#drac-o-ween

Below you will find link to all chapters of this years Drac-O-Ween! Enjoy my spooky darlings.

Chapter 1 [x]

Chapter 2 [x]

Chapter 3 [x]

Chapter 4 [x]

Chapter 5 [x]

Chapter 6 [x]

Chapter 7 [x]

Chapter 8 [x]

Chapter 9 [x]

Chapter 10 [x]

Chapter 11 [x]

Chapter 12 [x]

Chapter 13 [x]

Chapter 14 [x]

Chapter 15 [x]

Chapter 16 [x]

Chapter 17 [x]

Chapter 18 [x]

Chapter 19 [x]

Chapter 20 [x]

Chapter 21 [x]

Chapter 22 [x]

Chapter 23 [x]

Chapter 24 [x]

Chapter 25 [x]

Chapter 26 [x]

Chapter 27 [x]

Chapter 28 [x]

Chapter 29 [x]

Chapter 30 [x]

Chapter 31, Part I [x]

Chapter 31, Part II [x]

Chapter 31, Part III [x]

Chapter 31 / 31

Part III

...pineapple.

The Demeter, 1897.

“It’s you.” The elderly Duchess commented in horror.

“Of course it’s me.” Dracula hissed, quietly revelling in watching Valeria connect the dots. “A pineapple in the depths of that freezing winter. It must’ve seemed like magic. Transported from the emperors own hothouse like a precious jewel.”

Tears began to fill Valeria’s but that hard gaze the pair of them shared on the night of her 18th birthday has returned once more but now with a fire that could only be made from a lifetime of experience one would get with age. “I knew it. It’s impossible, but I knew it. It’s you.”

As the memories of that night, even his entire time at the estate, began to bubble back into his mind, Dracula’s hiss tone of voice turned soft & warm, just as he spoke to her when she’d arrived at the top of the stairs. “Of course it’s me.” he reassured once more. “Valeria, how we danced.” a smile bubbled onto his face, one that she would deem sinister but one that he would class as genuine. 

“Yes.” she paused, recollecting the event’s of that night. “That was the night my Mother disappeared.” “Yes.” Dracula commented simply. He saw something glimmer in her eye, and he knew that this Valeria, the one in her old age, was growing sick. He also knew it was time to reap her wealth. Who are you? she asked him, despite the fact she’d just remembered him, but Dracula knew it wouldn’t be worth going round in circles. Instead, he held out his palm & asked “Shall we dance again?” In those teary, terrified, and confused eyes, something had registered. A knowing that this was her time, or perhaps a promise had been kept. Dementia never told which, so Valeria took his hand, accepting that this was the end of her line. Dracula sat there a moment, simply admiring the lines on Valeria’s face. It wouldn’t be worth attempting to make her, not only did he not entirely understand how to create another but he wasn’t entirely sure if this illness Valeria would cease or continue in its pattern. There was a kindness in killing her. The illness would stop, and he would gain yet another fortune.  As Valeria took his hand, something seemed to switch on inside her, as if the connection of their hands had rebooted her memory. “What happened to my Mama?” she asked with a sudden energy.

  Germany 1796

“Mama!” 18 year old Valeria cried out at the sight of the exotic fruit. There was another side to her Mother that wasn’t always shown, and that was the show off in her. She had private ties to the emperor & that is the main reason why so many still stayed by her side, even during her mourning. Status. Lady Katharina took her daughters hands, so pleased to see her daughter pleased with a rare gift. “Thank you.” Valeria squeaked during their embrace. “You deserve the finest, my darling. Happy birthday, I love you.” Katharina cooed in her ear “But now, you must dance. Enjoy the night while we have it.”  Valeria pulled away & to her own surprise, she dragged the Count back to the dance floor. Abbot wasn’t here to dance, and neither was her father. He was the only man, if you could call him that, that knew all dances, expanding through the centuries. In her almost drunk like giddiness, Valeria span & dipped in his grip. In a natural habit on the ease of feeding on a human, Dracula’s fangs dropped in that instant, teasing at the nape of her neck. He wanted to tear at her flesh so desperately but something pulled him back. Perhaps it was the amount of humans in the room. Too many would get away. Perhaps he cared for Valeria & Katharina? No. He pulled back. He needed that money. Valeria looked almost swept away as she raised her brow in a teasing manner to him. The Count didn’t like that smirk one bit “You are going to die at my hand one day, and there will be nothing you can do to stop me. I will absorb you until you cease to exist.” his attitude had changed entirely. Dracula cut off the dance in that moment, bowing his head to her, and disappeared into the crowd, avoiding the eye of the pair of them for the rest of the majority of the evening. That was odd. Terrifying almost. He planned to kill her, after he promised no harm. What had brought that about?

