#dracula x reader

It was a thought that constantly was in and out of your mind. While it was a thought that occurred to you growing up every now and again, these past few weeks really had you thinking hard, and more than you'd like.

You were silent, a first, lost in thought as you walked side by side with your host.

Was Dracula planning to escort you back to your room to eat? Must be, and is making sure you don't run into trouble.

Again.

Fine by you, it wasn't like you were looking for trouble to begin with. How were you supposed to know your little bat friend was warning you about another vampire perusing the halls? A vampire supposedly trying to either hurt you or get you into trouble?

And…

Okay.

You tried not to flex your fingers as you felt Dracula's arm through his sleeve. His arms were huge, and it felt like pure muscle.

A part of you was jealous. Vampires tended to mimic their body's shape when they turned, but it wasn't impossible for them to work out themselves and change their body. It was just… harder, given the new strength. Hard to push one's self. Harder to limit one's self, too.

Given he had been a statue for who knows how long, you had to guess he must have been in great shape as a human…

The urge to lick your lips was strong, and you stomped down the desire to try feeling up his bicep. Just what other strong muscles did he have?

Did he have toned abs? What about his thighs?

Strange feelings awkwardly stirred in your chest, and you mentally whacked yourself with a hammer. Just what kind of a Belmont were you, wanting to do such a thing? Wanting to feel up your family's enemy?

…Just what kind of a Belmont were you, for letting this happen in the first place? For playing 'friends' with him?

Mentally, you shook yourself. You didn't need to go into your hourly mental debate over how your ancestors most likely were rolling in their graves. You already had a month of doing that as it were alone in your room at home, and it was a lot, thank you very much.

No need to drown yourself in those feelings while you were already sinking.

That was for when you were left alone staring at the ceiling while in bed, after all. You could sink into your anxiety later in private.

Glancing over, you caught a glimpse of Dracula as he looked forward while leading you through the long, winding hallways.

You were going to have to do something about these other feelings. How were you going to go forward with these thoughts about finding Dracula attractive?

There, you said it. Mentally.

It wasn't like… it was a surprise. Or a bad thing. Right? Vampires were notoriously attractive, it was a part of their whole shtick. In fact, it was one of the first rules you learn as a hunter, not to be deceived or seduced by one. It was a one-way ticket to claws in your heart, or fangs in your neck.

That, and it wasn't like you had to do anything about such attraction. Best keep it to yourself.

Besides, you know your own family members in the past had… attraction to certain vampires, and other monsters. Some of the weird, 'anonymous' family books in your library said as such. There was a whole shelf dedicated just to Alucard for crying out loud.

But never once about Dracula.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Perhaps it was because your ancestors never saw this side of him, either. Just the blood thirsty Lord of the Night that had to be killed at all costs. Same Lord that called for the end of humanity.

There no doubt was no time to dwell on such possible attraction. Let alone in any journals where he was Enemy Number 1, where descendants would be reading such things after you have passed…

'Don't fall in love with him, now…' you could only jokingly think to yourself, though your heart skipped a beat at the very thought.

Nothing more than a crush that you have been battling. It was normal to feel that way to people that showed you kindness, right? Right?

…Somehow, that felt like you were just telling yourself that just to feel better about the whole thing.

And it felt rather pathetic, if a little bit of kindness from your family's enemy was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Just what did that say about your life in general?

You didn't get to dwell on your thoughts too long, before suddenly you were brought into a large, beautiful dining hall. One that was clearly meant for important guests and special occasions, with a rather long table to match.

Candles idly floated near the table, while a few grand chandeliers were above. The windows covered the walls, with grand curtains adorned on said windows, pulled back to show the light rain drizzling outside.

The table itself was vast, with a beautiful red clothe covering it, with a trim of gold. Candles were placed intermediately among several seats in the middle of the table.

Your jaw tightened.

Did he intend for you both to eat here?

At the table stood several figures, all which you did not recognize.

Except the vampire asshole from earlier, Damon, who seemed… fine, yet worse for wear?

He was slumped over, and his eyes looked sunken in, as if he hadn't slept in a few days. Was he… shaking? He looked as if he had the flu, which was… undoubtedly a rare sight for a vampire.

At least Dracula didn't kill him, you guess? A part of you was relieved you didn't cause the guy's death, even if he was an asshole.

Regardless, your blood ran cold when a thought entered your mind at the sight of the man.

Were you surrounded by vampires?

Wouldn't be the first time, but fuck, it was going to be a pain in the ass and several vampirism cure spell casting-

Before you could freeze up, or drop the book to grip your whip, Dracula simply tugged you along towards the end of the table, where a large, ornate chair sat at the end. Must be his.

After all, isn't it the King who sits at the end of the table? Oh, this was a horrible time not to know royal etiquette stuff, you were going to look like a fool-

You felt hot, and you could hear your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. You were surrounded and you were going to look like an idiot and-

A gentle tug from Dracula suddenly brought you out of your head, though your heart continued to hammer against your ribs as you wished your other hand was free so you could palm your whip. He led you towards a chair right next to the large one, and let go of your arm.

Astonished, you could only stare wide eyed as Dracula then pulled the chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit.

"Here you are."

Numbly, you nearly stumbled to react just to sit. At least Dracula didn't seem to notice, waiting patiently for you, before pushing your chair in for you as you sat.

You could only swallow dryly as he then walked past you towards the massive chair next to you, though you nearly jumped in your skin as he seemed to affectionately rubbed your shoulder as he walked past. Was he subtly trying to reassure you? Or make you explode?

He then sat down at his chair, and entwined his fingers on the table in front of him. The guests followed suit, sitting after he did.

It was awkwardly quiet, and you felt like you were about to break out into a sweat. Why did he bring you here? Why?

What purpose does this serve?!

Was it to humiliate you? A punishment for your confrontation?

You swallowed thickly, urgently shoving the book in one of your coat's massive pockets before your hand lingered readily on your whip. It's presence was instantly a comfort, and the roaring in your ears dulled to a low, but noticeable buzz.

It didn't escape your notice, however, how a few people in the room eyed you warily at the action. How could they even see your whip, you weren't sure, but you could care less so long as you had your whip within your grasp.

But it didn't help the near panic attack lingering in your chest as you still wondered just what the fuck was happening.

Dracula then lifted a hand, snapping his fingers. The candles all over the room briefly burned bright and red, before mellowing out once again. Instantly, servants flooded the room from the shadows.

Several maids and skeletons dressed as butlers surrounded the table, putting plates of food and fancy glasses in front of each person at the table. Several different guests got their glasses filled with red liquid, though yours was filled with water, and another glass filled with similar looking stuff Dracula had you drink before.

Internally, you cringed, but at least he was giving you a chance to take medicine with a meal again. Hopefully it'll have an easier time staying down since you were feeling a little better…

The last thing you needed was making yourself look worse by getting sick in front of a crowd of what you assumed to be vampires.

After all, weakness got you killed in this line of work. If just one vampire was willing to seek you out, what would the others do if they saw you kneel over and lose the contents of your stomach?

That thought still rung in your head as the table was set. These had to be vampires, right? Or beings that weren't human, or at the very least, probably shunned from human society, like witches and what not.

Was this his Court?

Surely not, right? You expected it to be bigger, with more powerful vampires at his side, let alone closer to him-

Your eyes widened as a thought struck you, and just as it did, Dracula began to speak.

"Good evening. I hope you all are well. It has been a while since we have dined like this-" He began, a slow, deep drawl in his voice as the food was finishing being prepped onto the table.

Ears ringing, you could barely focus. These people had to be important, even if they weren't officially in his Court, just like how Damon was here.

Your eyes flickered to Dracula, or rather, his seat. Than to your own.

In a court, the closest seat to the right of the King meant…

You paused.

While Dracula no longer had a 'Queen'…

You were sat directly next to him.

