literature

RomaniaXTeardrop: The Son of Dracula

Deviation Actions

Russialover174's avatar
Published:
130 Views

Literature Text

Notice: this is not a reader insert
January 1889
My father, George Wheatherfew, was a world known American book collector. But, somehow, his career took a deadly turn when he went to the Transylvanian state of Romania to purchase literary archives for the Metropolitan Museum in New York City. His body was found in the woods not far from his host's home. I was told not to come here by my older brother Nathaniel, but I wanted to solve the murder of my dear father.
So now I, Christiana Wheatherfew, sit in a passenger take to the home of the man my father had stayed with before he died. By the name Vladimir Alexandru, he was known to locals as a mysterious young man who never was known to be common in the town, said my father's letters when he had been here, writing home. I refolded father's last letter to me as the coach slowed, and the driver opened the door for me.
He said something in Romanian, and the German man sitting beside me said, "Your stop, mein froline."
"Thank you," I said, stepping out into the cold air and deep snow. I was happy I had worn my cloak over my dress and not just my coat, because it was very cold.
The driver said something more, and pointed to a turning path.
"You must go zat vay until you reach ze Alexandru Castle," the German translated, smoothing back a stray blond hair.
"Andiamo!" the small Italian man sitting beside him called after me as I got my luggage bag from the top of the coach.
"Enough, Feliciano!" the German said sternly as the coach pulled away, and I was left on my own. I started trudging through the snow, my breath puffing in front of my eyes and was so thick I could hardly see through it. I was happy for my proper winter boots that I had purchased in New York before getting on my ship to Europe.
The forest around me was very beautiful, everything covered in crystal snow and ice, glittering in the morning light.
I could already see the peaks of the castle, and was stopped by a sound that I feared the most.
"Aaaaaaaooooooooooo!" cried a wolf from the peak of a frozen ravine, the leader peaking and running toward me.
I screamed and tried to run, but it grabbed my cloak, throwing me to the ground.
"Please, lord in heaven, hear my prayers and help me," I thought as the wolf pressed its massive paws over my shoulders, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the ripping pain of the wolf's teeth in my flesh.
Suddenly, a sleek figure pounced on top of the wolf, knocking it to the ground with breaking force. The figure's mouth locked onto the wolf's fury neck, blood welling over the wolf's pale coat. The animal bucked and fought, then grew weak, and soon after stopped struggling and went limp.
The figure, a young man, stood up from the animal and turned towards me. I watched in horror as he walked to me, blood staining his lips and chin, tawny eyes burning crimson with blood lust.
"Who are you? And why are you here?" he snapped, his pale hand curling around my thin wrist like an iron manacle.
"I am Christiana Wheatherfew!" I said strongly, trying (but failing) to rip my wrist from his cold grasp, "and if you are the owner of this estate, you were the one to grant me entrance onto your property."
"You do not fear me? A vampire before your very eyes?" he asked suddenly, his eyes filling with wonder and surprise.
"Only a fool does not have fear of things that are to be feared," I whispered as his eyes lingered over me.
"I am Vladimir Alexandru," he said proudly, letting my wrist go, "did the passenger take simply leave you at the beginning of the drive?"
I nodded and pulled my bag out of the snow. Mr. Alexandru took it from me, and led me up the path.
"Mr. Alexandru, as you know I have come to find how my father was killed, does it-"
"Have anything to do with me?" he finished, smirking, showing pointed canines, "no, but yours probably will."
I stopped and held my throat, the color draining from my already pale face.
"Do not worry," Mr. Alexandru said, looking into my blue eyes, his pupils widening, "just sleep, I will explain when you wake."
I fell into his strong arms, vision blurring into darkness.
"Is this our new sister?" a woman's voice whispered in my ears, but I was alone in darkness.
"Yes, I can sense it," another said, laughing joyfully, "brother has chosen wisely his queen, her blood smells so sweet." The end came as a purr and a white hand suddenly appeared, stroking my neck.
"Come sister," said the voices, chasing me as I ran blindly into the darkness.
I stopped when I reached white trees that grew from the darkness. Vladimir stood back to me, and turned, his beautiful eyes burning crimson. Total blood lust and predatory hunger marred his features.
