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Chapter Text

“I have asked myself many times why other affections can’t replace your presence, and I always return to the illusion that you are still here, and then – unwillingly – to the knowledge that you have made a hostage of my memory.”
— The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova

Wallachia, 1463

Mihaela woke up with the sensation of soft fingers caressing her scalp and an alluring voice calling her name. She hissed, the vampire within screaming that the sun was still shining outside, too early for her to be awake and that she should go back to sleep. But the gentle touch was insistent, stronger than her own instincts, it won the battle with little effort, convincing her to open her eyes and face the one interrupting her rest.

And what a sight she was graced with.

Adrian was laying right beside her, so beautiful even in that early hour, looking at her in awe, bewitched by her mere presence.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Mihaela whined, letting him pull her closer and wrap her body in the safety of his arms.

“Too early.” She complained, burying her face on his chest.

“My dear, it’s almost midday.”

“Too early!”

Adrian chuckled, pressing her body against his tightly, kissing the top of her head. She was definitely a nocturnal person, and she had already made an effort to accompany him on his daylight activities yesterday. Would it be too selfish if he asked her to do it again? A part of him thought so, but he wanted them to spend every second of the day together, but it wouldn’t be possible if she wasted too many hours asleep.

“We need to get up, love.” He pleaded, showering her with affectionate little kisses on her head.

“Why don’t you ever let me have enough sleep?”

“That’s not true, we both slept plenty last night. And the reason why I wake you during the day is because I want to be with you while no one else can show up and interrupt our moment, so… please?”

He was yet to find out, but Mihaela could never deny any of his requests, at least not the ones he asked while laying naked in bed, holding her so close.

She grunted, but found her strength to break free of his arms and sit up, yawn and stretch. She realized all too late that she, too, was naked, stopping midway stretching to cover her exposed breasts, feeling her cheeks growing warm. There was no reason for her to be embarrassed, not after what they did last night, but it didn’t change the fact that she was not used to having people other than her chamber maids seeing her uncovered body. Now that the lust has passed, it was only natural to shy away.

“Don’t hide from me, love.” Adrian sat up too, passing an arm around her waist, chastely kissing her shoulder. “You are beautiful.”

“I know.” Mihaela retorts, causing him to chuckle again with her self confidence. It was not her looks that worried her. “It’s just… I don’t know how am I supposed to act after sleeping with someone, I’m new to this.”

“And so am I.” He reminded her that it was his first time as well, he thought it was all a dream until he woke up to find her on his bed. “Last night… did it hurt?”

It might have looked like he knew what he was doing, but it was only the heat of the moment and years of sneaking into his mother’s clinic to read her books about human anatomy. Adrian was as young and inexperienced as Mihaela, and what he feared the most about the deed was having accidentally hurt her.

“Not really. It was… uncomfortable in the beginning, to get accustomed to having someone inside of me.” The memory got her face heating up again. “But I really liked it. I’m glad I did it with you.”

It was his turn to blush. Adrian couldn’t control the wide smile on his face, nor the sense of pride on his chest for giving her a good first experience.

“I’m glad my performance met your expectations.”

“It definitely did.” She smiled, shyly pecking his lips. “Which reminds me, I probably need to wash. Can you ask someone to bring me a bowl of water?”

The slightly blush on his face increased, the flushed pink tuning into red. He could smell what he did to her, a mix of cum and blood glued to her thighs. “Yeah, sure, I’ll get it for you.” He cleared his throat, putting on a robe before exiting the room.

He returned minutes later with enough water for the both of them to get clean, and afterwards, he gave his robe to Mihaela so she could go back to the guest room and get dressed. As usual, it took her a while to get ready for the day, even though it was just putting on the traveling clothes she was wearing when she arrived, the simple black dress and the sapphire hairnet.

When she was done, Adrian was already waiting for her in the hallway, a bag hanging from his shoulder and a folded blanket over his forearm.

“Where are you taking me today?”

“To the same spot by the river we went yesterday, but I thought we could take a ride first.”

I could have taken a ride in your room. She thought, fighting against the smirk on her face, merely nodding to him in response.

They passed by the stables quickly, choosing the horses among the saddled ones and heading towards the forest.

They took an alternative path to get to the river, hoping for a different view, but there wasn’t much to see, especially not after the early morning rain that clouded the sky and made the weather humid. Nevertheless, they enjoyed the ride, ending it with a race to the riverbank that Mihaela won by cheating, inducing the horse to run before the agreed time.

“That wasn’t very noble of you.” Adrian teased, offering his hand for her to climb off the horse.

She laughed, accepting his help. “Actually, it was. Winning at all costs is the way of nobility.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, my love, I’ll make sure to play dirty.”

Mihaela felt something tickling inside her chest. Adrian has always been affectionate in his ways of addressing her, as it was expected from a lad as sweet as him and given the closeness of their relationship, but my love was on another level. It was one thing to call her that in bed when lust commanded their every action, but now, with nothing clouding their senses, it made her wonder where they stood.

She knew they were more than friends now, but what, exactly? Lovers? Friends with benefits? Something else entirely?

Adrian noticed her contemplative expression. “Aren’t you going to sit?” He tapped on the spot close to him on the blanket he put on the grass.

Mihaela blinked a few times, coming back from her quick trance to realize that she didn’t even notice him laying the blanket on the ground. Putting aside her thoughts and doubts, she sat close to him, letting her prince wrap an arm around her and bring her closer, to nest her on his chest and kiss her forehead.

The princess closed her eyes for a second, allowing herself to enjoy the moment. When she opened them again, Adrian was tilting her face up towards him, softly, by her chin, dying for another taste of her lips. She didn’t deny him, pulling him from his shirt for a passionate, heated kiss, one that lingered until they were out of breath, finished with a loving peck.

“Did you bring me here just for cuddles and kisses?” She asked, still playing with the cleavage of his V neck.

“Yes… you don’t like the idea?”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. I just think we didn’t have to come all this way for that, your room is just as good.”

Adrian chuckled, relieved that his lack of creativity for a second date did not bore her. “Are you that lazy or just eager to be alone with me in my room again?”

“Probably both.” She grinned, gently pushing his arms away from her to lay her head on his lap. “What’s in your bag? Some food, I hope.”

His fingers quickly found their way to play with the few strands of her hair falling out of the net. “Food for the brain, perhaps. I brought a book.”

“A book? Which one?”

Adrian opened the bag and took out a green book, placing it on Mihaela’s hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of the title: Poetic Edda, the very same compilation of norse myths they spent hours at the library reading to each other all those years ago when they were just kids.

“I can’t believe you still remember it!” She exclaimed, leafing through the book.

“How could I forget?” It was all he thought about for months when she went back to Styria, and the one thing he kept reading over and over again. “I was working on something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, open the marked page.”

Mihaela sat back up, opening the book on the indicated page. The poem on that page was The Ballad of Svipdag, the story of a warrior who spent his life looking for Mengloth, the kind woman the gods have promised him, who waited half her life for his arrival. There were ink marks all over the poem, but one of the quotes got special attention, full of notes written in german close to the highlights.

The longed-for meeting is the greatest gladness of all for the ones who love each other.

“I was trying to translate it to german so I could recite it for you in your mother-tongue, but it took me a while, I wanted to be sure it was correct.”

“You got it all right, you’re a fast learner.”

She closed the book and put it down on the blanket. Was he actually trying to say what she thought he was? Was she his Mengloth, or rather his Svipdag, the one he has been waiting for? The one he loved?

“That’s very sweet and thoughtful, Adrian.” She placed a hand on his cheek, causing him to lean into her touch. “Is that how… you feel about me?”

Adrian nodded, wondering if things were escalating way too quickly, but he still wouldn’t waste another second. He was absolutely sure of where his feelings for Mihaela stood, and he would never forgive himself if she returned to Styria before he could tell her everything.

“How long?” She asked.

“Since the day you walked through the castle’s door, shy and embarrassed, trying to hide behind Carmilla.” He admitted, smiling fondly at the memory. “Of course I didn’t know it back then, I thought that was how you’re supposed to feel about a friend, and since you were my only one, it took me a while to realize. I understood that I loved you more than as just a friend when I heard that the Hungarian king was trying to marry you, and instead of offering my congratulations, I caught myself wishing to rip off his head!”

Mihaela couldn’t help but laugh, partly because Adrian’s exaggerated anger towards Matthias was quite funny – as if the king has ever had a chance with her – but also because hearing that the feelings she thought she was so good at hiding were reciprocated had overflowed her soul with happiness beyond words.

“You could’ve told me sooner, you know.”

Adrian laughed too. “Through a letter, my love? That wouldn’t be very gallant of me.”

“Hmm, you do have a point.” Her hand was now intertwined with his, laying on his thigh. “But if you had, maybe I would have told you that I love you too.”

Although hopeful that she shared his feelings, Adrian was still taken aback by her confession. His mouth parted in a oh expression, and for a moment, he was speechless.

“I cannot say for certain when was it that my idea of you shifted from the sweet boy from my childhood to someone for whom my heart ached in longing. Perhaps when I became a woman, but the exact moment, I don’t know.” Mihaela spoke ahead, guessing that he would probably ask something of the sort. “I thought it was just a crush, but of late I realized that it is far more, and after last night… now I know no other people or affections will ever replace you in my heart. It is so full of you with no space left for another.”

Her words rose a turmoil of emotions on Adrian’s chest, emotions he couldn’t properly express in mere words: all he managed to do was pull her back into his arms, hide his face on the crook of her neck and cry, causing Mihaela’s heart to melt. He was just too good to be true, and they were extremely fortunate for loving each other, for having that moment.

“Now I hope those are tears of joy.” She hugged him back, comforting him with soft strokes on his golden hair.

Adrian withdrew, sniffing, holding her face between his hands. “Of course they are. I… I just...” He had no words. “Say it again. Please say it again.”

She chuckled, wondering what she did to deserve him. “I love you, Adrian Tepes.”

On a torrent of warm tears and sincere smiles, Adrian kissed her again, pouring every drop of his love for her on that gesture, serving her his heart on a silver platter. If hers was full of him, his belonged to her, as it always has, as it always would. He never considered himself a superstitious man, but all about that situation made him believe they were destined to be together, that they were born for the sole purpose of being each other’s companions.

“These two days with you have been like heaven on earth” He said when they broke the kiss. “I cannot let you go after all of this, I need you to stay.”

Mihaela brushed her thumb over his cheek, wiping away what was left of his tears. “I want to, I have promised to stay, haven’t I?”

“But will you?”

“Of course I will. I have already planned on staying until your mother’s return, I can stay a little longer than that, and when I return to Styria, you can come with me to visit...”

“No, my love.” Adrian interrupted. “I want you to stay permanently, to live here with me.”

Mihaela raised a brow, taking a few seconds to process his suggestion. She loved him enough to cling to him forever, to never part ways again unless in case of absolute necessity… but she was too realistic to consider that possibility. The woman, Mihaela, could belong to Adrian, but the Princess would always belong to Styria, and her first duty was to the realm.

“Adrian, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t see how I could do that. I know it can work perfectly if we vow to visit each other frequently and keep writing our letters during times in which we can’t be together, but you know I can’t just live in Wallachia, right? I am a daughter of Styria, and as such, I have duties, and even if I was willing to forsake those duties and give up my birthright, Carmilla would never allow it.”

“I’m not asking you to be stripped of your role as a princess, I would never do that.” He knew how important it was for her, how seriously she took it. “But there is a way for you to stay without compromising your position.”

“And what miraculous solution would that be?”

Adrian took a deep breath and gathered all his courage. He needed to say it now, while he was still feeling bold. “That you marry me.”

Mihaela froze in place, it was her turn to be out of words.

She had been asked in marriage before. Twice.

She was but a child when King Matthias first tried to strengthen his rule through her Árpád blood. A Romanian ruler on the throne of Hungary needed to take precautions, but Carmilla refused to betroth her infant cousin to a man ten years her senior. His second attempt came not even a year ago, and it felt more like an ultimatum: give me the princess if you want me to fight the Ottomans. On the occasion, Mihaela herself wrote back to the king to say both him and his army were no longer needed.

Matthias’ proposals were, of course, made for the sake of his own politics. He did not love Mihaela, he didn’t even know what she looked like, but he knew taking her as his queen would add some legitimacy to his rule, especially if she could push out a handful of heirs. Adrian’s proposal, on the other hand, came from the deepest desire of his soul. Her bloodline mattered very little to him, though he knew the implications of the union between the heirs of two vampire kingdoms might bring about.

“Mihaela, are you still here?” Adrian took her long silence as a bad sign, perhaps marriage was not something she was fond of.

“I am, I’m just… you surprised me with that one.” She blinked a few times, still astonished. “Where did that come from?”

“From my undying love and desire to be with you.”

“You know I feel the same, but marriage is a permanent bond and a very serious commitment, Adrian, especially to people like us.”

“I am aware of all the details, of what implicates, and still my suggestion – no – my proposal, stands. I want to marry you, and whatever duties may come with it, I am ready to perform them.” He rose to his feet, bringing her up with him, so very determined to make that woman his wife. “I know there is a proper way to do that, that I should have courted you before bedding you, that I shouldn’t have come here with empty hands, but all I have to offer right now is the certainty that my love for you is everlasting, and I can only hope this will be enough for you to say yes.”

Adrian got into his knee before her, taking her hand on his, looking up to her like a faithful on his goddess’ shrine.

“Mihaela Karnstein, Princess of Styria, will you remain here, as Princess of Wallachia, by giving me the honor of becoming your husband?”

Her heart had already said yes, and though her mind kept telling her that they should wait, to think and discuss the impact such a big decision would have on their lives, she didn’t listen to the voice of reason. Matters of the heart are for the heart to decide, a luxury such a few princesses had, but she was among the lucky ones and wouldn't let her chance of happiness slip through her fingers.

“Yes, Adrian.” Mihaela said the words, sealing their fate forever, trying her hardest not to tear up. “I will take you as my husband, and we shall never part again.”

Mihaela and Adrian, then and now.
Art by pinkedible on twitter

Chapter Text

“And to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with ambiguous alternations – sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church.”
— Carmilla, Sheridan Le Fanu

Styria, 1464

Carmilla had very conflicted thoughts about letting Mihaela marry Alucard.

When she first arrived at Dracula’s war camp, nearly two years ago, she was unsure of what to expect of his son. Of course she knew he would be different from the little girly boy she met when she took Mihaela to Wallachia, still, it was surprising to see that such a delicate man could also be a fierce warrior.

Not just a fierce warrior, but the best among them, second only to Dracula himself.

Perhaps that’s what Mihaela liked about the prince. As an enjoyer of both sexes, it made sense for her to be attracted to someone like him, the near perfect amalgamation of male and female traits. But attraction alone is not enough of a reason for two people to get married. Carmilla struggled to understand why they were so anxious to tie the knot. She knew they weren’t puritans to believe sex couldn’t be done out of wedlock, far from it actually: not only the queen could smell the boy’s scent all over Mihaela every evening when they woke up, but she was also quite certain Alucard had deflowered the princess the night after the prom.

Eagerness to consummate their carnal desires out of the picture, one could assume Mihaela was interested in her fiancee’s titles. It would add to her status, of course, being Dracula’s daughter-in-law, but anyone who was acquainted with the princess knew better than to think she would marry only for that reason. The third option, though, was the hardest for Carmilla to believe.

I love him , was Mihaela’s argument whenever Carmilla confronted her. But I don’t love him, was Carmilla’s retort to her grandfather when she was still just a countess and had Mihaela’s – apparent – age. What has love to do with marriage? A woman should know better , was the man’s answer, too busy educating his younger grandson to care about his eldest granddaughter’s happiness and well-being, handing her off to marry the old fool who ruled the land. Both her husband and grandfather were gone now, both slayed by her hand, yet, it was hard for her to forget, and even harder not to fear for Mihaela when the girl was running into something she spent a decade making sure the princess would never have to do.

Carmilla knew Alucard was not like the old king she was handed to like a mare, he would never be cruel to Mihaela, but they were young and the love they claimed to feel for each other was likely to fade away, and eventually, they would find themselves trapped in a loveless marriage that would never be undone. That was what she feared about the union, the prospect of her girl enduring such fate.

But Dracula had already said yes, and his word was law, and as the engagement got closer to reaching a year since the announcement, it was clear the marriage would happen whether Carmilla liked it or not.

And she couldn’t even steal Mihaela away for five minutes without finding Alucard glued to the princess’ side.

When the engagement was established, it was agreed that Mihaela would spend six months in Wallachia, and Adrian, six months in Styria. It was reasonable, Carmilla had to admit, to make the couple experience how tiring it can be to remain 24/7 in each other's company, to make them reflect if they really wanted to get married or if being lovers would suffice. Yet eleven months passed by and they remained irreducible, the wedding was coming and they couldn’t shut up about it for a second.

Mihaela was ahead of herself with the wedding dress, assembling her own styling team by summoning seamstresses from different corners of the known world in order to combine the perfection of the Turkish fabrics with the good taste and refinement of the Germanic courts. Alucard was not so far off, vain as he was, he brought people all the way from France to work on his clothes.

And the couple was not alone on their uproar, the whole castle seemed to share their eagerness. Noble Styrian vampires came to court nightly to take a look at their prince and congratulate the upcoming union, hoping their flattery could get them an invitation to the wedding. They were adulating the wrong people though, it was Lenore, in an unlikely partnership built over letters with Lisa Tepes, the one responsible for the ceremony and the guest-list. All the while, Striga trained the guards responsible for keeping the castle safe once the Council of Sisters takes the road to Wallachia next month, and Morana worked on the prenuptial contract, revising all the little details and requirements.

As for Carmilla, all she did was wait, resigned and with a heavy heart, as she once waited for her own wedding. Though she understood Mihaela’s situation was entirely different from her own, the queen couldn’t help but fear to give her daughter to a man who’d take her away, for as decent as he appeared to be.

On that night in particular, she waited for her sisters in the Council room, leafing through the ten paged prenuptial contract. Morana finished it the night before and now the four of them were to analyze it with the Princess. If approved by the Council, it would be the turn for Dracula and Alucard to read and sign it, if father and son both agreed with the terms presented.

And they were likely to, since there weren’t any unusual clauses.

Mihaela was to be anointed as Princess of Wallachia, acknowledged by the vampire community as their third in command, and her new husband was expected to pay monthly allowance in order to maintain her current lifestyle. As for Alucard, he would be given Mihaela’s birth title and become the Count of Karnstein. The princely title would be but a courtesy – very much like Carmilla’s Sisters being called queens even though they were not –, he was to be the consort Prince of Styria only in the event of Carmilla’s death and Mihaela’s ascension to the throne.

There was also a clause for possible heirs. Though Mihaela was categorical when she said no child would come into this world through her, one can never be so sure, and Morana decided it was for the best to take precautions, writing down a small paragraph ensuring the future of the hypothetical children. It was weird to think of those nonexistent kids, since Mihaela was still one in their eyes. 

“Did you start without us?” the said kid came through the door and Carmilla snapped out of her concentration trance.

“Good evening to you too, princess .” Carmilla dropped the document on the table in front of her, standing her hand to Mihaela.

The dhampir sighed, but proceeded as expected and bowed to the queen, taking the woman’s hand and kissing her ring. “Evening, my queen. Forgive me for this poor behavior.”

Carmilla chuckled, gesturing for Mihaela to sit close to her. Within a month, her girl would rise a step above her on the vampire aristocracy, it was only fair she could boss her around for the time being.

“What is this on your neck, my girl?” Carmilla’s gaze lingered on the big cameo pendant pressed against Mihaela’s throat, a jewel so different from the ones she used to wear. “Did he put a leash on you?”

Mihaela rolled her eyes. “You are so funny, Carmilla. Now I know why we never had a court’s fool, you are amusing enough.”

A bulging vein appeared on Carmilla’s forehead and she clawed on her palms, fighting the urge to slap Mihaela across the face as she would have when the girl was still a child… as her husband and grandfather used to when she dared to talk back at them.

“But answering your question...” Mihaela continued before the queen could retort, realizing she might have gone a little too far on her provocation. “This is his wedding gift for me, a carving of Svipdag and Mengloth, a couple from the stories we read together when we were kids.”

Carmilla frowned. “This is so...”

“Romantic.”

“Thoughtful”

“Cute!”

Morana, Striga and Lenore said respectively as they entered the room, not bothering to hide the fact that they were listening behind the door.

“Let’s hope he remains romantic, thoughtful and cute after the wedding.”

“That’s precisely why we forged a contract, Carmilla, to ensure he will.” Morana argued, taking her seat beside the queen.

“Though I doubt he needs one.” Striga added. “Anyone can tell he has good intentions with Mihaela.”

“It is the durability of said intentions that worries me.”

“I don’t know why you have so little faith in Adrian, Carmilla.” The princess said. “He has proven countless times to be committed and trustworthy.”

“It is not him that I mistrust, Mihaela, but men in general. They think with their cocks.”

“Well, I don’t trust men either, but I do trust Alucard.” Lenore defended the prince. She did believe him to be a man of his word, but above all, she trusted her girl’s judgment of the person she chose to marry. “I wouldn’t support this union if I didn’t.”

Mihaela smashed a kiss on Lenore’s cheek, grateful for the vampire’s endless support, and the Council moved on reading the contract, sealing the princess’ fate forever.

A month or so later, Mihaela walked down the aisle, so beautiful in her red dress, her smile shining brighter than the expensive jewelry she wore, an arm linked with Dracula’s as the man escorted her like he was her father. In order not to ruin the couple’s day, Carmilla tried to put aside her caveats regarding the institution of marriage and think of how she would benefit from that union: there was now a permanent bond between Styria and Wallachia, an alliance forged by Mihaela unintentionally, but one that improved the status of their already prosperous kingdom and strengthened their position on the vampire aristocracy.

In an odd, controversial way, she was proud of her girl.

But Carmilla kept the feeling to herself, not wanting to bust Mihaela’s ego, but most of all, unable to approach the princess in that regard, prevented by the wall built in between them during the girl’s childhood. Perhaps, one day in the future, they would tear down that wall and the queen would be able to tell her that, and so many other things.

One day. Just not yet.

{…}

Styria, 1467

Traveling from Wallachia to Styria has worn out Mihaela like never before. Her visits happened yearly and that was the third time since the wedding that she took the road, more than used to traveling long distances now, and looking forward to seeing her family again. And it was a welcome change of air. Although the center of the vampire world, Wallachia lacked the western sophistication of Styria’s court, and it was becoming rather empty with Dracula’s constant travels and Lisa’s absence to tend to the people of Lupu.

Maybe that loneliness was the reason for her to be so down lately. Adrian noticed how lazy and discouraged Mihaela has become the past few days, spending more time asleep or just laying on their bed instead of occupying herself with her daily tasks, studies or hobbies, which was very unlike her. He thought it would be good for her to anticipate the trip this year, but of course he wouldn’t let her go alone in such a bad mood, so he packed their stuff and left the castle to be guarded by his father’s loyal minions.

But Adrian started to second guess his decision the moment they took the road. Spending a few days inside a carriage proved to be much more tiring for Mihaela than staying home, almost as if she had a fatigue within her now, causing Adrian’s heart to grow heavy with worry.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to face a feast full of annoying nobles?” He asked, holding her on his lap as she finished braiding two locks of his hair and tying them on the back of his head in a half bun. “Maybe you should let mother take a look at you when we return...”

“Don’t be absurd. I am a dhampir, I can’t get sick.”

“I won’t discard the possibility, Mihaela. Every dhampir is built differently and it isn’t normal for you to be this tired.”

The princess sighed. She knew her husband was right, yet the prospect of actually being ill was both scaring and outraging, after all, her father’s blood was supposed to keep her from suffering such mundane hardships. “I know, my love, I know this is unusual, but I can assure you I don’t feel sick, it really is just tiredness.” She brushed her thumb over his face, gently caressing his cheek. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll ask Lisa to check up on me as soon as we get home.”

“Promise?”

Mihaela melted at his protective behavior, unable to resist the urge to place a sweet kiss on his lips. “I promise.” She got up from his lap and he followed the lead, standing in front of the mirror close to the bed.

Adrian smiled at his own reflection. Although not one to style his hair often, he knew how much Mihaela liked to braid his golden locks and never denied her the satisfaction of doing so whenever they had an important event to attend. His clothes were also something to behold, a richly sewn coat of royal blue and gold embroidery patterns, a pair of white pants and black leather boots.

But the image that truly got him in awe was not his, but Mihaela’s. His wife wore a dress of the color of peaches on the skirts, and sleeves of champagne scales. Her hair was tied up on an elegant braided bun, her crown matching her earrings, and the cameo he gifted her wrapped around her neck as a choker. His gaze lingered on the distinguished jewel for a while, but it went a little lower to stare at her cleavage, so revealing and tight it made her breasts look bigger than they really were.

“Beautiful.” He hugged her from behind, still staring at her image reflected on the mirror, bewitched, giving into his desire to touch her more intimately by squeezing her breasts and leaving a trail of kisses on her neck.

She whined, so tempted to let him continue, yet not wanting to waste the time she spent getting ready for the party. “You can defile me all you want, after the feast.”

Adrian grunted, giving a final kiss on her neck before letting go of her, immediately shifting back to his gentleman persona and offering his arm to escort her to the ballroom.

It was like entering an entirely different world. Adrian noticed Mihaela’s mood improving the moment the herald announced their arrival and they stepped foot on that sea of fancy gowns. The fatigue didn’t necessarily fade away, but the princess chose to ignore her chronic tiredness and enjoy the environment in which her star shines brighter.

She was in her element in that room filled with nobles from all across Styria who came to court yearly just to see their princess, even more so after the news about the prince coming along had spread, attracting vampires from neighbor nations to pay a visit, hoping to strengthen their ties with Dracula’s household. Mihaela was fond of humoring them, to engage in conversations that went from shallow subjects such as speculating who the queen’s new mistress might be, to more important and vital matters like securing the border. She liked to watch their heated debates to prove themselves smart in front of her, she relished the way they fought over her attention and begged for the single chance they had to dance with her, since all the other dances belonged to her husband.