In an instant, it was as if everything became muffled. It was clear why he was doing this.

The person who sits directly to the King's right is considered the most honored guest. Right? Maybe?

Dracula wasn't doing this to embarrass you or intimidate you, you think. No, this was a very loud and clear message.

You were his most honored guest. If anyone had any bright ideas, like that one vampire, Dracula would take it as a personal insult and respond as such.

Eyes glancing around the table, you also took notice how no one else was seated near the two of you. To many, this would no doubt be an insult, right? Or was Dracula just like that?

Either way, you couldn't help but feel… light, in your chest.

Dracula thought you were important. Important to him.

You could feel your ears burning as that realization echoed in your head over and over again, to the point you completely had missed whatever Dracula had been saying this whole time.

Oops.

Your eyes flickered over to him as he raised a glass, before taking a sip. The others seemed to follow his lead, and you anxiously reached forward to take a sip of your water, as not to be left out. With that, the clinking of dishes and small talk began to fill the large room.

Setting the glass aside, you still felt hot. Not to mention you still had one problem.

You had no idea proper olde royal table etiquette.

Sure, you had read about it before, and even attended a few weddings that loosely used royal table etiquette for the wedding parties. However, an actual 'royal' dinner?

What spoon did you start with? Didn't you start with a soup? Which fork direction meant what?

You were so screwed. You were going to wring Dracula's neck later for putting you in such a position-

"Cat got your tongue, Little Belmont?"

Gripping your whip tightly, you narrowed your eyes as you looked to your side. Dracula was giving you an amused look, ruby eyes twinkling in the candlelight as he leaned towards you idly. Seems he finished whatever speech he had spoken.

"No, I am simply trying to decide when I should strangle you later for putting me in a position such as this." You whispered back. Though there was some bite to your words, it was clear you were more annoyed, than truly angry.

Dracula, however, was slightly taken aback, yet amusement never left his face.

"Oh? And here I thought you would appreciate being next to my side?" he asked, an almost toothy grin on his face as he swirled a glass of wine(?) in one of his hands.

Your face felt hotter, and you desperately wanted to hide it in your coat. Instead, you gave him a sharp smile.

"No, that isn't the issue. My problem is you put me here when I have no idea the proper etiquette for dining like this! Are you trying to make me look both important and like a fool? Do I look like a jester to you, huh?"

Dracula's eyebrows raised higher and higher with each word out of your mouth. And to his credit, he seemed genuinely surprised as your harsh whispered words hit him.

"Hm? Do the Belmont clan no longer teach their ilk olde table manners?"

It was more of a tease than a jab, you could tell, but your face now grew hot with embarrassment rather than being flustered from your seat next to him.

"Table mann -- Dracula, no one regularly teaches royal table rules anymore." You began with a hiss, "They haven't for at least, like, a century? If not two?? Possibly more or less depending on where you live. Only select groups of people still study such things. It is not taught unless its like, a wedding. Even then, weddings are only loosely based on it anymore. If you want royal table manners, it certainly isn't frequently done where I grew up."

Dracula, at the very least, seemed genuinely surprised. Realization was dawning on his face as you told him this. All the while, you felt your irritation grow. What were you, a clown for vampires to mentally mock?

"Doing this to me in front of, what, your Court? Why I outta-"

Suddenly, a large, clawed hand was pressed on your thigh underneath the table, and you snapped your jaw shut. Your eyes widened, and you looked at Dracula bewildered from the corner of your eye. You swallowed thickly.

He leaned close to you, whispering in your ear. You felt a shudder run through your spine as his breath brushed against your skin as he began to speak. His voice was low, just barely a murmur.

"My apologies. I was under the assumption you knew such things."

Your mouth was dry again.

Dracula's fingers gripped your thigh gently, similar to how he had gripped your shoulder earlier. You felt like there was a knot in your throat.

His fingers were long.

Your hand gripped your whip tighter, and you reached for your water, taking a swig, trying not to let your thoughts run wild.

"Don't worry about the formalities, I'll handle any disrespect handed your way. I sat you by my side for a reason." He murmured against your ear, so close you could feel his hair brush against your shoulder.

Dracula's fingers squeezed your thigh again. While it was probably meant to be reassuring, all it did was make you very warm, and make you nearly choke on your water.

As you tried not to drown from your drink, Dracula let out a hum.

"This isn't my Court either, Little Belmont. However, it is several people of minor importance who are visiting or returning. With one being so bold to as to seek you out, I thought it was simply time to make a statement." He muttered, his voice low.

Clearing your throat, you narrowed your eyes. At least that confirmed your theory, but you still felt a bit sour.

"A little warning would have at least been nice. What if they decided to jump me? While I would be fine, It'd be nice to be prepared, you know. Do you know how annoying it is to fight several vampires at once?"

Dracula let out a scoff, as if amused by the very thought as he sat back a bit.

"I'd like to see them try. They wouldn't even get within a foot of you if I had anything to say about it."

That was not helping how warm you felt. You just hoped Dracula couldn't tell as such with his hand still on your leg…

Bastard was driving you mad, and he was hardly even doing anything.

You sniffed, reaching forward with your free hand to grab some silverware. (Surely, it wasn't actual silver, was it?)

Meanwhile, Dracula continued to whisper next to your ear as you hungrily eyed a juicy piece of meat that had been put on your plate. How did he know you liked such delicacies?

"If they feel disrespected, they can deal with me. If what you say is true, they'll understand and still get my message. Relax."

You narrowed your eyes at the table in thought as Dracula pulled himself away, swirling a glass of something red in his hand. You really hoped it was wine.

Taking a deep breath, you dug into your food, your brain working over time not to short circuit. It was overwhelming on almost all fronts; mental, physical, and emotional.

At least the food was, dare you say, heavenly.

It was almost enough to distract you from the fact you were dining with a group of vampires. At Dracula's side.

Okay, yeah, that was still going to take a lot of getting used to.

As thoughts swam in your head, you nearly missed Dracula watching you from his seat. It wasn't scathing, or judging, at least from what you could see out of the corner of your eye. Just simply… Observing you.

You tried to ignore it as you took a few more bites, and ignore how your ears still felt hot.

It was a lot, though, and eventually you sat your silverware down, gripping your whip in your lap for brief comfort. The idle chatter and clanking of dishware was small, but so overstimulating, given the circumstances.

Maybe you should strangle Dracula anyway? As a treat?

Your eyes flickered back to said vampire, and his lips twitched upwards for a moment as he watched you. His own gaze drifted to in front of you, and when you followed where his look was, your eyes narrowed as you eyed the familiar drink.

Right. Medicine.

Looking back at him, he simply rested an elbow on the arm of his seat, leaning his cheek against his fist with his free hand. You swore there was amusement behind his eyes as his eyebrows raised slightly, as if silently telling you, 'Well? Go on.'

Your eyes narrowed further at him, and he simply took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your own.

After a moment of holding his gaze, you finally relented with a sigh.

Fine.

You were still ill. Even if you were, admittedly, feeling a bit better than earlier or yesterday, you knew you weren't fully recovered. Especially with how hot and overwhelmed you were getting just sitting at a table.

While healing faster than the average human came naturally to you, you also weren't blind to the fact you simply had a higher pain and sort of sickness tolerance. While you may feel better, your body still had recovering to do.

Reaching out, you grabbed the orangy-pink drink, and proceeded to down it in one swig. Your face scrunched up immediately at the odd taste, and you turned away to silently cough to clear your throat.

Dracula chuckled next to you, and you pursed your lips into a pout.

"Told you not to drink it all in one go last time, did I not? Be careful that it doesn't make you nauseous."

You waved his concerns off as you cleared your throat once more. You'd probably be fine.

Vaguely, you remembered the urge to upchuck the last time you took whatever this medicine was. At least this time, you didn't feel like you were going to lose your meal. The nausea left as fast as it came.