A servant came to Valeria’s side, she was talking to a suitor who stood no chance of becoming her betrothed, whispering “A boy is waiting outside. He.. belittles the area but he insists he knows you.” The servants nose seemed to wrinkle in disgust at Abbotts existence. Valeria took no notice, Abbott was here & that’s all who she wanted to see tonight. Dropping down the stairs, she beamed once more at the sight of him. “Abbott!” she whined as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Abbott was dressed in his finest Sunday clothes, though in societies eyes they wouldn’t be good enough to attend a ball with. He gingerly held a bunch of daisies for her “I’m sorry, it’s not much, but I thought they was beautiful, and they made me think of you.” Gratefully, Valeria took the bunch in her arms. Despite its rarity, the flowers took the top place of gifts for this birthday, mainly because they were from her beloved. “I haven’t told Mama yet but...” Valeria confessed “I think it would be easier if you were at my side, so we could defiantly show her just how much we are in love. She couldn’t deny it if she saw it.” Valeria took hold of his hand, and gave a reassuring smile. Without a word, Abbott agreed, though his heart was in his throat. As the pair reached the top of the stairs, almost to the doors, a flood of horrified guests came bursting out, their faces painted as though the devil himself had decided to come in attendance. “FIRE! GET OUT! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!” They cried out, brushing harshly past Valeria, & almost trampling the pair of them over in their terror. Valeria had managed to have been knocked over at one point, but found long fingers pulling her up once more before her head met the ground.  “Valeria.” Dracula spoke in that singular, deathly tone once more “Go. You must run. Stay with Abbott. There is nothing for you here now.” his voice desperate, caring, & stern like a Father with their offspring. “Where is Mama?!” she argued back to him, having not recognised her Mother amongst the crowd that trampled out. A sudden explosion from inside the home, either from collapse or a highly flammable substance caught they wouldn’t know, caused an outcry of screams from the guests on the lawn.  Count Dracula’s eyes met Valeria’s terrified ones. He could control her memory, and so, he took her face in his hands & calmly spoke “Your Mother ran away with a lover. You don’t know who. You don’t know why. You will forget I was ever here, Valeria. Merely a face amongst the crowd. Do you understand me?” amid all the noise, the howling of the flames, Valeria understood, showing that with an obedient nod. Dracula reached behind her, to grab at Abbotts hand. He couldn’t be influenced by Dracula’s control but he only hoped he was influenced by his words “Abbott, take her with you, away from here. Give her a good life.” and as obedient as he was, he listened. Abbott stole Valeria’s hand, dragging her away from the flames, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. Until a writer took interest in her life story, where she found herself upon a ship.