That night, the chosen one was Marquis Honza of Maribor¹. Human, middle aged, strands of white all over his brown hair and not a very distinguished appearance, but Mihaela had a keen sense of smell for business and she knew the man had something important to discuss, so she kindly accepted when he asked for a dance. His offer was good and his terms were simple, there was much to gain from both sides of the bargain, and she set all the terms during the few minutes they were spinning around the dance floor. A politician through and through.

“I’ll discuss the matter with the queen, you shall have your answer by the morning.” It concerned Styria, therefore, Carmilla had the final word.

“Thank you, your highness.” The man politely kissed her hand and bowed before excusing himself off.

The song playing on the bards’ lutes’ changed and Mihaela looked around searching for Adrian, only to find him already dancing with Lenore. Her heart grew warm and she smiled fondly at the scene, deciding to let them catch up for the time being and heading towards the main table placed on the higher part of the room.

Carmilla was sitting by the table in all her royal glory, the paleness of her skin and hair creating a beautiful contrast with all the red she wore, from her dress to her nail polish and the rubies on her crown. The stained glass on the window behind her made the simple chair she sat look like a throne, and the moonlight coming through made her glow like a winter goddess. The unearthly beauty was both fascinating and scary to Mihaela, in a way that had her wondering if she’d ever look that ethereal.

The princess approached her cousin, noticing a petite, recently bloomed blond girl full of bite marks on her neck sitting close to her. Perhaps the gossip of a new mistress was more than just a rumor. “Your majesty.” Mihaela greeted, clearing her throat as a sign for the girl to leave.

Carmilla waved her hand dismissing the girl, who bowed to Mihaela before leaving the duo alone. “Princess Mihaela, it took you long enough to come and greet your kin.”

“I was busy.” She apologized, sitting on the chair once occupied by the blond girl.

“I can see that. You look… dejected.” The queen observed, Mihaela was good at hiding things from the public eye, but never from her family. “What happened, my girl? Is Dracula Junior mistreating you?”

“What? No, of course not, he’s been nothing but sweet to me. I’m just… tired, I guess.” Mihaela sighed, truth be told, she was starting to guess the reason behind her continuous indisposition, and she did not like it in the slightest. “But leave it be, it’ll pass sooner or later, we have more important things to discuss.”

“Such as?”

“Marquis Honza wants to transfer his lands to our jurisdiction.”

“And what’s the catch? Never in my four hundred years of life have I seen a man so eager to be ruled by women.”

“The catch is that he has no male heirs and the current law of the land does not allow women to inherit, yet he insists his daughter to own his lands after his death, preferably without having to deal with male relatives who are likely to usurp her.” Mihaela explained. “Maribor isn’t under the rule of any official king ever since the Ottomans invaded their country, which makes it easier for us to annex Honza’s lands without having to worry about a neighbor ruler’s retaliation. The Turks...”

“Won’t dare to attack us either. Styria is married to Wallachia, and Wallachia has humiliated them and their mighty cannons in the battlefield.” Carmilla finished the sentence for her, the hint of a satisfied smile showing on her lips. “And what did you suggest to formalize this bond? A marriage proposal, I suppose.”

“Yes, Honza intends to find his daughter a husband, though I said they must be ready to accept that it might be a wife instead. Most of us here are vampires after all, gender is irrelevant when it comes to these arrangements.”

“And he accepted?”

“Yes, especially after my suggestion that this hypothetical wife might be the queen...”

“What?” Carmilla gasped a little too loud, ready to throw etiquette through the window and give Mihaela the ass whooping of her life right there and then. “Have you lost your mind?”

The dhampir burst into laughter, giggling at the queen’s reaction and grabbing her hand over the table. “I’m joking, Carmilla. I would never do that to you.”

The vampire clicked her tongue, scratching Mihaela’s fingers, not nearly enough to hurt, but the right amount to be felt. “I swear you have a thing for testing my patience, just like your prick of a father.” She took a sip of wine to recover from the princess’ mischievous behavior. “But do tell, did he accept?”

“He would rather marry her off to a human man in order to continue the line, no doubt, but he’s willing to accept a daughter-in-law if that’s the only option. We should talk to Morana about it, she’s a good matchmaker.”

“Indeed she is.” Carmilla agreed. “It just took you a single dance to gain us a fair share of fertile land… are you possessed by Lenore or something?”

Mihaela shrugged, smiling shyly over the praise. “It’s no big deal. Honza came to me with the proposal, he knew he’d have to accept the terms in order for us to take his holdings under our wing.”

“Still, you paid great service to your country, my girl. I’m proud of you.”

The sentence hit Mihaela like lightning with an overwhelming need to cry. She bit her own tongue to fight that urge, prostrating her eyes on the table to prevent Carmilla from noticing how watery they got, however, the urge grew stronger when her gaze fell on their overlapping hands instead of the embroidery patterns on the tablecloth. Carmilla had flipped their hands’ positions and now hers was over Mihaela’s, no longer scratching it, but brushing her fingertips against the princess’ on a soft caressing.

Perhaps Carmilla felt how much Mihaela needed to be comforted, or maybe it was her own desire to be close to her girl in ways she usually felt discouraged to. Either way, she would never know Mihaela was just emotional. The princess’ inner child, always so desperate to get Carmilla’s attention, was at last satisfied – dare she say, happy.

One is bound to relish their parents' affection, despite their differences.

“Thank you, my queen.” She kissed her cousin’s ring, rising from her seat with the excuse of going back to the dance floor.

The song Adrian danced with Lenore to was long finished and he awaited for his wife in a corner of the room, ready to guide her through yet another dance or back to their chambers had exhaustion taken hold of her again. What he wasn’t ready for though, was to see her on the verge of tears, her hazel eyes glowing closer to a shade of green rather than its usual brown, such a beautiful effect to observe when caused by the sunlight, but heartbreaking if sorrow was to blame.

“My love, what’s wrong?” Adrian asked softly, whispering, wrapping his arms around her waist to emulate an actual dance, aware of how much she hated when other people perceived her personal issues.

“I was talking to Carmilla.”

That alone was enough of an explanation , Adrian always thought Carmilla to be unnecessarily harsh on Mihaela. “Did she say something to upset you?”

“No at all… I think she actually likes me.”

The prince arched his brow. “That’s… unexpected. But shouldn’t you be happy about it?”

“I am happy, Adrian, I’m just… sensitive lately. I don’t know what’s got into me.”

He pressed his lips on her forehead and tightened his hold around her waist, a faint smile dancing upon his saddened expression. He tried not to pity his wife, but for a person with an upbringing such as his, in which both his parents were affectionate and quite vocal regarding their love for their child, seeing someone he held so dear lacking it was quite depressing. Mihaela deserved more than crumbles of Carmilla’s attention, and effortlessly, not as reward for being her perfect little princess.

“Do you want to return to our chambers? I think you had enough of partying for one day.” He offered, slowly cradling her to the song’s rhythm.

“In a moment.” Mihaela answered, rubbing the tears away before they could fall. “Let’s finish this one dance, shall we? I like this song.”

From afar, Carmilla watched the prince and princess holding each other close, dancing to a song about the couple from that one corny norse myth they liked. The queen couldn’t properly listen to what they were saying, but it wasn’t necessary, Alucard was clearly soothing Mihaela about something that disturbed her.

In a way, it was comforting. Carmilla worried about plenty of things throughout her reign, but the princess’ marriage was no longer one of them, the weight on her dead heart was at last eased knowing that Mihaela would never have to face the abuse and the violence from a man who wanted her merely by her good looks and blue blood. Alucard was a good man and an even better husband, one that would love her girl until his dying breath and protect her with his life.

Carmilla wasn’t nearly selfless enough to sacrifice herself for Mihaela, but she was glad somebody else was.

{…}

Styria, 1476

It is said death comes to people in different shapes and forms. To Carmilla, it came as a forge master trying to avenge his former, dead lord.

It did not come as a surprise though. Mihaela warned them about the attack, the princess did what she could to prepare her beloved country for the upcoming danger, promising to send a contingent of men to join their army’s ranks and strengthen their defenses as soon as possible. But the aid never came, at least not before Carmilla turned to dust and took an entire wing of the castle to hell with her.

In a way, she was to blame.

She did not regret having conspired against Dracula, he was mad with grief and his hatred towards humanity would eventually lead to the extinction of the vampire race, but now she wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to inform Mihaela about her plans. Her girl would never consent to betray and usurp the old man, of course not, but perhaps she could’ve been the one to persuade him to take a less radical path. Carmilla managed to convince the princess to talk Dracula into moving the castle to Braila, so why not change the war’s direction too?

If that was the case, maybe the army of Wallachia would still be whole and Mihaela wouldn’t have to wait for a foreign ruler’s good will to respond her plea for help, she would have send her own men, Romanians, loyal to her through her marital ties, ready to fight and die at her command. But the majority of said men died in Braila, defending the Dracula’ castle from the very attack ordered by Carmilla, and their absence prevented Mihaela from acting quickly.

But wondering what could have been done differently wouldn’t change the past, nor the present, she realized that the moment Isaac’s creatures raided the castle. There were too many of them, and half of the Styrian army was out with Striga and Morana, patrolling and recognizing the lands the queen intended to annex. Perhaps, if she wasn’t so greedy, she could have kept the territory she already possessed.

But there she was, alone, crying tears of blood, standing on a sea of corpses of both enemies and allies, facing Isaac and his creatures with nothing but the strength given to her through the hardships that comes with being a woman in a position of power, the endurance of vampirism and a sharp blade. That blade was the end of so many that night, but now, pressed against her heart by her own hands, would be her end as well, she would finish it all before Isaac could.

Because she was a queen, and no man would ever have the satisfaction of killing her. They did not deserve her blood. She would go out on her terms, by her own decision.

“When my daughter sends you to hell, I’ll be there waiting for you, with a sharp bloody stick and a determination to find out if you can die twice.” She couldn’t know for sure if Mihaela would avenge her or not, but she hoped so, she desperately wanted to believe her family, her blood, would reclaim the throne that was rightfully hers and return the Karnstein name to its former glory, to the place where it belonged.

Her girl was her legacy, and through her she would prevail, forever.

“I am Carmilla of Styria and fuck you. I win.”

...

Carmilla and Mihaela during the ball. Art by @punkedible on twitter

Chapter Text

“She would live forever, as I would live forever. But wasn’t it so for mortal parents? Their daughters live forever because these parents die first.”
— Interview With The Vampire, Anne Rice

Styria, 1453

Lenore sat close to the fireplace, holding the bundle of blankets and the baby wrapped inside of it tightly against her chest. It wasn’t so cold that time of the year, the flowers of spring were at the full of their bloom and summer was near, but she heard newborn babies often feel colder than most because they miss the warmth of their mothers’ wombs, and she wanted to provide as much warmth as possible for the little girl.

Lenore knew it was never going to equal what Mihaela truly yearned for, which was the comfort of her human mother’s skin, but it would have to suffice, since lady Catherine was being buried at the hill behind the castle that very moment, taking to the grave with her a box with the ashes of her lover. It was only symbolic, a place for Mihaela to visit when she’s old enough to understand who those people were and honor their memory. The burial itself, the rite for closure, was not a moment for the orphaned child, but for Carmilla.

The queen wasn’t close to Lady Catherine, in fact, she tried to avoid her during the little time the girl lived in the castle with Moritz, it was difficult to ignore that Catherine shared a last name with Carmilla’s late husband¹. Carmilla never spoke of her discomfort regarding Catherine’s ancestry, of course, but Lenore noticed, the same as she noticed how much Moritz’s death was affecting the sovereign.

Why else would she collect his ashes herself? Why else would she have the trouble of giving a proper burial for a girl she barely knew, just because Moritz loved said girl? Why else would she even bother to take their child under the protection of the crown? Carmilla mourned quietly, but her actions spoke volumes, and Lenore knew her queen like the back of her hand. And knowing her, she was certain there would be a lot to discuss after the funeral.

But in the meanwhile, Lenore waited, not bored at all, enjoying the feather-like weight of the little angel in her arms, studying her cherub features now that the nanny had finally managed to calm her down and returned her to the vampire, peacefully asleep. It was hard to tell in newborns, but if she had to guess, Lenore would say the baby was going to take after her mother, the small tufts of honey hair were likely to turn darker with time, as would the traces of green in her eyes. A Karnstein in name and blood, but an Árpád through and through.

“Ah, Lenore, you’re already here. Good.” Carmilla entered the room with Morana and Striga, taking her out of her contemplation and pushing her back to reality. “...And the little brat too, I see.”

There was not a hint of disdain in her voice, it was a mere observation. Truth be told, she still didn’t know how to feel about her new cousin, and the uncertainty was likely to linger for a while.

“Now don’t say those things about my little angel.” Lenore argued, her tone so low and sweet as if she was speaking to the sleeping baby and not Carmilla.

Morana arched her brow, noticing the possessive pronoun Lenore chose to refer to Mihaela. “I’m sure the maids don’t share your thoughts about the little dhampir, an angel wouldn’t cry so loud and for so long as she did.”

“Well that’s their problem.” Lenore shrugged, the unpleasant parts of taking care of the child were to be handled by the servants, not her.

Striga chuckled, approaching the duo to take a better look at the baby, running her index through the round little face. “She probably just misses her mother, it was a brutal separation after all.”

Brutal indeed. A girl of nineteen, bleeding her way out of this world after birthing a daughter who was too much for her human body to endure; and a centenary vampire, eaten from the inside out by the pain of losing his lover, choosing to follow her in death. An act of love and devotion from his part, most would say, but Lenore thought differently.

Moritz Karnstein acted like a coward. His heart was shattered, that much was understandable, but Catherine couldn’t possibly be the only reason for him to live. If he loved her that much, he would have honored her memory by staying alive and taking care of their daughter, the product of their love, the little miracle she fought so valiantly to deliver. He should have stayed, for Catherine, of course, but for Mihaela too, the girl deserved her father’s effort.

“She will recover soon enough, we’ll provide everything she needs.” Lenore answered, both her own thoughts and Striga’s statement.

“That’s precisely why we’re here so shortly after Count Moritz’s death, we must discuss his daughter’s future.” Morana points, and all eyes turn to Carmilla. “What are your instructions, my queen? Will the Karnstein holdings return to the crown or pass on to the Count’s offspring?”

Carmilla hesitated for half a second. There was a time in which her main goal was to be acknowledged as Countess Karnstein, a title that should have been hers as her grandfather’s eldest descendant, yet she was denied it because of her sex. But that ambition was trivial now, she became far more important than any noble in the country the day she killed her husband the Duke and declared herself queen of the now independent kingdom of Styria. Her family’s lands would be but a mere consolation prize, one she no longer desired.

“The girl will be given her father’s titles and possessions.” The queen declared after a moment of silence. “It’s only fair.”

“Very well.” Morana nodded. “I’ll ready the documents to make it official, and order the rebuilding of the Karnstein Schloss right away. There is, however, the matter of who will be in charge of the girl. We must discuss carefully about her servants and tutors, preferably people we already trust since we won’t be around to supervise...”

“That won’t be necessary.” Carmilla didn’t let her finish the sentence. “Don’t bother about the Schloss, she won’t be living there.”

“She won’t?” Lenore asked, a little too hopeful, clinging to the infant in her arms.

Carmilla chuckled. “That’s right, Lenore. Rejoice, you’ll get to play house for a long while, the girl you hold is now Princess of Styria, the heir to my throne.”

An unison gasp was shared between the three other women. Never in a million years did they imagine Carmilla would even consider naming a successor: a strong vampire such as herself, likely to live forever, had no need for heirs. What was the point, then? Hardly benevolence and consideration for her kin alone.

“May I ask why?” Morana was the one to pose the question.

“Dracula has a son.” Carmilla said as if it explained it all. “A dhampir, just like Mihaela. He’s raising the boy as a prince, even urged his subjects to extend their oaths to the kid. Now I ask of you, does our lord seem the type to raise a child just because he was the one to breed its mother? I don’t think so, he must have realized the advantages of having a vampire who can face sunlight at reach.”

“And you want us to have this advantage as well.” Striga guessed.

“Precisely. And don’t forget, Lady Catherine shared a common ancestor and a last name with my late husband. If ever comes the day for my rule to be questioned, Mihaela will serve as a symbol of legitimacy.”

Well played , so well played Lenore almost felt sorry for the baby. She never fed any fantasies about Carmilla keeping the child out of the kindness of her heart, still, reducing Mihaela to a mere tool to the maintenance of the kingdom seemed rather cold, something men and humans in general would do… and they were supposed to be the superior species, the superior sex.

“If that’s your decision, let me be the one in charge of her.” Lenore required, not at all surprising her Sisters with her desire to stay close to the baby, but with the willingness to trouble herself with a task so demanding as the education of a child. “I don’t think a princess should be looked after by governesses and kept distant from her family, that’s the way humans raise their royal children, free of bonds, but it cannot be ours. We are better than they are, so we must do better.”

“If you insist, be my guest. You’ll be sparing me a lot of work.”

Carmilla didn’t say what kind of work, but it was clear she meant being the girl’s mother. Hiring wet nurses to feed her; finding trustworthy servants to bathe, clean and pamper her; selecting the right teachers as she gets older; supervising her development. The queen might despise that line of work, but Lenore yearned for it, and the bond it would forge between her and the little thing who melted her dead heart simply by being born, and she had every intent on doing her very best on her new job.

For as difficult as it would be, especially when combined with her already demanding role in the council of Sisters, Lenore was not going to take it lightly. Because Mihaela was of the queen’s blood and heir to her throne, because she was of an ancestry that could be of vital importance for the stability of the kingdom in the future to come, because her very existence was a rare occurrence and they would never find another one like her. All of those things, of course, but also because she was a child, deserving of the comforts her dead mother could no longer provide her with, and Lenore thought her worthy of the effort.

{…}

1457

Time has never bothered Lenore before. Not when she was human, for she was turned so young and fresh, before the slightest expression line could even show on her face, and definitely not in her life as a vampire, for it gifted her with endless days to be spent to her liking and eternal youth. But everything changed after Mihaela was born.

Three years passed by in the blink of an eye. The vampire would have felt the ruthlessness of time even if her girl aged normally, but the fact that she didn't was scaring Lenore to death. Within a month, Mihaela would be four, but the little dhampir already looked and thought and behaved like a seven year old, a very ahead of her years one, with a sharp mind and an ease to learn new languages.

The princess’ growth spurt started when she was only a few months old, the day she bit on her wet nurse’s breast attempting to suck blood instead of milk. Needless to say, the woman fled after the incident, and every other electable woman refused the job, forcing Lenore to give in and start to feed Mihaela with bottles of fresh blood, dooming her sweet baby to develop faster than any child should, a race to reach the proper age and body type to accommodate the powers and peculiarities of vampirism. At that pace, she would be an adult before she was twelve, and they couldn’t be sure if she’d stop aging at that point.

Lenore’s heart couldn’t find rest at the thought Mihaela might live a short life. She considered taking the girl to a physician and put an end to that anguish, but she didn’t want to scare the princess, besides, there was only one person in the whole world qualified enough to take a look at their girl and tell them for sure how long she was expected to live.

“I’m taking her to Dracula.” Carmilla decided without consulting any of her Sisters. The queen was worried, of course, she was not that cold, but also, she had been dying for an excuse to venture her lord’s castle and see for herself what was so interesting about the woman who made him submit to the simplicity of a domestic life. She was going to kill two birds with one stone. “We’ve been exchanging letters, he’s aware of the situation and wants to observe her up close… not to mention his uncharacteristic joyfulness at the prospect of finding a playdate for his son.”

The news about the upcoming trip got Mihaela over the moon, so happy about traveling for the first time, off to finally meet someone her age, and much better, her own species. She took it all as a diplomatic visit, sitting down in the library with Striga² at any given chance to improve her already impressive romanian, and her eagerness was a relief, since no one had the heart to tell her the trip wasn’t just diplomatic. But it was better that way, she needn’t know they were worried about her lifespan.

But the princess’ eagerness about seeing a new castle and making a new friend did not stop her from throwing a tantrum the moment she was told Lenore wasn’t gonna join her on the road, causing her to ignore all the lessons she had with Morana about behaving properly and just cling to Lenore’s skirts, crying and begging her to come along.

“I cannot go, my girl, it’ll be only you and Carmilla on this journey.” Lenore petted the child’s head, trying her hardest not to cry at the sight of the sad pout. “But I’ll be right here waiting for you to return, my sweet, we’ll be together again before you know.”

Lenore held back her tears of blood until Carmilla came to collect Mihaela and entered the carriage. The vampire stood there at the gates of the castle, watching the royal entourage disappear into the dead of night, weeping silently until she couldn’t see them anymore. When she returned to her chambers, her dress was tainted with red as if she just came back from a hunt.

And if three years went by like the wind, fifteen days couldn’t go any slower.

That period of separation, though short, was marked by longing and agony, a sickening worry over what Dracula would conclude about Mihaela’s condition. Lenore couldn’t do much about it but hope for the best and bury herself in work while waiting, spending her nights in endless court sessions presided by Morana and responding to letters from Styrian nobles and other regional vampire lords, aiming to make the days pass faster.

She did not know for sure how long the trip would take, fifteen days was just a prediction, so when the guards announced a day earlier than expected that the entourage could already be seen from the sentry tower, Lenore dropped all the papers she’d been working on and ran to the castle’s gates.

She threw etiquette out of the window and ducked to welcome Mihaela in her arms before acknowledging Carmilla’s presence or bothering to bow, nesting the girl in a tight hug, savoring the privilege of still being able to carry her around, aware that it wouldn’t be possible for much longer considering the way she grew taller night after night. “My dearest girl, how I missed you!”

Mihaela responded with childish affection, showering Lenore’s cheeks with a dozen little kisses, a careless behavior the girl only ever performed around her dear guardian. “Look what I got!” She enthusiastically showed her new friend, a stuffed wolf of white and gray she held so carefully as if the toy was an actual living pet.

“Oh, how cute. What’s their name, my girl?”

“It’s Mr. Fenrir! Prince Adrian gave it to me before I left.”

Lenore carried the princess back inside, listening with devoted attention while she talked about the time she spent in Dracula’s castle, from her newfound affection and friendship with his son to the boarding games they played together. Before completely indulging the girl’s conversation and ignoring the whole world around them, the vampire spared a second to look behind, her eyes searching for Carmilla.

There were times in which they didn't need words to understand each other, especially when regarding the princess. That was one of those times. Carmilla would explain it all later: that Mihaela was developing like any dhampir would, that she would stop aging as soon as her body and mind matured into one of a twenty-five year old woman – likely to occur when the girl turned twelve or thirteen – and that she was expected to live as long as they would, perhaps even longer , given her ability to transit both worlds and extract the very best of them. But at that moment, knowing all of those things wasn’t really necessary, Carmilla’s gelid eyes gave away what she wanted to know: their girl would be alright, and that was all that mattered.

{…}

1465

Lenore smelled into the fabric of the dress like an addicted smells and drinks opium, hoping to catch the lingering scent of her girl on those clothes. It was all she left behind: two dresses, a nightdress, a riding coat and a pair of shoes. The rest of her extensive wardrobe was gone, along with all of her jewels, taken to Wallachia, her new home .

It wasn’t that she resented the union, far from it actually, Lenore was the most supportive of Mihaela and Alucard’s marriage, it would be a sacrilege to stay in between a love like theirs, so strong and rare. All she wanted was for Mihaela to be happy, but she couldn’t avoid the heartache caused by her girl’s absence. But that was the way of things, she supposed, daughters only belong to their parents until their husbands come to claim them. 

It was bound to happen someday, either it was a husband, a wife or something else entirely, the raven would eventually fly away from her nest.

“Now that’s a likely place to find you.” The noise of Carmilla’s heels announced her presence before her voice could.

“And unlikely to find you .” Lenore retorts, hugging the dress against her chest, not at all in the mood to handle mockery. “What do you want?”

“Do I need an excuse to walk around my castle?”

“No, but it’s been a century since you last came into this room.”

The queen chuckled, lying on the bed right beside the spot Lenore was seated. That room was hers before it was Mihaela’s, back in the days when she was just the duke’s wife, less than a consort, for her pathetic husband was just a dog kept on the leash of his older brother the King of Hungary, when the Árpáds were still a thing. In those days, it amused her to make a cuckold of the old fool on that very bed, with as many women as possible, Lenore included.

“Why mention it? Do you, perhaps, miss the time we spent together here?”

Lenore laughed faintly, putting aside the dress and laying next to Carmilla. There were good times, she would never deny such: not only Carmilla was exceptional at pleasing her women, there was the bonus of humiliating a man who was a terrible ruler and an even worse husband. The appeal partly died out when Carmilla killed him, and their intimate encounters became less frequent with the passing of time until it faded away completely, save for one or two occasions in which they both had their fair share of wine.

“But answering your question,” Carmilla continued. “I think I might have come here for the same reason as you… I miss her.”

Lenore was not so surprised that Carmilla missed Mihaela, she was well aware the queen learned to love the princess in her own way, especially after the girl left behind childish manners and blossomed into adulthood. What truly caught her out of guard was the visceral reaction to appease the longing, to come into Mihaela’s room to lay on her bed and smell her scent on the sheets that didn’t seem like something Carmilla would do… it was humane, almost motherly.

“We all do, to some extent.” Lenore answered, unsure if Carmilla’s soft spot for Mihaela should be addressed, for the queen would certainly deny it.

“True, but I imagine it’s a lot harder on you than on any of us. You’ve been a mother to her all these years.”

“If that’s the case, then you’re the father.”

The pair burst into laughter at the joke, though it was, somehow, the truth. All those years, Lenore played the part of the caring and loving mother, while Carmilla acted like the severe, demanding, emotionally distant father, one that came to repent his behavior as the daughter grew older, yet unable to change. It frustrated Lenore sometimes, she knew how much those two yearned for each other’s attention, but it was not her place to intervene, they would have to figure something out on their own, besides, although selfish, it felt good to be the favorite parent.

“It seems like I’m about to be supplanted, then.” Carmilla frowned. “You saw the way the old man cares for her, even walked her down the aisle.”

It should’ve been me goes unsaid.