"Would be a waste of good meat…" you mumbled, eyes back on the plate.

Dracula made a noise that resembled a snort, and you eyed him from your spot at his side.

"Belmonts… what is it with you lot and your love for meat?"

You opened your mouth to retort.

"Hey, it- wait what do you mean Belmonts, as in plural-"

Dracula simply gave you a toothy grin, one that had your ears burning again. Bastard. He was having fun with this, whatever this was.

Then again…

If it weren't for the fact you felt like you were surrounded, you'd probably be enjoying this banter a lot more. You especially liked seeing that grin on his face… It was more playful than you had imagined the Lord of the Night could look when you were younger, fearing the day you may have to face him.

Instead of a cruel, wicked gleam in his eye, he simply looked amused. Dare you say, he even seemed joyful that you were engaging with him.

You liked it, that look on his face.

Perhaps you wouldn't strangle him too badly, after this.

With a huff, you looked away, and stuffed your face with more food. May as well enjoy it since this was arguably some of the best food you've had in months. If only your heart would slow down.

At this point, you weren't sure if it was the anxiety, or the fluttering feelings in your gut that had your heart hammering in your chest.

Idly, you twirled your fork in between your fingers as you watched the others at the table as you ate. The conversation seemed almost lively among them, but you could tell there was an awkward air among the vampires. Especially as they would not so subtly glance over at you and Dracula.

Your nerves were still a bit shot, but…

Okay, you'd admit it felt kinda nice to be put at Dracula's side and seeing their reactions. Was that a bad thing?

Even though you were a hunter, you knew a thing or two about body language, even with the paranormal. You sort of had to, with this job.

Some couldn't stop staring at you both, mostly at you.

Awe was on some faces, and barely hidden disgust was on others.

Fury definitely was in the eyes of a few down the table, though you doubted any would dare act out. Not when Dracula was watching them all out of the corner of his eye.

Was it because you were a hunter with Dracula? A Belmont, for starters? Or simply that you were in the closest seat next to the King?

…And once again, a Belmont in said seat, no less.

"You're preening."

You sputtered, head swinging over to Dracula, who was leaning close once again. That same, smug grin on his face.

"I am not preening."

Dracula gave you a look, clearly not believing you for one moment, idly taking a sip of his drink. His eyes then slowly moved to the small crowd around the table.

"So…" He began, his voice low. A murmur.

Your eyes followed his, twirling your fork, before sticking it into another piece of meat.

"So…?" you trailed off after he sat in silence, stuffing your mouth with food.

"Tell me, what do you think of the other 'guests' as you sit here?" he then asked, his claws thrumming on the side of his chair. He was still so close you could practically feel him next to you-

Swallowing a mouthful of food, your gaze focused on the group.

"Red head over there-" you began, looking over to the left at a pretty vampire with dark, crimson locks cascading down her shoulders. Dracula's gaze snapped to her, and you continued, "-she's disgusted by me being here. The corner of her nose keeps crinkling every other time she looks over here at me, like she smelled something foul."

You then subtly tilted your head to the right, not directly looking in that direction.

"That guy in the fancy vest, with the wild, short black hair and purple eyes…"

Said vampire was in an avid conversation with another vampire next to him, and you felt him occasionally look over. Dracula hummed, and you held back a shudder.

"What about him?"

Taking a quick sip of your drink, you leaned towards your host as you spoke into your cup.

"He thinks this is hilarious," you began, your mouth twitching upwards. "The guy with the greying hair and monocle next to him is infuriated, you can tell by how he keeps clenching his fists when he thinks no one is looking, and the harsh whispers. First guy with the vest has been enjoying watching that other guy rant to him. His lip keeps twitching upwards whenever the angry guy gets heated."

You then pointed your fork at a guy unashamably staring at you with wide eyes.

"That guy over there, with the short blonde hair and blue fancy necklace? He hasn't looked away from me this whole time, as if I were some kind of celebrity. Honestly, it's a little concerning. What a little weirdo."

Dracula blinked, and sure enough, the vampire you pointed to was still just… staring at you. You didn't notice the way Dracula's lips briefly curled up into a small sneer as you continued.

"Over all, I'm not sure what to think. But I can at least say for certain you've managed to throw everyone here for a loop. This was the last thing anyone expected today, judging by their reactions, I'm sure."

Your eyes fell back on Dracula, and he looked at you from the corner of his eye. A toothy grin formed on his lips.

"Excellent eye, as expected from a Belmont."

There was that amused look on his face again, with a new appreciative gleam in his eye.

"I imagine the gossip will be quite the story when word gets out. There was already whispers about you, but seeing you in person is bound to ruffle many a feather." he mused, a hand rubbing his chin in thought. A part of you couldn't help but feel he was looking forward to that.

Living for eternity must get rather boring, you think. No doubt many immortals thrive off of drama for entertainment. Or at least they did, until more modern methods of keeping one's self entertained dropped the last two centuries.

You scrunched your nose up slightly. Sounds rather toxic, only having petty drama and hierarchies to determine if you'll have a boring day or not.

Although…

Slowly, a pit formed in your stomach as you watched the others eat and talk.

Word was getting out. Word was getting out a Belmont was siding with Dracula.

Horror crept up your throat like acid, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

What would happen if your family- no, your whole clan caught wind of that? Even if you weren't particularly close to your extended family, let alone the other clans loosely tied to your own, word getting out could be disastrous.

While… you didn't think it would be easy to pick you out of just vague rumors of a Belmont with Dracula, it still made your blood run cold that you could be suspect.

How would you even handle that if anyone found out? Would they shun you? Not new, per se. However…

Your hand gripped your whip.

The clan may deem you no longer worthy of the whip, thinking you were 'seduced' by evil, or some shit. Wouldn't be the first time this happened in the family, though the last time it happened, it was enough to force the clan themselves to give the whip up to the Morris clan…

That was a burden you didn't wish to pass. The Morris clan already had to deal too much with your family's sins, they didn't need to once again.

Your thumb ran over the grooves on the whip's handle, and you kept your face blank.

No, if anything, you were scared of your whip being taken from you in general.

It was the last thing you had from your mother that your step family couldn't touch, not without actual consequences from the extended family.

They could take your home, your relics, your weapons, your mothers clothes and jewelry… but not this whip. Only a successor could take it and properly use it without consequence, someone of Belmont Blood.

If you were deemed 'inappropriate', then what was stopping your family from taking it from you? Hell, you know some of your family members would love for a chance to be the 'true' successor of the family. It was an honor if you weren't born for it, but a burden if you were, your mom had joked once. You believed it ran a bit deeper than that.

The various sounds in the room began to fade into a buzz as you began to sweat. Your mouth felt dry, and stomach suddenly felt sour as your thoughts began spinning wildly in your brain. All the while, you grew hot. The room seemed darker, as if it were closing in on you.

You were nothing without the whip. It was your everything. Your last connection to her. The only reason you had a purpose. The only thing that kept you alive. It-

"Are you feeling alright?"

Dracula's soft words managed to bring your whirring thoughts to a halt.

The buzzing was gone, replaced by idle chatter, and the sound of rolling thunder outside the castle. You could finally breathe.

"W-What?"

Your voice startled as you subtly turned to him, and you mentally kicked yourself at the stutter.

Dracula was looking at you with what you had come to learn must be concern. He had put his glass down at some point and you flinched when he reached out with one of his hands.

He paused, giving you a moment, before reaching out again when you didn't push him away.

Carefully, he made you look at him, and you tried to ignore how the talking in the room grew a tad quieter at the display.

"You suddenly stopped responding, and your pulse was growing quick. You're also rather warm… another fever?" He murmured, looking over your face as you tried not to squirm in his grip. Feeling flustered, you yanked your head from his grip, though you tried to ignore the guilty pang in your heart for doing so.

"'m fine. Just… exhausted and on edge. That's all."