The Demeter, 1897.  The cold wind of the ocean nipped at the Duchess’ skin, the welcome chill cooling her down after the flurry of emotions that Dracula had opened within her. Her eyes were closed as she breathed in that salt air, and with a sigh she opened them once more “I remember now. The fire, the total devastation it caused.” she watched the waves over the edge of the ship, how dark & tormenting they seemed. “But that doesn’t answer the question,” her gaze met the dark & torment in Count Dracula’s eyes. “What happened to her? My Mother? If you’re going to kill me like you promised, I should like to die knowing what happened to her. She didn’t run away with a lover. You were her lover. So, what happened?” Count Dracula was resting his arms on the side of the Demeter, hands folded over it’s edge, staring out into the abyss, watching the stars burn for seemingly miles on end. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as though tasting the last remnants of decadent sauce. “Egon.” She blinked, pulling her shawl tighter around her “The servant? I thought he’d died.”  Dracula sniggered & snort “As did I!” but Valeria held still, keeping her gaze on him. “He was the first I’d ever managed to create like myself. But he was incredibly flawed. He had no control of himself & I had no control on him.” Dracula stood upright, his voice monotone as he addressed her fully “He served your Mothers head on a serving platter to me, it was really dressed quite well for a servant without kitchen experience...” Valeria’s breath caught in her throat with horror just thinking of the idea of the butchery a man could inflict. “Never the less, he’d taken your Mother from me, & I wanted that estate so desperately. If I couldn’t have that estate, then he didn’t deserve to live his newfound undead life. So I burned him, & the corpse of your Mother. It’s not Catholic but neither is a head next to hors d’ouerves.” Dracula tutted. He was surprised to find no reaction from the elderly woman, who gaze was firmly planted on the wood deck. “Valeria?” he reached up to take hold of her chin, raising it to meet his gaze. “I know now, & I think it is time for me to leave. I’m a Lady, & a lady knows when it is time to leave, Count Dracula. You are right. There is no escaping you, certainly not with this body of water surrounding us.” Valeria looked around the pair of them, and shockingly again, she looked at peace. She stretched out her hand to him. “Take me back to that night. Let me see her once last time.” Dracula curled down, and pressed a kiss to her fragile aged hand, a trigger he used to bring the memory of her birthday back to her. She was young again, beaming, and bursting with love for Abbott. The party was all about her. Her Mother stood at the edge of the ballroom, the diamonds on her neck sparkling in the light, a beacon, a lighthouse, her guiding home. As they twirled on the floor, she hadn’t expected to feel so tired so soon, and in a great deal of pain to match. Dracula had dipped the young girl, and his lips kissed at her neck, as though a form of apology was due to her after all these years, and met her gaze one final time. “Valeria, Goodbye.” he hissed to her.   “Goodbye, Count Dracula.” her eyes were dreamy. Then gone. Gone. She was gone. At rest as much as one could under the grip & tooth of the vampire.

Chapter 28 / 31

Dracula was standing with several other servants, all gathered around a bed in the highest rooms within the estate. The highest rooms belonging to that of the servants. Everyone was shrouded in silence, some wiping away tears, and some with arms wrapped around another as they observed the body on the bed. The only sound present for all in attendance was the birds chirping outside in the early morning, for Dracula it was the addition of thumping hearts minus the one stone cold dead. He stood at the foot of the bed, arms folded behind his back, keeping himself in silence with everyone else to pay his respects to the deceased, although a singular disappointed eyebrow rose as he gazed down at the body before him. It wasn't that he was sorry for the passing of this young servant, it was that his death could have consequences. I told you not to die so quickly. You're going to regret it. He clucked in his mind. The evidence of how this man had died was tragically clear by the stained bandages wrapped around both his wrists, covered up for the respect of everyone else present in that moment. From what he had been told, the man had received news that his broken leg was too far damaged & ever beyond repair. In these harsh times with lack of accessibility & disability acceptance, that would surely mean no work, and no work meant no food in your belly, nothing to pay your way in an already harsh world. He would have to work his fingers quite literally to the bone, tearing skin off, and having more of his hand bandaged for a pittance of a pay that wouldn't even allow him to spend a few minutes in a doss house. Dracula could see why one would want to take their if that was the kind of future that had awaited them. Though, really, you should have waited a short while longer. Did you really think a small sample of my blood could fix you with so many prying eyes? That was for the pain you fool. Dracula scolded the corpse once more. Though it was interesting, as he observed, he noted that the bandages weren't as bloodied as they should be. He was a man of war, he knew how much another man could bleed through linen gauze. His gaze followed round to the servants & an idea that perhaps one of them had raised his wrists to stop the blood flow before realising it too late. With a croaked whimper, a woman to Draculas left cut into the mournful silence "I will, uh, I will inform her Ladyship. A grave will be made by the family church & a small ceremony shall be had. May God forgive him, may God rest his soul." Her voice wavered in a high tone as another cry threatened to break through but she managed to steady herself enough to leave the room to set about her task. A man, possibly in his 60s with a heavy salt & pepper moustache, that quite frankly looked as though he'd stolen a schnauzers beard, took hold of the thin bedsheet & pulled it up to cover Egons face.

Later on in the day, as the body was taken down to the servants hall to be cleaned, washed away of its sins & redressed, Dracula sat once more alone in the privacy of his gifted room. He sat & pondered with the last of Egons blood, staring deep into the burning fire, about the fragility of human life. Though he got bored of that & moved on, finishing the glass of blood in a single swig. He'd like to imagine that a tiny part of their souls was being consumed, forever trapped & lost within him with no way of ever escaping. That thought always made him chuckle. In fact, that little imagery was so vivid in his mind that he failed to hear Valeria enter the room & stood in front of the seat opposite. Her eyebrows drawn together, she asked "What are you laughing about?" in a tone that resembled the voice of someone having woken up from a dreadful nights sleep, which partly she did but mostly she was just fed up of this game.

