his torment of grief eats at her heart and in his pain for the loneliness he has endured. She is quite certain that whatever her family has done to his loved ones, Vlad Dracula would"ve killed her if she was not the One he is meant to love. He would"ve had his fill in punishing her for the sins of her family of which she did not even know existed.
“Son?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Thank you.” Minerva whispers sweetly and smiles when her son motions for a warm embrace. With a cautious approach, the woman carries her son and peppers him with kisses before placing him back down.
“Remember, my sweet little Wolf. You may be your Father’s son, but you are of my line and we are descended from the might of the House of the Dragon.”
The rich earth of Vlad’s onyx gaze takes in his mother’s words with the understanding of a Prince, but with the naivety of a child.
“Will I become a dragon as well, Mama?”
And the laughter that emits from Minerva Dracula’s lips causes even her son to join her in such jovial guffaws though a hint of bewilderment is swimming in his eyes.
“No, my sweet boy! You merely carry the name of my House. When you are older, I will explain the history of our family.” she states plainly and ruffles her son’s hair.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Our House has its… surreptitious stories, but our bloodline does not define who we are. We are much much more than the expectations of our forefathers. My boy, pay attention to my words with care.” and what was a gleeful gaze is now a resolute regard.
“Be Good. Be Kind. Be Loving.”
Be Good. Be Kind. Be Loving.
A sentence that Agatha Van Helsing did not ever think would be associated with Dracula much more a phrase that he was supposed to live by. Ever since she came into his life, Dracula has been good to her. He has lessened the iron grip of his reign by showing kindness to his brothers and sisters. He has been a loving Man to her. In a way, she realizes that he has been living his mother’s words the moment they encountered each other in front of the convent gates. (Of course! Love always begets love.)
O~O~O
Not a moment later, Agatha is following them out of the kitchen and up the spiral stone stairs. They are walking slowly enough that Agatha can quite keep up, but once they reach the top of the stairs, a peculiar thought crosses her mind as she follows the two in a hallway that she recognizes, but has not crossed. It is not because it is a forbidden part of the castle, but merely because no one dares to enter it. Not even Dracula himself. Agatha Van Helsing is always eager to learn more about the man who holds her heart, but she will not pry on things especially if Dracula himself is holding back. He promised he would tell her one day and this is that day…
“Mama, I want to play with my swords.”
Minerva smiles down at her son and nods her agreement before opening the door to her son’s play hall. Inside are chaotic stacks of various wooden and metal toys, games, and different practice models of warriors.
“Of course. Would you be kind enough to help your poor mother navigate through the messy trails of toys?”
“Yes, Mama!” and he offers his little hand to his mother for her to take as Vlad gently and slowly guides his mother from the mess of his play hall.
“After we are finished playing, help your Mama clean up?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Agatha has not seen this particular part of the castle. With the number of toys present and how much she is seeing the two enjoy their little game, it is a peculiar thought that Dracula has not shown her this place for the sake of their little ones. Be they be strapping young boys, curious little girls, or one of each, Agatha is quite certain the two in her womb will enjoy this particular play hall. Still, she will wait because she is an impromptu guest of the mother and son"s little "duel".
“My love, Mama has to rest and relieve herself. Would you like to accompany me or remain here?” Minerva smiles sheepishly at her son while catching her breath. The look of concern on Vlad’s face swims intensely and with a desire to help his mother in any way that it does not surprise Minerva that her child immediately drops his toy somewhere on the floor, and offers his hand to hers with a small toothy smile.
“Papa said be good. Mama needs me to accompany her? I am a big boy who will accompany Mama wherever she needs me.” he takes her hand and dutifully escorts them from the play hall, the toys forgotten as Minerva closes the door behind her.
Her Vlad has always been a gentleman with her and with his ‘brothers and sisters’. Again, the legends omitted this part of him which her eyes are proving to be not all truthful as the stories mention. If anything they are-
“Wait.” Minerva stops all of a sudden which causes Vlad to turn. Instead of a look of discomfort on his mother"s face, he sees an ocean of confusion dancing in her eyes while her thick brows are furrowed in perplexity.