"Trust me," his smooth voice whispered, his hand slipping into mine and his cool mouth closing over the pale skin, biting and taking blood from it.
"No!" I screamed, waking myself from the nightmare.
"Christiana! Please stop!" Mr. Alexandru's voice cried his arms around me as I shivered and yelled for the voices to leave me alone. Hot tears ran down my face in torrents, blurring my vision and choking me.
I buried my face in Mr. Alexandru's shirt, not even bothered by how improper it was (well, a little).
"Draagna, I'm here," he whispered into my hair.
I looked into his tawny eyes and shouted, "they said you were going to make me your queen! What does that mean?"
Mr. Alexandru looked completely perplexed.
"You know that we are the controllers of our dreams," he said, his long fingers entwining with mine.
"Is that true, though," I whispered as he gently pressed his lips to the palm of my hand as he had in my dream, but I didn't want to pull back.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps? What about maybe, plain and modernized? Or even may'hap? That is a wonderful use of fae language," I said as his lips went to the crease of my wrist.
"Hmm, you are exceptional with language," Vladimir mused, holding my hand gently between his and studying the light blue of veins in my wrist. "Do you realize how intelligent your father said you were? Let us just say you have much that I am assuming you are hiding in that beautiful dark head of yours."
I looked away, wishing not that he were to see my flushed face. I hadn't realized the large bed and canvas before, candles and books covering the surface of the room. A night stand had a small oil lamp on top of a pile of books that had been in my bag, as well as a photograph my father had kept with him of me the past fall.
"Where did you get that?" I demanded, pulling my hand from Mr. Alexandru's and jumping from the bed. I forgot the picture when I looked down at myself. I was wearing a long, flowing white dress made of layers of lace and gossamer, the neckline high against my throat (thankfully).
I glanced at a grandfather clock in the corner.
"I've been asleep for three hours? That is not so terrible," I said, turning back to Mr. Alexandru who had suddenly appeared behind me.
His eyes were so sad and full of almost grief when he whispered, "No, draagna, I have been waiting for you to wake for 123 years."
I stumbled back into the nightstand, my heart pounding in my ears. "No, that's impossible."
"Da, I am sorry, Christiana. When I told you to sleep, my sisters used you to torture me until their power had no more effect on you," Vladimir whispered, "I never thought you would wake, and 123 years of watching you, falling in love with the beautiful princess behind the glass coffin, but never able to wake my Snow White with true love's first kiss has nearly killed me."
I looked into his tawny eyes and realized they were hallow and haunted.
"Oh Vladimir," I whispered, placing my lips on his pale cheek in a chaste kiss.
Vladimir smiled; happiness and life radiating from him and he hugged me to his chest, placing kisses on my hair, forehead and cheeks.
He stopped before kissing my mouth, "May I kiss you?"
"Of course, Vladimir, isn't that still what people do when they love each other?" I said, looking into his now live and again beautiful tawny eyes and realizing how true my words were. Over 123 years I had dreamed many dreams, I now realized, and all of which I gave myself to Vladimir in one way or another, and every time knowing it was out of love.
Vladimir gently placing his lips to mine, love and belonging filling my heart.
"I love you, draagna," he whispered, placing his lips on my neck and biting gently, the pain I had feared in my dreams replaced by a pleasure of giving to Vladimir so wonderful I could fly.
I soon felt weak, and Vladimir stopped pulling away, though I begged him not to. He pulled down the collar of his shirt and cut across his collar bone with a silver knife he took from a box beside my photograph. His blood didn't look like blood though, but like cherry preserves I had every morning during the winter when I couldn't pick cherries from the tree in our front lawn.
"Your turn," he whispered, guiding my lips to the cut. Unlike blood when I had cut my finger and stuck it in my mouth, Vladimir's was rich and beautiful, as if I were consuming sunshine, not my love's blood.
I pulled away, suddenly very tired. I knew what happened last time I was tired, I almost never woke up. I struggled to stay awake, but vladimir's calm words told me to let the sleep take me, that I would wake up in a matter of hours.
I nodded as the darkness consumed me and vladimir's soft lips stayed pressed to my temple as my body changed into another time and form.
my entry for a contest, fergot which one though......
© 2012 - 2024 Russialover174
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In