Thankfully, Dracula didn't seem perturbed by your actions, simply tilting his head as he looked at you, lips pursed. You had a feeling in your chest he probably didn't believe you, but hey, at least he didn't seem to be prodding you, either.

He was silent for a moment, and you pointedly avoided his gaze. How annoying it was for you, having a moment right next to him in front of all the people at the table.

Sure, most probably didn't notice, but still. You felt like such a failure for slipping so badly in front of a group that could have noticed, and taken you out in your haze.

You sighed as you stabbed the remains of your meal with your fork. What a mess you were…

Maybe you'd still stab Dracula. How dare this one man make the entirety of your life exponentially more complicated.

—o0o—

Dracula was a lot of things.

A man of vengeance. A man of pride. Some may even say one of arrogance.

Hard not to be when you were one with power such as himself.

But he wasn't an unobservant fool.

Today had been a handful, he'd admit. He was caught juggling several annoying matters while trying to delicately handle you.

You were far from the issue, but it was hard to deny issues liked to follow you, wherever you were. Seems being a Belmont attracted nothing but trouble, even if you didn't intend to go find it.

It's why he decided to arrange a formal 'dinner' of sorts. It had been a while since he hosted one, after all. What better way to keep an eye on you, and let the others who were either visiting or staying know exactly where you stood?

And… in part, he was bored. It was a perfect opportunity to gather some info on who he had to watch, and to stir the pot, so to speak.

Petty squabbles either amused him or annoyed him, depending on the day. This, however, was something a bit bigger than a 'squabble'.

It was actually somewhat fun, if he dare admit it, guiding you to the seat right next to his own at the table. The disbelief in the group's eyes as he passed them, and even helped you into your seat.

A part of him hoped you'd enjoy the privilege, being sat at his right hand side to watch the show.

And… he also hoped you'd appreciate the gesture he was attempting to make.

He may be a vindictive, cruel man, yes. But he was trying to at least keep this delicate friendship afloat, if he could even call it that.

Of course, it couldn't be as simple as that.

It didn't even occur to him that perhaps, during all his centuries of constant wake and sleep, with little time being awake and active, that times and traditions have changed.

You seemed ruffled, irritated, even.

He wasn't expecting you to jest about strangling him for attempting to 'humiliate' you.

It wasn't a real threat, that much was easy to tell. However, it did take him off guard for a moment. You explained how no, you did not know old table manners for royalty, and assumed he was doing this as a means of humiliating you.

Admittedly, Dracula should have considered this. Alas, he has a lot of catching up to do with more modern times. Even if this situation was mildly funny-

At the very least, you didn't seem mad. Though a thought did enter his mind. Did you think this was a punishment for earlier? Is that why you didn't put that much of a fuss, regardless, trying to stay in his good graces?

He tried not to frown at the thought. That was the opposite of what he was trying to convey.

You were his Little Belmont, and anyone who dared try anything would meet a painful, bloody end-

Dracula had sipped his glass at the thought, pushing it aside.

"Don't worry about the formalities, I'll handle any disrespect handed your way. I sat you by my side for a reason," he had said, and you seemed to get the message.

That… and you seemed so easy to fluster. He learned that little fact quickly this evening. Perhaps he should try teasing you more in private?

For a moment, memories of an old friend briefly appeared in his mind as he watched your ears grow pink. You really were a lot alike. He wondered how you both would have gotten along, if at all?

Dracula was deep in thought, and his gaze idled over to his 'guests' across the table as he idly chatted and watched you. It still brought some amusement to him. From the sheer outrage, to the gobsmacked. At least they knew to keep their mouths shut, at least to you and him.

Word got around fast with Damon's 'treatment', and how you were the one to ask the vampire not be killed for going after you. It certainly made waves, and made them uneasy.

You were a Belmont, but a Belmont who didn't operate by the regular hunting rules. Something new. Something not quite predictable.

And to many, new meant dangerous. Getting friendly with you could be a death sentence to them, but attacking you basically would lead to death as well. Either you or Dracula himself would assure it.

Dracula couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking, besides the obvious. Curious, he asked just what you thought of your 'company', and you didn't disappoint as you pointed to a few people in the group.

He had to admit, you were observant, even if you clearly were a bit overwhelmed. No doubt you learned to keep your wits about you under pressure. Not just for a hunt, but for survival.

Though he didn't exactly like you being eyed like a piece of candy. Perhaps he should have considered he wouldn't be the only one obsessed fascinated with you.

Hm. He'd have to handle that in the future.

Regardless, he was proud of you. Even when ill and clearly on edge, you were willing to indulge him and offer some insight into what little bit you had noticed. If you weren't a Belmont, he would have loved to have had you as an advisor.

He could already imagine the chaos he could have caused with you by his side. His and a Belmont's might combined? Truly, his enemies would stand no chance. He'd rule the world for all eternity with no one to stand in his way.

Alas…

He'd have to settle to simply ruling over the Night once more. Not that he truly cared for global domination, given he originally intended to wipe out humanity. However, if he wished to keep your good will, that was off the table. Shame.

At least he could enjoy the chaos you were bound to bring just by simply existing in his castle. So long as no one tries anything idiotic, of course.

Dracula opened his mouth, intending to make a light jab on the subject, though paused before his eyes even landed on you. His ears twitched, and he gripped his glass tight.

Your heart was pounding, and you smelled of fear.

Eyes sharp, he looked over at you, expecting you to be looking at whatever had you frightened, and ready to deal with it.

Except…

You weren't looking at anything at all. Your eyes were glazed over as your breathing became quick and shallow.

To anyone who didn't know you, you just looked rather annoyed. But dare he say, after seeing you at your lowest, Dracula liked to think he knew you better than plenty of others.

And you were not well.

He watched you, your eyes glazed, yet darting around as if still watching what was in front of you. Even when out of it, your instincts were paying attention.

Your arm twitched, and he watched as your grip on your whip tightened. You licked your lips, and he heard you swallow as you began to break out in a sweat.

Gently, he leaned in close, and spoke your name. You didn't answer him. He called out again, setting his glass down, and finally, you seemed to almost hear him.

"Are you alright?"

It was a foolish question. Of course you weren't okay. Perhaps he really shouldn't have had this dinner if you were going to blank out on him.

Granted, he thought you were well enough physically to handle it. And in a way, you were, however…

It was clear you were still struggling.

His words at least seemed to snap you out of it, at least briefly.

"W-What?" You asked, the fog in your eyes disappearing, and recognition showing in your eyes. However, you were still sluggish as you turned to look at him.

Dracula felt something akin to worry burn in his chest, and he reached out towards you almost instinctively. However, he paused when you flinched away from him.

A part of him wanted to growl.

Not at you, never at you, but at the implications.

The more he saw, the less he liked.

He especially hated how you seemed to regret it. How it was also pure instinct to flinch away from sudden touch like that. At least you weren't intentionally flinching from him, he'd count that as a win.

Briefly, he paused, ignoring how quiet the room got. The casual conversation burst into whispers, and Dracula resisted an eye roll. Oh, the drama.

Fools.

Regardless, he put their reactions in the back of his mind as he reached forward again, putting his hand on your forehead. You looked at him, cutely confused, if not a bit peeved.

A part of him wanted to curse. You were warm, warmer than a human normally would be. How was it you managed to stubbornly stay so ill?

Of course, he knew it wasn't your fault. If you were in a rough situation, he wasn't surprised your body was playing keep up when you were in a environment you could relax.

Even if that environment was his castle. The thought nearly filled him with pride, if it weren't for the fact you were still ill, and surrounded by vampires and other creatures of the night.

He gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he looked over you. The medicine at least was helping, but maybe he'd have to do some studying if you were still feverish…

That didn't explain the fear, though.

Why?