"Egons died." Dracula replied coolly, as if the servant didn't matter, which in fact he didn't. He was merely a bloodbag for the Count.

Valerias faced squirmed into a mixture of confusion & offence. "I thought you two were privately courting? I imagined you'd be more upset by the news."

Dracula quickly interjected, wagging his finger to chastise "No, nothing of the sort. I need sustenance & he wanted favour of a sexual nature. Two secrets between two men. I never cared for him." he swat his hand in the air as though warding off a pestering fly.  Valeria sat with her hands folded on her lap, seeing the opportunity to bring about her question “So... Egon.” she started “...He’s really dead, is he? He’s not going to suddenly show up, like yourself then?” The Count’s dark eyes met her own “Rest assured, dear Valeria, you won’t wake to the fingers of a corpse scratching at your window as you sleep.” how on earth was she supposed to be ‘rest assured’ at that description? “I have never successfully created another being like myself. He’s dead.” Valeria felt as though she could let out a breath then, relaxing in the idea that perhaps she wasn’t a member of the Counts evil tribe. “Thank the Lord in Heaven.” she whispered to herself. Dracula had tensed at the praise for God, the human equivalent being a sudden sunbeam hitting directly at your sight, but he eye’d her curiously “Is there something I should know?” As the fire crackled, Valeria gathered her thoughts. It was odd. Here sat a man, a supernatural being beyond comprehension, and she worried he’d think her mad. Still, after a short moment, she confessed what was happening to her. The change in her senses & the worry that she was becoming like him. Another pause lingered between them, until a roaring laugh from Dracula caused a jump to leap from her bones. “If it was that easy to create another like me, Egon would have survived. No, no Valeria, the blood was only to heal the wound to your head. Your senses should calm by tomorrow, fear not.” Dracula polished off the last of Egon’s blood, and settled the glass on the small table to his left. He laced his fingers together, resting them on his stomach like one would after a particularly large meal. “From my understanding, you would need to consume a vast quantity of my blood, ultimately die, and within a few short hours return from the dead anew. At least, that is my theory. I’ve yet to find someone interesting enough to want to experiment on. Four hundred years proves enough time to tell me that humans are frightfully boring.” Boring is as boring does, if that meant Valeria could keep her life. Now that was rest assuring.

Chapter 24 / 31

Valeria had always hated the medicine that the house nurse had given her. It was darker than a winters night, the scent of it reminded her of that earth like tang that wafted into the air after she'd discovered a worm as a child, the scent also matching that of the taste. Not to mention that the medicine was impossibly thick, which besides the taste, also made it impossibly hard to swallow. In this instance, having to drink the blood of another had both its pros & cons. The con was that she imagined it was going to be equally as revolting, if not worse, than the medicine she'd had years prior. The positive thing was that this was not that medicine & that perhaps it didn't taste as bad as she'd led herself to believe. Either way, she still didn't want to consume either. But being tied up, and locked in a room with the Count, she found herself having no choice but to take it.

"Would it not be useful for me to have control of my hands? So, that I may take hold of the cup?" Her voice withered weakly in her throat, she could barely wrangle her words together in her dizzy spell.

"Quite right. I'd gotten so lost in my explanations, I'd completely forgotten your hands were tied."

In more ways than one, she thought.