Agatha notes how they are stopped in front of the study that Dracula favors to use. Though the decorations and functions of each room are not so familiar to her eyes, the former Nun has lived in the castle long enough to have the layout of her home be ingrained in the deepest corners of her diamond-bright mind. In the present time, no one is allowed inside with the exception of her. Dracula himself cleans and organizes his own study because does not trust anyone else to do so. On the other hand, she does not know his father’s routine. From what she has seen, William holds complete trust in the mortals.
"Mama, what i-" Vlad speaks plainly, but is cut short when her finger on his lips stops him. A dutiful son, Vlad bites his tongue, but his eyes follow after his mother who presses her ear against the small crack of the door. Along with hushed voices are the muffled sounds of wood being pushed as if drawers and cabinets are being opened.
Agatha mimics her action and hears a familiar voice. Is that…?
“... the servants will not dare step foot in that part of the castle, Hendrik. We must fulfill our mission’s objective."
"Shhh! Refrain from using my name, you imbecile! Ubiquitous is William’s so-called ‘kindness’, but so are ears in the walls of this cursed place."
"The Wolves are not here! I spotted his bitch and their spawn in the kitchens last. Again, the servants will not crawl their way here without supervision. What are you waiting for, hmm? A third demon to be sired? The plague that ails you to take your life?”
“Do your eyes not see what I am doing here? William is known to document every part of his life. Once we find his greatest weakness, eliminating the Wolves will no longer be our most terrible plight. We can then eradicate the Covens next. God-willing, the threat of the monstrous Corvinus brothers will no longer plague the humans before the child is born.”
Facing Minerva, Agatha watches her reaction because the familiar voice is owned by none other than William’s mortal right-hand, Niemand. For a moment, she sees the stupefaction coloring the hue of bloody anger crawling up Minerva’s neck as a vein throbs where her pulse point is. Who is Hendrik?
She watches Minerva as the woman presses more of her ear against the space where the crack of the door is when she loses her balance and slightly pushes the door open in order to prevent herself from falling on her belly.
“The Or- Did you hear that?!”
Drops of cold sweat start forming on Minerva’s forehead while her grip on her son’s palm tightens. She faces her son and braces herself and him. A traitor is in their midst and they are in terrible danger. The fear is enough for the mate bond to pull William in, but even he is not faster than the men only a short distance away. She has to bring her children to safety first. Minerva is a daughter of the Dragon and she will not fail. Not when her children are in danger.
“Run.”
Mother and son both do so and once the door opens revealing two men, they are seen headed off in the opposite direction.
Agatha watches the two men. If this ‘Niemand’ is Hendrik, the pieces of this puzzle are making more sense. She just needs to know his family name, but his eyes… (Exactly.)
O~O~O
His mother cannot keep up. Tears are forming around the rich earth of his eyes as Vlad tries with all his might in helping his mother. Not to mention, his sibling is kicking her hard enough which contributes to her exhaustion. When his mother told him to run, he did not question her and simply pulled them to safety.
“Mama, come on!” he yelps loud enough for her to hear while keeping his ear on the heavy footsteps not far from them. The stairs were not a plausible option, so he is bringing them back to the playroom. Little Vlad does not know where else to bring them and he is desperate.
“In here, Mama!” he pulls her in and closes the door behind them, locking it while making sure his mother is safe amongst the curtains where she is rubbing her belly. He listens in on the door while his mother motions for him to not make a single sound. Droplets of sweat trickle down both their faces while muffled sounds of heavy footsteps reverberate outside the door. A few moments later, the doorknob rattles. Vlad puts both his palms over his mouth while Minerva holds her breath.
“The door is locked.”
“ Shit! Alright, they may have reached a different passage.”
And the sound of footsteps motioning away from the door gives mother and son somewhat of a relief. Not wanting to wait a little longer, Vlad unlocks the door and pulls it open before Minerva notices.
“Mama, c-” but he never finishes his sentence because Niemand has him by the collar and a dagger pointed at his throat.