"You suddenly stopped responding, and your pulse was growing quick. You're also rather warm… another fever?" He murmured out loud, mostly to himself. He'd have to look into different medicine's for you, perhaps. Maybe some to take home with you if he can figure out what specifically is ailing you.

Would you let him run different tests if this illness continued to stick with you? That may be asking too much.

Before he could even consider asking such a question, you ripped your face out of his grip.

"'m fine. Just… exhausted and on edge. That's all."

That was a bold faced lie, and he knew it.

But he also knew this wasn't the place to discuss such matters. He couldn't blame you for such a stunt, not really.

If anything, he thought it was almost cute. What would have offended any other king simply endeared you to him a little bit more. He liked how you still, even now, had a spine. The Belmont fire in you still stood strong, even in weaker moments, it seemed.

Your words repeated in his head as he looked over you.

While your words certainly weren't wrong, Dracula had his doubts there wasn't more to them. A lot more, if he had to wager a guess.

Even now, you seemed out of it. While you were certainly a lot more aware than you were a moment before, there was an air about you that seemed both heavy and downtrodden.

Dracula held back a sigh. Perhaps he should keep a journal this point with all the things and concerns he had regarding you and your well being. Even that blasted Belmont in the blue coat hadn't been this out of it after he regained control from one of Dracula's minions.

So, he leaned back, and with a snap of his fingers, the entire room went dead silent.

A low rumble of thunder followed, as well as a few flashes of lightning. The curtains swayed in the breeze that swept throughout the room, as well as the candles dimming for a moment. All eyes were on him.

"Dinner is now adjourned. You may stand and leave, or stay if you so wish."

Despite so few words, many eyes exchanged glances, before everyone began to either gather their things, or sat put. Dracula would have laughed at how they all awkwardly fumbled, unsure which would be the best option.

All while that pest Damon quickly stood up, and rushed out of the room. Dracula held back a grin at the sight. Serves the little rat right to be afraid.

You looked at him, either in confusion or awe, he wasn't sure. Either way, you looked almost affronted when he stood up from his seat, banishing his glass in the process.

"Hey-"

With another snap of his fingers, your chair glowed, and you let out a squawk as it was pulled out from under you, and his magic had you stand.

"Let us retire to your room. You need rest."

"Hey, wait, I'm not a child, you can't just-"

He strode past you, and you let out a baffled noise as your feet moved on their own.

Truly, it wasn't like you couldn't break out of his magic. He was simply doing it to get you moving. If anyone could break such a simple spell, it would be you.

Still, that didn't stop him from giving you a cheeky look as he turned to look at you from behind him.

"What, would you rather I carried you?"

You gave him a look almost daring him to try. No doubt you'd throw a fuss, given there were still plenty of eyes on the two of you.

Granted, you didn't seem to care the last few times he did, but he knew you'd at least like to keep your pride and reputation in tact in front of his subordinates and 'guests'.

A shame. He rather liked carrying you.

Something about carrying you, someone so powerful and yet so vulnerable… Dracula didn't realize he'd like it so much. Both how much power he had, yet didn't use, and how you were in the same boat. How you had every opportunity to hurt him, kill him, yet you refrained.

It was… a delicious feeling, he'd admit. A mutual trust of sorts, if he could call it that. Knowing any moment you could easily kill him, and he you…

His tongue ran over his fangs as he walked out of the room, you right at his heels. He dropped the magic at this point, and you easily caught up to his stride, walking at his side.

You didn't look too agitated, he'd count that as a blessing. Though you did seem distracted.

Before he could even ask what you were thinking, you spoke.

"So, like, is that gonna be a regular occurrence? Am I to eat with you at every fancy dinner while I am here?"

Dracula let out an amused huff.

"Only if you wish. While I am no stranger to fine dining at the table at every meal, it gets rather repetitive and boring when you have to do it every day. This was simply to both quell some pesky questions, and set as a… warning."

You eyes him silently as you walked at his side. Clearly you had something on your mind, yet chose not to speak.

Even though you had no words, the trek was still pleasant. Perhaps he should take to walking through his castle more often if you tag along at his side.

…Yes, he was definitely lonelier than he remembered.

Regardless, he hardly cared all that much, simply enjoying your presence with each step that echoed in the large halls.

Still, he couldn't help but keep glancing back at you amidst the silence. It was clear something was still bothering you from earlier.

Had something happened? Did he mistake just how ill you felt?

The thoughts could only grow as you both trekked onward, gnawing at him insistently. It bothered him, seeing you so out of it again. Even if you were healing, it wasn't as much progress as he'd like. Especially with that nasty bruise on your face still faintly there.

Just how much of you was injured and sick that he couldn't see?

He could still catch glimpses of that Belmont fire you possessed. Dracula could only wonder what a spitfire you were when you weren't so… this.

Different faces of different Belmonts flashed through his mind, from cold anger, to burning rage. Which would you be, if you were at the top of your game in a battle?

Dracula's claws idly extended from his fingers at the thought. As much as he didn't want to fight you to the death, he couldn't lie. He'd love to see you not hold back at the top of your game.

Eyes drifting back towards you, he watched as you walked. The whip still in your hand as you were at his side, your face scrunched up slightly in thought, and there was a sway in your step.

Holding back a hum, Dracula came up with an idea.

Would you attack him for it? Possibly, but he hoped you'd forgive him.

With a fast turn of his heel, he was suddenly at your side. You let out a yelp, and jumped backwards, easily dodging his initial grab.

However, he was faster, and he easily grabbed one of your wrists.

A loud squawk left your lifts as he swung you up, before carefully cradling you in his arms.

"Hey- you asshole! I told you I'm not a child- what-" you squirmed, though Dracula only laughed at your heated words. If anything, it was rather cute.

"Don't think I didn't notice the sway in your step, Little Belmont. You're still healing, and exhausted. You've been zoning out. Would you rather risk pushing your healing back, when I can simply carry you now that no one is here to see?"

You blinked up at him, almost dumbfounded. Clearly, you still weren't used to being manhandled. At least, not so casually.

Granted, anytime you were picked up, it was no doubt you getting tossed around by a beast of some sort.

Your mouth opened, before closing. You were silent for a moment as you stared at him almost owlishly.

"I… I can still walk myself."

Dracula could only give you a grin.

"And I can easily carry you." he spoke in return.

You looked at him for a moment, as if searching for any type of trick, only to eventually let out a huff.

"Just don't ever do that again, unless you want me to kill you without thinking twice."

While it may have come off as harsh, it was a brutal reality, he imagined. Startling a hunter was a sure-fire way to end up dead, due to their sharp, defensive instincts. He was lucky you didn't even raise your whip or another weapon at him for suddenly startling you earlier. At most, you simply tried to jump away.

Still, Dracula couldn't help but give you a toothy grin.

"Of course, Belmont."

Something akin to a pout was on your lips.

"I'm serious."

If anything, even if you were pouting, it was a clear warning to be more careful. A part of him wondered how many accidents happened in your family with other family or friends accidentally causing a hunter a fright?

"Oh, I'm sure, Little Belmont."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I'll obliterate you into a fine dust."

Dracula held back a laugh.

Yet, you still had not hurt him just a moment before. Your ability to think quickly and hold yourself back was to be admired, even against the Lord of the Night.

"Of course. If anyone in the castle could accomplish such a thing, it would be you. As if anyone else could come close." he spoke, though it was mostly in jest. Even if you could kill him, he wouldn't make it easy.

You looked up at him, eyes squinting, looking for sarcasm. It looked as if you wanted to say something, but choose against it at the last moment. A pity.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have taken such words lightly. However, Dracula decided he liked your slight change in attitude. You weren't serious in your words, but it made him want to believe you were getting comfortable with him if you were willing to make such claims with no bite.

Dracula took a moment to get a good look at you.

You now were pointedly not looking at him. However, your face was dusted pink, though you didn't seem to care, as you were pressing the side of your face against his chest.