“I was jealous too.” Lenore admitted. Not that she wanted to be the one escorting Mihaela, but the fact that her girl trusted Dracula to that mission instead of someone from her family left a pang of disappointment within them. “But on the other hand, it soothes me. I want her to be loved, not just by Alucard, but by his family too, since they’ll be her family from now on. It would be a sad fate for a young girl like her to be misliked by her in-laws.”

Carmilla chuckled without humor, turning to lay on her side and hug Lenore’s waist. “You are so selfless when it comes to her, Lenore. Perhaps that’s why she always loved you better.”

That, and plenty of other small moments of harshness towards a girl who subconsciously searched for attention, words and gestures that looked unimportant but eventually became an issue through repetition and the lack of apologies. It suited Carmilla to move on and pretend any of those things ever happened, but it did not suit Mihaela, the princess required reparation and genuine regret to start over. But of course, it was only Lenore’s thoughts, thoughts she didn't need to voice and cause even more turmoil inside the queen’s already heavy heart.

It’s too late to mend this, they’ll have to content with the relationship they built over the years. Lenore silenced the inner voice of her head and returned Carmilla’s embrace, comforted by their shared longing for a child they both adored in such different ways, as if they were, indeed, mother and father, forced to accept they no longer were the center of their daughter’s life. “Children often have a favorite parent, doesn’t mean they don’t love the other one.”

If it’s meant to comfort or to reinforce her position as the favored one, Carmilla couldn’t tell, but she decided not to think much of it, enjoying the rare occasion of holding someone so close outside the sexual aspect, someone she trusted enough to voice her thoughts to and be vulnerable around. “I’ll take your word for it, darling.”

{…}

1476

Lenore appeared extremely calm for someone who just lost everything.

Styria has been conquered by a foreign, Carmilla was dead, Striga and Morana never came back from their patrolling, Mihaela was miles away in Wallachia and the Transylvanian army she had promised never arrived, at least not in time. She was left alone, abandoned by everyone, wrapped in a silk gown and drowning in wine inside that pretty cage the forge master made of the old council room.

All she had left was Hector.

Lenore grew fond of him, more than she cared to admit. At first, she was merely manipulating him into raising an army from hell to tend to the queen’s dreams of conquest, then, it became something physical, a shared lust it seemed to be tamed only by each other’s bodies, until it evolved to something else. Whatever it was this something else they had, Lenore couldn’t name it, and although the sentiment was worthy of some dedication, it was far from enough to suffice her will to continue living.

“You can still go to Mihaela.” Hector argued when he realized her suicidal intentions. “If what bothers you is staying here under Isaac’s yoke, staying with me, then go to her, just… please, don’t do this, Lenore.”

The vampire smiled softly, it was hard to believe he still wanted her after everything she did to him. “And do what, Hector? Submit myself to Alucard’s mercy after I kept hidden the plans of overthrowing his father? Don’t forget what the Styrian army did inside the castle behind his back and Mihaela's.”

“She will forgive you.” He insisted. “She’ll protect you, not that it’ll be needed though, I doubt Alucard will ever harm someone she loves so much. She’s queen now, and you are her mother, you’ll have a place of honor in their court.”

The Queen Mother , it would sound a little better if Mihaela was in fact the queen and not the consort. Her girl would exert more power than any other consort in history, she knew that, but still, it was her marital status granting her such power, she did not have the blood of Dracula, therefore, her mother could never be the Queen Mother. Perhaps Catherine would’ve been given the title if she was still alive – since how easy it was for Alucard to break some rules in order to please his wife – but certainly not Lenore, who raised the new queen of vampires, but did not birth her, and in their world, everything comes second to blood ties.

“The life you speak of… it does not suit me.” She was not Wallachian, not by birth, not by blood, not by marriage and definitely not by identification. “What I had here, that suited me. My role, my place, my power. There is no life for me but the one I built with my Sisters, and there’s no place for me but Styria.”

But Styria is no more. Isaac stole it, and eventually, he was going to destroy it in his attempt of remodeling into something of his liking. Most nobles were fleeing, the majority of the vampires went to Wallachia, seeking the protection of the queen, and the humans split, some to the Habsburgs, and a smaller portion to Hungary. There was no doubt the three countries would fight like dogs for what was left of Styria, and the nation was doomed to disappear, for she doubted Isaac would stand his ground for too long, not when three powerful, ancient and proud lines of monarchy came to fight for his prize.

“Isn’t the girl you call your daughter not enough for you to keep on going?” Hector dared not ask if he was not enough, he already knew the answer.

“She’s a woman now.” She does not need me anymore . “And I love her more than I ever thought I could love someone, but…” That alone was not enough. She now felt what Mihaela said the night she buried her daughter: once you’re known as someone’s mother, you’re reduced to the function. That’s how it was like for most women, and in Wallachia, that was all she would have credit for, and she couldn’t live like that. “I’m tired, Hector, and mourning. Carmilla is dead, there’s not much left for me now that she’s gone.”

Saying it aloud, Lenore realized how much similar she was to Moritz’s, and regretted all the years she spent judging him for his decision of following Catherine into death. She finally understood his reasons. Despite their overwhelming love for Mihaela, of how willing they were to do everything for her, it was still not enough to make them wanna live. It was entirely different situations, of course, Lenore did not love Carmilla the way Moritz loved Catherine, but she needed her queen and could only live on her own terms in the world they built.

“Lenore...”

“No, Hector. I won’t live in this cage, not even with you, nor in the box I’ll be put into if I go to Mihaela. I wish to be free of everything, this world’s expectations included.”

She put down her glass of wine, savoring her last drink, and walked towards the balcony. The sun is rising , and soon, Lenore would turn to dust.

It wasn’t so bad . A good life, the one she had. Two hundred years, a fancy castle to call home, a privileged position in a court ruled by women, sisterhood forged in blood and the heart-warming joy of having such a dear child to love. It was far more than she ever hoped for, far more than a girl whose home was raided by Englishmen and whose parents were killed in front of her ever thought she could achieve.

What a beautiful sunset it was, two centuries ago when she received the cold kiss of immortality, prettier than the sunrise she was witnessing now, when she welcomed the warm hug of death.

“Be free, Lenore.” Hector whispered, not sure if she was still listening, haunted by the soft smile dancing upon her lips as she dissolved to ashes, the wind spreading what was left of her down the hill, putting the vampire to rest on top of the grave of two lovers and their grandchild.

...

Mihaela, Lenore and Mr. Fenrir. Art by @punkedible on twitter

Chapter Text

“Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love.”
— Dracula, Bram Stoker

Wallachia, 1467

“She hates me.” The golden haired dhampir sighed, spread over the couch by the fireplace, head laying on his mother’s lap like a big baby.

Lisa chuckled, running her fingertips over her son’s scalp to comfort her boy. “Mihaela doesn’t hate you, she’s just a little angry about… her condition.”

“If by condition you mean the unwanted pregnancy she blames me for, then yes, she’s mad as hell.”

Despite his tone, Lisa didn’t catch a hint of anger in Adrian's voice, only guilt. When the young couple returned from their visit in Styria, Adrian was worried sick, begging her to check on Mihaela and tell what was causing his wife to be so tired and indisposed all the time. It was rather easy for Lisa to find the source of the problem, as an experienced doctor and a mother herself, all it took was a look at her daughter-in-law’s swollen breasts and a fumble on her stomach to figure there was a child on the way.

She never had the chance to congratulate them though, as soon as she broke the news, Adrian went paler than he already was and Mihaela left the room without a word.

“Women blame their husbands for everything when they’re pregnant.” Lisa tried to reason. “It is normal, and I was no exception. I used to blame your father for the slightest inconvenience when we were expecting you.”

The image of his pregnant mother pestering after his father put a fond yet sad smile on his lips, an awareness that he was never going to share the domestic bliss of parenthood with Mihaela, at least not the way his parents did. “If back pains and morning sickness’ were what she blamed me for, I’d be happy. But she won’t speak to me, mother, she's been silent ever since she left your office.”

Her boy was overreacting, it had only been a night since the pregnancy was confirmed, Mihaela probably just went to bed alone and refused to talk in the morning just as she refused to show up to break her fast with the family. Understandable behavior, but so was Adrian’s, and Lisa couldn’t blame him for his dramatic nature. He was his father’s son after all.

“Give her time, Adrian. She’s still processing it, and probably scared too. She's gonna need you, but she will come to you when she’s ready.”

He sat up on the couch, taking his mother’s hands into his in a desperate need of assurance. “Do all women go scared and doubtful at the prospect of children? What was it like for you?”

“I wasn’t really scared, definitely wary, as any human would be when carrying a powerful vampire’s offspring, but not doubtful, not in the slightest. I always thought about having children, I discussed the matter with your father plenty of times before we tried. The chances of a successful conception were low, so when we found out you were in the way, we were beyond happy.” You are loved , her soft expression says, you were wanted . “I think that’s where things differ, I was ready for it, I wanted it, but it seems like she doesn’t, and given her own mother’s history with pregnancy and childbirth, I’m not surprised.”

Adrian gulped, feeling so careless for having forgotten such an important detail. “I understand, mother, and I don’t blame her for it. I myself never wanted kids of my own before, but now that she’s expecting… it feels different, I can’t explain.”

It was almost instinctive, as if the wolf in him needed to protect his cub and its mother, and he couldn’t bear the thought of harm coming to any of them. If it was a choice between Mihaela and the baby, he wouldn’t think twice before choosing his wife, but it disturbed him to even think about it, especially given how familiar he was with his mother’s line of work. If Mihaela decides to put an end to it, Lisa would help, as she helped plenty of women before.

He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

“I see you two have a lot to talk about.” Lisa could notice the turmoil inside of him from how tightly he was squeezing her hand. “But give her space, she’ll come to you when she’s ready. Tell her how you’re feeling, just know this is a lot harder on her than it is on you, and let her know you’ll support her in whatever decision she makes.”

Adrian nodded, letting go of her warm hands and shifting back to lay on her lap. He already planned on doing so, to be with Mihaela in every step of the way, in whatever path she decides to follow. Regardless, his mother’s counseling and gentleness was ever soothing and appreciated, a reminder she’d be there for him for as long as she lived.

When he left the comfort of Lisa’s chambers and presence, it was late in the afternoon, the sun was setting and it would soon be time for dinner. A part of him thought about wandering through the corridors for a while and not disturb Mihaela for the rest of the day, but he knew he couldn’t bear to stay away from her for much longer. He wouldn’t pressure her to talk, about the pregnancy or anything at all, still he yearned for her company and for her to know he’d be there, even if silence was all she had to offer.

But silence would have been better, he thought so, it wouldn’t shatter his heart the way the sight of her did when he walked into their bedchambers, his poor love laying on her side, curled around a pillow, trying to muffle her little sobs as she cried like a helpless child.

“Mihaela…” His voice was just a whisper, unsure if she would want him to approach given how she refused to speak a word to him the entire day.

He was mistaken, though, underestimating how much she needed him, how equally dependent on each other they were. The moment she heard his voice, she jumped off the bed and ran to him, trembling arms wrapping around his waist and head burying on the crook of his neck. His immediate reaction was embracing her, his hands finding its way to caress her back in the attempt to calm her down, to remind her that he was her safest place.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.

“What?”

“I ignored you… I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry...”

“It’s alright, my love, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“But I feel awful about it.” Mihaela withdrew her face from his neck, staring into his worried eyes with her teary ones. “All of this… situation , it affects you too, I acted as if it was only about me.”

“It is mostly about you, my love, you’re the one carrying the heaviest burden, all my troubles pale in comparison.” Adrian ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears. “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, I can wait.”

His words were meant to sooth her, she knew he meant well, but it only imbued her with fear. I can wait , he said, but the life inside of her could not. “I don’t think we have much time to spare, Adrian.”

“Why do you say so?”

Mihaela stepped back to undo the laces of her housecoat, stripping naked. It was nothing new for Adrian to see her bare, but the changes on her body made him realize they haven’t had sex ever since they left to Styria, she was just too tired to engage and now it was clear why: the recent swelling of her breasts was more than just a trick of her tight, revealing cleavages, they became twice their normal size, and her once flat stomach grew into a small salience.

“How far are you?”

“Three weeks, if my math is correct.”

Less than a month , and it seemed like she had already gone through the first trimester. Three months in three weeks was too much, even for a dhampir.

“I didn’t notice until a week ago, I thought I was just growing fat.” She justified, putting her housecoat back on and sitting on their bed. “I am frightened, Adrian.”

His whole world crashed to the sound of her words. Almost three years of marriage and he couldn’t recall ever seeing her so hopeless and afraid before. He’d seen tears, but the reason for them was never as serious as it was now.

“Darling.” He knelt in front of her, holding her hands before she could hide her face on them to cry again. “You’re not alone in this ordeal.”

“I know, my love, I know. But I’m so scared and outraged and repulsed, I can feel it, Adrian, it has taken root and it grows inside of me!”

She really doesn't want this. It was a sad realization, but the desperation in her voice left no room for interpretation. Mihaela was terrified , and there wasn’t much he could do to change it without suggesting what he hoped he wouldn’t have to. “My love, if want to… to put an end to this, mother can help you.”

“The thought occurred to me.” She admitted. “But considering how fast it’s growing, I think it might be too late already. Procedures such as this are unlikely to succeed in this stage, it would only bring unnecessary pain, both for me and... the fetus. I don’t want to cause them pain.”

It must already feel how much I reject their existence , but her thought remained unvoiced.

“Are you sure?” He could tell she had resigned, which made him feel both relieved and guilty. Adrian wanted the child to be born, but not at the expense of her well-being.

Mihaela merely nodded. She wasn’t really sure of anything, especially of what to do after the baby is born, but either way, she would take it to terms. For as repulsive as it felt to have a whole person growing inside of her, for as terrifying as it was the thought of going through the very experience that got her mother killed, she couldn’t bring herself to extinguish something she created with Adrian.

“Alright.” He rose from his knees and sat beside her on the bed, passing an arm around her. “We’ll do this together.”

She nodded again, resting her head on his shoulder. Together was an euphemism, the paralyzing fear of motherhood and the pain of childbirth was hers to bear alone, but if it could be shared, he’d undoubtedly feel it all with her, that much she knew. Her sweet Adrian would never leave her side in her moment of greatest need, and that certainty was, in a way, a comfort in the face of what was to come. “Thank you.”

“I’m your husband.” He stated proudly. “It is my duty and my privilege to face the hardships with you.”

This world lacks men such as himself . Mihaela thought, wondering if she would be capable of doing half the good job Lisa did raising Adrian if the baby turned out to be a boy. Probably not… but he will, he’ll be a better parent than I can ever attempt to be.

Not that she ever found out.

(…)

Lisa was no stranger to the treatment of pregnant women. In Lupu, they all came to her for safe delivery, safe abortion, tips on how to produce more milk to feed their children and ways to prevent them from getting sick. She was also no stranger to vampire pregnancy, since she went through one herself, but even her vast experience did not prepare her to deal with her daughter-in-law.

Mihaela’s case was different, not only because she was – as far as they knew – the first dhampir to ever carry another dhampir, but the main issue there was her mental state. The princess spent her days abed, neglecting her duties and occupations to rot away in solitude, barely interacting with anyone other than Adrian, eating her meals alone and only bothering to leave the safety of her bedchambers for the weekly appointments to check on the baby.

Lisa insisted those appointments happen in her own study, that way, Mihaela would at least take a walk from one wing to another, which would come in hand for her labors, and judging by the size of her belly, it was likely to happen within another month. One semester per month, no wonder she’s so worn out .

“I think it’s time for us to fetch a wet nurse.” It was only when she entered the third and final month that Mihaela said something outside her limited vocabulary of yes and no and I don't know , the first time she ever expressed to actually want something and have an opinion related to the pregnancy.

“I don’t think you’ll need one, your breasts are full, you’ll have no trouble breastfeeding your child.” Lisa said reassuringly.

“I won’t breastfeed.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a cow, Lisa.”

 Lisa arched her brow, deadly offended. “And women who do breastfeed their children are all cows, then?”

“I didn’t say...” She realized all too late what her words had implied about her own mother-in-law. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Perhaps, but you don’t seem to mind what you said about this hypothetical person whose body will literally keep your baby alive.”

Mihaela shrugged and Lisa sighed, that was not the time to lecture the princess about the exploitation of the lower class. It was common sense that queens and princesses don’t breastfeed their children, it was seen as a mere job they pay the less fortunate to do for them, and a sermon wouldn’t change centuries of tradition, especially not now when Mihaela needed more support and less scolding.

“Well then, do as your conscience guides you.” Lisa resigned herself, but it wasn’t as if she’d take away Mihaela’s agency on such a personal matter, she only resented the poor choice of words and lack of gratitude for those whose work ensured the maintenance of her privileged life.

“It’s only a precaution, though, I bet he’ll be drinking more blood than milk. He’s more vampire than human.”

“He? How do you know it’s a boy?”

Mihaela looked down, caressing the round belly under the many layers of clothes she wore to hide the source of her afflictions. It was a rare sight, to see her – or anyone at all – touching her tummy. “A girl would have been gentler… he seems to retaliate my lack of enthusiasm for his arrival by giving me a hard time. He kicks as if he wants to rip me apart from the inside.”

Mihaela’s logic didn’t make any sense to Lisa, she knew the pregnancy would be resented whether the child was a boy or a girl. But the sentiment, although unsettling, was genuine, and the princess made it quite clear a daughter preferred over a son once her labors started, only a month after that conversation in the study.

A birthing bed was settled in the middle of Dracula’s lab, surrounded by all the resources and medicine required to make delivering less painful. But Mihaela found herself unable to remain still, the opium eased her pain but did not get rid of it, and the little blue flower Lisa made her chew did accelerate the dilatation, but it still felt like an eternity went by from the first contraction to the crowning.

Mihaela left the bed half dozen times to walk around the room, hands pressed on her back, contorting and cursing. Her nightdress was glued to her body from all the sweat, as was her long hair, and her yelling alternated between begging not to be touched and begging them not to leave her side.

“I can’t be going through this for a boy!” She cursed in the final hour, when the pain was already in control of her actions, leaning forward to grab Lisa’s wrist. “Take this thing off of me, please!”

Lisa tried to ignore the pain from being grabbed by a dhampir and looked from Mihaela to Adrian, both of them on the verge of tears. “I will, honey, I promise, but you have to let go of me.”

Mihaela let go of her and turned on the bed one last time, clinging to Adrian like her life depended on it as he held her squatting. Lisa pulled the skirts of the nightdress up, ready to catch her grandchild the moment it slid out.

“The head’s out, honey. One more push and it’ll be here.”

Her last push was the hardest and the most painful, causing her to fall on her knees over the bed when the child was finally out. Before reaching for their baby, Adrian and Mihaela hugged and cried and vowed to never go through that again.

“It’s a boy.” Lisa announced, holding her grandson while he was still connected to his mother by the cord. “He is… different.”

Different was a way to put it. The boy was as pale as death, with batty ears bigger than his parents’ and a pair of grotesque wings coupled to his back.

“Let me see him.” Mihaela reached to take her son, still on her knees as a river of blood came out of her to taint the sheets.

She held the boy as if he was made of glass, scared to hurt for she had never taken a child in her arms before. His little head was full of dark hair like his grandfather, and when he opened his eyes for the first and the last time, they glowed in the same uncanny tone of golden as Adrian’s.

“He isn’t breathing.” Adrian was the one to notice. “Mother, he isn’t breathing!”

“Adrian, take a scissor and cut the cord. Mihaela, give the boy back to me.”

Don’t let him die . Mihaela begged in thought when she returned the baby to Lisa. I’ll love him just like Adrian does, I promise… I’ll even try to like him, I just need some time to adjust.

But the boy was already dead when Lisa took him. Malformation, she’d concluded later, a pair of wings instead of lungs making impossible for the poor thing to breathe, the only place where he could thrive was inside his mother’s womb, but he couldn’t stay there forever.

The little prince was named Vlad in honor of his grandfather, and buried in Lupu in the garden behind his grandmother’s clinic. For once, Mihaela let go of protocols and chose to give her boy a private funeral, dismissing the royal procession and refusing to let anyone other than her husband and his parents attend. It was intimate, just the four of them and a beautiful spot among the roses, a place to which little Vlad’s parents could return if they ever missed him.

But Mihaela never did. Unlike Adrian, whose grief was marked by longing and sorrow, hers was felt through guilt, regret for the things she said about her own baby and the torturing thought that her rejection was to blame for his death. Lisa knew it was not the case, a child can hardly die for not being wanted, but God only knows what goes inside the head of a puerperal woman after such a traumatic experience.

Despite the visceral need to comfort her son and his wife, Lisa stepped back and gave them time to heal, but it didn’t take too long for them to come to her. Mihaela was the first, showing up in the kitchen only a night after the funeral, hugging Lisa from behind while she diced some fruits and minced herbs.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

It took a few seconds for Lisa to realize Mihaela meant the bruise on her wrist, caused by the strong grab during the labors. “It’s alright, you didn’t do it on purpose, your mind was clouded by pain.”

“I could’ve broken your wrist.”

“But you didn’t. It’s only a bruise, stop worrying about it.” Lisa dismissed the subject, her wrist wasn’t even hurting anymore. “How are you doing?”

“I stop bleeding.” Mihaela’s answer was short, making it clear she didn’t want to discuss her feelings right now, only to be comforted.

“And Adrian?”

“I don’t know, he left with Vlad by sunset. I think they went hunting, or sparring. They took their swords.”

Lisa chuckled at the thought of her boys hunting together. “Vlad always knows what to do to cheer him up.”

Mihaela nodded, still holding Lisa tightly, paying mindful attention to the woman’s hands as she minced and diced, enjoying the warmth of the only human in the house. She wasn’t always that affectionate and touchy with people other than Adrian and Lenore, but she had her moments.

“What are you making?” The princess asked a while later.

“Some medicine for you.”

“For me?”

Lisa was finished by then, having mixed two sets of herbs in two different pots. “The sage with spearmint is to dry your milk, drink it daily and it’ll empty your breasts within a week. And this one...” she grabbed the bottle with the purple herbs “It has a lot of different names, but only one use: preventing conception. I assume you don’t want to bear another child, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“Well then, take it regularly and you won’t. It grows in my garden, so you’ll never lack it.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, gently caressing Lisa’s forearms, grateful for having that angel of a woman in her life. “And the plums? Are they for me too?”

“Yes. I’ll make you a pie, you might be craving something tasty after these rough few months.”

A soft, genuine smile took over Mihaela’s lips for the first time in three months. She pressed a chaste kiss on Lisa’s cheek, feeling her heart swell with even more love and gratitude. Not many wives could gloat about having a mother-in-law such as Lisa, so welcoming and understanding, so determined to make her feel part of the family. Mihaela was very lucky.

“Can you teach me?” She asked, letting go of Lisa at last. “You know I cannot cook to save my life, but I want to help.”

“Of course, it’s time you learn. I won’t be here forever to bake you goodies.”

But you should, you should stay forever . It was avoided, the topic of Lisa’s mortality, but an unspoken certainty. She was human, she refused to give that up, therefore, she would die someday. Not anytime soon, but in ten years her blond hair would start to gray, in fifteen her back would arch and in twenty she could already be dead. For someone as young as Mihaela, twenty years seemed like a good amount of time, but it would one day feel like the blink of an eye, it usually does when you live forever, and she would miss Lisa longer than she loved her.

Don’t think about it, she repressed the thought, she’s here now, and she’ll be for a while longer, cherish the present and forget about the future, just this once.

Lisa’s mortal life would be brief compared to her family, but that notion never frightened the woman who knew how to make the best out of the time she possessed.

{…}

England, 1498

Lisa Tepes always had a way to humble powerful, proud vampires.

She started with Vlad, scolding him into giving up his violent habits of impaling people, taming that mighty beast into a dutiful husband and a more tolerant man. Then Adrian was born, and it was an easier job shaping her boy to be a good person from the crib, but he still was his father’s son and the prince of a nation, there were moments in which she had to remind him of his human half and what it meant to possess it.

And there was Mihaela, daughter to two ancient and noble lines, a princess and a countess by her own right, descendant of the kings of Hungary, raised in a pompous western court with all the privileges and regalias. Humbling her was one of the most challenging things Lisa ever did, a slow work of patience and repetition, the persistence of showing her the reality of others.

It was a work of joint efforts, Lisa knew. Adrian had his fair share of lecturing Mihaela on the ways of the commoners, as did some other people she never knew, people who came into their lives after she died for the first time. Not that her daughter-in-law would ever let go of her aristocratic pride, but something was different now, something changed within her and she became a queen loved by nobility and smallfolk alike. She learned to care , about all of them.

She cared enough to cross the continent like a peasant and sail the North Sea just so she could tend to an old woman in her final days, a woman who has been presumed dead for the past twenty years.

“It had to be this way.” Lisa justified her absence in the life of her dear children. “We couldn’t just show up after everything that happened, after everything you both did to rebuild what was broken.”

Adrian was a crying mess on her bedside, holding her hand so carefully, afraid that his hold might harm her now old, frail body. Mihaela stood quiet behind him, a little stiff, refusing to acknowledge Dracula’s presence in the room and ignoring him completely. Her behavior was hardly a surprise, they all knew her to be a slow forgiver.

“Come here, my girl. Sit close to me.” Lisa tapped the empty spot on the bed, realizing how odd it sounded to call that woman a girl. Mihaela only looked twenty-five, as she would forever, but she was now forty-five, the same age Lisa was when they burned her at the stake. “Thank you for coming, both of you.”

“I needed to see with my own eyes.” The rulling Princess of Wallachia sat close to her mother-in-law, as regal as always, even in those cheap clothes she wore to travel unnoticed. “I didn’t believe it when Lord Dracula showed up in the distance mirror… I hardly believe it now, seeing you both alive.”

The words Mihaela chose to refer to Dracula were coldly calculated, making it clear she still held a grudge for what he did to Adrian all those years ago. No longer Vlad, much less father. I’m here for Lisa , was written between the lines, I only tolerate you for the sake of her peace.