At that moment, time stopped. The only sound Agatha can hear is her own breathing while watching the scene in front of her. Still, she recognizes that dagger. The design of it will never leave her mind because it’s the same exact one as her gra-.
“Thank you for letting me in, my young Lord. How are you, my Lady?” Niemand nonchalantly speaks as if he is merely being allowed in. Vlad tries his might to fight Niemand’s hold, his body squirming erratically while avoiding the tip of the dagger that is dangerously close to his pulse point.
“Whatever it is you desire, my son is of no concern to you. Please let him go and take me.” Minerva pleads as any mother would for her child"s sake. Dropping down on her knees with her hands up in surrender, she does not drop his gaze.
“For William to track you? No. Yield to me the Wolf’s weakness and I may be merciful enough to spare your precious spawn.” he speaks with an air of bold conviction accompanying his words that Minerva carefully processes. She has time on her side if she can manipulate their situation away from harm with fastidious finesse. She may not be a Wolf like her loving William, but she is descended from a line of ancient warlords. Even in the last months of pregnancy, she can and will fight. The daughter of the Dragon is known not only for her humble heart and kind soul, but the fierceness of a bloody warlord.
“Let go of my boy and I will yield all the information you require.” she states with firm resolve that she hopes he will believe. “Let go of him. You have my word.” she carefully stands and approaches with calculated steps.
“Remain where you stand and this dagger will not find itself nestled in your spawn"s flesh.”
Minerva freezes in place. Her son can see the desperation and terror in her eyes upon seeing how his life depends on her decisions.
"Your words are of no value to-"
"My William trusted you. I trusted you. The mortals have been spared. Villages around the Carpathians are not harmed and are being protected. Why are you doing this?"
"You forget, my Lady, that human sacrifices are committed yearly by those villages in order for William"s kind and that of his brother"s to pass them with blind eyes. Outside of the Carpathians? They are helpless to the monsters! No human will ever be safe from the likes of them and traitors like you. Not while the beasts exist."
"A necessary evil, but those who have been chosen are not exactly innocent and some have been more than willing! Their respective villages have chosen th-"
"As dog food! God did not create mankind to be dog food and blood bags."
"Yet He allowed such things to happen. I am no messenger, nor do I understand the mystery of God"s will, but my family has lasted far longer than you have been alive."
"The Devil has his demons. God has His angels."
"An angel would never put an innocent child in harm"s way."
"Ahh but only if the child is the spawn of the Devil."
"A child nonetheless. Insult my son once more and you will feel the Dragon"s wrath."
The more that his mother is stalling, the more Niemand"s hold on his collar and the dagger loosens. When the traitor"s grip lessens a bit more, Vlad bites his hand and kicks him on his groin once the tip of the dagger shifts slightly away. Howling in pained annoyance, Niemand drops the boy.
"Mama!"
Vlad immediately runs to his mother. Before he jumps into the safety of her arms, she grabs him and turns him away from Niemand. Wide eyes meet his gaze while a drop of blood trickles from the corner of her lips.
“R-run.”
“Come on, Mama!”
Minerva ignores his pleadings and pushes him away from her and towards the opened door with as much strength as she can muster.
“RUN!”
“NOO!!”
But she slams the door in his face and locks it. All Vlad can hear is his mother’s curses being hurled at Niemand while the faint sounds of metal piercing flesh accompanies her screams. He does not notice the second man from behind, but Vlad only feels something cold puncture his back. Not a moment later, darkness covers his vision.
From a short distance, the anguished howls of William shakes the Carpathians…
O~O~O
“MAMA!”
The boy sits up and finds he is in his parents’ chambers, the soft sheets curling under his fingers. Outside, darkness has enveloped the heavens. The turbulent rhythm of his heart thunders in his chest when he recalls what occurred. Not questioning how he even came to in his parents’ bed, he motions to get up when his hand touches an arm. A cold arm…
“Mama? Papa?”