Still, Dracula avoided clicking his tongue. Something was still bothering you. He'd have to figure it out without pushing you.

However, that could wait for now, as much as Dracula loathed to put that aside. You needed rest.

Dracula was willing to bet every jewel in his rings that you tended to push yourself past your limits often without realizing it, and he wouldn't let that happen, not if he had a say while you were here.

With that thought in mind, Dracula began to idly think as he carried you down the hallway, wondering just what he had signed himself up for.

--0o0--

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Reading, I discovered that the region mentioned by him [the Count] lies near the borders of three states: Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the Carpathian Mountains. I also read that the population of Transylvania consists of four nationalities: the Saxons to the south, mixed with the Wallachians, descendants of the Dacians; the Magyars to the west; and the Szekelys to the east and north.

I am travelling to the region inhabited by the latter, who claim to be descendants of Attila and the Huns. I have heard it said that the most curious superstitions in the world exist there.

My plans for the coming days are as follows: to take the train tomorrow and proceed to my final destination the day after.

I shall update further shortly. Writing has been a good exercise for my mental health, and I do like how organised my handwriting looks on the page.

---

5 May

I am now on my way to Count Dracula's castle. It is... amusing how events have unfolded thus far. Yesterday I took the train again and spent the entire day watching the landscapes change from the windows, like a watercolour that never dries and is always running. There was a special air about the landscape that would not let me look away. I suppose it is a very human thing to be impressed by something as simple as trees and cows, by clouds and the sun. The food on the train was a light meal, and now and again I could overhear conversations around me. It was lonely to travel by oneself, but I knew that soon enough I should be home.

When at last I set foot on solid ground, I walked to the Golden Crown Hotel. The Count himself had made a reservation for me weeks in advance, and there the staff handed me a letter which he had left for me.

I append it here.

[My friend: Welcome to the Carpathian Mountains. I await you with great expectations. I wish you a good night's rest, and tomorrow, at three o'clock, take the coach bound for Bukovina, in which a seat has already been reserved for you.

At the Borgo Pass, my carriage shall be waiting for you and shall convey you to me. I trust that your journey from London has thus far been good, and I am certain that your stay in my beautiful country shall be pleasant. Yours faithfully, DRACULA.]

I did not sleep well, however. The room was cold at one moment and hot at the next, and when at last I fell asleep, I was haunted by the vision of red eyes and pointed teeth. Smoky figures danced in my sight and laughed. The chambermaids who woke me in the early hours said that I was screaming and thrashing about. I remember lying on the floor, on the other side of the room, as though I had dragged myself there in my sleep.

They were terrified, and told me that evil spirits were prowling the land at this time on account of an approaching holiday. I did not ask which holiday.

Brândusa, the youngest maid, put a crucifix around my neck. She seemed most convinced that it would protect me from everything and everyone, and I let her believe it, being unable to say that I was a disbeliever in anything I could not see and understand.

Ecaterina, the other maid, helped me to my feet. After that, things moved very quickly, for I did not sleep again, preferring the company of my old friend coffee to keep me awake. I was not exactly afraid of another nightmare, but I had no need of such things weighing upon my mind at that moment. I occupied myself with counting how many floors of different shades painted the ground.

And before I knew it, morning had come. I hastened to forget the occurrence as best I could and proceeded with my plans, and so here we are.

Half the journey is already behind me on the road to the Count's castle.

The driver who guides the carriage slowly is a robust man with hands marked by scars which his skin has not been able to conceal, a thick moustache beneath an aquiline nose, and he is not, by any stretch, a talkative fellow either. Whenever I ask how much longer until we arrive, he points ahead and says, "There." Yet there is nothing there. At least, nothing I can see.

Only mountains, mist, and a grey sky that seems to stretch on without end. Everything appears to hide a secret that only he is able to unravel, naturally, from having lived here far longer than I have been alive, though he loathes to share anything beyond the local superstitions.

There is a jovial tune beneath his breath. Something I have never heard before, sung in Romanian. Perhaps, I think, it is a local song. But the fervour and intensity remind me of a rhythmic prayer, a mantra repeated to repel something specific. A little while ago he hummed softly, something my rusty Romanian understood only as: Pleacă, creatură, creatură ticăloasă.

It made no sense whatsoever, but I did not take those words into consideration, for my head was flooded with worries and anxieties. I try not to think of anything beyond what I must do. Much is at stake at this moment, and I cannot afford to fail simply out of laziness or superstition.

I was to travel to Transylvania and finalise the purchase of a property for Count Dracula, a local nobleman interested in acquiring lands in my good old England. The contract is in my brown portfolio. Clauses and signatures which I have read and reread until I could recite every letter written on those pages without having to look at them. There are thirteen in total. All I need is a signature.

Afterwards, I shall return home. Or what remains of it. For no family awaits me within those walls, but my friends do. I promised them it would be only a few weeks and that I would bring back little souvenirs, yet the things most given to me in the villages were crucifixes and blessings.

I do not think they would make interesting gifts for them.

The mountain air is cold and cuts at the lungs. It is not something to which I am accustomed, nor do I know how one ever could become so; my warmest clothes, the warmest I had, still did not protect me as much as I had thought they might.

The driver speaks again: "We are nearly there. We must be careful of his wolves."

I think it a joke. But he does not laugh.

PS: I write this on my lap, inside the carriage. The handwriting is terrible. But I must record it. I have a foreboding. I know not whether it is of the place... or of myself. But for now, I am content to hope for the best.

---

[Entry 2]

It is late when we finally arrive. The castle is exactly what the records describe: ancient, imposing, built of dark stone that absorbs the light; something old that seems to reverberate against my bones, as aristocratic as I imagined it would be, and I realise at once that the drawings I had seen did not do justice to the beautiful castle that stretched before me and made me feel like an ant, so gigantic was it that I felt insignificant beside those walls.

I stood staring at that castle for a good long while, enchanted, wondering why the Count should wish to move away, but I dare not ask the driver that. He would only look at me again with those scrutinising eyes, as though I had asked a foolish question.

[Mental note: purely out of curiosity, ask the Count about this.]

Yet no records mention the smell that comes from the castle. Damp earth, burnt candles, and something sweet, like withered roses. It was strange; not like the incense I imagined they might use in the chapel on Sundays, nor any cleaning products. It was more unique. It was far easier to grow accustomed to this than to the cold.

The driver left me at the main gate. My luggage was deposited beside me, and then, as if by magic, he vanished before I could thank him. Before I could even blink, as though I were a mere sacrifice to be left behind for some hungry, forgotten god. I was troubled by the fact that the man had disappeared into the mist as if he had never existed at all.

I tried to listen for the sound of hoofbeats, but that too had vanished as if it were merely a product of my imagination. Before I could say anything, the doors were opened by a beautiful woman with hair golden as gold itself, with eyes so expressive that upon seeing myself reflected in them I felt a flush of embarrassment — not because I was dishevelled, but because her beauty was of the sort that makes you stop and stare.

She was as dazzling as the castle.

The woman laughed. Her laugh was beautiful too, sweet as honey dripping down the walls of the hive.

"I take it you are Miss Harker?" I nodded, still quite lost and clutching my two suitcases like a child about to be led by its mother on an exciting excursion. "Please, come in, you shall freeze out here, dear."

I admit, I stared at everything I could without any discretion whatsoever. The hall is enormous. Crystal chandeliers covered in cobwebs. Staircases that rise into shadows. Portraits on the walls.

"I hope the journey was not too exhausting?" The woman spoke, and I had become entirely lost in her cadence, taking a second or two to register her words. At last, I nodded.

"It was quite pleasant. I was eager to arrive."

I was so anxious for this contract to succeed because being the only female solicitor in England in 1897 is not exactly easy. I qualified like any man, yet my responsibilities are often transferred to men, for they deem me unfit to practise such a profession. They say I ought to have become a teacher or gone to work in the factories like all the other women. I disagree.