Lisa noticed, of course, and though it made her sad, she never expected them to be a happy family again out of sudden. Having the three of them there so she could say goodbye was good enough. “Well then, I’m glad you made it here.”

Mihaela took a moment to watch the woman laying on that bed. Lisa’s beautiful golden hair had completely turn to gray, there were wrinkles around her eyes, her mouth and over her expression lines. Yet, somehow, she was still as beautiful as the day Mihaela saw her for the first time, those kind blue eyes and bright smile were still the same, she was still the same.

“You have aged like a fine wine, Lisa.”

The old woman chuckled. “Now you’re just being nice.”

“Mihaela is correct, my love.” Dracula said, watching the trio from the bedroom’s door. “You’re as pretty now as when you were twenty.”

Lisa blushed, and Mihaela held back a smile of fondness. She would not acknowledge any of her father-in-law’s good deeds, but if there was one thing she still admired him for, was being the devoted, loyal husband his wife deserved.

“I’m really sorry we couldn’t reveal ourselves to you sooner.” Lisa apologized right after her blush faded. “We just… didn’t know how.”

“It’s alright, mother, we understand.” Adrian spoke through the tears, pressing a reassuring kiss on his mother’s cheek. “You reached for us in time, that’s all that matters. We’ll be here with you until the end.”

Until the end . She was alone when her life ended for the first time, taken away by the fires of the inquisition when her family wasn’t around to protect her. But they were all there now, surrounding her deathbed as the peaceful end she deserved neared. It could come to her within a day, a week or even a month, it didn’t matter, death could claim her that very moment and she’d go happy to her grave, knowing she lived a full life and did the best with the second chance she got, knowing the impact of her actions would forever live in the form of her beloved, immortal family.

Lisa wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

“The clan of Danesti hates the Draculesti, it always has. And we hate them too, only one of us can have the throne.”
— Vlad: The Last Confession, C.C Humphreys

Wallachia, 1476

Two days after Adrian went to Danesti, Mihaela heard the noise of a crowd approaching through the woods on the break of daylight. She waited for them at the castle’s door with a sword in hand, only to drop it on the ground when she noticed it to be a group of commoners led by Adrian. She counted no more than fifty people, none of them really remarkable, except, perhaps, for the middle aged man in fancy yet shabby clothes, and a woman who dressed like a man and carried a war hammer on her belt.

The tall, gorgeous being of dark complexion, straight black hair and amber eyes appeared to be the leader of those people, walking beside Adrian – not behind, beside – as if she shared his authority. Mihaela didn’t like it in the slightest.

“My prince.” Mihaela welcomed him using his title, as she always did to make her discontent known to him when in public. “Who are these people? I did not know we were expecting guests.”

“My love .” He emphasized the term of endearment, a hidden plea for her not to stay mad at him. “Those are the people of Danesti… what’s left of them, at least. And this is their headwoman, Greta.”

Mihaela eyed the woman up and down, standing a hand for her. Unaffected or unaware of Mihaela’s discomfort, Greta took her hand and pressed a kiss on its back.

“Ma'am.” Greta greeted her with genuine politeness, causing Mihaela to regret her disdain for half a second.

“Your highness¹. ” A voice corrected her, and surprisingly, it wasn’t Mihaela’s.

“What?” Greta turned around to face the man speaking over her.

“Your highness is how you address the Princess of Wallachia, or your majesty, if you’re a vampire, she’s their queen now.” The man with graying hair and expressive blue eyes explained as he approached the trio at the castle’s stairs, giving a proper bow to Mihaela before kissing her ring. “I am Saint Germain, your highness, Count Saint Germain, at your service.”

“Count? Where are you from? There’s no such title in Wallachia².”

“I’m from everywhere, princess, a citizen of the world.”

Charlatan was written all over his face, but Mihaela answered with a phony smile, lacking the patience to argue with the man. His fake titles would grant him no favor from her part.

“Your husband made us believe the court was crowded and it would be a struggle to accommodate the people of Danesti inside the castle.” Saint Germain continued. “But it looks rather empty to me...”

“It looks empty because the other residents are asleep at the moment.” Adrian sharply interrupted, already fed up from enduring the man’s unwanted opinions all the way along the road. “They cannot walk in the sun like you and I.”

“These residents you speak of are vampires?” Greta inquired, visibly displeased.

“Precisely.” Mihaela answered. “I was under the impression that you knew where you stand and who you’re talking to.”

“I know this place used to be Dracula’s court, and I know what you both are, but I thought my people would be safe from the very creatures that caused them to flee from their homes.”

“The vampires staying here are not the ones responsible for the attacks in Danesti, they are my subjects and came all the way from Transylvania to repair the castle, you have nothing to fear from them.” Adrian intervened again, stopping the argument between Greta and Mihaela before it could start. “Now if you both excuse me, I need to have a word with my wife. You may start raising camp.”

Once inside the castle and away from curious eyes and ears, Mihaela stared at her husband as if she wanted to explode him with her mind. Adrian stiffed, wondering how many times his mighty father cowered in fear of his human mother like that. A man is never a match for his angry wife, no matter how powerful he is.

“If only you knew how bad I want to kill you right now, Adrian...”

“Trust me, my love, I know.”

“You know? You know how angry it would make me to have a horde of peasants at our doors? You knew it and you brought them anyway? And from Danesti of all places?”

Her pretty lips curved with contempt when she said that name. A hundred years or so ago, the family to whom the village was named after tried to overthrow³ Dracula and take the throne of Wallachia, but all they achieved was the end of their line, the impaler prince lived up to his name slaying the whole family, putting on stakes and burning their castle, setting an example for other boyars.

“Whatever quarrel existed between the throne and Danesti, it has ended ages ago, Mihaela, I doubt they even know it happened to feed any resentment. But my father’s violent actions are probably the reason why the village never fully recovered, the reason they’re so exposed to nightly dangers.” He tried to reason. “We are their rulers now, we must help them.”

“You have helped them!” She snapped. “You went to their village and killed the night creatures pestering after them, you didn’t have to bring them to live with us!”

“Do you think I wanted strangers this close to us after what just happened?” He does not need to say the names of the staked  corpses outside, the memory of them has her fresh scars aching. “But this is different, my love, I could either move them out of Danesti or let them die. I fear the attacks were not random.”

“You… what?” Mihaela’s tone changed suddenly. “What could one possibly gain from targeting Danesti when there are plenty of more important and developed villages around?”

“Our attention. Danesti is closer to us than any other city or village, whoever is behind this probably knew the people would turn to me for help.”

“I don’t understand...”

“Me neither. Perhaps they wanted to ambush me on the road, perhaps they wanted to find the castle unguarded, I don’t know, but I do know I cannot let these people suffer because of me any longer.”

The notion that they weren’t safe – and wouldn’t be until the castle was fixed and the court restored – was a punch on the gut. Adrian could have died on the road if he wasn’t so strong, and the castle might have been taken had it not been guarded by Lord Stephen’s men.

“I know you’re not happy about it.” He carefully took her hands on his, tracing patterns with his thumb on her scars. “I promise I’ll relocate these people as soon as the issue is dealt with, but until then… can you try being a little patient and tolerating?”

She sighed, nodding. What choice did she have anyway? When it comes to the people of Wallachia, he would always have the final word, like his father before him. “I want them outside the castle, alright? They may stay inside our walls during the night hours but only to sleep and only in the entrance hall. I don’t want anyone lurking around our home.”

“Understood.”

“And they must hunt and fish to eat, we just refilled the pantries but I wasn’t expecting this amount of mouths to feed, we cannot spare much.”

“You’re the boss.” He brought her hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll let the villagers settle and work with Greta on the defenses, we must prepare for an eventual battle.”

Mihaela frowned, feeling something bitter in her throat at the thought of her husband being so close to a beautiful woman, even though it was vital for the work ahead. “Alright, but put a fucking shirt on, or at least button your coat.”

Adrian arched his brow. “May I ask why?”

“Because I don’t want gorgeous warrior women staring at your perfect chest. You are mine , Mr. Tepes.”

(…)

Battle came earlier than expected. When the night fell upon Wallachia, another horde came through the woods, a much bigger one this time, of grotesque night creatures and vampire soldiers armed to teeth. 

At the sight of them, Mihaela ran upstairs to change into something other than a dress, something in which she could fight. With no time to undo the laces, she ripped the beautiful black dress off of her body, putting on the only pair of pants she owned, one of Adrian’s shirts that got so oversized on her she had to hide it under the pants and tie with a belt, and at last, the white coat that looked like a dress, but had its skirts open to enable mobility. It was no armor at all, but it bore the Karnstein crest on its back, the mighty panther⁴ on a golden, red and white background, and it made her feel more prepared to defend her home, like the trained capable soldier she was.

Dressed accordingly, Mihaela was ready to join Adrian, the villagers and Lord Stephen’s men at the castle’s entryway, but she barely made it to the end of the corridor when she noticed spots of red light flying towards Adrian’s childhood room. Following the lights, Mihaela let out a scream of horror at the sight of Saint Germain performing a death magic right at the spot where Dracula died.

Her scream soon had Adrian and Lieutenant Moritz to her side, and a moment later, Greta, panting from trying to match the vampires’ pace.

“What do you think you’re doing in this wing when I have forbidden entry?” Adrian yelled in ire, unsuccessfully trying to break through the invisible barrier with his sword.

The man gave them a sinister smile. “I am going to bring Lisa and Vlad Tepes back from hell.”

Mihaela felt her stomach twist at the descriptions of what he was going to do. Bring their souls back to earth, trap them together inside of the body of a Rebis, unleash its power of destruction over the world. For love , he said, to bring back the woman he loved. Could she really judge Saint Germain? Mihaela knew herself to be capable of the most unspeakable acts for her husband, except, perhaps, harming the very people who brought them to life. She couldn’t let Saint Germain commit such atrocity against her beloved’s parents.

“The fight is down there, not here, we must return.” Greta said, trying to get the trio of vampires to where they were most needed. “We clearly can’t get through whatever this barrier is, but we can prevent him from channeling more souls if we protect the people, if we don’t let anyone else die!”

The woman was right, keeping her cool while Adrian and Mihaela found themselves outraged and paralyzed at the thought of something so grotesque happening to the people they loved, so they put their faith in Greta and allowed her to lead them into battle.

Slaying some vampires and night creatures cleared Mihaela’s mind a little, as did the image of Adrian defending their home so fiercely. He was a sight to behold, so beautiful and powerful, tearing down lines of enemies as if he was the Archangel Michael reborn. But he wasn’t the only warrior worth of praise that night. Mihaela could not deny how strong, efficient and courageous Greta and her villagers proved themselves to be, defending the castle as if it was their home too, refusing to give up even when half their numbers perished in the hands of their foes, serving as a sacrifice to Saint Germain’s dark spell.

In truth, despite the ferocity of her allies, she thought they were going to lose, especially when she heard the screams of agony of the creature that was supposedly the merge between Vlad and Lisa, and when Death itself emerged from that portal, scaring even Saint Germain. Once again, Greta kept the two of them in line, preventing them from succumbing to despair at the horror scene before their eyes. She held them together for time enough for Belnades and Belmont to show up through a distance mirror portal and save the day, like two angels coming down from heaven to purge the castle from the devilish beasts.

“Who are they?” Greta asked Mihaela.

“They’re Adrian’s friends.”

“Just his? Not yours?”

“It’s a very long story...”

One she didn’t have time to tell, battle wasn’t won yet, and though Trevor Belmont proved himself a one in a million type of human when he managed to separate the Rebis and return Lisa and Vlad’s souls to their hellish peace, Mihaela doubted he could do the same with Death.

But he proved her wrong, he proved them all wrong.

She watched in awe, mesmerized as a mere human fought Death, as a desolated woman listened to her lover’s final words while he walked to his end. Mihaela wished she could comfort Sypha, she wished she had talked more with Trevor other than a few exchanged words in the midst of battle. But wishing for such things when, at the end of the night, both her and Adrian were still alive, Saint Germain had a knife through his heart and the enemy was defeated would be abusing luck.

So she resigned, accepting with a deep melancholy that the man who managed to befriend her husband was gone and the woman she was so eager to meet would never be the same again. Mihaela gave them space to mourn, letting Adrian and Sypha comfort each other, surprised to find out she felt no jealousy at all seeing her husband hugging that woman tightly as she cried on his chest. They were friends and they were grieving, she understood and respected as much, and she let them be, offering a supportive squeeze on Adrian’s shoulder before leaving with Greta to see the aftermath of the deadly battle.

(…)

Mihaela spent the rest of the night outside, instructing Lord Stephen’s men on the removal of the wreckage while it was still dark, trying not to look up at the tower where Adrian’s childhood room used to be, or else her heart would explode in a hundred little pieces with it. It all blew up in the air when Trevor managed to kill the Rebis, and all that was left of the place she treasured so much was Mr. Fenrir, safely kept on a shelf in her chambers.

When the sun started to rise, the vampires retired to the castle, and Mihaela went to help Greta burn the bodies of dead villagers and night creatures to prevent diseases from spreading, the last thing they needed now was a conglomerate of sick people.

Greta was efficient as a war general at her job, doing her best to comfort those who had lost their loved ones in battle, succinctly explaining why they couldn’t take the time to give their dead a proper funeral, shielding the children from the horrors of last night and delegating tasks to those who could still work. Looking at the headwoman, so firm, hardworking and tireless, Mihaela couldn’t help but think that it was exactly how a queen should be like… with a little bit more of elegance, though. With the right refinement, she’d make a great lady of the court.

“Was this the last body?” The princess asked, scrubbing her hands in a bowl of water to wash off the blood.

She had been following Greta’s lead for a while now, which was unexpected from a woman such as herself, so attached to hierarchy levels. But again, she understood very little of hands-on work, and given how they needed quick solutions, the guidance was appreciated.

“Yes...” That last one took a hold on her, it was a girl far too young, barely out of childhood. “I think we can rest now, at last.”

Rest. Mihaela would like to rest, but she’d only be able to lay her head on a pillow once Adrian returns from the woods. Always the protector, he left to hunt the last of the night creatures, to make sure the beasts wouldn’t return to pester those poor people who had suffered enough. It worried Mihaela sick to have him out of her sight again in such a short period of time, but it would have worried her even more if he had done like Sypha and grieve locked away in a room, alone.

“I’ll stay here until Adrian comes back.” She stated, sitting by the entrance stairs.

Greta let out a faint chuckle. “Your devotion to him is very touching.”

“He’s my husband. Why would I marry someone I don’t intend to devote myself to?”

“Then your marriage is one in a dozen, princess.” She sat next to Mihaela, taking note of her disheveled state, from the unkempt braid made in a hurry to tame her curls to the fancy white coat tainted with blood and dirt. “When I met you yesterday, I never thought I’d see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“So mundane and approachable. No offense, but your looks don’t match the fierce warrior that you are. All those fancy dresses and expensive jewels give off the impression of a spoiled, domestic, intellectual princess who wouldn’t raise a hand to fight when others can do it for her.”

“None taken.” Mihaela shrugged, kind of amused by the bluntness. “I am all these things you said, and a fighter. Military training was part of my education, I would never step aside and watch as people tried to take my home and violate the memory of my parents-in-law.”

“You and your kind, always so full of surprises. I would never imagine you bloodsuckers were so ahead of us, encouraging women to fight and rule.”

The princess chuckled, remembering the last person who pointed out to her the glaring difference of treatment vampires and humans bestowed their women. She took a mental note to try contacting the captain, to send him a gift and inform him about poor Paolo’s fate. “We just don’t see what difference would it make having a cock or not when wielding a sword or ruling a kingdom, all it takes is firm arms and a good head.”

“True, but as you can probably guess, most of the humans in charge think otherwise, Danesti only happens to be a fortunate exception.” Greta sighed, leaning back on her elbows. “I just hope our next stop is in a place that understands our different way of life… my people won’t accept another leadership for as long as I live.”

“About that...” Mihaela hesitated, hoping she wouldn’t regret what she was about to suggest. “Maybe you should stay.”

Greta frowned. “You’re serious? I thought you didn’t want us here.”

“Well, no one wants a bunch of strangers in their home, and I still don’t want any of your people living inside the castle, but...” Mihaela paused, trying to find the proper words to explain the idea that was still maturing in her mind. “I believe it would benefit us both if Danesti rebuilds itself around the castle.”

“How come?”

“The castle cannot move anymore.” She wasn’t sure if making the information known was the best decision, but also, not something that could be kept hidden forever. People would eventually find out, and letting Greta know beforehand seemed like a risky yet smart move, to make the headwoman believe she was trusted. “This place here where it landed does not possess natural defenses, it is too open and an army can easily approach it, as we can tell by last night’s attack.”

“So you want us to be your defense?” She had an idea of what Mihaela wanted. A lone castle in an open field was an easy target, but one with a community in its surroundings was something else entirely.

“In a way, yes. I still want a few yards between the village and the castle, but close enough for us to see and access it. Targoviste is gone and Wallachia needs a new capital, let it be here.”

Moving the capital to where the castle was located was going to help centralize their power. There was no point doing it before, when their home was constantly moving across the country, but now, it could be the difference between failing and succeeding in their new role.

“Hmm… from a god-forsaken village at the ends of the world to the new capital, a hell of an improvement.” Greta rambled. “But a bold move. Do you think the boyars will accept it without making a fuss? Many would want their own lands to be the new center of power of the country.”

“I am the princess of Wallachia, they will do as I say.”

Greta laughed again, entertained by Mihaela’s bossy persona, but not at all doubting her words. If Alucard himself feared his wife’s discontentment, no wonder some random lords would be dead scared of defying the princess’ will.

“As for you, Greta of Danesti,” Mihaela continued. “I have a place for you in the court, if you so wish.”

Greta raised back from her elbows and sat straight, looking at Mihaela in shock. “You’d have a peasant in your court? You ?”

“You are not just a peasant, Greta, you’re a soldier and a leader, and you’ll be given a title and some land to actually have access to court as a member instead of just a visitor or a petitioner… but that’s not the point.” Mihaela shook her head, remembering to choose her words carefully. “The truth is that the common folk was overlooked for long enough, both by Dracula and myself, and I fear our absence is what lead them to turn to the church and submit to the clergy… hardly a surprise, for one to find comfort in a simple faith that justifies the hardships of life with the promise of heaven.” The thought had been haunting her ever since she killed those priests in the inn, that the series of events that lead to Lisa’s execution could have been prevented if the people were taken care of by their rulers instead of the church. “I wish to correct my mistakes, but I cannot relate to the commoners, so I need someone who does, someone who understands them.”

The headwoman stared at her in silence for a moment. It was quite obvious Mihaela wasn’t nearly as kindhearted and benevolent as her husband, but she was trying to care for the people, a sincere effort to make their lives better, which was more than Greta could say for any other noble she had ever met.

“You do realize I’m not really… suited to a life at court, don’t you?”

“You will be taught.” It wouldn’t be difficult for Mihaela to find Greta a tutor, or teach the woman herself, as a last resort. “We have time. It’ll take a while until the village is rebuilt and the court restored… until we are restored, too. We all have wounds to heal after what happened.”

It was only after speaking it outloud that Mihaela noticed she was trying to strike a bargain right after one of the most traumatizing nights of her life. Such a hard blow to see her home under attack after the hell of a year she had, spent in solitude, missing her husband, grieving Lisa, then Dracula, then her baby. Yet there she was, all bloodied and bruised in the aftermath of battle, weaving her political web. But wasn’t it what she was raised to do?

“Well then,” Greta spoke after a moment of reflection. “Will people address me as Lady Greta from now on?”

Mihaela smiled, taking the question as acceptance. “During official gatherings, yes, but other than that, only when and if you want to.”

They both got up, and standing on the blood stained steps of the castle’s stairs, they shook hands to seal the deal. Mihaela lingered on the warm hold of Greta’s hands, struck by the memory of the last pair of hands she touched that were entirely human. She missed Lisa more than she expressed, but above all, she missed having women around her.

Deep down, it was one of the reasons why she wanted Greta to stay. Being raised by four women has shaped her into someone appreciative of the presence of her own sex, but when she moved to Wallachia to marry, there was only Lisa to suffice the need she felt for female companionship. Of course, Adrian was more than enough to keep her happy and entertained, but he didn’t have to be the only one, and now that he had agreed to raise a proper court, it wouldn’t hurt to have one or two friends of her own to play retinue once in a while.

“And what will we call this new capital?” Greta inquired once Mihaela let go of her hand. “New Danesti?”

“Hell, no.” She quickly discarded the idea, to name the new seat of their rule after the family who once attempted to usurp what she and Adrian had inherited was too much to ask of her. “I think...”

The name that popped into her head was no better than Danesti when it came to the difficult past with Dracula, however, it had a new meaning now, it was only fair to pay tribute to the man who so humbly died for them all.

“I think that’s for Adrian to decide.” And knowing him, Mihaela was sure he was going to have the same idea.

Chapter Text

“They had their time once, but now they lie shrouded in the afterglow of destruction, vanishing into the depths of legend.”
— Vampire Hunter D, Hideyuki Kikuchi

The amount of things that can happen in the interval of two weeks may be enough to tire even Mihaela and the vigor of her eternal youth.

It all started with Trevor Belmont coming back from the dead by horse only a few days after battle. He didn’t really die, he would explain later, but was transported to the Danube Delta by the mystical energy of the destruction of Death, heavily injured, yes, but alive, and he didn’t wait a second, even at risk of bleeding away, to steal a horse and return to his pregnant partner. The news hardly surprised Mihaela, who after going through pregnancy twice – the last one only six months ago – could easily tell when a woman was with child even in the earliest stage.

The shock of Trevor’s survival and the announcement of Sypha’s pregnancy aside, the residents of the building village of Belmont were caught out of guard by the arrival of the Voivode of Moldavia and his men.

The villagers were still trying to get used to the presence of vampires, but the coexistence with the Transylvanians – and their help on the construction of the village – have made them more tolerating towards the children of the night, and though they were still a little wary, nothing major happened, only a few narrowed eyes and disdained expressions, from both sides. But the hostility did not linger, the ruler of Moldavia stay was short, he merely came to swear fealty to the heirs of Dracula, renew the Romanian alliance under a new leadership and leave, very practical and quick.

Dealing with stern vampire lords and the stress of big construction projects was not so difficult compared to what was to come, the ordeal began when Lord Stephen returned from his campaign in Styria. His failed campaign.

The calm before the storm gave them a brief sense of peacefulness. The moon looked beautiful that night, as did the stars and the light they shed upon the castle’s terrace, where Adrian and Mihaela shared a bottle of wine and some well deserved time alone.

“Who would’ve thought this huge castle of ours could be fixed so quickly.” Mihaela was utterly satisfied, both with the efficiency of her subjects and her moment alone with her husband, happily watching him back on his casual clothes as he poured them glass after glass.

“The fact that half of them are accomplished magicians might have helped.” Adrian suggested, finishing his share of wine and putting the glass aside, pulling Mihaela into his lap once his hands were free. There was no reason for her to sit on a chair when he was right there. “Or maybe the amount of money we paid them was a good incentive.”

She laughed quietly, one hand around his neck as the other held her glass. “They deserve as much, it’s a lot of work, restoring the castle and building decent houses in such a short period of time, they are progressing just fine in the village.”

“Do you think they’d remain this hardworking if we hire them to rebuild the Belmont estate too?”

“Hell, no.” She took a sip of wine. “Tolerating a Belmont and building something named after them it’s already too much to ask of vampires, I won’t demand them to do more, Trevor will have to hire his own help.”

“Well then, he better hurry up, we’ll soon have Trevor Junior running around, I’m sure he’ll want to raise the kid in his family’s home.”

“I guess he will, but in the meantime, we have plenty of room for him and Sypha to stay, and the baby, if the house isn’t finished by the time they are born.”

“Are you really this willing to have them here as our guests for indefinite time?”

“I am. Not only have I promised you to welcome them with open arms if they ever returned, but I’m also grateful for what they did waking you up from your slumber. I want to be acquainted with your friends.”

Adrian’s arm tightened around her waist, bringing her closer. “You’re too good for me, you know?”

“I do.” She smirked, gently scratching the back of his neck. “But I’m doing this for me too, I want to get to know them.”

He smiled fondly at her words, burying his face on the crook of her neck, pressing warm kisses on her skin. He was so happy with the efforts she was making to connect more with people her past self wouldn’t even have acknowledged, her developing friendship with Greta was doing her good in that regard, and he couldn’t be more proud.

He withdrew his face from her neck, moving his kisses up to her jaw, and then her lips, capturing them in a kiss she passionately engaged. He missed her so much, they had been so busy the past few days with little time to spend together, kissing goodbye in the morning and reuniting by night, so tired from the amount of duties and tasks they had to perform during the day that they couldn’t do much more than an old fashioned missionary quickie before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Now that things had finally calmed down, all he wanted was to take his time with his wife, to lay her down on their bed and make love to her the whole night long…

… But it would have to wait.

The blowing of a war horn from afar made them abruptly break the kiss. Mihaela jumped off his lap and ran to the parapet to see what the matter was, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the horde of soldiers following Lord Stephen’s flag. It was not an invasion, they were safe , but whatever news those men were bringing was going to change her life forever.

She wanted to believe she was ready to mourn Carmilla and wear her crown, more than that, she wanted to believe the queen was still alive, but her hopes for any of those things were extremely low.

“It’s Lord Stephen...” She said, the uneasiness showing on her face when she turned around to look at Adrian.

He stormed to her side and held her hand in his, gently squeezing it. “It’ll be alright.” Not that he could be sure of it, but he’d be there every step of the way. “I won’t leave your side.”

Mihaela only managed to nod, nervously, letting Adrian guide her downstairs, their intimate moment now gone and the nearly emptied bottle of wine forgotten.

The throne room was already crowded when they arrived, a small number of villagers were scattered around the courtyard, mingled among the vampires who waited for their Lord to arrive, and in the highest part of the room, to the left side of Dracula’s throne, stood Greta and Lieutenant Moritz, and to the right, Trevor and Sypha.

Adrian sat his father’s throne uncomfortably, his hand still intertwined with Mihaela’s as she stood by his side, regal and contained despite her growing anxiety. He wondered if he should have a new throne built for her or just take turns having the seat according to the occasion.