Naive hope pools in the rich earth of his eyes and fills his heart when he sees both his mother and father sleeping on the bed, their slumber full of quiet peace and lulling calmness. The boy presses a quick kiss on his father’s cheek and burrows himself on his mother’s side. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he notices just how cold they are. Still, the child does not think much of it as they must have been too tired to notice the cold. Not wanting to disturb their rest, especially his mother’s, Vlad recalls where the spare woolen blankets are located and grabs them from his parents’ clothing space. He takes two, drags it back to the bed, and covers his parents carefully so as to not awaken them.
“Good night, Papa. Good night, Mama. Good night, little brother or sister.” Vlad whispers quickly and gives each of his parents another kiss on the cheeks before positioning himself between them and sleeps with a small smile on his face, his hand gently patting his mother"s womb where his sibling resides.
The naivety of a child is precious and sweet, but Agatha realizes that Vlad’s childish innocence has spared him from this cruel reality. Agatha Van Helsing is all too familiar with the hellish pains of losing loved ones, but a child should not be made witness to such a draconian moment. Not even when his father is a terrifying beast and his mother a child of warlords. Droplets of tears trickle down her cheeks, but before she can wipe them, the image in front of her blurs…
**********
It was supposed to be a joyous Hunting Ritual for his Mother and his unborn sibling. Instead, a harrowing hunt for his Father’s immortal weakness occurred at the cost of their lives.
His parents and younger sibling are no more. The Father of all Werewolves, his beloved mate, and their unborn child have entered the gates of Hades. Propriety be damned as the tears continue to run down the child’s cheeks as he sits at the chair where his Father sat while Council meetings occurred. When he awoke that morning, Vlad greeted his parents with a small smile. It was their cold embrace that was their only response, the cool hue of Hades’ deathly hand keeping them firmly in place. It was Vlad’s thunderous screams and hysterical sobs that alerted the rest of the grieving Wolves that William’s heir had survived the threat of the Mortals.
The child has not stopped his tears since that morning. Not even when he watched Arthur and the rest of his Father’s wolves drag the bloodied Niemand, Nimeni, and a handful of servants back to the castle. The mortals planned this mission since they have stepped foot on the gracious stone walls of Castle Dracula and into the kindness of the most trusting Minerva and her equally benevolent William. Their escape to the waters of the Black Sea has failed because they all underestimated the wrath of the Wolves. Though Fate did not side with his family’s life, seeds of vengeance have been planted when the child’s once kind eyes burned with a fire more terrible than the devil himself.
When the interrogations are to occur, the child is adamant on his presence even though the Council is relentless in their admonition in him not to attend such a vile thing. A child should not have to relive the nightmares.
“My young Lord, we insist tha-”
“I am my Father’s heir and your Lord. He killed my mother and I want to know who they are. I will stay.”
The child hurts. His entire being is consumed with the burden of grief, but he needs to know who they are. These men must understand that they took his family from him. They must see the pain he will carry for all eternity. Vlad Dracula is a child, yes, but he is angry and certainly not a fool. He is his Father’s Wolf and his Mother’s Dragon.
“Of course, my Lord. The funeral preparations are ongoing.”
“Thank you. Please.” he initiates the torturous questioning with a wave of his hand much like how his own Mother would wave her hand to a Wolf. His Mother that he will never see again…
The cold and dank walls of the dungeons should be enough to unnerve a child who has never stepped foot in this part of the castle, but Dracula does not pay attention to the strong smell of death and grime. Seeing the men in chains all bloodied and bruised eases some of the hurt in his being, but they are not to be given to Hades so soon. Dracula must learn their names. Arthur, his Father’s second-in-command, enters their cell while another Wolf starts the fire where various metal blades are present.
“Foul beast! We will not relent even if you break us!” Niemand shouts at Arthur with steadfast resolution, but all Arthur does is smile wickedly and takes his arm.
“Break you? That is a kind act, don’t you think?” and he sinks his teeth onto Niemand’s flesh while the latter screams. Not even a moment later, Arthur frowns and vomits any residual blood in his mouth. Catching his breath and winces from pain, a realization dawns on Niemand. The other Wolf checks on Arthur while the child and some Council members look on with trepidation.