Mr Hawkins, the man who adopted me shortly after I lost my parents, gave me a chance to prove what I know. It is a contract of great importance owing to Dracula's lineage being long and aristocratic for ages, and in the absence of the other solicitors, he had no choice but to send me to settle all the details.

"Forgive me, I did not ask your name," I noted as she guided me towards the guest room, which was already prepared.

"Lisa. The Count's wife."

The records said she had died years ago. I do not mention this, but my heart tries to warn me that there is something wrong in the taciturn manner in which she speaks. I take a deep breath once, twice, long enough to manage not to show any confusion. Perhaps the records were not so reliable?

"Welcome to our home," she continues softly, her fingers lightly touching my arm as she takes my luggage. Embarrassed, I try to stop her. "Oh dear, it is quite all right. I hope you do not mind that I carry the bags. Our servants have already retired for the evening."

"I can carry them, my lady."

"Lisa. Just Lisa." She smiles. The smile is sweet and warm, making me forget what truly matters at this moment. It was maternal in a way I did not remember.

"I hope you like the room. It has been made up and cleaned, waiting for your arrival." We stop before a half-open oak door which Lisa pushes open with her foot. I enter after her. "Your room. Rest, dear. We shall dine in an hour, and then you and Vlad may discuss the contract."

The door closes by itself behind me as she departs. The people here have a habit of leaving before I can answer, but it is no matter. I survey the room. It is comfortable. A large bed with two chests of drawers and a wardrobe at the foot. The fireplace is already lit.

Lastly, a desk with paper, ink and a pen. I sit to write. My hands tremble.

I cannot stop thinking how a dead woman can be alive. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I have one hour to keep calm, to tell myself a lie, and to act accordingly.

---

[Lisa's Diary]

She is... a frightened dove, very easy to read for one with eyes as sharp as mine. She is clever and rational, but full of anxiety. As we walked, I could not help but notice how she looked for imperfections in her clothes, in her nails, how she swallowed saliva even when there was none. I do not think she notices these behaviours, for she seems the sort of person who has never had time to rest.

I wonder if Vlad's plans make sense, but I shall not interfere in his affairs. The years may have changed him. Yet he remains the same to me, from all those years ago when I entered his castle in search of knowledge and studied medicine, anatomy and herbs. He is still gentle and tender when we are alone.

And incredibly stubborn.

Adrian wishes to observe the little dove tonight. I approved. After everything that has happened, he does not trust strangers so easily.

---

[Entry 3]

Y/n's Diary.

The dining room was smaller than I had imagined, cosier and more intimate than the other rooms. A fire crackled in one of the walls, casting dancing shadows. The table was long, of dark wood, with places for twelve. Only four settings were laid, I noticed, confused. I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

There were still four settings, plates and glasses.

Myself. Lisa. Dracula.

Who would sit in the fourth seat?

"My son, Adrian, shall dine later," Lisa explained, seeing my expression, laughing softly. "He is... reserved. And distrustful of strangers. Do not take it personally."

I nodded, though curiosity gnawed at me. None of your business, I reminded myself. You are here for the contract. Nothing else.

Dracula entered. I did not hear his footsteps, nor his breathing. He was simply there all of a sudden, seated at the head of the table as though he had always been.

He was tall. Much taller than I had expected. Long dark hair tied at the back with a red ribbon. Black clothes, old but immaculate. And his ruby-red eyes regarded me with a mixture of suspicion and pleasure.

"Miss Harker," he said. His voice was deep, with an accent that dragged the vowels like mist over the mountains. "Welcome to my home."

"Count Dracula," I replied, inclining my head. "Thank you for your hospitality."

My plate was piled high with dark meats, vegetables and freshly baked bread. The servants must have risen only to serve me, and I confess I felt a pang of pity for them. I hated to put people to trouble.

For a moment, I thought we should sit in the heavy silence that begs to be filled. But Dracula said softly: "Pray eat freely. I hope you will forgive me for not keeping you company; but we have already dined and are not accustomed to supper."

I waved a hand to indicate it was quite all right. Suddenly, I remembered something and withdrew a letter from my pocket. Mr Hawkins had asked me to deliver it to the Count as soon as possible.

I handed him the sealed letter and watched as he opened it and read it gravely. Then, smiling kindly, he returned it to me that I might read it myself. At least a passage of it gave me great pleasure:

"I regret that an attack of gout, an illness which frequently afflicts me, absolutely prevents me from undertaking any journey in the near future; but I am pleased to inform you that I am able to send a fully capable substitute, in whom I place absolute trust. It is an energetic and talented young person, in their own way, and very loyal. They shall be at your disposal, to assist you when you wish, and shall receive your instructions regarding all matters."

Mr Hawkins was rather reserved in expressing his affections, so reading this warmed my heart for a moment. While Dracula and Lisa served themselves more of that viscous wine, they made a handsome couple.

"How did you meet?" I asked curiously, not wishing to intrude and offering them the chance to change the subject.

They exchanged a glance, and Dracula smiled.

"At medical school," he said. But there was a secret in his eyes that told me this was not the whole story. I did not try to discover more. I sensed he would not tell me, in any case.

"Vlad was one of the cleverest in the class. Although he was rather grumpy. That was what charmed me at the time." Lisa laughed.

"You say that, but it was you who was persistent, always chasing after me." This time it was he who laughed, swirling his wine glass slowly while watching the liquid move.

Amidst their stories, I ate at my leisure. The flavour of the food was so delicious that I should have asked for seconds, all the while amusing myself listening to their memories. Eventually, I reached the end of my meal and, judging the moment perfect, attempted to change the subject.

"Count," I began, laying down my cutlery. "About the contract, I might explain the..."

"Tomorrow, Miss Harker," he interrupted, without taking his eyes from his empty glass. There was a strange shadow on the crystal, smeared in the wrong way, viscous, as though he had been drinking something with a different consistency to wine.

"Transylvania has its own laws, Miss Harker." Now he looked at me. His eyes glittered in the firelight. "One of them is: never speak of business during supper."

Lisa smiled softly but cast a glance at her husband. "He does not mean to be rude. He only believes that a good bargain begins with good food and good company."

"And with a good night's sleep," Dracula finished. "You have travelled for days. You are tired. Tomorrow we shall speak at our leisure."

For a moment, I grew restless. I had rehearsed so many ways of conducting this conversation, and in none of my suppositions had I imagined the Count would prefer to talk on the following day. But I realised how much this anxiety stemmed from the fear of failure.

I drank a little more water instead of trying to counter the Count's arguments. I suppose he was right. Only a little.

"You have heard quite enough of us," Lisa said in a friendly tone, diffusing the situation which, though not tense, was becoming awkward. "Tell us a little about yourself."

I tried to think of something to say, but for a few seconds I only drank more water.

"There is not much to tell, my lady. When I am not working, I read or occasionally play games with my friends."

"And does your family not worry about letting you travel so far and alone?"

The word hung in the air. I hesitated.

"Not exactly. My parents... died. Some years ago."

"We are very sorry," Lisa said, and she seemed sincere, almost awkward and unsure what to say next. "To lose one's family is... a wound that does not heal."

Dracula watched her. Then he watched me. "So you are alone in the world," he concluded. It was not a question, but a bare and naked statement.

"I have friends," I corrected, perhaps more sharply than I intended. "I have Mr Hawkins, who raised me. I have a life that I built brick by brick and surrounded myself with the best people I found."

"Then let us drink to old friends and to new friends," proposed the Count.

"Agreed," I nodded.

We toasted, and I sipped the wine slowly. It was warm and far too sweet. It was different from the alcohol served in London.

The conversation that followed was pleasant. Lisa asked about London. About the weather, the people, the customs. I told them about the office, about Hawkins, about the busy streets and the parks in autumn. She listened with genuine attention. Count Dracula too, though he spoke less.