But he stopped ruminating the thought when Lord Stephen came through the doors of the castle with a small retinue of five soldiers, the rest of his army waiting outside.

“Your majesties.” The Voivode of Transylvania bowed, addressing them in an accent that sounded a lot like Mihaela’s, a perfectly fluent romanian with a hint of german¹ intonation. “I apologize for our late arrival, but our campaign did not go without struggle.”

“No apologies needed, we understand the troubles of being afield.” Adrian reassured, remembering the last time he saw the man, more than a decade ago, in a war camp fighting off the Ottomans. “But now that you’re here, there’s no reason for you to delay the news we’re expecting, go ahead with your report.”

Stephen looked at Mihaela from below, a little wary about delivering such crushing news, not yet acquainted with her temper. Would she blame him for not being able to save her family and her country?

“My queen.” He cleaned his throat. “I kowtow before you and beg for you to forgive me and my men, for it was too late when we arrived in Styria. The forge master, Isaac, raised an army so huge, with so many night creatures… it was like the raid of Targoviste all over again.”

Mihaela clawed at the palm of her free hand as Adrian squeezed the other one to keep her grounded. She was there killing priests left and right, surrounded by night creatures and vampires doing the same with any living thing that crossed their path when Dracula released hell itself upon Targoviste. It was a bloodbath, one she started to regret having taken part in now that her childhood home and symbol of her line’s power was subjected to similar tragedy.

“We arrived three nights after the attack.” He continued, slowly climbing the steps of the small staircase that led to the throne, reaching for something inside the bag hanging from his belt. “It was absolute chaos, your majesty. All the courtiers were put to the sword, the ones who weren’t in the castle either died trying to reclaim it or fled to neighboring kingdoms. He showed no mercy… and Queen Carmilla was one the first to fall.”

Stephen took the object out of his bag and handed it to Mihaela. She let go of Adrian’s grip to hold it with both hands, to hold Carmilla’s crown, the golden piece encrusted with pearls and a big, central ruby.

“We managed to enter the castle, to see if there was anyone left alive.” The Voivode explained. “But I lost half a hundred men on doing so, and we were quickly repelled by Isaac’s beasts. All we managed to recover was the crown.”

Mihaela squeezed the object so hard it opened one of her freshly scarred wounds, tainting the golden jewel red with her blood.

“What of the other queens?” She swallowed dry, trying to focus on the pain of the open wound rather than the aching in her heart, or else she’d break in front of all those people. “What happened to them?”

“Lady Morana and General Striga were nowhere to be found. From what we heard,  they left weeks prior to patrol the land Carmilla intended to annex, they probably arrived as late as we did, we didn’t see them.”

“… and Lenore?”

The room went so quiet it felt like the whole world held its breath. Very few of the presents knew who Lenore was, but by the looks of it, she was very important to their ruler, and their most recent experience with a powerful vampire losing the one he loved ended up with thousands dead.

“She did survive the battle.” Stephen began carefully. “Some of my spies saw her walking into the castle’s balcony… my human spies.”

“Human spies?” She repeated, wondering why he emphasized the species of said men.

“It was in broad daylight, my queen. They saw her at dawn, kissing the forge master goodbye, the Greek² one, and walking into the sun. I am really sorry, but she chose to follow Carmilla in death.”

Mihaela dropped her arms to her side, the hand in which she held Carmilla’s crown tightening around the object, sinking into her skin again, drawing more blood from her already injured hands. She felt weak to her legs, like she was about to fall, and she might have, had Adrian not risen from the throne to place a hand on her back to support her.

“Are you absolutely sure of it?” Adrian inquired, gently trying to take the crown off Mihaela’s hand.

No, she wanted to scream, she wouldn’t do that to me, not like this... not like my father.

“Unfortunately, yes. I trust the men who brought me the news with my life.”

Mihaela felt the weight of the whole world on her shoulders when all the eyes in the room stared at her . What was she, the queen of a conquered kingdom, supposed to do now?

“We are… grateful for your safe return, Lord Stephen. I’m sure you did your best, given the circumstances.” She managed to answer him, her words coming in between heavy breathes, trying her hardest to play it by the book. “And you are welcomed to… to stay for as… long as you want...”

“Indeed you are.” Adrian spoke over her, aware that she was about to break down. “Lieutenant Moritz, please help Lord Stephen settle in one of the guest chambers. Greta, aid the soldiers outside to raise camp for the night, preferably in the woods where the sun won’t reach them when the morning comes.”

It was surprisingly easy for him to give the orders, his only concern being to take his wife out of there, back to the safety of their chambers where she could suffer in peace.

But they didn’t make it to their room before she lost the battle against despair: in the first hallway they turned, Mihaela leaned against the wall and slowly slipped to the floor. The crown slipped from her grasp, sliding down her arm to hang on her elbow, her hands now grabbing at her own hair, tainting her curls with blood.

“My love, please, you’re hurting yourself.” Adrian squatted next to her, desperately trying to stop her.

“I c-can’t breathe...”

The sounds around her became muffled, she couldn’t hear what Adrian was saying, his voice seemed so distant even though he was right there. He was shouting for someone, that much she could tell, for instants later a blur of ginger hair ducked in front of her and a delicate pair of hands started massaging her chest to help her breathe. Mihaela inhaled heavily, filling her lungs with air, trying to focus her eyes on the person in front of her. She knew it was Sypha, but she couldn’t see the Speaker clearly, her eyes were warm and blurred with red.

Blood , she had never cried blood before, her usually contained tears turned into a mess in the face of the greatest pain she has ever felt.

“You need to take her somewhere quiet, and bathe her if you can, all this mess might startle her when she comes back to her senses.” Sypha instructed Adrian, or so Mihaela thought, the next thing she felt was his arms wrapped around her lifting her from the ground.

Mihaela clung to him, holding onto her last straw of sanity, weeping on his shoulder as her blood ran down to ruin his white shirt.

Time turned into something abstract, and her memory played tricks on her. By the morning, she would remember having cried like a wounded animal, curled around herself on a bed of blood; she would remember Trevor entering the room every now and then, carrying buckets of water to the antechamber; she would remember Adrian holding her down and Sypha stitching and bandaging her injured hands. When she came to her senses, she was alone with Adrian again, leaning against him inside the bathtub filled with warm water, his gentle hands massaging her scalp and washing off the blood. She was still crying, but her tears were no longer the uncanny shade of red, they became clearer and clearer through the course of the night until they were normal and transparent again.

The sun would be rising any moment now, she could feel it in her bones, which meant she cried all night, yet, despite the immense tiredness bearing witness to her ordeal, it felt like time hadn’t passed at all. When she closed her eyes, she was still in that room full of people watching the world collapse on top of her.

“Adrian...” She whispered his name, almost voiceless, like she had been screaming for a long time. Had she? She couldn’t remember.

“Yes, my love?”

“Did you feel this hole in your chest? When she died?”

Lisa’s name hung in the air, and Adrian had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment in order not to cry at the memory. “Yes… I thought you’d never have to go through it, I’m really sorry you had, I’m really sorry for both of them.”

He always had some sympathy for Lenore, even shed some tears for the woman who raised his wife. He never liked Carmilla at all, but Mihaela loved her, in her own way, therefore, he would mourn the queen of Styria too.

“When does it stop hurting?”

“It doesn’t, you just get used to it. Life goes on eventually.”

Eventually could be within a month or a century, one can never tell when it comes to immortals. Nevertheless, Mihaela’s period of heavy mourning only lasted three days.

But she spent them all abed, relying on Adrian to do anything and everything, feeding exclusively from his veins, crying herself to sleep every night, neglecting all her duties and letting the village’s progress to be run by Trevor and Greta, since Adrian would barely leave her side. He was, of course, very understanding of her grief and able to relate to her pain, he knew what it felt like and did everything in his power to comfort her, promising to be there for her until time itself ceases to exist.

By the third night, after much of his insistence, he managed to convince her to eat something other than his blood. He brought her a piece of the delicious plum pie Sypha had baked after being told Mihaela loved the recipe, and it warmed the dhampir’s heart to know the Speaker was being so considerate of her. It made her sleep a little better, but her rest was disturbed by an anxious knock on the bedroom’s door.

Adrian kicked off the covers and went to see who dared interrupt his wife’s precious sleep; Mihaela didn’t move, but kept her ears up to listen to what was going on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Adrian harshly inquired when he opened the door, inflicting the fear of God in the Transylvanian soldier tasked with the mission of delivering the news. “It’s better to be deadly urgent for you to disturb your queen’s mourning.”

The vampire – with already graying hair and probably five times older than him – gulped, trying to stand his ground. “I apologize, sir, but it is urgent. A small contingent of soldiers waits outside the castle… they carry the Karnstein flag, and they are led by General Striga and Lady Morana.”

Mihaela was up before the man could finish the sentence, hurrying in his direction. “Are you certain? 

“Yes, ma’am, and they asked to see you.” The vampire kept his eyes down in order not to look at his queen in sleeping robes.

“Take them both to the meeting room, we’ll be there as soon as possible.” Adrian instructed, dismissing the man by closing the door.

Mihaela felt something akin to guilt burning in her chest. During those three days, she barely gave any thought to Striga and Morana, save perhaps their whereabouts. Not that she misliked the remaining Sisters, quite the contrary, but her love for them paled in comparison to how much she missed the other two.

Pushing the guilty thoughts to the back of her mind, Mihaela started to get dressed, putting vanity aside in favor of the grieving clothes she was so familiar with, a long, sober black dress that should be accompanied by a veil, but in a hurry to get to the meeting room, she simply tucked all her curls inside the first hairnet she found and marched to the opposite wing of the castle, Adrian glued to her side with his hand on her waist to guide her.

Thankfully, in that hour, the vampires were starting to retire and the humans yet to wake up, only the ones standing guard were still up, so the pathway was clear and nearly empty. The meeting room, however, was not.

Striga and Morana were not alone, despite the clear contempt on their faces for the presence of humans in a room where the former vampire king used to meet with his generals, Greta, Trevor and Sypha were not intimidated, not in the slightest, and the palpable tension in the air didn’t scare Lord Stephen away, who was also there.

“Your majesties.” Morana was the one to speak first, bowing to the royal couple alongside Striga. “We would have come sooner, but it took us a while to figure out the new location of the castle.”

Mihaela felt a little lost with that many people in the room, having assumed she’d be alone with Adrian and the Sisters, but again, just as the Transylvanians arriving three days prior, the Styrians’ presence in Wallachia was official business, and those three humans and the foreign vampire lord were the closest thing they had of a council.

Mihaela opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out of it, unsure of how to proceed. Part of her wanted to run into the duo’s arms and cry like a helpless child, but the presence of others discouraged her; part of her wanted to demand answers and reasons to why they didn’t try to reclaim the castle, but the voice of reason kept telling her nothing could have saved Styria from its fate.

“Please, you may all sit. Let’s get it started.” Adrian noticed Mihaela’s momentary inability to speak and took matters in his own hands.

They sat at the head of the table, on a chair large enough to accommodate them both. On the right side of the table, Adrian’s side, sat the humans, and on Mihaela’s side, the vampires. They all stood there for a moment, staring at each other, wondering how to begin until Morana decided to break the silence.

“Go ahead, Mihaela, ask what you want to ask. I can hear you thinking from here.”

Mihaela bit on her lip, taken aback from Morana’s lack of protocols in the presence of strangers, the last thing she expected from the most serious of the four Sisters, always so attached to the court rules. The sudden change in Morana's behavior got the dhampir anxious and ready to claw at her palms and reopen her wounds, but Adrian was faster and held her hands under the table, squeezing it softly to provide comfort and stop her from harming herself again.

“ Where exactly were you when the castle was attacked?” She finally asked, her voice not as firm as she hoped it would be.

“Doing our queen’s bidding, patrolling the land she intended to annex.” Striga answered, but that was old news. “Not that I believe our presence there would have made a difference, we saw hundreds of creatures, perhaps thousands, and the contingent accompanying us was no more than a hundred men.”

“You could at least have entered to see if there was someone left alive...”

“Carmilla died the moment we laid eyes on the castle.” Morana interrupted. “We saw her entire wing blowing up… I felt her death.” The vampire held her left hand to her chest, turning round the ring of Styria on her finger. “There was nothing to fight for with her gone.”

“What about Lenore? She was still alive when you decided to run.” Mihaela’s tone held a hint of accusation. “I heard from reliable sources that she survived for at least three days after the attack, why didn’t you come back for her?”

The Sisters exchanged a concerned look, foreseeing a bad reaction, but Striga answered truthfully. “We didn’t see a reason for us to endanger our lives and risk losing what was left of our army just for a small chance of rescuing her.”

Mihaela drew a heavy breath, feeling all her sorrow turn into anger. “My will should’ve been reason enough!”

“Your will?” Striga raised her brow.

“Yes, my will. I became your queen the moment Carmilla dropped dead, you were bound to do my bidding as you did hers, and you know my wish would be to move heavens and earth to save Lenore.”

“You don’t have to say you would’ve gladly trade our lives for hers, Mihaela, we already know that.” Morana said bitterly.

Mihaela stiffed on her seat, squeezing back Adrian’s hand. “This is a vile accusation, Morana. I’m not saying you should have died in her place, just that you should at least have tried to do something for her. She was a Sister!”

“If I may speak, your majesty,” Lord Stephen intervened. “But my contingent combined with theirs still wouldn’t be enough, we’re talking of an army as big as the one Dracula sent to Targoviste in the first attack. It isn’t just about wanting to rescue Lady Lenore, but either if it was possible or not, and from my experience, it wasn’t. I lost too many men just to recover a crown the forge master wasn’t even interested in keeping.”

He would have freed Lenore, he gave me his word . But Stephen didn’t know that, and Mihaela wouldn’t reward his loyalty and commitment with unnecessary rudeness.

“Then what will it take for us to defeat Isaac and his night creatures?” She asked a little too desperately.

“That’s precisely why we’re here.” Striga said.

“To help me?”

“To warn you,” The General looked at Mihaela dead in the eye. “Trying to reclaim Styria would be unwise… and nearly impossible. We advise you against it.”

She failed to contain a humorless laugh. “Do you seriously expect me to be stripped of my birthright and do nothing about it just because you think it’ll be difficult?”

“I’ve been leading armies long before you were born, Mihaela. I don’t think anything, I know it. You are unprepared to face a war right now.”

“I didn’t say it could be done overday...”

“We barely have enough men to defend the village.” Greta spoke her mind, the first of the humans to do so. “It would take us months to gather enough people and give them the proper training.”

“I won’t leave the village or the castle unguarded, Greta, and I don’t intend to summon our human subjects, only the vampires.”

“And what vampire subjects are you talking about, might I ask?” Morana inquired, defiantly. “Dracula is dead, our community is shattered without him.”

“My father spent the past twenty-five years making clear he had a capable heir under his roof if by any chance he found himself incapable of leading.” Adrian pointed, so seemingly confident so the others would believe him ready for the task ahead, but Mihaela knew how much he resented the position of leadership, how much he wished his father was still around to deal with such things for him. “They will answer me.”

“They might submit to you because you are undoubtedly your father’s son, you have his blood and most of his powers, but they will not follow you as a leader. You don’t have the stomach to do what it takes for them to blindly obey you as they did your father in his prime.”

“With all due respect, Lady Morana,” Lord Stephen cleared his throat, resenting the Sister’s words. “But you are mistaken. Transylvania remains loyal to our Lord’s chosen heirs, why wouldn’t the other kingdoms?”

“It is you who are mistaken, my lord, confusing Romanian loyalty for vampire loyalty.”

“In that case,” Adrian said. “Wouldn’t the romanian army be enough?”

“The Romanian army will be too busy fighting the Ottomans.” Striga stated. “Dracula was the only thing they feared in this world, and with him gone, I bet they’re already making plans to wash away the shame and humiliation he put them through.”

“The Ottomans were dealt with.”

All eyes in the room turned to Mihaela, except Adrian’s, who already knew what she meant.

“What?” Four voices inquired in unison; Stephen, Greta, Trevor, Sypha. They’ve been in the castle for a while, the only people in the couple’s inner circle, yet none of them heard anything related to the Ottomans so far. “How?” Stephen asked, finding it hard to believe two dhampirs solved the Empire it took Dracula a whole year to defeat.

“The Voivode of Moldavia wasn’t heading home when he left, he was going to Serbia.” Mihaela would have laughed of her scheme if she weren’t in so much pain. “He heard from his spies in the Turkish court that Sultana Mara³ was traveling to visit her family… well, she never made it to her brother’s castle, she’s now an honored guest in Moldavia, and she will remain so until the day she dies.”

She wasn’t really the one who came up with the plan, the Moldavian lord started to think of ways to keep the Ottomans out of the Romanian kingdoms the moment he heard of Dracula’s death, and he decided to use Mehmed greatest weakness, his stepmother, against him. Mara wouldn’t live forever, of course, but she would buy them at least ten years of peace, for the Sultan would sooner hand the Empire to his enemies than put the woman who raised him in danger. Adrian wasn’t happy about playing with someone else’s life that way, specially a woman Mara’s age, but Mihaela had her ways of convincing him, and in the end, he consented to the plan.

“You have made her a hostage.” Sypha used the correct words, for a ‘honored guest’ would be able to leave, and Mara would never.

“Like hundreds of children in the Ottoman court, kept away from their parents to keep them from rebelling against the Sultan.” Children like the baby Sypha was currently carrying, heir of a noble bloodline, but Mihaela decided not to bring that up. “May he choke tasting his own medicine.”

On the left side of the table, Morana chuckled, having a déjà vu. “Well played, Mihaela, Carmilla must be brimming with pride in hell right now.” The Sister praised. “Still, even if the Romanian army is ready to fight, and even if they succeed in giving Styria back to you… you’ll never be able to maintain it. “

Mihaela sank on the chair, trying to contain her fury. How could one adulate her expertise just to insinuate she was incompetent right after? “You think me unable to keep the kingdom I was taught to administrate since the cradle? I, who kept our entire community functioning for months while Dracula wasted away in his study? I who did it all alone, pregnant and grieving?”

Warm tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, and she started to regret her words, not because they were untrue, but because she could hear the collective gasp, and guess what they were all thinking: where was this baby they have never heard of before?

“I believe this is no longer a matter of State.” Adrian declared, uncomfortable as always whenever the subject of Mihaela’s second pregnancy was brought up, guilt eating his insides for never getting to hold the sweet angel they have made together. “It’s rather a family matter now, so if the rest of us could excuse us...”

He didn’t have to tell them twice, soon Lord Stephen and the humans in the room were leaving, grateful for not having to witness all the family drama that was likely to follow.

When the door closed with a click, Mihaela stopped holding back and let the tears run down her face, transparent and soundless. She doubted she would ever weep blood again, and she sincerely hoped so, for there was only one loss that could surpass the pain she felt when her tears turned red.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Mihaela. You were never one to hide from the truth.” Morana apologized.

“She isn’t hiding.” Adrian hissed, tenderly caressing his wife’s back to soothe her. “She’s just sad, she is still mourning. Two of the most important people in her life just died and you came here to tell her not to do justice. What were you expecting? For her to smile?”

“What we expect is that our visit will convince her not to risk her life in a lost cause.” Striga rose from her chair, moved by a gentleness that didn’t match her looks and squatted next to Mihaela’s seat. The vampire’s large hands enveloped the dhampir’s scarred one, wondering where those marks came from. “We have loved Styria longer than you have, and it pains us to see it fall apart, but the sad truth, my girl, is that Styria as we know cannot exist without Carmilla.”

Mihaela looked into Striga’s eyes with devastating hopelessness. “Then what use did I have? An heir never meant to inherit?”

The Sisters fell silent for a moment. There were plenty of answers for the question, but most of them would break what was left of the girl’s poor heart. Not that Mihaela didn’t know how extremely convenient it was that she carried both the Árpád and the Karnstein blood in her veins, Hungarian and Styrian at the same time, the ideal symbol of legitimacy to strengthen Carmilla’s rule. But that alone didn’t explain why Carmilla bothered to provide Mihaela with the best education, the best tutors, empower her and give her an active voice in the council.

“I guess she was the only one who could have answered that, but she is gone and so is Styria, the sooner we accept it, the less we’ll suffer.” Morana was as direct as always, refusing to sugarcoat the situation.

“How can you be so certain it is over if I haven’t even tried yet?”

“Two reasons.” Morana got up too, standing behind Striga and resting a hand on her wife’s shoulder. “Firstly, who would bow to a queen who refuses to stay in her own kingdom? I’m sorry but you can’t expect me to believe you’ll ever live so far away from your husband. How long until your subjects decide they would rather have Matthias or a Habsburg on the throne?” That much was true, Mihaela would die before willingly parting ways with Adrian, and she made no attempt to deny it. “Secondly, and most important… it might have come the day in which we have to accept our time has passed, not only as Styrians, but as vampires in general. Dracula’s death left us open, he is no longer here to defend us, and in this century of big changes, many of the vampire kingdoms outside Romania are likely to start crumbling in the years to come.”

The time of change began the day Mihaela was born, when the so-called dark ages ended in thunderous sounds of turkish cannons tearing down walls that stood high and proud for seven centuries. Those events reshaped the world in ways never seen before, but they never imagined it would one day affect the vampires and their power structure as well, them being creatures so obsessed with preserving the status quo.

“We, Morana and I, no longer have a place in these games of ruling, we have made peace with our new reality.” Striga spoke softly, running her pale thumb on the back of Mihaela’s hand. “But I believe the two of you,” she glanced at Alucard “have the most important role to play in the world to come, to be the bridge between humans and vampires… the two halves of you.”

Mihaela knew those words were meant to soothe her, to give her a new purpose, but she felt more lost than ever, trapped between Adrian and the Sisters, her heart still full of grieve, for the women who parented her and a kingdom forever lost.

“And where will you two go now that Styria is occupied?” Stay with me, don’t leave me. I still need guidance, I still need you.

“We are not sure. East, probably, where we can settle down and get some money borrowing our men to thicken the ranks of warlords. There is always work in that part of the world.”

Mihaela looked at Morana in disbelief. “Are you really going to abandon me when I need you the most? The vows you swore to Carmilla are now extended to me! How can you betray me like that?”

“Don’t be ungrateful, Mihaela, you know we...”

“No!” The dhampir pushed her hand away from Striga’s. “You cannot go, I won’t let you!”

The General’s face hardened and she rose to her feet, standing next to her wife protectively. “You definitely can keep us here against our will, but will you be so low to actually do that?”

Mihaela’s tears suddenly ceased, as if she had none left to cry. She felt Adrian’s hold on her tighten and his gaze burning into her, probably wondering if she had the guts to imprison those women she held so dear. Deep down, she hadn’t, but she wanted them to believe otherwise, hoping it would make them change their minds.

“If you proceed with this betrayal, you’re on your own.” The former Princess of Styria hardened her heart, clinging to her pride. “The men you brought with you, they belong to me, and they’ll stay with me. I am their queen now.”

Morana laughed bitterly, wondering if Carmilla had possessed the girl for her to act so coldly. It shouldn’t have surprised her though, despite their differences, Mihaela was, and always would be, irremediably Carmilla’s daughter, and as such, she wouldn’t let people abandon without taking something away in return, something they’d miss as much as she’d miss them.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

With a shattered heart, Mihaela watched the two remaining members of the council of Sisters removing the rings that matched the one on her right hand and putting them over the table. The woman who taught her how to behave, how to carry herself, how to fold an entire court at her will; the woman who taught her how to wield a sword and speak Romanian, both of them gone without looking back, leaving her alone with her husband and her wounded pride.

It might as well be all she had left now.

Chapter Text

“In a long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now.”
— Dracula, Bram Stoker

The stillness and heavy mourning of the past three days went away the moment Striga and Morana did. The soul crushing pain of losing her family still lingered, but Mihaela didn’t have it in her anymore to let grief eat her alive. Her tears dried out, replaced by anxiety and restlessness, a desperate need to do something about Styria, even though she knew it was probably lost forever.

She wanted to see it again, one last time, to witness what was done to her motherland and its people, or else she’d spend the rest of her immortal life brooding over it.

She just needed to figure out what to do about Adrian first.

He would never allow her to make such a long distance alone, not in the terrible emotional state she was into, much less to a place that not only was crammed with night creatures, but would likely become the field of battle between dynastic houses that wouldn’t hesitate to make the last daughter of the Árpáds and the Karnsteins into a hostage, either it was to demand ransom or end two ancient lines and their claim over that piece of Austria in one blow.

That’s why she didn’t tell him anything, not yet at least. They didn’t talk much after they left the council room, but stayed together in silence, his ever caring gaze making sure she wouldn’t harm herself again, glancing at her hands and wrists every now and then, grateful that her vampire blood have gotten rid of the wounds the sharpness of her own nails and Carmilla’s crown had opened in her skin… but it was yet to heal the ones caused by the twins weeks ago.

“I won’t hurt myself again.” Mihaela assured him, well aware of where his worries lay. “I was out of my mind, but I feel better now.”

His eyes remained on her, watching as she paced around the room, tracing her fingers over the furniture in boredom, opening the closet and the drawers, unable to keep her hands still. “Grief doesn't disappear overnight, my love. You’re not as well as you pretend to be.”

“I’m not pretending, Adrian, it still feels like a sword is stuck in my chest. I just...” She paused, her hands lingering on one specific drawer. “Trying to accept that I lost both my mothers.”

Completely overlooking the fact that she referred to Carmilla as her mother, Mihaela opened the drawer to see the portrait of her actual mother. Lady Catherine’s image didn’t stay in the corridor with the rest of the family paintings, for it was too small and too precious for her, and she liked to keep it within reach. Adrian came from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder to look at the portrait too, taking in the impressive resemblance, admiring those stunning eyes Cate Árpád passed on to her daughter.

“It never ceases to amaze me how much you look like her.”

“Uhum…” She murmured, caressing the image as if it was a living thing. “But did you know I have my father’s cheekbones?”

He chuckled faintly. “I assumed as much, since yours are just like Carmilla’s, but I’m yet to see this portrait you found at his old house.”