***AN: BLOODY DETAILS.
“Vampires are not the only ones who are affected by diseased blood.” Niemand whispers and turns to the rest of the men with a smile. “Come on, bite us.” the rest of them state mockingly while Arthur cleans his mouth with a clean rag. Taking a blade glowing red-hot from the fire, William’s second does not hesitate and stabs the stomach of the last man on the row. His screams in unison with the sounds of squelching and sizzling flesh against metal are enough to shake the cobblestones of the dungeon, but Arthur is not done. A fire starts where the blade is buried, the smell of burning flesh the only scent stronger as Arthur runs the blade high up until he hits the space where his collar bones meet and pulls it out. The man’s flesh opens up and his guts spill down in between his chained legs with a squishing wet sound, the blood running down the spaces between the stones. The rest of the men are either vomiting their own distress, whispering hurried prayers, or watching with fear in each bated breath.
“Gentlemen! Seeing as you have chosen my favored way of gathering information, it is a must that you pick your favorite blade of choice.” Arthur speaks cooly as he throws the blade back on the fire while eyeing the others glowing brightly. Even so-called ‘men of faith’ have their limits and those chained up are no exceptions.
***AN: END OF BLOODY DETAILS.
“Let us continue with you, Nie- Ahh no no.” Arthur cuts his own words as he puckers his mouth as if tasting the remnants of a meal. “Hendrik. Hendrik Van Helsing.”
Hendrik. Van. Helsing. This man was a Van Helsing! It is no wonder why the man’s features are utterly familiar. Hendrik possesses the exact shade of ocean blue that she has and that of her grandfather’s. Not only that, the way he bites his lower lip and the lines around his nose and mouth resemble that of her grandfather’s. It just dawns on her that her bloodline successfully assassinated the Father of all Werewolves through the sacred mate bond when Minerva died. A Van Helsing! But, Agatha wonders why she has no knowledge of this. There are no mentions of Hendrik in any part of their family’s legacy and nothing about the death of William. What she has been taught is that William Corvinus has been indisposed and his only son rules in his stead. Nothing more, nothing less.
She wonders if the dungeons still hold the bones of her forefather and the men who accompanied him, but before she is finished, the image before her shifts to something new…
O~O~O
His parents lie in state in the middle of the Council Chamber atop a white marble bier that is surrounded with floral wreaths. Dressed in the mourning shade of black, Dracula takes his place on his Father’s seat while Arthur stands on his right. His hand, warm and comforting, does nothing to eliminate the depth of pain in his chest as the despair in the rich earth of his eyes for the parents who now lay in eternal slumber. The rest of the Council enter one by one and kneel in front of their fallen Elder and his mate before they take their seats. They are to discuss what to do with William’s only heir while they await his age of maturity.
Agatha has seen some of these men before. She recognizes a few as some of them are now Heads of the Clans outside of the Castle. They have always been kind to her and that is not because they fear their Elder.
“We must seek vengeance first on this Van Helsing bloodline, Arthur! They are a threat to our kind! It is our most ancient law that blood will beget blood! I will raise our future Elder. Choose me.” the Wolf with hair the shade of soft chocolate and lush green eyes implores passionately.
“No no, foolish Baltazar! We must agree that the young Lord must be secured first. Lord William’s blood flows in his veins and that is why we still remain in existence. It will be an honor to raise our young Lord. What say you, Arthur?” another Wolf with golden hair and hazelnut eyes urges, the man standing from his seat.
“You are both ridiculous idiots! The Lord will be safer if he will be raised by me!”
Agatha merely rolls her eyes at the members of the council as they proceed to boast their extraordinary ability to raise and groom their fallen Elder’s son. The former Nun is no stranger to the intoxicating rush that power provides and making alliances as is her training from her own family. She is certain that these men are not volunteering to raise an Elder, but to groom him to hand them favors. The ocean of her eyes travel back to the child who has not allowed his gaze to leave his parents. What Agatha notices is that not one of them has inquired on what the child wants or simply on how he is doing. (Ambition is a fuel, but one must understand which flame to empower with this fuel.)