Dracula carefully placed the glass containing his blood on the table, next to the one he was drinking from. His long, bonelike fingers reached out to the rope she was bound on, and smoothly began to untie them as though they weren’t tied in a complicated fashion but merely laying across one another. Valeria nursed her aching wrists, the skin pink with sores. “Sorry, sometimes I forget my own strength. Here, drink. It’ll sooth your wounds, make you look radiant again.” A free hand reached to take hold of the cup, Dracula never once taking his gaze off the girl, and wore a warm, inviting smile. Valeria could see how someone could be so easily lured when he looked like that. Dracula’s cold, undead hand lifted her own small ones, lifting it up to guide the glass into it, then once taken hold in her right hand, he grabbed her left & brought it to cradle the other side. “There we go.” he cooed gently, soothing, like a Father carefully placing their favourite child into a cosy bed, abound with heavy sheets upon sheets.  Valeria cast her gaze down to the dark liquid before her. For some reason within her imagination, she thought the Counts blood would be just as impossibly thick as that medicine, if not more, perhaps even lumpy & moving with life. But instead, it looked like any other pool of blood; deep red & opaque. It also looked like nothing someone would want to drink, it wasn’t an enticing as a glass of wine would look. Perhaps she could convince herself to drink it like a wine, tell herself it was wine. Valeria brought the glass to her lips, and realised in that moment how chilled the glass had become. As cold as the grave, she thought. The moment the blood touched her lips, she wanted to spit it back out. There was a sharpness within it, as though she was drinking the essence of an iron gate but as she went to duck her head away, Dracula had clasped the back of her head, and tilted the cup upright, force feeding her.  “Don’t want you wasting a drop, can’t have that.” Valeria was almost choking as the blood consumed her mouth, & trickled down into her throat. Despite the fact that her hands were free from their bindings, the grip Dracula had on her was impossible to tear off so she could breathe. Once again, she had no choice in the matter but to swallow it all down. Despite it’s chill, it burned, and slithered down into her body, making it’s way into her system. As the final few drops left the glass, Dracula’s eyebrows raised then fell as he smiled, happy she’d taken the entire thing, again like a father spoon feeding his child. “There. That wasn’t so difficult was it?” He leaned in once more with a smile to the grimacing girl. His eyes flicked up to her bleeding head “It’ll take a moment to settle in. But you should get some rest. You may experience some... strange dreams but remember young Valeria, they are merely dreams.”

Chapter 23 / 31 

Good. He’d finally won over the girl, even if that meant she had to know his secret. The three main important members of this household all knew what he was. Only two out of the three seemed delighted by the fact. The third still needed some work. Of which, Dracula remembered that she’d needed her head healed, who knew how much damage he’d caused after he’d smashed into the wooden door. “How’s your head? Sorry about that, but you wouldn’t have stayed & listened if I hadn’t.” Dracula asked to beat back the silence that grew between them. Supposed keeping someone tied up to a chair would do that to a human.  

Valeria still couldn’t comprehend why Dracula had to use such force in the first place, after all she’d witnessed the kind of agility he possessed, he could have simply capture her in his vice like grip. “The room seems to spin on occasion.” she spoke with woozy tone, the kind of tone you’d hear from someone drifting off into a sleep in a chair who defied going to bed for fear of missing out & yet couldn’t keep their eyes open & their head up. 

That surely wasn’t good. He was no healer, but he knew that a human zoning out after injury was not a good sign. “Valeria, I’m going to need you to listen to me carefully because I know you’re going to protest at what I’m about to offer you--”

“--No, I don’t want to become like you--” the girl whined in her seat.

“--No, you won’t. That is why it is important you listen to me.” Dracula dragged his seat closer to the woman, knees just touching each other, as his hand reached out to take hers for reassurance “You are going to drink a small amount of my blood, it will heal you almost instantaneously. Even as he spoke, Valeria began to shake her head with more & more aggression, he could sense the panic building up within her body, worried that the Count was playing a double hand, lying about his intentions. 

“I don’t want to be like you.” she whined out at him

“You won’t.” he reached out to take hold of her face then, not wanting her to do far more damage to herself than necessary. His dark eyes met with her light ones, forcing her to look into his, making sure she understood his intentions “I am going to help heal you. I understand that it is strange, but it will help you greatly. We can’t go & bring chaos to your courting celebrations if you are incapacitated.” His large, shark like smile returned, trying to bring some sort of humour to the table. Valeria wasn’t really in a position to give the Count her answer. Even if she defied him again, he would more than likely force it on her, at least if she was willing, despite how revolting the whole thing sounded, the process wouldn’t be all that disastrous.

Dracula had finally let go of the woman, and instead brought his hands together. He turned his left wrist upright to face the ceiling, and there he brought his long, sharp thumbnail to his skin, slicing into into without a wince or flinch. It was evident to Valeria that Dracula could not be harmed by anyhand except his own. This much she knew for last night during his tussle with the wolf, the creature could barely land a blow to him and yet Dracula had managed to cause more destruction to the wolf with a few short blows, than the wolf had done to him in all its thrashing. As his blood began to trickle out of the wound and down his wrist toward his palm, the hand that caused the cut now reached for a clean tumbler. Drip, drip, drip, it steadily flowed into the crystal glass, as one would with a decanter of water. When half an inch filled the glass, yes only half an inch was all she seemed to need for an injury as great as this, like a tap Dracula twisted at the wound & immediately the blood stopped flowing, then disappeared all together. Crossing one leg over the other, she could see that Dracula had relaxed once again, and offered the revolting crimson liquid to her. "Bottoms up." He purred with a smile, & a mischievous glint in his eye.