“I’ll hang it with the others in the corridor.” She put Catherine’s portrait back in the drawer, along with other objects she held so dear: the hundreds of letters she had exchanged with Adrian over the years, the ribbon she tied around the hilt of his sword on their wedding’s tournament, Dracula’s wedding ring, and the recent addition of Striga and Morana’s rings.

She turned around, feeling his hold on her waist tighten, one of her hands cupping his face, bringing him closer, smelling into his hair, the woody, cinnamon scent enticing and calming as usual.

“I’m not ready to return to my duties just yet, but I think it’s time for you to go back to yours.”

“And leave you alone?” The suggestion itself was outraging, as if he’d ever leave her side again in such a difficult moment.

“I’m not alone, my love, I’ll be only a scream away from you.” She rested her forehead against his, their noses occasionally brushing. “But I fear if we neglect this country for much longer, we might lose it too, and that would be too much for me to bear. That's all I have left other than you.”

“I see.” He sighed, tracing circles in the small of her back, a little disappointed about being dismissed from her company, although understanding. “But do scream if you need me, please?”

She nodded, the pit of her stomach twisting with guilt from keeping her intentions from him. “I will.” Her promise was sealed with a loving peck on his lips, and with that, he was gone.

Mihaela waited only a few minutes after he left to summon a servant. She managed to find a few good ones among the settlers from Danesti and other villages’ refugees that kept arriving by the day, most of them young women trying to escape the heavy work of building and farming, and she gladly took them under her service, improving both those girls lives and, of course, her own.

But she hadn’t been giving them many tasks lately, in that morning specifically, all she asked of them was to brew her some tea and get her Sypha and Greta, discreetly.

Mihaela moved to the living room, better equipped to receive guests than the private chambers she shared with her husband, and sat on the couch by the small table where a kettle and some teacups were placed, appreciating the smell of the scented vapor waves coming from the tea, turning round the rings on her fingers as she waited for the women to arrive.

She sat straighter when the Speaker and the Headwoman showed up, the force of habit stronger than the notion that she had been trying to befriend those two and that she needn’t to impress them, for they had seen her in her worst already.

“You asked to see us?” Greta inquired when they walked into the room. Her long hair was tied in a loose bun and the sleeves of her shirt rolled up, her clothes a little dirty from the hands-on nature of her work.

“Yes. Please, sit.”

The duo sat across her on another couch, and Sypha graced her with a warm, complacent smile.

“Would you like some tea?” Mihaela offered, already pouring her own cup.

“What kind of tea?” The Speaker asked. “Some herbs are not safe for women in my condition.”

“Raspberry and peppermint. Don’t worry, it’s completely safe, I used to drink it all the time when I was expecting.” The dhampir spoke of her past pregnancies as if it no longer affected her, and in a way, it didn’t, not as much as it used to.

Aware it was not the time to question her about that absent baby, Sypha nodded and served herself some tea. Greta followed the gesture, waiting for Mihaela to address this urgent matter that dragged them away from their obligations.

“So,” Mihaela cleared her throat, holding her teacup over her lap. “As you can probably guess, I called you both here because I need your help.”

“What can we do for you?” The Headwoman – like most of her villagers – had developed a sense of gratitude towards Alucard and the princess, wanting to compensate the couple for everything they did.

She took a deep breath, looking from Greta to Sypha, wondering if they’d agree to her request. Despite Greta’s willingness to repay her and Sypha’s constant efforts to earn her friendship, Mihaela still feared they would say no, valuing Adrian’s position and authority over her wishes. Yet, she clung to the virtue the council of Sisters passed on to her: that fair women would always help each other.

“Here’s what I want from each of you.”

(…)

It took a while for Adrian to notice Greta and Sypha’s absence. He had a busy day relocating what was left of the Styrian contingent, dividing them between the royal army and the castle guard, struggling to place each person where it best suited them, for he barely knew those people. Mihaela would have handled it better, surely; not only was she acquainted with the soldiers, but she had a natural talent to delegate.

Yet he tried his best, wanting to spare her the trouble, and in the midst of his work, when it finally occurred him neither the Speaker nor the headwoman were seen in the village that day, he didn’t give it much thought, mostly because he had little time to waste, but also because he knew they might have been busy with something else, specially Sypha, being pregnant and all. And of course, their whereabouts were not his business.

However it became his business when he decided to rest for the day and found both of them in his wing, precisely in his living room, Greta spread over the couch in boredom and Sypha putting together the pieces of Dracula’s transmission mirror, the one which things could be sent half a world away, the one Mihaela and the forge master were pushed through.

“What is going on here?” He arched a brow to Sypha, genuinely intrigued to know what she would need the mirror for. “Where is Mihaela?”

As if summoned by her name and his voice, Mihaela appeared from behind a dresser, wearing a shabby green dress with a gray cape over it, a hood hanging from its collar that would likely go over her untied curls to cover them. Her grieving clothes were discarded on a chair, as were her jewels, including the ring of Styria. She only kept the wedding ring, the only piece of value that wouldn’t give away her identity. Adrian solved that puzzle in no time.

“No.” He protested before any of them could answer. “You’re not going.”

“Darling...”

“Mihaela, no .” He wanted no explanations nor arguing, and he was hurt . How could she plot behind his back? Was she really planning to escape like a fugitive in the middle of the night without telling him? “I won’t let you get yourself killed over a lost cause.”

“Seeing my home isn’t a lost cause...”

“This is your home!” Adrian’s words came out harshly, the fear of her being in danger clouding his reasoning. “Since the day I put this on your finger.”

He grabbed Mihaela’s left hand, squeezing the wedding band around her finger, but she quickly pulled her hand away, and he felt two pairs of eyes burning on his back, realizing he had crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

“Come with me.” She spoke through her teeth, turning on her heels and walking out of the living room, deadly embarrassed for almost causing a scene in front of their friends.

Adrian followed her back to their chambers, already sorry for his outburst, yet unable to apologize given the state of panic the thought of her actually going to Styria alone in such dangerous time has put him into. He feared the pain she went through had caused her to act impulsively… like Dracula, even if in an entirely different way. He needed to talk some sense into her before it was too late.

“Don’t ever use that tone with me again, especially not in the presence of others.”

“I won’t if you quit plotting behind my back.”

“I did no such thing!”

“And what would you call planning to leave your home and risk your life without telling your husband, might I ask?”

Mihaela opened her mouth to deny his statement, but one couldn’t say he was completely wrong, it did feel like betrayal. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“When everything was ready for me to go.”

“So I wouldn’t have time to intervene.” He  bitterly laughed through his nose as he realized her intentions. “Do you wish to drive me mad, Mihaela?”

“I am trying not to go mad, Adrian.” She retorted. “You know I’d never deliberately do anything to disturb your peace or hurt your feelings, I only wanted to deal with it as smoothly as possible, and I thought knowing less would make you worry less.”

“Not knowing is exactly what’s bothering me! You’ll be a country away from me, alone, in your most vulnerable moment, doing god-knows-what! How am I supposed to take this lightly?”

“I won’t be alone, Greta is coming with me.”

“Not to make little of her skills, but what can she possibly do against an entire army of night creatures on her own?”

“The night creatures are under Isaac’s control, I doubt he’ll use them against me, he has sworn your father not to harm me.”

“I doubt this vow extends to not defending himself if you attack him, and frankly, I think it is exactly what you’re gonna do if you see him. I have known you since you were a little girl, Mihaela, you will try to avenge your family if you have the chance.”

“Which is why Greta will escort me, she’s efficient on keeping people grounded in difficult situations, as we both witnessed. She won’t let me act carelessly.” 

Adrian’s face quivered with palpable jealousy. “Why on earth would you need her for that when you have me?”

“Because I knew you would try to convince me not to go and delay my departure, Adrian!” Mihaela snapped, closing her hands into fists to prevent herself from grabbing at her hair, her will to cry coming back out of sudden. The last thing she wanted was to argue, was it too much to ask for him to just kiss her goodbye and wish her good fortune? “I just want this to be over.” She confessed in a whimper, defeated, feeling like a child again, trying to convince her elders to allow her to do what it felt right. “But I cannot move on if I don’t see it for myself. I need to do this, I have a duty to the people of Styria… and to Carmilla. I owe her that.”

His shoulders slumped in resignation, realizing nothing he said would change her mind. He could keep her there if he so wanted, the disparity of strength would make it so easy, but he only ever laid hands on her to hold and to comfort, to love and to pleasure, and he would never touch her to do anything but. If going was what she wanted, he wouldn’t stand in her way.

“I could never ask you to neglect your duty to Carmilla.” He didn’t think the late queen deserving of the dedication, but he understood how important it was for Mihaela, a slave to her family’s wishes much like himself. “And you cannot ask me not to do mine to you.”

“What do you mean? What duty?”

“To protect you, to keep you safe.” He answered. “I’ll go with you.”

Does he think grief has made me frail and powerless? The thoughts in her head were bitter, but the words she let out had nothing to do with them. “You’ll leave this place unattended?”

“Trevor and Stephen are here, they’ll manage.”

Mihaela nodded, as resigned as he was. Not that she opposed him coming with her, but she would have preferred they were on better terms, and she started wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to tell him everything from the beginning, despite the risk of delaying her a day or two.

But the damage was already done, and she wouldn’t waste the time she gained at the cost of possibly damaging her marriage, so they went back to the living room and, next thing she knew, they were standing next to Greta in front of the mirror, listening to Sypha’s careful instructions.

“Here.” The Speaker handed a piece of mirror to Mihaela. “I’ll keep a piece of it with me, as we agreed. Contact me if there’s any sign of danger and I’ll open the portal for you to return right away.”

Mihaela murmured in agreement, reviewing the poor excuse for a plan silently. She wasn’t even sure if Sypha keeping vigilance over the mirror while Greta – and now Adrian – kept vigilance over her as she did whatever it was she wanted to do in Styria could be called a plan, but it was the best she came up with in such a short period of time, and it would have to suffice.

“Thank you, Sypha.”

“You’re welcome.” She raised a hand, the gesture causing all the floating little pieces of Dracula’s old mirror to come together as one, forming an image Mihaela knew all too well: mountains, dark green trees that seemed to reach the sky, brown leaves covering the grass, crystal clear lakes and a hint of white from the occasional snow of September. Styria looked extremely beautiful in the fall. “Good luck, you guys.”

The Speaker’s blessing was the last thing they heard before stepping into the portal, traveling countless miles within a second, landing on solid, cold and dangerous ground. They looked behind and watched the circle from which they came through slowly disappear, Sypha’s face fading with it.

Mihaela looked at their surroundings, immediately acknowledging where they stood; Adrian had only a vague idea, based on Mihaela’s descriptions, but Greta was completely in the dark. She did not know the importance of those ruins, of that schloss. 

“We just landed in the middle of nowhere.” Greta was about to ask why they were not near the castle Mihaela said she wanted to take a look at, but she noticed something more important. “Where is Alucard? He was here a second ago.”

Adrian was in fact no longer beside them, but that did not surprise nor startled Mihaela. She didn’t see when he shifted, but she felt it, and pointed to the white wolf running into the forest so Greta could see him too. He was deeply upset and twice as hurt, no wonder he turned into his inner animal to avoid conversation.

“I thought vampires could only turn into bats.”

“We can turn into all sorts of nocturnal animals.” Mihaela answered. “Most of us, indeed, turn into bats, like Lenore and my late father. I can shift into a raven, so does Striga. Morana turns into an owl, Carmilla was a wild cat, and some special ones like Dracula can turn into multiple animals.”

“Why? What made him this much more powerful than the other vampires?”

“I do not know, no one does.” She has wondered the reason for her father-in-law’s powers once or twice, and even came up with some theories, but she never questioned him intently, all he told her was that the circumstances of his turning happened differently than most. “But whatever it was, he passed this on to Adrian, he’s both bat and wolf, just like Dracula.” She watched the wolf disappear among the trees, hiding in its shadows, but still watching them from afar. “We should be going now, there’s a long way from here to the royal castle.”

“Couldn’t you pick a spot closer to the castle for us to land?” Greta asked, annoyed just to think about the upcoming walk.

Mihaela looked behind, taking in every little detail, from the roofless house to the ruined stone walls, the few remains of the little chapel and the wooden bridge above the dry ditch. “Forgive me, Greta, but I wanted to see my father’s home.”

For it’s likely my last chance.

(…)

They walked for an hour or so, undisturbed, in a quietness broken only by the whistling wind and other sounds of nature. If they didn’t know any better, they would say that Styria was at peace, and Mihaela would enter the castle to see Carmilla sitting the throne, surrounded by the council of Sisters.

But the foolish fantasy of everything going back to the way it was faded the second they reached the large clearing in between the castle and the forest.

It was crowded, as Mihaela imagined it would be, filled with tents and weapons and soldiers, and dozens of dead bodies being moved as far as possible from the camp, being lined up on top of pieces of wooden branches so they could be set on fire before the rot of dead started to spread diseases among the living. It was all so usual and familiar, like a gruesome memory of what she saw in the aftermath of the battle for Dracula’s castle less than a month ago, but where she expected to find night creatures, vampires and forge masters, she saw humans, men wearing iron armors, carrying swords and spears and flags of their noble houses, the crest¹ of the imperial crowned shield in a red and yellow background flying higher than the other ones.

Of course they’d come, it was expected from the likes of them to use that opportunity to launch their campaign for an united Austria under their rule. The queen and her household were all dead, as was one of her counselors; the other two had fled, the princess was supposedly far away in Wallachia and there was a foreign invader of no royal ascendance sitting the throne of Styria, and the people, nobles and commoners alike, would not tolerate it. It was the perfect moment for them to reclaim the land that was once theirs, before Carmilla, before the Árpáds. What actually surprised Mihaela was that they arrived before a certain someone, and at that, she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Motherfucker is late.” She cursed in german, as she usually did when romanian failed to capture the roughness only her mother tongue was capable of expressing. “A lifetime coveting this kingdom only to let the Habsburgs put their ugly chins on it first.”

Not that Matthias turning Styria into a piece of Hungary would make her happier than the Habsburgs taking it for themselves, she would be the loser in both cases, but it was still amusing to think that he, too, was going to lose for the same reason as hers: too much cautiousness, not enough men. Hungary was strong and respected, as was its leader for keeping the Ottomans away with the tail between their legs, yet they lacked the numbers to do anything but. Perhaps Matthias understood what she struggled to accept, that it was better to content with what one possesses than risk losing it in a foolish attempt to take what’s no longer yours… or maybe being late was just a habit of his, it was not the first time² after all.

 “Are you casting spells or something?” Greta inquired, weird out by the unknown words in an unknown language.

“No, but I would be if I knew any.” She shifted back to romanian to answer, paying careful attention to the soldiers every move, noticing there were plenty of civilians with them, helping them burn the bodies. “I want to take a closer look.”

Greta held her by the wrist. “They’ll see us.”

“I know.” Mihaela said calmly, noticing the pair of golden eyes watching them closely. “Those are Habsburg soldiers, they won’t recognize me, not in this attire. My ears are covered and I won’t show off my teeth.” She spoke a little louder to make sure Adrian would hear it.

“And what if they try to talk to me? I cannot speak your language, they’ll know I’m a foreigner.”

“All you have to do is stay quiet and trust me, I can handle them.” The dhampir pulled her wrist off the headwoman’s hold and gently took her hand. “Just follow me, I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

A pair of wings flapped above them and the white wolf was no more. In its place, a bat watched over the duo as they took their first steps out of hiding.

Mihaela held Greta’s hand tighter, finding comfort in its warmth, determined to preserve her friend’s life at all costs as they approached the conglomerate of people.

It twisted her stomach to notice the only living Styrians around were human, women , wives and mothers and sisters, searching among those corpses for their husbands, children and siblings who once served at court to improve their families lives despite the risk of becoming a vampire’s midnight snack. Not that she was ever as vulnerable as those people, but Mihaela couldn’t help but think that, not so long ago, she was in a similar predicament, unaware of her husband’s whereabouts, wondering if he would ever return, if he was alive or dead, and that notion shattered her heart. No woman deserved such pain.

She swallowed the anguish and ventured through the soldiers' many tents, keeping Greta close, looking up every once in a while to see if Adrian was still there, shivering when one of the men grabbed her arm to prevent them from going much further.

“You may not approach the castle unless you are searching for a relative.” The soldier spoke sternly, probably tired of repeating those same words, over and over again to so many different people.

“I am looking for my husband, sir.” Mihaela came up with the excuse he was likely to believe. “He serves under Marquis Honza, he left with our lord to fight for the Queen, but… he is yet to return.”

The man sighed, how many wives have told him that very same story? “And her?” He pointed at Greta.

“She’s my sister-in-law.” She was quick to lie. “She does not speak, sir, not ever since one of those demons stole her child from the crib.”

“Poor woman.” He made the sign of the cross, evoking protection from a fate Mihaela just made up. “You may go on, but be quick, we’ll burn all the bodies before sunset.”

Mihaela looked at the horizon, noticing sunset was nearing, and dusk would bring more than just a big funeral pyre. The night creatures were likely to come out of hiding as soon as the sun went down, and not wanting to be caught up in yet another bloodshed, she thanked the soldier with feigned meekness and went ahead, dragging Greta along.

The closer they got to the castle, the more bodies they saw, and the worse the smell got. Fatally, some of them were no strangers to Mihaela. Not all of the dry, grayish corpses wearing the livery of Styria were familiar faces, but she did recognize plenty of those vampires, and despite not remembering their names, she didn’t forget where each of them used to stay inside the castle: at the stables, at the dungeons or the gates, they were all loyal guards and soldiers who dedicated their lives – and their deaths – to Styria. There were humans too, of course, it was for them that that bunch of women were crying and tearing their garments apart, but those dead hardly stood out in her memory, for to a human serving in a house of vampires, being good at their job means going unnoticed. Most of them succeeded at the task, but one did not.

Mihaela teared up at the sight of the old man lying dead, flies hovering over the open, fatal wound on top of his head, tainting his white of age hair with – now dry – blood. By the looks of it, Marquis Honza had been dead for at least four days, which meant he tried to repel the foreign invader, that he came all the way from Maribor to the capital to avenge his queen and honor the oaths he made to his princess. The gratitude of being accepted as a Styrian made him loyal to the bones, especially towards Mihaela, who was the one who convinced Carmilla to take his lands and his family as one of them, and she thought the world would be much poorer without him.

She bent down and touched his shoulder, making a blessing gesture.“May you be at peace.”

“Princess?” A stranger's voice whispered in disbelief, and Mihaela looked to her side to see a woman dropping a wreath of flowers as she stood there like she was seeing a ghost.

“Lenka?” Mihaela guessed, recognizing the honey curls and dark eyes of the Marquis’ daughter.

Lenka lowered her head and tried to bow by pure force of habit, but Mihaela got up and held her by the shoulders before she could bend. Greta came right after, sliding her hand under her cloak to grab her hammer’s hilt, ready to eliminate any threat.

“It’s alright, Greta. I know this one, she means no harm.” Mihaela said in romanian, then went back to german to communicate with Lenka in that mix of languages. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” The woman broke free of her hold, picking the wreath of white magnolias from the ground to lay it upon her father. “I cannot give him a decent burial, in the soil of our home with the honors he deserves, but I will pay him homage in the only way I can.” She kneeled next to Honza and made a silent, quick prayer before kissing his forehead goodbye. “I just needed to see him one last time before we leave.”

“We?” Mihaela arched her brow. “Is your wife around?”

“Yes. There are a few people with us, we’re hiding in the caves at the foot of the mountains. They wanted to leave right after my father’s failed attack, but I refused to go anywhere before finding his body.” Lenka got up, tapping her skirts to clean it from the dirt. “We were supposed to go to you, to Wallachia, but now that you’re here…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, looking at Mihaela with something akin to hope in her eyes. Tell us what to do, help us ! was what she meant to say, but her princess was also clueless of how to proceed. It was clear now, as Mihaela could see the castle up close, an entire wing missing and the battlements crammed with the hellish soldiers summoned by Isaac, that she lacked the numbers to reclaim Styria and still keep Wallachia safe all at once, much less the numbers to maintain those lands if by a miracle she managed to reclaim them. It was just as Morana said, the people would turn against her if she refused to stay in the land she wanted to rule.

“Show me this hiding place of yours.” Mihaela required, looking away from her childhood home in order not to cry. “The castle is lost to me, but maybe I can do something for the people.”

Lenka nodded, walking away from the crowd and gesturing for them to follow.

The walk to the caves was not so long as the one they took from the Karnstein schloss to the royal castle, but in the midst of it, the sun started to set in the horizon, the dead were burned and the bat that had been flying above them landed on Mihaela’s shoulder, finding his way inside her hood, among her curls, only his muzzle peeking out. She reached her hand to scratch behind his ears, and when he leaned into her touch, closing his golden eyes in delight, her heart warmed a little.

They walked for a good few minutes, the sun completely gone and a crescent moon glowing in its place when they finally made it to the caves. The bat flew off Mihaela’s hood, rising to his humanoid height and he was a man again. Lenka startled when Adrian appeared out of nowhere, but she didn’t fret, more than used to vampires’ peculiarities after being married to one for years, she simply bowed and kept leading them within the tunnels, towards the spot where the survivors were gathered.

There were no more than a dozen people there, and apparently, they were all from Marquise Adeline - Lenka’s wife - household: half of them soldiers, the other half relatives from Lenka’s side of the family, and of course, the Marquise herself. The woman sat in boredom among her people, the light of a few torches illuminating her strawberry blond hair that fell in a few braids to her waist level, her deep green eyes widening in surprise when her wife returned accompanied.

Adeline rose to her feet and stormed towards Mihaela, bowing deeply before she took her sovereign’s hand to place a kiss on its back. “My queen.”

“Not quite.” Mihaela smiled faintly, feeling unworthy of the title. “Rise, Adeline.”

“No matter who sits the throne, I bow only to those of Carmilla’s blood.” She let go of Mihaela’s hand, turning to address Adrian too. “My prince.”

“Marquise.” He greeted her with a polite kiss on the back of her hand.

“And you…?” Adeline looked at the third member of their party.

“Greta.” The Headwoman answered, guessing she was being told to introduce herself.

“She does not speak our language.” Mihaela explained. “If we may speak romanian from now on..”

“Of course.” Adeline responded in the universal language of the vampires, causing Greta to sigh in relief when she finally understood a word of what they were saying.

The other people in the room approached to greet Adrian and Mihaela as well, though the vampires did so with a little more deference than the humans.

“Is this all that’s left of us?” Mihaela didn’t specify who ‘us’ was, but it was clear she meant the Styrians that still wanted her as their ruler.

“There aren't many of us left, it’s true. A third of the humans escaped to Hungary, the other third went deeper within Austria, seeking refuge with the Habsburgs, and the rest of them stayed to see what happens, to swear allegiance to whoever comes out victorious.” The Marquise spat; to her, the last group of humans were even worse than the previous, treacherous two. “As for the vampires… well, most died at the first raid. I retreated when our queen fell, but I joined forces with my father-in-law to strike back. Sadly, it wasn’t nearly enough to oppose the forge master’s creatures, and Honza perieshid in battle.”

“I am deeply sorry about him.” Mihaela apologized.

“You need not be.” Lenka appeased. “My father knew a man his age would not survive a battle against creatures from hell, but he chose to fight either way. He wanted to die like he lived, with a sword in hand.”

“He fought bravely.” Adeline praised. “My wife must have told you already, but we were supposed to leave with Baroness Anna and her son, we’d have a better chance of survival on the road to Wallachia together, but we couldn’t just leave without finding Honza’s body, so we stayed, and it turns out, it was for the best.”

“She told me half of it.” Mihaela answered, it was good to know Adeline’s was not the only Styrian noble line to escape extinction. “But why is it for the best, might I ask?”

The Marquise shoved her hand into the pocket of her coat, reaching for the shiny, heavy jewel wrapped in a piece of cloth. “Hector the forge master found us two days ago.” She handed the wrapping to Mihaela. “He spent months in the royal castle, mostly in the company of Lady Lenore. She seemed to like him… perhaps that’s why she entrusted him with giving this to you.”

Mihaela’s anxious fingers unwrapped the object with ease, and her heart ached so badly she feared it would explode inside her chest. A gasp of pain escaped her throat and her eyes blurred with tears she no longer had the strength to hold back.

Adrian’s hand gently squeezed her shoulder as she arched over the necklace, holding it against her chest, crying silently, ashamed for falling apart - again - in front of her subjects. But how could she not? That object held her first memory, her first moment of self awareness as an infant - the moment a child realizes they exist - when she found herself in Lenore’s arms in the throne room, being presented to the court, but paying no attention to the crowd, more interested on playing with the sapphires on Lenore’s heart shaped necklace.

It was all that was left of someone she loved so dearly, a piece of jewelry and ashes.

“I…” She sniffed, holding onto the necklace like a faithful holds the rosary, trying to swallow her tears. “I am as grateful for you returning this to me as I’m ashamed for not being able to pay you back in kind.” Mihaela wiped her tears with the back of her hand, looking into Adeline’s eyes, but speaking to all the Styrians present. “I risked a lot coming all this way just to confirm what I already knew deep down, that I can’t free our kingdom from the invader’s hands, that I cannot return your homes to you.” I wonder if my mother’s ancestor³ felt this way too, when treason drove her away from her homeland to these cold mountains. “I wish I was as strong and fierce as Carmilla, for I know she would do what it takes to recover what is ours… I know she did, she died for her land like a true queen. But I lack her strength, she was forged in iron.” I have much to lose, she had little . “I can, however, offer you a new place for you to call home… if you still have me as your ruler, though I understand if you don’t.”

If only she possessed that clarity a few days ago when she met with Morana and Striga, things wouldn’t have ended in the sour note between them. She would never regret anything more than she regretted pushing them away.

“Carmilla was forged in iron, indeed.” Adeline agreed with half a smile, remembering, nostalgically, the powerful constitution of her queen. “She was strong, unbreakable… and greedy, unmalleable. I mean no disrespect when I say this, for we had the most prosperous and successful centuries under her reign, but I believe she lacked what it takes to thrive in this new world without Dracula, something you possess.”