"The people in the towns have some amusing superstitions, by the way," I said, remembering the driver, the hotel maids, the overheard conversations during the train journey.

"They spoke of monsters. But they never explained more than that. One of the women gave me a crucifix and asked me never to take it off.

As I recounted the fanciful events that had surrounded my journey, Lisa and Vlad exchanged a glance.

"They are mere fantasies," explained the Count. "People here is incredibly superstitious. Everything must have a reason, and what has no reason is cursed and frightening. It is ignorance to believe in such things."

It seemed plausible.

We spoke so much that I fear I cannot remember any other exceptional occurrences to write down. For a moment, I felt so welcome that I forgot the contract. Forgot the deadline. Forgot that I was there as a professional, not as a friend.

For a moment, I felt at home, as I had when my parents were still alive. And that frightened me more than anything.

---

Alucard's Surveillance Report

First night of the guest.

· 19h00: Miss Harker came down to supper. Dressed formally. Attempted to mention the contract, but Father interrupted every attempt on the grounds that it was already late. Miss Harker seemed discontented with this but did not insist.

· 19h30: Ate well, although her gaze wandered into the distance at times, as if she had left something behind, miles from here, in her dear England. But she seemed genuinely happy to be in my parents' presence; she did not treat everything merely as work, but as a means of touching souls and understanding her client's needs in order to conduct discussions about the properties.

· 20h00: Mother spoke of family and hobbies. Miss Harker listened attentively. When Mother mentioned "loss", Miss Harker averted her gaze. Sensitive to the subject.

· 20h30: Supper ended. Miss Harker returned to her room and did not lock the door. Very naive of her. If we were savages, she would be done for.

· 21h00: She wrote two letters. She does not seem to intend to send either of them. She kept them in her suitcase. I shall read them later.

· 21h30: Extinguished the candles. Took to her bed.

· 22h00: Still awake. Tosses and turns a great deal. Probably thinking of the contract.

· 23h00: Fell asleep.

· 01h00: Woke. Went to the window. Observed the wolves.

· 01h15: Returned to bed.

· 01h30: Fell asleep again. Sleeps restlessly and murmurs many things I could not understand.

Initial assessment: Resistant but curious. Tries to keep focus on the work, but her eyes wander over the walls, the portraits, over us, as though we were ghosts.

Proceed with the plan carefully.

— Adrian

---

Y/n's Diary.

I cannot sleep.

The room is comfortable, the bed is soft, the fire still crackles. But something keeps me awake. I think of Mina. I think of the office. I think of the contract that needs to be signed. I think of Lisa, of her smile, of her cold hands. I think of Dracula, of his eyes that glitter in the dark, of his serious manner.

I think of the son — Adrian — who did not appear. Where is he? What is the reason for his distrust of strangers?

Against my better judgment, I decide to rise. I go to the window, and outside the snow falls in heaps. The mountains are only shadows, but there is something that makes my heart tremble within my breast. Beyond the snow that painted most of the scene, there were eyes. Many eyes. Yellow. Glittering in the dark.

Wolves.

The driver told me to be careful. It is not merely the howling that frightens me. It is the fact that the wolves are guarding the castle, watching and waiting. As if something — or someone — had told them to keep watch.

The behaviour is not normal, and frightened, I draw the curtains. If I do not see them, then they do not exist, is that not so?

I return to bed. For the first time since I arrived, I wonder whether the chambermaids at the Golden Crown Hotel were not right about the evil spirits. Nothing very terrifying has occurred, except that a dead woman is alive and well, in the prime of her beauty.

I do not wish to think of anything. I truly believe I am quite tired and only now allow myself to feel it. I hope that when I close my eyes now, sleep shall not flee from me.

Your husband pressed against your front, pinning you to the bed. His hands roamed the contours of your body, his lips pressed needy, wanting to be kissed over your face and neck, pulling soft whimpers out of you.

Want pooled in your belly, overflowing as he worshiped you with every touch. The need for him grew and grew until finally you'd had enough of the light touches and gentle caresses.

With steady hands, you pushed him aside, rolling you both over and asserting yourself as the one in charge.

"My dear-" Your husband starts only for you to cut him off with a single finger pressed to his kiss-bitten lips.

"Vlad, don't argue," you admonish, and he quietly holds his hands up as if to say, "do as you like."

Ever so slowly, you kiss and nip your way from his lips, over his broad chest, and to the place your mouth craves to taste. Deft fingers untie Vlad's trousers, and soon you are faced with his hardened cock. Just looking at him laid bare before you had your mouth salivating and throat constricting.

Carefully, you grasp him with your hand and give him a slow tug, and watch as the muscles in his abdomen contract. "You're always so sensitive when I touch you." The thought comes out absentmindedly.

You adjust yourself, crawling from his lap to your new place on the floor. The rug beneath you digs into your knees, a delightful kind of burn that heightens your pleasure.

Vlad is watching you carefully, propped up on his elbows. You glance at him through lidded eyes, mouth hovering over his flustered member. "Let me take care of you tonight, my Prince," your voice all sultry and desire.

Without hesitation, you let a string of spit fall from your open mouth onto Vlad's waiting cock. You smile when it twitches excitedly in your hand. Slowly, you move your hand, spreading the saliva over his smooth, hot skin. Vlad's hips stutter at the feeling.

"Fuck-," he breathes, a hand combing its way through his hair.

A pang of want hits you when you finally descend your mouth upon him, tongue scorching hot against his shaft and his tip before consuming him entirely. He filled you, hitting the back of your throat.

A moan erupts from deep within your chest as you taste him, salty but not unbearable. You look through your lashes at him; he's flushed, redness covers his cheeks, neck, and chest, and you know he won't last long.

At a leisurely, almost torturous pace, you began to bob your head. Up and down, up and down. The action brings a whimper to your husband's lips, and it may be the most leg-clenching sound you have ever heard; you want him to do it again. So, you bury your face into him, taking him as deep as you can, resisting the urge to gag, and you swallow around him.

Vlad's hand flies to your head, large and warm, and he holds you there, stopping you from pulling away. "Beloved, I- ah- I can't," he chokes out.

Gently, you reach above you, pull his hand from your hair, and pin it to the bed. Now free, you return to your prior movements with vigor. Spit dribbling down your chin as you hollow your cheeks around him.

You can feel that he's close with how his hips canter up into your waiting mouth. Selfishly, you don't want him to come just yet. So, you remove yourself from him and begin to kiss and nip at his muscular thighs.

Slowly, you remove your hand from his wrist and bring it to his cock. With feather-light fingers, you caress him, sending a shiver up his spine.

"I love how you feel against me. In my mouth, my hand, my cunt. I can't get enough," you murmur against his skin before biting the meat of his inner thigh. Vlad lets out the most wrecked moan you have ever heard. Pulling away, you can see the mark you've made, bright and blushing against his creamy white skin, and you can help but grin.

Your husband is a mess above you, hands gripping the sheets, head tossing as you bring your mouth back to his cock. The moment the heat hits him, he thrusts into your mouth in an uncontrollable fit, gasping out curses.

He's right on the edge, tipping over, as you suck on him, running your tongue against the underside of his cock. You can't help but groan as both his hands find their way into your hair this time, pushing you further than you ever had. You feel it then, the twitching, the telltale sign that he's there, just moments away from giving you what you want. With one final, hungry suck, he's letting go.

The sounds he's making are like music to your ears, loud and vulnerable and meant just for you… only for you.

Your fingers dig into his legs, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents and scratches as you swallow every ounce of his come.

Pulling off, you climbed over him, grinning as you began to kiss his lips. His tongue presses into your mouth, coaxing a sweet sigh from you.

Vlad pulls away, the fingers of his right hand petting your cheek. "Oh, the things you do to me."

"What's that?"