“Arthur, this Council must appoint me! I am more than capable and I stood by our Lor-”
“GENTLEMEN! Please.” Arthur calms the restless Council with a simple wave of his hand. Looking at the child sitting on his friend’s seat of power, he thinks of what William would do at this moment. His gaze softens and the first signs of the salty liquid prickle at his eyes, but he cannot shed another tear for his fallen friend. At least not in front of the Council who looks to him in their time of darkness. Arthur must remain strong. His kind needs him. His friend’s child needs him the most. He must do his duty and protect him no matter what and one name comes to mind.
“Our Lord Dracula must be entrusted with someone who will raise him as our rightful Elder. Someone who is capable of ruling-”
“And what exactly are you insinuating, Arthur? Are we not members of Lord Corvinus’ Council? Do you not think of us capable of raising a child?” the man who calls himself ‘Baltazar’ cuts his decision as he stands, his knuckles ashy white from anger as he grips his chair.
“You did not let me finish, your Grace. Please sit. As I was saying,” Arthur continues on while taking careful steps in front of the marble stone, “our young Lord must be in the care of someone who is capable of ruling. Not one member of the Council has the ability and power of a ruler, so how will anyone here raise Lord Corvinus’ heir as such?”
“I ruled Wallachian lands before my life as a Wolf began. Many of us here have conquered and controlled different parts of Europe before we chose this life. How dare you malign-”
“Not one of you are Elders. William had the prowess and power because he was the first of our kind. His only son carries this power you and I will never possess.”
“Gracious Arthur, you are only addressing his education. Are you suggesting you will raise him? Is your beloved mate not with child as we speak?”
“No, I simply state that our young Lord will not spend his vulnerable days in this castle. He will be under the care of the Lady Amelia in the safety of Castle Corvinus. We will tighten the guards while our Lord waits for his age of maturity.”
“Preposterous! A Vampire cannot raise a Werewolf much more the child of William! She does not know our ways! WHO ARE YOU TO DISRESPECT THE DECISION OF THIS COUNCIL?!”
Vlad’s onyx gaze leaves the bier just in time for him to see Arthur approach Baltazar, the vitriol of his words fueling a righteous anger as electric blue eyes form and a growl escapes.
“You should be grateful that Lady Amelia is the one we will approach and not his brother. Will you stand as you are now when Lord Marcus demands for his nephew? Will you stand on your feet when he finds out his twin, who he loved dearly and fiercely so that legends of monsters were formed, is DEAD?” Arthur growls, each syllable rising in volume. It is no secret that the brothers loved each other fiercely; Lord Marcus is one of the reasons why the Werewolves survived. They will always hold him in high regard, for he cared for his brother and patiently waited until the savage Wolf’s humanity returned.
“I AM LORD WILLIAM’S SECOND! Since he is not here, I have every right to lead our kind while his son grows up! THAT IS WHO I AM!” Arthur shouts fiercely. Baltazar keeps his gaze, but does not answer. A moment of electrifying silence envelopes the chamber as each person calms down.
"The threat of this particular "Order" and that of Van Helsing has not been eliminated as we speak. If we are to search for the scum up to the ends of the earth, so be it."
Whispers of agreements and vengeance follow suit, but a female member of the Council"s firm alto cuts them off.
"Have we sent a message to Castle Corvinus? It has been a few days and yet not a response has made it to us. I agree that our young Lord will be safer under the care of Amelia. Forgive my words, but William"s son still dwells where his Father lies."
“An envoy has been sent to the Vampires. Our young Lord must be kept under heavy guard at all times until we secure him with the Covens. He remains vulnerable until his own Wolf makes its presence known. When Lady Amelia takes him in, the Council and I will remain here and oversee our safety. We have underestimated the humans for far too long and William has paid the price. Whatever it is they wanted, it lies here. The weakness of the Wolf must remain a secret. My Lord,” Arthur quickly walks to where Dracula is seated and kneels, "we vow to protect you and avenge the death of our blood. Van Helsing"s bloodline will fall."
To be continued...