Mihaela frowned at the Marquise’s statement. “What can I possibly have that she didn’t?”

What does the creation have that the creator lacks?

“A human heart.”

It was a weird thing to hear about herself, especially coming from a full-blooded vampire. It was true Mihaela’s human nature had been nurtured by Adrian for the past decade, it was true that she was trying, but she still felt like he was way ahead of her, and that it would take centuries for her to be as kind hearted as he was, to be good without effort.

“She’s right.” Greta agreed, and as if she could listen to Mihaela’s doubts, she continued. “I don’t think you even realize it, so lost in your aristocratic pride and efforts to replicate the ways of your forefathers, but you are a fair ruler, or at least you try to be, which is more than I can say for any other person in a position of power I ever met. You may not be the kindest person in the world, but you are reasonable, and you care. It is a good start.”

Mihaela remained silent for a moment, trying to process what she heard when a gloved hand held hers, the soft touch of leather caressing circles on her knuckles. She looked to her side to see her husband with a slight, gentle smile on his face, not a hint of his previous stern and upset expression in sight. He was proud of her, which meant all those things her people said about her must be true. I can doubt the whole world, but never him.

“I am touched by the faith you put in me, all of you.” With the comfort of Adrian’s touch, she felt a little more confident, more deserving of those people’s trust. “And I only hope that I… that we can meet your expectations.” She smiled back to Adrian, encouraging him to address his new subjects.

He cleared his throat, not quite certain of what to say. “The vows I’ve made to my wife before we wed still stand, her people are always welcome in Wallachia.” A marriage between people like them almost always implied a marriage between countries, Wallachia was married to Styria until death tore them apart. “I cannot restore what we once had under my father, or what you had under Carmilla, but we’re already working to build something new, a place where we can all coexist in peace.”

Peace , it was as rare in that century as it was cherished by its children, born in times of constant war, yearning for it to cease.

“We believe in you, and in this world you want to build.” Adeline reached for Leanka’s hand; they, too, were a symbol of the new time to come. “So please, guide us home.”

Mihaela slid a hand inside her pocket, grabbing the shiny piece of mirror to call upon the one who was going to grant them a safe and fast travel. “It’ll only take a moment.”

(...)

A week passed by since Mihaela returned from Styria, and during that time, preparations have been made.

The castle was, once again, brimming with courtiers, but what was once filled with Dracula’s war generals was now crowded with boyars, the half dozen remaining Stryian nobles and few neighbour rulers, like Stephen and the Voivode of Moldavia. Welcoming all those people was no easy task, the grief and the loss still lingered, as they could tell by her choice of clothes, yet she didn’t flinch from any appointment or obligation during those days, after all, she had vows to accept and protections to offer.

So she stood there, regal and strong in the throne room, sometimes standing next to Adrian, sometimes sharing the seat with him. The task was not easy on him either, he hates the job, but for the meantime, he’s needed there, so there he stays, working with his wife for a better future for those who trusted them.

They did work hard during those days, but no one worked harder than Mihaela’s new maids, who managed to sew her coronation cape in record time. It was impressive, the fine work they did in velvet and linen, the perfection of the embroidery of the Tepes’ and the Karnsteins crests, not a single detail differing from the drawings Mihaela gave them to work with. It went well with the dress she had been saving for a special occasion, and even better with the jewels she chose: Lenore’s necklace was heavy and pretty against her chest, and the rubies on Carmilla’s crown, that by the end of the ceremony would be placed upon her head, would make a nice contrast.

When she looked into the mirror, she finally felt like herself again rather than a shell of grief and sorrow, she felt comforted by the objects that once belonged to those who turned her into the woman that she was.

“Beautiful.” Adrian’s voice echoed across the room.

She looked at him through the mirror, nearly blushing like a maiden at his slender figure leaning on the door. He was wearing a cape too, very similar to the one his father had, and his long, luscious hair was tied up, causing his pointy ears to show. “Likewise.”

She turned to look at him properly, gesturing for him to approach. He went to her swiftly, taking her hands in his.

“It’s time, they’re all waiting for us.”

Greta, the villagers, Trevor, Sypha, the boyars, Adeline and Lenka, the Baroness Anna and her son, Lord Stephen… all of them gathered in the throne room. It was a shame the ones Mihaela wanted the most to attend were probably miles away in the east right now.

“I’m ready.” In a way, she was, indeed, ready.

“I have no doubts, but…” he hesitated before popping the question. “My love, are you happy with this?”

“No.” She confessed with ease, there was no reason for her to keep it from him. “But I’m relieved.”

“Relieved is better than sad.” He agreed. “But I want you to be happy.”

Mihaela smiled softly, melting into his words the same way she did the day he declared his love for her for the first time. “I will be, I have you.”

She dived into him, being embraced by his firm, protective arms. The relief, in truth, wasn’t just about solving the Styrian situation, but also because he seemed to have forgiven her for trying to sneak out behind his back.

“I’m sorry.” She realized then she hadn’t apologized before. “I should have told you from the start that I was going to Styria, it would have spared you the distress.”

“It’s bygones, my love.” He soothed. “It upset me, yes, but I see now how much you needed to be there, and I understand why you were scared of telling me.”

She looked up to him, leaning her chin on his chest. “Forgive me?”

He chuckled, gently grabbing her chin to pull her into a soft, chaste kiss. “If you forgive me for acting like an asshole and the way I spoke to you.”

Mihaela laughed too, his outburst was long forgotten, she knew he’d never speak to her like that ever again. “Then we’re even.” She broke free of his hold, taking his hand instead. “Let’s go.”

...

Historical register of Mihaela's coronation as consort Princess of Wallachia and consort Queen of vampires.

Art by ryokkart on bluesky and twitter

Chapter Text

“There is (…) a ruined village, with its quaint little church, now roofless, in the aisle of which are the moldering tombs of the proud family of Karnstein, now extinct, who once owned the equally desolate chateau which, in the thick forest, overlooks the silent ruins of the town.”
— Carmilla, Sheridan Le Fanu

Mihaela’s pleasant, chilly, autumn October day was ruined by a goddamn letter.

It started so amicable and cozy, picking herbs and fruits with Sypha in the greenhouse of the castle’s inner garden. It has become an habit of theirs, spending the first half of the morning tending to the garden, bonding over the flora that they took tender care of for entirely different purposes: while Sypha thought advantageous for the village to have healing herbs at hands reach and fruits to keep them fed should a time of need ever come, Mihaela wanted to keep that part of Lisa alive now that Adrian was so busy to do it properly. It didn’t take long for Mihaela to start enjoying it truthfully, not only was that little piece of the castle very peaceful, but gardening proved itself to be a relaxing hobby, and she found it very entertaining to be lectured by Sypha on the subject.

After an hour or two in the garden, Mihaela usually went to her study for some paperwork or any other matter that required her attention, and there she was likely to stay until lunchtime. That morning, however, among the many documents upon her desk, there was a letter, which continents had her walking around her wing slamming doors, cursing in German, damning the sender and his entire line.

When she ran out of swear words to say, she sat back at her desk and tried to write a response, but each version of it was worse than the previous, the impolite tone of her words was beneath a princess of her upbringing, and it could very well cause animosity between Wallachia and Austria, which was the last thing they needed right now, with the stability of the realm still in progress. At her fourth attempt, she gave up on responding and shoved the letter into the pocket of her dress, heading to the dining space in her wing where she anxiously ate a whole bowl of plums while waiting for Adrian to stop by for lunch.

“And what did he write to cause you such distress?” Adrian asked after she explained the situation, his attention split between her and his meal.

Mihaela cleared her throat to read the letter aloud. “To Mihaela, Princess of Wallachia and Countess of Karnstein. ” She stressed the second title. “It is my desire that we put aside whichever mishaps that may had occur between our houses and families during Carmilla’s reign, and that you know that we work day and night to remove the illegitimate occupation of her seat, and by such, we are closer to the dream of an united Austria, under one ruler. ” The disdain in her voice grew as she neared a certain point. “As a sign of good will, and to prove there is no reason for disharmony between us, we would like to restore you to your rightful place as your father’s, the late Count Moritz, heir. As his legitimate child, you remain the undoubted owner of his lands and properties, and your children after you, should you have any. Wishing you and your husband good fortune; Frederick¹, Duke of Austria and Holy Roman Emperor.”

Mihaela crumpled the letter and threw it away, sitting on a chair next to Adrian with her arms crossed, indignant, ignoring her untouched plate.

“Darling...” Adrian put a hand over her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“The audacity of that inbred freak!” She slammed her hands on the table. “Who the fuck does he think he is to tell me my place? He thinks he's so generous for allowing me to keep ruins?”

She leaned into the table, resting her head over her arms, sighing in frustration.

Adrian put his plate aside, his hand moving up to caress the nape of her neck. “My love, we knew this was going to happen.” He tried to reason.

She raised her head off her arms, sitting straight again. “What I know is that Styria is lost to me, but I never imagined that a prick who is yet to conquer it was going to mock me. I was the goddamn princess and he reduced me to… to a mere Count’s daughter. It’s infuriating!”

Adrian felt awful to see her like that, having to deal with gloating while still recovering from the loss of her family and her kingdom, and on top of that, being defined through the man who sired her. On that ground, he could relate. “I understand the feeling. I’m used to being called Alucard now, but, sometimes, it feels like people only acknowledge me as nothing but the antitheses of Dracula.”

“I know you do, but… there may be a difference here. I don’t think he would be this patronizing were I born a man, he’d probably see me as an equal, as a real threat, not some poor girl he can appease with some ruins that used to be her father’s home.”

She wasn’t trying to making little of his feelings, but she could think only of the crushing reality Carmilla and the council of Sisters shielded her from in the safe, matriarchal space they built for her, a space which was destroyed with the dissolution of their kingdom, leading Mihaela to understand the late Queen of Syria's hatred towards old men: most of them never took women seriously, never viewed them as equals.

Adrian sighed, on that ground could not relate. “How will you answer him?”

“I probably won’t, all my attempts to write a response seemed like a child who just learned new swear words. I guess I’ll just sit here and hope that he and Isaac and Matthias all die in battle and go to hell together.” She leaned against him, resting her head in his shoulder. “But this pissed me off beyond words, I was doing so well today and this letter fucking ruined it.”

He passed an arm around her, wishing to cross that man with a stake from one extremity to another for the crime of disturbing his wife’s hard-won peace. “I’m sorry about it, love. Perhaps you should take a break from your duties for today, give yourself some time to clear your head.”

“Hmm...” She recapitulated her schedule to see if there was any important appointment for the day, deciding that skipping her Arabic lessons for once wouldn’t hurt. “You’re right. I don’t think I’ll be able to pay due attention to my tasks right now.”

“Have some rest.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back by dinner.”

Mihaela agreed she needed some time alone, and as soon as Adrian was gone, she dismissed all the servants from her wing and gave them the rest of the day off in order to be truly alone. She thought about spending some time at the library, but it was open to the public now – not that anyone could just come and go as it pleases them, there was a little bit of bureaucracy to get permission to access it and even more so to actually borrow a book, but she was likely to stumble into someone if she went there, if not a visitor, then the librarian they just hired to keep everything on track, and she wanted to spend the afternoon in complete solitude. Besides, she doubts she’d be able to focus enough to have a good reading session.

So she takes a walk instead, avoiding the battlements and the few sentinels standing guard as she does, opting to wander the grim hallways that connects her wing to the opposite. It’s actually one of her favorite places in her home, the great corridor which walls resemble those of a museum, full of portraits of the family, painted in different ages by different artists, from Dracula’s human days – preserved intact by magic – to the newest addition brought straight from Styria.

Mihaela stops in front of said portrait, staring at her parents with the fascination it arises whenever it comes to them. They’ve been in that wall for only a few weeks, since the coronation, and mainly by Adrian’s insistence – who after analyzing the painting for a handful of minutes, concluded that despite having little to none of her father’s features, Mihaela shared the exact same expression of disdain as his. The observation caused Mihaela to laugh, but now it makes her think about what else she has inherited from him.

His name and his lands, she thinks bitterly, feeling an ounce of anger towards the man, which she comes to regret immediately. She supposes a woman is entitled to resent her father at some point of her life, but the sentiment should come from something he’s actually guilty as charged – killing himself instead of staying around to raise her, for example – not over a letter written twenty-three years after his passing.

She sighed. She had been thinking a lot about her parents lately, nearly as much as thinks of and misses Carmilla and Lenore, and the letter only triggered it to new levels. Her whole life, her countrymen had acknowledged her as Mihaela of Styria, now she was Count Moritz’s daughter, and that brought some reflections.

“Fucking hell.” Mihaela cursed, massaging her temples. She wanted to stop thinking, to forget about ever reading that goddamn letter. “I need to be knocked out for a few hours.”

And so she returns to the kitchen to brew some lettuce tea, hoping it will deceive her vampire metabolism and make her pass out on her bed.

(…)

The tea effectively puts her to sleep, two cups and a warm bath had her drowsily closing the curtains of her bedchambers and tucking herself under the blankets.

The tea does not, however, bring her the peace and quiet she hoped for.

Mihaela dreams , the dream so similar to the one she had during her early childhood, but what once felt like a fantasy, a delirium of a little girl who only wanted her parents was now clear and palpable, her surroundings more detailed and realistic than ever before… as was the face of the man in the room with her.

When she was little, he was – both in her imagination and her dreams – only a blur of silver hair pressing his ear against her mother’s belly in an attempt to hear the baby inside. As she got older and learned about his fate, the dreams turned to nightmares, and instead of a faceless man, there was a burned corpse of gelid blue eyes, screaming in pain as it fell to death. But as of late, ever since she recovered his portrait from the old schloss, his face became clearer and his presence in her dreams more frequent until it reached its current point of uncanny lucidity.

The Count of Karnstein was there, in the flesh, sat on an armchair, wearing the very same attire as he did in the portrait hanging in the wall behind him, his demeanor and posture scaringly like Mihaela’s in the exact same way his features and colors were scaringly like Carmilla’s. But despite all the eerily similarities, his smile was unique, warm even, brimming with longing.

“There you are, Miha.”

She arched her brow, surprised to hear his voice, but even more so by the nickname he came up with. “Is the three final letters of my name too hard for you to pronounce?”

Moritz laughed, amused by her straightforwardness. “In a way, my girl. Your name isn’t exactly common where we come from, but your mother was adamant.” He smiled when he mentioned Catherine, the very same way Mihaela smiles when she speaks of Adrian. “But it suits you, doesn’t it? A Romanian name for a Romanian queen.”

“Princess.” She corrects him, then her eyes fall upon the portrait, more specifically on the heavily pregnant woman in it. “Why isn’t she here with you?”

“Your mother is… too good to be here.”

“Too good to be in our home?”

“My girl, this isn’t our home, not really.”

It is only when he mentions it aloud that she remembers she is dreaming. The real Karnstein schloss is reduced to ruins, and her real father is nothing but ashes in a box, buried in the Styrian hills. That man she’s talking to, that thing , that is not her father, just a spectrum her subconscious has manifested after thinking too much of him, after faulting Moritz for the actions of others. Perhaps her remorse has summoned it.

“Right.” She sighed, sitting on the armchair next to his’. “I almost forgot this is all a dream and I’m talking to myself like an idiot.”

“Are you really?” He inquired, defiantly. “How can you be so certain?”

“Because you – no, because my father is dead. You’re just a wicked trick of my longing.”

“If that’s the case, why not indulge it?”

Mihaela ponders for a moment. It feels pathetic, talking to the ghost of what she pictures her father to be, but again, no one’s there to witness it, it is all happening inside her mind, doomed to fade the moment she wakes up. “I… I suppose it’ll cause no harm.”

Moritz seemed satisfied, and he moved his chair closer to hers, almost gluing one furniture to another. Carefully, afraid that she might flinch, he slowly reached for her hand, and when she does no mention of pushing him away, he enveloped her fingers with his cold, pale hand, leaning over to press kisses on her knuckles, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin. Mihaela has no reaction but to stare down at him, uncertain if she should return his affections or cut him off.

“You look beautiful, my girl.” He rose back to his regal posture, his free hand moving up to brush a loose lock of hair off her face. “Just like your mother was.”

There’s a nostalgic spark in his eyes, and she guesses he searches for Catherine in her, unable to notice he actually searches for himself. There isn’t much to see, unfortunately, if anything his genes caused the brown of her hair to be lighter and her cheekbones higher, but other than that, only the vampiric traits gave away that she’s his daughter. But what she lacked in likeness with him regarding physical appearance compensates in mannerisms: those were nearly identical to his, which is hardly a surprise. Mihaela was raised by Carmilla, and Carmilla was raised by the same demanding grandfather as Moritz.

Or maybe it was in their blood to be pompous, the apple never falls far from the tree after all.

“She was a bit more talkative, though.” He grinned, teasing without actually meaning to.

“I bet she’d be more contemplative and less talkative if she dreamed of her dead father.” Mihaela retorts.

“No, she would be throwing things at him.”

“I take it she didn’t get along with him?”

“Of course not, he endangered the one she loved the most.”

“You?”

“No, my girl. You. ”

Mihaela laughs. Of course her subconscious wants her to believe her mother loved her more than anything in the world, but she’s reasonable enough to understand that’s not the case. “If you say so.”

There was no point arguing with a dream.

“I know so.” He squeezed her hand tenderly, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and cradle her like an infant. “You were her dream come true, child. She always wanted a daughter, and when her own father came to hunt her and, by extension, to hunt you, she urged me to put an end to him, and so I did.”

Mihaela swallowed dry, feeling her heart drop to her feet. She has to be dreaming, for she couldn’t believe that a girl of nineteen greatest desire was to be a mother. And if it was, I destroyed her dreams, I tore her apart from the inside and she bled to death.

“Do not think like that...” Moritz pleaded, his voice small, thumb caressing her face.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” She finally flinched away, like he’d been fearing she would, and stormed off the chair, pacing around the carpet on the floor in order to ground the rising anguish.

“It is written all over your face.” He got up too, going after her, grabbing both her hands. “She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Mihaela. She knew the risks of taking the pregnancy to term and she did it anyway because she loved you, from the moment she knew you were coming, my girl. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

She took a slow, deep breath, taming the little burst of anxiety. She let him hold her hands, feeling his fingers tracing the patterns of her scars. Does this version of him made up by her mind knows what caused the skin of her hands to be permanently marked?

“And you?” Mihaela looked straight into his eyes. “Did you feel the same as she did about me?”

Moritz looked away, and his hold on her hands loosened. Whatever it was his answer, he took it it wouldn’t make her happy. “You were… a duty, before you were anything else.” He admitted. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the news, but your mother was, and though I feared for her, her excitement was contagious. I was determined to let the idea grow into me, to stay happy about being a father, and it did happen, sooner than I expected, even.”

He mustered the courage to hold her gaze again, and she noticed his eyes were full of remorse. Almost involuntarily, Mihaela squeezed his hands firmly, aiming to comfort him. For all the things she blamed him for, that wasn’t one of them, not when she herself struggled to accept her own children – and they grew inside of her! Lack of enthusiasm for the shocking news of becoming a parent was something she could fully understand.

“When I felt your tiny feet kicking my hand, when you started to move in her womb at the mere sound of my voice, you melted my heart.” The vampire smiles at her. “I wanted to give you everything, to do everything for you.”

“But...” She gasped out the word. “But you didn’t. When she died.. why didn’t you stay with me?”

She felt her eyes growing warm, tears welling up in the corners. The heartbroken she resignedly carried in silence her whole life finally coming to the surface, and with that, the realization that her children might have felt exactly the same way about her had they lived. She could picture Rhea asking why she didn’t spend time with her as much as Adrian did, she could imagine little Vlad throwing tantrums and begging her to play with him just for a little while. Mihaela’s fears of being a bad mother were all rooted in her father’s absence.

At the sight of his girl crying, Moritz finally gave in and hugged tight, diving his hand among her curls as she quietly wept against his chest.

“For the very same reason you gave up on reconquering Styria, my girl. I couldn’t live without my Cate as much as you cannot bear to stay away from your prince for too long. We were born fierce lovers.” He gently pushed her head off his chest, wiping her tears away. “I regret it, though. I thought I was going to meet her in the afterlife, but I never did.”

“Oh?” Mihaela sniffed. “You… you didn’t find her? Why?”

“Because I am a creature of the night, I’m not welcomed where her pure soul rests. Had I known this beforehand, I would’ve stayed with you.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears, noticing he was as outspoken as her. “At least my subconscious has made you honest.”

“I am no product of your imagination.” Was exactly what a product of her imagination would have said. “Have a little faith and carry back to the mortal coil the certainty that your father loves you very much, and that he is proud of you.”

“How can a father be proud of a daughter who lost the land he lived and died for?”

“Styria matters little to me compared to you and your mother, who was the one I really died for. No piece of land will ever surpass the love I bear you two.” Moritz was categorical, firm and serious, nothing could ever rival his wife and daughter. “I’m proud of you regardless of your titles and possessions, I’m proud of the fierce, intelligent woman you have become, and I know Catherine would be too.”

Mihaela lips arched up in a sad, faint smile. She wanted this to be real, she wanted to believe that by some miracle she unconsciously made it to the realm of death to meet with her father, to be held and comforted by his protective arms and listen to him ramble about her mother. But she was just too rational for that. She knew magic to be real, witnessed it countless times, but she wasn’t nearly as versed in it as Adrian and many other vampires were, certainly not enough to break through the thick veil separating the dead from the living.

But whether she believed it or not, Mihaela didn’t resist the urge to hug him again, to nest herself against him to appease her inner child’s yearning. “You're just saying what I wish to hear.”

“You’re skeptical. I was too, once.” He held her face between his hands and kissed the top of her head, but his touch suddenly doesn’t feel as real as it previously had. The dream was fading. “But getting to meet my daughter after so long is certainly a miracle.”

“Father.” She cried, clinging to his shirt in hopes of prolonging that made up meeting for a little longer. “Don’t go just yet.”

“I’m not going anywhere, child, you are.” Moritz smiled at her one last time, intently memorizing each of her features. “You’ve been here for too long already, you must return.”

“It hasn't even been ten minutes...” Only then she realizes the passing of time in a dream must go differently. How long had she been asleep?

“I’m sorry.” She isn’t certain what he is apologizing for, but his voice now sounds distant and his touch is barely felt. “I love you.”

Mihaela squeezed her eyes shut not to see him vanishing, feeling vulnerable and unprotected without him there, but when she opened them again, the world around her was dark except for a few candles and the moonlight coming through the window of her room. The Karnstein schloss was gone, she was once again in the world of the living, at Dracula’s castle, on her bed, and thankfully not alone.

Adrian was laying on his elbow, a hand resting on her forehead as his thumb ran over it. “You slept a lot.” He says softly. “Are you alright? You seemed a little restless in your sleep.”

Mihaela sat up, breathing in what would’ve been a yawn and rubbing her eyes. It takes a moment for her to say something, her mind actually set on the fact that she indeed slept a lot – she went to bed at lunchtime, but the sun had already set outside and the moon was high in the sky, yet she could swear it had only been an hour since she fell asleep. “I had a weird dream.”

“Was it a nightmare?”

“No. I dreamed of my father.”

“Ah.” Adrian was out of comments to make, dreaming of his father became a synonym of nightmare ever since he killed the man. “Why weird, then?”

“He talked to me, it never happened before.” She answered, wondering what changed within herself to actually have a lucid conversation with him. It couldn’t possibly be because of his portrait, or else that dream would’ve happened nearly a year ago, so she guessed people suddenly reminding her she was Moritz’s daughter before she was anything else was the cause. “I’d rather not talk about it though, if that’s alright to you.”

“Of course.” He was a little disappointed with her refusal, truth be told, and dead curious about what kind of dream had her turning round on the bed and babbling incomprehensible words in her sleep, but he wasn’t one to demand things from her, she would tell him when – or if – she’s ready.

“Thank you.” She was about to lay back down, snuggle around him and doze off again, but then a strange, muffled noise coming from about half a mile away peaked her ears up. “What is going on outside?”

“It is the village’s festival, my darling. Did you forget?”

“Oh, so soon?”

“Soon? Mihaela, it is October 31 already, all hallows eve. I think you lost track of time.”

Something clicks inside her head and she freezes in place for a second, her thoughts taking a dangerous yet inevitable route. It is all hallows eve, the samhain, which means the veil between this world and the next is thinner, the dead walk freely over the earth, causing turmoil, granting favors and even visiting their loved ones. The feast outside is no mere celebration, it is homage and evocation of protection, it is the passing of an year to another in the old religion, and for it to happening in a place such as Wallachia, so recently wounded by the Orthodox² hysteria that had Lisa and so many other innocent killed was… refreshing, to say the least, like the earth was healing.

Mihaela chuckled through her nose, perhaps she should listen to the only advice her father ever gave her – if she was going to believe his appearing was no mere dream – and have a little faith. “I think we should attend it.”

“Really?” Adrian arched a brow, it has been ages since they mingled among the commoners to attend a festival. “We'll certainly be recognized, my love, they’re all used to our faces now.”

“I don’t intend to go in disguise, I don’t mind if they perceive us… or approach us.” She smiles softly at him, aware that he is pleasantly surprised. “It might as well make them feel closer to us, at least for the night.”

Which will only increase their popularity among the people goes without saying.

Adrian agrees anyway, the feast will be a good distraction for the both of them. “Alright, let’s go.”

For the first time in weeks – save from the coronation day – Mihaela abandons the grieving clothes and changes into something brighter. The dress isn’t hers, though purple fabrics are easily found in her wardrobe, the white cloth with traditional Romanian colorful embroidery attached to the torso is not. The dress is Lisa’s, and the brooch she pins near her left shoulder it’s Moritz’s. It is a night to honor and remember the dead, is it not?

She shows up to the festival in a loose side braid that goes down to waist level and has the children running into her, begging to stick flowers in her hair and to braid Adrian’s. Their mothers come in a hurry after them, but before any of those women have the chance to apologize for their kids’ behavior, Mihaela assures them that it’s all right and sits on a pile of rocks next to her husband to indulge the little ones’ wishes.