Chapter 27 / 31

At the sudden burst of cold cutting at Valeria’s skin from going over the edge of the waterfall, her eyes opened to see the ever approaching end of the cascading water & it’s deathly collection of rocks below. Just before she would meet her demise, Valeria sat up in her bed, the crack of burning wood shaking her awake. She was certain she could smell the salt crackling off the ocean as she fell. It all felt so incredibly real.  What was real, and became evident when she ran her hands through her hair, was that it was extremely knotted after being asleep for so long. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Valeria gazed around her room & found Dracula’s presence removed from it. But there was something else that was vastly different than when she went to sleep. The room had changed. Not in terms of décor or switching furniture around. But the way the light sources changed. In her sight, the light was far brighter than their original soft dim glow, almost fit to bursting with how bright they was. Yet not only that, within her candle alone she could see the small shimmering blue that shook deep within the flame, the dancing crackles that bore resemblance to snowflakes as the wick burned down. Her fire was practically aglow with all manner of colours, swirling & stretching as they reached out to the chimney, like arms wanting to climb up, out, & escape. Blues, greens, red, and even purples swirled into each other like that of a strong current in a river. Was this how the Count saw the world around him? Dark nights dripping in light? It was no wonder he would choose to live so long when the world held this much beauty. Remembering the state of her locks, Valera reached across her bed to call up her dresser. She wasn’t entirely sure of the time, so she wasn’t certain whether she was waking her personal maid from her sleep, or disturbing her from another task. It was always hard to tell whether the sky was dark for morning or dark for the early afternoon. The fact that her servant entered the room fully dressed, suggested that it was indeed a dark morning. As Valeria sat patiently in her seat in front of the fire in nothing but her nightgown & stockings, she listened to the rhythmic of crackle of the brush untangling the knots in her hair, clenching her jaw at the occasional hard tug & cursing the maids actions in her mind. But aside from the rhythm of the brush, Valeria had discovered that she could hear the palpitations of a heart that wasn’t her own. She listened quiet to her own & discovered the thumping beat she could hear was different to her own. A silent gasp whispered past her lips. She could hear the woman’s heart beating. What has he done to me?  “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to pull.” apologised the maid, pausing from her duty. Without a glance Valeria answered to the floor “No, no, it’s quite alright. Please, continue.” Was Valeria now like Dracula? Had he stolen her life from her? Four days from her birthday? As much as she despised the idea, as she didn’t want to be near such a foul creature, she had to talk to him again. If he had taken her life, then there was one thing she feared most: Hurting someone innocent & having that blood on her hands for the rest of her immortal life.