She’s nowhere good at interacting with them as Adrian is, so she lets him do the job and merely listens as he engages in the children’s small talk. One step at a time.

Mihaela looks around while her hair is played with, noticing how happy everyone seems to be. There is food and wine in abundance, the people look healthy and decently clothed to face upcoming winter, there is laughter and dancing and even some people sneaking out to some secret place within the woods where she’s certain the samhain's orgies will take place.

She chuckles, and immediately wonders if a certain couple will be attending said ritual, but she spots them near the bonfire, Trevor has a cup of wine in a hand while the other is wrapped around Sypha’s waist as the Speaker entertains a pair of little girls caressing her baby bump. Greta is nowhere to be seen, so she assumes the Headwoman has headed to the forest to join the peculiar, carnal celebration.

Whatever suits her better , Mihaela thinks.

Beside her, Adrian laughs at something one of the children said, and she cannot help but smile warmly at the tenderness of the scene. He’s incredibly good with kids, and he looks beautiful with his hair set in braids and different sorts of flowers in its gaps. The image alone brings peace to a heart calloused by so many recent losses and lessen the weight on her shoulders. Whether it was caused by her father’s reassuring words, the discarding of the grieving veil or Adrian’s never ending support, she could not say, but the outcome is all the same.

Mihaela was, at last, much like the earth, healing.

...

The portrait of Lady Catherine Árpád and Count Moritz Karnstein in 1453, weeks before Mihaela was born.

Art by biaart on bluesky

Chapter Text

“Tell me about it, dear, tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to me.”
— Dracula, Bram Stoker

The first snow of winter fell upon Wallachia in the middle of December. The Belmont Village prepared beforehand, under Greta’s leadership, Sypha’s guiding and Adrian’s constant supervision, the villagers stored enough food to face the barren season and take a break from the hard work not to tire themselves in a weather in which catching a cold could be fatal to their mortal bodies.

The barrenness of winter did not, however, touch the castle’s inner garden. Inside the greenhouse, it was always spring, life blossoming from every corner in an abundance of plums, peaches, apples and pomegranates, a variety of herbs and flowers and even some vegetables that were frequently distributed among the castle’s staff and the village’s residents. But nothing brimmed with more life than the garden’s most frequent visitor.

As winter progressed, Sypha spent more and more time in the greenhouse, tending to its flora with the same care she did the little life growing inside of her. More often than not, especially in the mornings, Mihaela would be found next to the Speaker, always learning a new thing about gardening from her enthusiastic teacher who didn’t seem to be able to let go of her arm.

“I need warmth.” Sypha would say to justify her clinginess. “Why do you think I’m always here? The rest of the castle is so damn cold, I cannot get warm without too many layers of clothes, and I’m heavy enough without them already!”

Mihaela was far from being the warmest person around given the vampire blood in her veins, and she thought Sypha would benefit of human warmth a lot more if she stood with Greta, who sometimes would join them to take a break from her duties and steal an apple or two, but Sypha wanted Mihaela, and Mihaela didn’t have it in her to deny a friend in Sypha’s condition – in fact, she was glad the Speaker’s hormones were making her clingy instead of grumpy, and the shock of realizing some women actually enjoyed being with child was a welcomed surprise. She found solace in the knowledge that Sypha’s experience was infinitely better than hers, and even offered some counsel regarding carrying and birthing when her friend asked for it.

But as the pregnancy evolved and their friendship developed, as they grew acquainted and intimate, Sypha’s questions became harder to answer. In the beginning, she asked for tips to ease the back pains, what to do about sore feet and what to drink to help with the contractions once her time comes, but now, she was allowing herself to be curious and ask the dhampir very personal questions about her experience.

“How far did you make?” The Speaker inquired in a particularly cold morning by the end of 1476, when they were picking peaches to send a basket to Baroness Anna’s son as a gift for his wedding to a Boyar’s daughter, a sweet treat for his willingness to strengthen the bond between Wallachia’s nobility to the remnant of Styria’s. “I hear dhampir pregnancies go a lot faster.”

“Three months the first time, six months the second.” Mihaela answered without a fuss, as she did most of her friend’s questions.

“Second?” Sypha dropped a peach, but the fruit fell into the basket . “You had two?”

“Yes, boy and girl, respectively.”

Sypha gulped, knowing the following question was indelicate, yet unable to hold her own tongue. “Did they both...”

“Yes.” Says the princess. “He was malformed and she arrived before her time.”

“I’m sorry.” Sypha instinctively caresses her bump, as if trying to protect her baby from such fate.

“It’s alright, it’s been a while already.”

“I think any mother misses her children regardless of how long it has been since she lost them.”

“I...” Mihaela wonders for a while, realizing she didn’t have an answer for that. Does she miss her children? Would Sypha think her a monster if she didn’t? “I try not to think much about it.”

Afraid that she might have overstepped some boundary, Sypha nods with complacency and changes subjects, chattering once more about the quality of the fruits, suggesting the addition of some apples and what was left of the Turkish Delights¹ from Greta’s birthday celebration the day before.

But what she said takes roots in Mihaela’s brain and has her ruminating over the thought for a while. It had always been a conflicting feeling, hating the idea of having children yet wishing with all her heart that they have lived, wondering what kind of people they would’ve been at the same time she didn’t want to be responsible for raising another person, and all those things combined made it impossible for her to know if she misses them or not.

She did not share the burden though, sparing Adrian from the painful memory and Sypha from any disturbing thought, instead, she pushed the doubt to the back of her mind where it belongs, successfully surpassing it.

Until Mary Belmont was born.

The girl came into this world in the last week of May, when the spring was in the full of its bloom and Mihaela’s 24th birthday only three days ahead.

The girl came out quickly and as smoothly as it is possible for a visceral experience such as childbirth. It was a joyful occasion, one that assembled all of Sypha’s Speaker Tribe on the castle’s grounds and half of its women in the birthing room. Greta was there too, by Sypha’s request, and though she invited Mihaela as well, the princess couldn’t stand to watch.

She left the room at Sypha’s first scream of pain, already overwhelmed by the smell of herbs scattered all over the floor and the number of people in the chambers. She knew it to be a tradition to have people witnessing the birth of royals and high nobility, which wasn’t exactly baby Belmont’s case, so she failed to understand why would Sypha want to be surrounded by all those women when she could send them away and keep just her husband and the midwives in the room. It was how Mihaela did, she only allowed Adrian and Lisa in the room with her the first time, and a single midwife in the second, for having people around her while in pain would only add to the distress.

But Mihaela knows Sypha is a people’s person and probably takes comfort to be in the company of women during that defining moment that changes one’s life forever and only those who feel the pain of creating life can understand, she respects it even though she can’t relate, and waits for it to be over outside the room, sitting by the door with Adrian.

An hour or so later, when the crowd of Speaker women and the midwives were gone, Mihaela returned to the birthing chamber, taking Adrian with her, to find Greta and the young parents nearly drooling over the newborn baby.

“It’s a girl.” Trevor states proudly, unable to take his eyes off the bundle of joy wrapped in Speaker blue. “We named her Mary, after one of my sisters.”

Sypha smiles at the couple, beyond happy and beyond tired. “Do you want to hold her?”

She doesn’t specify to which one she’s offering, but Mihaela is suddenly afraid to hold something so fragile and quickly gestures for Adrian to go ahead.

Unlike her, he’s eager to hold the baby. He has no further experience on doing so, since the only infant he ever held was his son, or rather his dead, bloodied body, but when Trevor places baby Mary in his arms, it feels so natural as if he has done it countless times prior. Some people are just that good with children.

“Hey there, little one.” Adrian smiles at the little girl, who blinks her wide blue eyes in a struggle to stay awake.

Mihaela came from behind him, resting a hand on his hip and her chin on his shoulder, looking down at the baby in his arms. The Belmont girl is bigger than Rhea was, yet smaller than Vlad and his beastly wings, and though seemingly as fragile as they were, it is clear that Mary is strong and healthy and full of life . Mihaela lets out a nearly unnoticed sigh of relief and reaches her hand to touch the baby’s rosy face, taken by its softness and warmth, by the beauty of life thriving.

That night, when she lay down in bed next to Adrian, a dozen thoughts ran through her mind, all of them related to what Sypha had said months ago, causing her to wonder once more if she misses the kids or not. It was easy to ignore it back then, but the birth of Mary and the joy in Adrian’s eyes when he held the little girl was making it impossible for her to think about anything else.

“Darling?” Reluctantly, she decided to bring that up.

“Yes?” Adrian answers a little sleepily.

She has her head on his chest, fingers tracing patterns on his bare skin. “I was wondering… if you still want to have children.”

The bluntness of her question has him stirring under her and the sleepiness washed away. “What? Where did that come from?”

He has a few ideas where it came from, but he does not want to make assumptions.

“You heard me. Do you still want them?”

“Do you? Have you changed your mind so suddenly?”

“No, but… I want to know if you do. You seemed over the moon holding Mary… it made me think you’d be just as happy to hold our Rhea.”

A twinge of pain stabs through his heart, both from the mention of his daughter and realizing what Mihaela must be feeling. She blames herself for robbing him of the joy of being a father. “It would’ve made me twice as happy, my love, to have our girl here with us. It doesn’t mean I want to try for another.”

“But you love children so much...”

“I don’t yearn for the hypothetical sons and daughters we could have had, I yearn for the ones we lost. Besides, I know how much it’d make you suffer to go through it again, I would never do that to you just to fulfill a whim. If we happen to expect again, it must be because you want to.”

Mihaela snuggles around him, burying her face deeper onto his chest, inhaling his scent. “It’s not as if I want to try for a baby either, but as of late, being around Sypha, seeing how different her experience was compared to mine, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong with me… within me.” She confesses. “I should’ve been able to love them from the start… to deliver them safely.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Adrian is quick to dismiss that horrible suggestion. “As far as we know, I could be the one unable to give you healthy children and not the other way around. But even if the problem lies within you… I don’t care, my love, I’m utterly satisfied with the life we have. I would have loved to have them here, but it is a scarred wound, it only hurts if poked, but it does not make me unhappy.”

She lifts her head from his chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “You don’t resent me?”

“Never.” He says firmly, pressing a reassuring kiss on her forehead. “Do not think of it again, it would make me terribly sad if you even consider for a moment that I resent the one I love the most.”

“Alright.” She promises. “I shouldn’t have doubted you in the first place, I know you better than that, but sometimes my troubled heart turns against me.”

Adrian smiles softly, there was nothing he could relate more to. “I understand, my love. Don’t ever hesitate to bring your worries to me, that’s what I’m here for.”

But she does not bring that up again, for being around Sypha, Mary and the other kids to come would be a healing experience she did not know was in her destiny.

(…)

Mihaela went through a period of loneliness during the first trimester that succeeded Mary’s birth. Sypha stepped away from her duties and tasks for a month, as it is expected of a puerperal woman who needs time for her body to heal, but that one month of retirement turned in two once the Belmont manor was fully repaired and ready to welcome the family in. Mihaela knew it was important for baby Mary to grow up in touch with her father’s traditions, in her father’s home, but she still felt her heart tightening when she had to watch Sypha leave the castle with all her stuff packed up.

It was a harsh time for the garden to have Sypha away, even during the season of fruiting, for being there without the Speaker made gardening lose a bit of its appeal for Mihaela. The dhampir found it difficult to keep everything alive without any aid, and when she let an entire bush of roses die, Adrian stepped up and started to keep his wife company, both for her sake and the garden’s.

“You know she’s just across the field, right?” Adrian addresses the issue of Mihaela’s obvious longing during one of their gardening sessions. “You can visit when you want, I always stop by for tea when I’m in the village. You should come with me.”

Mihaela sighs. She had thought of visiting before, but part of wondered if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience to invite herself over to a home in which new parents were still trying to settle into a routine with their baby. “I know, it’s just… I miss having her here. She and Greta, even Lenka sometimes, it’s nice having them around, it almost feels like my own retinue.”

I would like to have one goes without saying. Mihaela never lacked female companionship back in Styria with the Council of Sisters, and in Wallachia, even though her options were scarce, Lisa seemed to suffice her need to be around women every once in a while. But all of those women were either dead or far away, and with Adrian’s new position as monarch keeping him away from her half of the day, the idea of having official ladies in waiting was becoming appealing. Lenka was an obvious and appropriate choice, one she would gladly accept, but she yearned for Greta and Sypha, especially the latter.

“She’ll be back here in the castle sooner than you notice.” Adrian offers a comforting smile. “But do come to visit with me next time, she’ll be more than happy to see you.”

Two days later, with a basket full of fresh fruits hanging on her forearm, Mihaela accompanies Adrian on the ten minutes walk from the castle to the Belmont manor, arriving just in time to join the early afternoon tea with the new parents and Greta, who by the looks of it, has also developed the habit of stopping by to kill time during her work breaks.

Sypha is, as Adrian has predicted, delighted to see Mihaela. The Speaker welcomes the princess with an overly affectionate hug she’s still getting used to and one of those warm cheek kisses Mihaela firmly believes is reserved to spouses and very close relatives. Adrian seems to agree, for he immediately places a firm, possessive hand on Mihaela’s waist; Trevor, judging by the smirk on his face, finds it very entertaining.

“It was about time for you to see our new home!” Sypha greets with enthusiasm. “Please, sit, I’ll make you some tea.”

The couple sits near Greta as Sypha leaves to brew more tea, and Mihaela cannot help but stare at the serene infant in the headwoman’s arms. Mary had grown a lot during those two months, her little body seemed firmer, her eyes were fully open, and more importantly, Mihaela no longer had the impression that the baby was made of glass and would break at the slightest touch.

“May I?” She gestures for the baby, and Greta immediately hands her the little girl.

Mihaela holds her breath for a second when the feather-like weight is placed in her arms. It feels different, nothing like she remembers from the last time she held a child. Mary stirs, stares at her with curious eyes and shows her an adorable toothless smile, she reaches her little arms up and tries to grab Mihaela’s jewelry, babbling unrecognizable sounds.

“She likes you.” Trevor says. “She usually takes some time to warm up to a new face, but she likes you already.”

Mihaela smiles back at the happy baby, running her fingers through the russet-brown tufts of hair. “She’s beautiful.” The dhampir caresses the tiny, chubby face, but the tender moment stops suddenly when she smells a change in the little human’s scent. “She… oh, she pooped.”

She hands the baby to the nearest person available, which happens to be Adrian, who cannot help but chuckle at his wife’s reaction. “It’s only a dirty diaper, my love, there’s no need to be this mortified.”

“You handle it, then!”

Trevor lets out a hoarse laugh. “Come with me, Mr. Prince of Wallachia and dirty diapers, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Adrian follows Trevor into one of the manor’s rooms, leaving Mihaela alone with Greta just for a few seconds before Sypha returns with a kettle of warm spearmint tea. “I heard your struggle from the kitchen, Mihaela. I hope Mary’s powerful shitting has not scared you off permanently.”

“Not at all, just don’t ever expect me to join Adrian and Trevor in the cleaning poop adventure, it’s beneath me.”

Greta and Sypha laughed at her antics, both of them more than used to her persona by now.

The trio pours themselves some tea and chat for a while, alone in their private world with no men for just a few minutes. Greta speaks of the village’s constant progress and development, Sypha tells them about the perks and struggles of motherhood and having a permanent home for the first time in her life, and Mihaela complains about the annoying nobles in court constantly suggesting a royal tour, which leads her to vent about how much she yearns for the company of real friends… for their company.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you both for a while now, but I didn’t want to disturb your work, I know how busy you both are lately.”

“Oh, please, you could’ve just come to us and we’d certainly make time for you.” Greta argues, putting her cup aside. “But what is it that you want to discuss?”

Mihaela takes the last sip of her tea and stares at her friends’ curious faces, and she finds herself a little embarrassed for what she’s about to suggest, for what she’s about to admit . It was difficult for her to show affection for people other than her husband and her family. “Well, this past few months I came to realize that I actually miss the two of you… a lot.” Her ears grow warm, and she hopes they’re not as red as they feel.

“That’s nice to hear, Mihaela, we miss you too.” Sypha grins, reaching out her hand to squeeze Mihaela’s shoulder. “As you said, we’ve been busy later, but we can make time to be in the castle more often.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to address.” She clears her throat, sucks in a deep breath and shoves away the embarrassment, reminding herself she doesn’t have to be ashamed. “I want to offer you a more permanent and official position in the castle, a role. It isn’t so common here in eastern European courts, but not unheard of, and I would like to assemble my own retinue of ladies… if you accept to be among them.”

Greta and Sypha exchange a surprised look, followed by a deafening silence. Mihaela swallows dry, and she’s sure the heat on her ears has reached her cheeks.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just...” Sypha pauses, unsure of how to respond to what it sounds a lot like a job offering. “An unexpected proposal.”

“Very.” Greta agrees. “I mean, how does this even work? Is being friends with you a paid job now?”

“What? No, that’s not...” Mihaela stops midway through the sentence, realizing Greta has a point. She didn’t consider the details before making the offer, and she completely overlooked the fact that being a lady-in-waiting is a paid position given the nature of the job, and how offensive it must have sounded for people like them who grew up far away from the court. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel like I’m buying your friendship, I was just… trying to show how much I value the two of you. Forgive me.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Greta chuckles, grabbing Mihaela’s hand over the table. “I understand that this is how you show you care, but I think I speak for the both of us when I say this kind of life does not suit us. I mean, can you imagine me in a fancy dress, following courtly rules and forsaking my obligations with the village?”

Mihaela pouts. “You’d look pretty in a fancy dress.” The comment causes both her friends to laugh. “But you’re right, it would keep you away from the village most of the day.” This damn village keeps everyone I like away from me.

“What Greta is trying to say is that we have very different lifestyles from yours, but it doesn’t mean we like you any less, quite the contrary actually. You are a very interesting person, Mihaela.” Sypha adds, letting go of her shoulder to hold her other hand. “And we don’t need to have a position in your household to be near you, you can always call us when you want us around, or come to us. We have your back, for whatever you may need us...”

“… except this lady-in-waiting shit.”

Mihaela laughs, feeling her previous tension disappear in thin air. She feels at ease despite their refusal, in regards of it too, for there is no bigger proof of genuine friendship than the disposition to counteract your friends without fearing to lose them. They might not be as available for her as Lenore and Lisa used to be, but she supposes this is how mature relationships work, each with their own lives and responsibilities, but still making time to care for each other.

“Understood, no fancy dresses or courtly rules for you, Lady Greta.” Mihaela plays along. “But I still expect to see you at the feast we’ll host in the castle, both of you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Says the Headwoman.

“Same.” Sypha assents. “You can expect us there.”

The feast doesn’t happen for the next three weeks, time enough for Adrian and Mihaela to prepare for the gathering that is more political than festive, but they are determinate to make the most of the party that is to take place after endless sessions of meetings with boyars and other nobles who couldn’t – or didn’t want to – attend their coronation months ago. Adrian still despises all those protocols his father used to deal with, but for this one, he’s actually excited, believing that hosting a big event will do Mihaela some good. She’s been doing great progress overcoming her grief, but the path is long, and a big prom like the ones she used to attend back in Styria might cheer her up.

He knows he cannot possibly match the extravagance of Carmilla’s court in his newly established one, but he’s quite proud of himself with the results. Naturally, he’s mentally tired after two long days of meetings and audiences he would have rather not attend, but the struggle pales in comparison to the content expression on his beloved’s face as the train of her dress sweeps through the floor when he guides her dance after dance, and the stress of being surrounded by scheming nobles and vampires is nothing compared to the joy of her laughter when, by the end of the night, he holds her on his lap as they share a bottle of wine with their friends.

It’s the first time they’re seeing Trevor and Sypha away from Mary, which is only natural, since a feast full of alcohol is no place for such a young child, but they can imagine the odyssey that it must’ve been to find a nanny they actually trust to be around their daughter without supervision. On the other hand, it’s refreshing too see them enjoying themselves again, especially for Mihaela, who rejoices every time Sypha proves that it is possible to be a mother and still have a life.

“I assume the boring sessions with the boyars were successful?” Trevor inquires when the four of them are alone on the main table, watching the party from the higher space in the ballroom. “You both look satisfied.”

“For once they decided to cooperate, so yes, we’re pleased with the outcome.” Mihaela answers, taking a sip of what must be her fifth glass of wine. “They all realize the importance of a centralized power now that Dracula is gone and the Ottoman threat still stands, and they’re willing to submit to a more westernized² model of government. They still haven’t given up on this royal tour shit, though.”

“It might be exactly what we need to consolidate our power, my love.” Adrian cannot contain his excitement about the idea of traveling across the country. He has been wanting to go for a while, moved by his own curiosity and the desire to honor his mother’s wish for the men in her life to see the world as it is, yet he wouldn’t dare to go without Mihaela, who was not meant for a life on the road. But a royal tour was another story altogether, they would go with an entourage and all the assistance she may need while traveling, and he wouldn’t let such a golden opportunity slip through his fingers.

Mihaela, of course, sees right through him, but she’s glad at least one of them will enjoy the tour. “I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea, but if my prince says we’re going, then we’re going.”

Adrian kisses her in response, thinking of a dozen ways to compensate her as he ravishes her lips and writhes over her grip on his hair, stopping only when he hears Trevor’s whistle.

“Get a room, you two.”

Adrian smirks, staring at his friend. “This is our castle, Belmont, everywhere is a bedroom if we want to.”

“I would enjoy the show, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to scandalize your guests this much.” Sypha chuckles, surprisingly the most daring of the four despite the fact she was the only one in alcohol restriction. “But about this royal tour of yours, I have a suggestion.” The royal couple looks back to her, nodding for her to continue. “Mary has grown enough and is healthy enough for a trip now, so I’ll rejoin my caravan within a month and travel for a while, to acquaint her with my people and my people with her… I was wondering, maybe the royal procession can join my tribe, we can all travel together.”

Sypha’s suggestion does not come exclusively from the goodness of her heart. She would love having her friends with her on the road, of course, but the entourage of guards following them would make her a little more at ease regarding Mary’s safety. She was entirely capable of protecting her daughter, but she would rather not expose her to unnecessary danger, and she believed the royal guard’s presence would discourage any bigoted peasant from attacking her people.

“That’s actually a really good idea.” Mihaela agrees, smiling. “I mean, who better than Speakers to guide us through Wallachia? Your people know this country like the back of their hands.”

“Not to mention the message it will pass to the people of Wallachia once they see we’re allies, it’s past the time they recognize the good work of the Speakers, to show some respect and gratitude.” Adrian adds. He has every intention of implementing a law to protect the Speakers from the crazy fanatics who had his mother killed, he will not let such a tragedy happen again. “I want you to know, Sypha, that I intend to work closely with your people, you guys were the backbone of this country for so long.”

“Thank you, Adrian.” Sypha smiles almost shyly, noticing she called him by his given name instead of Alucard. It was no big deal, but in those days, only Mihaela seemed to prefer his name over his alias.

Trevor laughs, raising his glass of wine. “A toast, then, for our upcoming trip.”

“Our?” Mihaela asks. “You’re joining us?”

He smirks. “Of course I am, do you think I’ll let my wife in the company of sexy dhampirs? Not unless I get to watch!”

Sypha punches her husband’s arm for his dirty joke, Mihaela blushes, torn between embarrassment and jealousy, and Adrian groans, tightening his hold on her.

“In your dreams, Belmont.” He says back, but raises his glass anyway, toasting with his friends.

He’s weirdly happy again, they all are, and given the different types of tragedies they have faced not so long ago, made them even more deserving of the safe heaven they are building.

Of the family they have found in each other.

{…}

Wallachia, 1478

The fruits of the royal tour’s success were still being reaped a whole year after its completion. The Belmont village officially became the new capital of the realm, not only in name anymore, but in importance: its population grew in a surprisingly organized way, with more people arriving by the day, building houses in a orderly manner; a school was built, capable teachers were hired, agriculture and livestock farming were regularized, a cultural center was established, a clinic was in the making and the Speakers were finally recognized as a minority protected by law.

Most would say, in the future, that those final decades of the XV century were the golden age of Adrian and Mihaela’s rule. She would agree, of course, but she would stress that the better outcome of the trip was the strengthening of the unbreakable bond with the Belmont couple, especially Sypha.

The dhampir would some day tell her friend’s descendants the story of the Sleeping Soldier, of the hunter and the scholar who came to wake him, of their journey fighting evil, of the princess waiting in the castle, of the realm the four of them rebuild together. She would tell them how many valuable things she learned from their ancestor, how much she cried when she first spotted a white strand of hair among the orange ones and realized the time was passing. She would, however, omit the part in which she witnessed the conception of the second child Sypha bore, the next generations of Belmonts didn’t need to know that.

“He’s being awfully active today.” Sypha’s second pregnancy has its peak in the summer, and unlike the last time, she feels hot all the time, and heavier. But the hardships did not stop her from being there in the castle’s meeting room with Adrian and Mihaela, waiting for their guest, no, she promised to keep on working until her water breaks.

“He? How do you know it’s a boy?” Adrian asks.

“Girls usually have mercy on their mothers, this little one has none.” She answers, sending a wave of nostalgia through Mihaela’s bones. “I’m just glad the doctor is arriving before the baby comes out, I might need some extra help this time.”

“Indeed, he’s coming.” Mihaela says. “I can hear his footsteps getting closer.”

The doctor was a man in his late fifties with graying hair who, once upon a time, worked under Lisa’s supervision in her clinic in Lupu for a few months before moving into the next city. Adrian and Mihaela were familiar with the man, known not only for his healing abilities, but also for his tolerance towards the children of the night. He was their obvious choice to work in the village’s new clinic.

“Your Highnesses, I am honored by your proposal.” The man bows for the royal couple, noticing how little they have changed since he last saw them years ago in Lupu. “It’s good to see you two again… and your friend. I’m doctor Florescu, my lady. May I have your name?”

“This is Sypha.” Mihaela is glad to be the one to introduce her. “The lady Belmont, Speaker magician, and our dearest friend. ”

...

Mihaela and Sypha, circa 1477.
Art by @punkedible on twitter and instagram