Chapter 16 / 31

A few weeks had passed and the house was still buzzing with preparations for the girls birthday come courting celebrations. As Dracula browsed through the halls, hands folded behind his back, his eyes weaving their way from project to project, he couldn’t help but wonder: why so much faff for one day? Of course, when he was human he’d never celebrated a birthday, it was the rich that would celebrate them, they could afford them after all. Masses of food served for the masses that attended, a jug of wine & ale that seemed bottomless, and of course all the entertainment one could desire at their feet. But for Dracula, his birthday was barely acknowledged. There was simply too much work to be done to try and get that extra coin or extra trade to feed or keep the family warm. His birthday present was nothing more than a reminder that he was lucky to be alive, that he was given the gift of life. Even as he’d gotten older, and ultimately promoted to war lord & advisor to Vlad Tepes, there was no time to celebrate his birthday, not even when he’d had money to live comfortably. He had wars to plan & win. Even with his transformation to vampyre, he didn’t celebrate his ‘deathday’ as he’d call it. So, seeing all these candles, silver, silks, and lace all laid out for an 18 year old girl who didn’t even want to celebrate her day, he couldn’t work his brain around it all. Apart from the fact that it was more to impress her possible future husband.  As Dracula passed the entrance leading down into the servants kitchens, he’d heard a male cry out, and the scuttling of several feet. That’s when the smell hit him, that familiar heady scent of iron. Blood was oozing somewhere. With a lick of his lip, and a sharp in take of breath, the Count couldn’t resist but make his way down to see what all the commotion was about. Ducking his head under the door & into the servants hall, he saw several pairs of shoulders, and a leg smothered in crimson disappearing down another walkway, heading toward what he remembered was the boot room. He trailed after them quickly, partly because the smell was making him ravenous but also because he was incredibly nosy. As he entered the room, he saw that bleeding leg belonged to no other than Egon. Dracula’s eyes seemed as though they’d darkened, glaring at the human under butler, silently chastising him with his cold hard stare. “What happened?” he asked with barely an ounce of care in his tone. Gone unnoticed, due to the searing pain he was in, Egon cried out “Fell out of a tree” before knocking his head back into the hard wood of the table. Another servant reached a hand to steady Egon’s head, not wanting yet another injury to deal with. That same servant turned his head to address The Count “Our resident game keeper has taken ill, so Egon decided to hunt for the pheasant for the Duchess Valeria’s birthday instead. A wild boar had startled him, and where he’d tried to shoot that instead, he fell. I believe he’s broken his leg...” the servant, younger than Egon, perhaps around the age of 25, looked more terrified by the possibility than Egon had & he was the one with the injury.  “Have you checked it? Sometimes, excessive bleeding is merely a scratch.” The Count asked. “Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be in the room. It is not something your eyes should see.” the young servant tried to argue but Dracula interjected “I served as a successful war lord for several years, I have killed & butchered many men in my time. Some blood & broken bone won’t do me harm.”  “I’m afraid it might me...” The servant muttered under their breath, where none of the others would hear, Dracula heard as clear as day.  “Then allow me to inspect it. A little blood never sat uncomfortably with me.” With that, Dracula didn’t even wait for permission from any of the staff, he didn’t need their permission, he was higher up in the world than they are after all. He’d barged past the staff, then curled over the limb, fingers lightly touching at Egon’s trouser, not wanting to apply too much pressure, merely feel if the bone was broken. Evidently, it was. He could feel the bone protruding in a fashion that was nothing as it should be. Dracula straightened himself up, turning to address the staff who’d taken a step back as he worked. “You’re going to need to hold him down.” he snapped his fingers at different men, then pointed at different parts of Egons body for them to hold down. In a short sharp shock, Dracula pulled Egon’s pant leg up & exposed quite the gruesome scene before him. The skin of his shin had ruptured, splitting in an uneven pattern, while the bone itself protruded outward with jagged edges. Egon cried out as Dracula tore the material aside, a mixture of fresh air burning at the wound, and the slightest movement causing him pain.  “Fetch me two planks, some rope, and something for him to bite onto.” he ordered about as though he was a skilled doctor. He didn’t mind getting hands on, keeping a cool head despite the blood, carefully rotating Egon’s leg, & trying to figure out the best way to snap the bone back into position. It was only a moment later that the required pieces he’d asked for had come into his position. “I need two men at my side, one holding the planks, the other the rope.” and without debate, two men had instantly volunteered. “The rest of you, hold him down tightly, get him to bite down, this isn’t going to be pleasant.” for them that was, not for him. Without a count down, Dracula snapped the bone back. Even with all his inhuman strength, it was no easy feat. For the human readers, the comparison you could have is returning a felled tree back into it’s upright position. But with a sharp snap, and not to mention a scream from Egon that could wake the gods of Hell, Dracula had managed to reposition the bone. The two men at his side instantly got to work, lining the planks either side of the leg, then wrapping the rope tightly to keep the leg from moving out of position. “Fetch Egon something strong to drink, heavens know he needs it.” He didn’t give this order to anyone in particular but one member of staff had willingly disappeared to do it, more than likely due to the fact he didn’t want to see anymore than he already had. Other staff members had gradually begun to phase out. Dracula loomed over Egon, wanting to pass a message on for his ears only. “And don’t you dare die tonight. I’m in no mood to keep a sharp leash on a newborn vampire.” he hissed at his personal blood bag.  “Count?” the young, ill looking servant from earlier shuffled on his feet “You mentioned earlier you were a war lord, and that you have no problem killing someone, this is merely a suggestion b-but seeing as our game keeper is ill, and the only man in service who knows how to fire a gun is also injured... Would it be rude to ask if... you would hunt for the prize game for the duchess’ celebrations?”  Looking from the servant, to Egon’s leg, then back Dracula thought it over a moment. He hadn’t been hunting for quite some time, given that he’d feed from Egon whenever he’d pleased, Dracula had become quite the fat housecat. “It’d be my pleasure too.”