Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Per se, Lisa was not an unusual child. However, her parents were a bit more lax with her upbringing than the parents of all the other fourteen year old girls of the village. She was obedient and well-mannered, and in reward for this, her parents gave her much more freedom than the parents of the other girls. Though not much.

She was allowed to leave their quaint home without chaperone, but she had to return before nightfall. And she was allowed to be apprenticed to the local midwife, Midwife Rochelle, although she was a year or two too young for such a responsibility. But Lisa loved to help people, and her parents did not want to suffocate such a Christian trait.

Lisa was also kept apart from most of the children of the village, especially the young boys. Her parents kept her away from the boys…but the village girls kept themselves from Lisa. The girls were only interested in what their parents told them to be interested in, whereas Lisa had her blossoming midwifery skills to think on. These thoughts were alien to the girls, so they gave Lisa a wide mark. The boys were harder to keep away, but her parents did a well enough job.

Lisa was already quite beautiful for her age. Her pale blonde hair fell down to her waist, and she often wore it only tied back by a simple ribbon. Her body was developing with slender curves and blooming…assets. And the boys clamored. But Lisa had no interest in any of them. Not Clarence or Roque or Arnold…nor any of the high-class sons of the semi-nobles that inhabited the village that begged for Lisa's kind eye to fall upon them as she gathered her herbs. Lisa was of a one-track mind at those moments. Gather the herbs. Heal the sick.

But her eye did stray, occasionally. She would see a group of the village girls—Melody, Lora, or Allison—playing with their hair and following at their parents heels, and she would sigh. Lisa had no friends to speak of, other than Midwife Rochelle, who was much older than she. Not even Imelda Walsh, the daughter of a man in very much the same social standing as Lisa's own father, cast an eye Lisa's way. In fact, Imelda—Lisa's own age, with braided, black hair and bright blue eyes—would often watch Lisa as though she feared her. And anytime the two girls accidentally locked eyes, Imelda's would widen, and she would scurry out of sight. Imelda was the only other girl in the village allowed outside without her parents or a chaperone. So Lisa had no one, save her parents.

But it came about one day that Lisa was sent out by Madam Rochelle to gather a red-petal flower that would aid in the healing of one woman's cough. Lisa grabbed a basket she used just for such an occasion, nodded once, and headed off into the outskirts of the forest—where Madam Rochelle had said the flower could be found.

Lisa did not fear the forest, as some of the other villagers did. Some were superstitious worries, while others feared wild animals attacking. But she feared neither. God watched over her and would protect her. She was a healer of the sick, and she must show no fear.

She broke through the barrier of the forest, finding the little flowers almost instantly. She was careful to take only what was needed. A midwife also had knowledge of the garden, and she knew that the seeds from the flowers she left behind were needed so that they would bloom again next year. However, there was quite a nice carpet of the red flowers, so there was no real fear of a shortage.

Once her basket was half-full of the plants, she turned, ready to deliver the important herb back to her mistress. She paused, however, hearing something odd in the distance. She turned back, facing the depths of the forest. She could hear whispering. Lisa glanced worriedly back at the village, knowing she should not waste any time investigating a potentially dangerous thing. The woman needed her medicine. But Lisa was still a child in many ways, and curiosity got the best of her.

She held her precious basket close to her body and watched each step—careful to make as little noise as possible—as she made her way towards the mysterious whispering. She had gone a few feet farther into the forest when she paused. There, in a very small clearing, sat Imelda on a tiny boulder. Lisa hid behind a large tree trunk, crouching down and peering around.

In Imelda's hands was a tiny black and white kitten. She was whispering to it…not unkindly.

"It'll be okay, dear one. It won't hurt much longer," Imelda said.

Lisa's eyes narrowed, focusing on the scene. The kitten was lamed. Its poor little paw was bent around backwards, so that the pad of its foot was skyward. The kitten was mewling almost constantly. Lisa's heart went out to the creature for it must be in much pain. But such animals were usually killed by the adults, seen as useless and beyond help. But Imelda looked as if she had no intention of doing so.

Suddenly, Imelda stopped whispered. Her eyes closed slowly, and she began to rock back and forth, muttering in a language that Lisa didn't know. There was an odd noise, like the sound of bones crunching—Lisa had heard it once when one of the Midwife's patients had broken a bone. The kitten mewled louder than ever…then stopped. Then, the animal was purring. Imelda stopped her otherworldly chanting and smiled at the kitten. Lisa leaned forward a bit. Imelda sat the kitten down on the forest floor. The kitten's paw was completely healed!

Lisa gasped loudly right before she remembered that she was supposed to stay hidden. Imelda leapt off her boulder, staring wide-eyed at her. Lisa turned, grabbing her basket, and tried to run. However, her foot caught a tree root, her ankle twisted, and she cried out, falling to the ground. Imelda was over her in a second.

"Please!" Lisa said, putting her hand up. "Don't-!"

But Imelda ignored her, bending down over her ankle. She began to chant, not rocking this time, her hands wrapped around the wounded area. Within seconds, the shooting pain Lisa was feeling disappeared. Imelda stepped back, looking timidly away as Lisa tested her foot on the ground. Finding no pain when she applied pressure, she stood. Then, she looked at Imelda.

"You're a witch," she said.

Imelda nodded. Then, she looked worried. "Please, Lisa! Please don't tell! I don't do anything bad! I only heal…like you! Only, I heal the things you can't. I've never done any harmful spell, I promise!"

Lisa looked down at the kitten, who was rubbing against Imelda's leg and still purring. Her eyes then turned towards her own ankle, perfectly healed.

"You really only use your…magic for good?" Lisa asked.

Imelda nodded quickly.

Lisa crossed her arms in front of her. She knew what would happen if she told her parents…or anyone in the village. She was sure Imelda knew as well. Death by a purifying fire. She looked at Imelda, who looked near tears. She sighed.

"Swear to me that you use it only for good. For healing," Lisa said hesitantly.

"In the name of Our Lord Christ, I swear it, Lisa! Please, don't tell!" Imelda said quickly, making the sign of the cross over her body.

Lisa smiled, picking up her basket. "I have seen evidence that you are a…good witch. I'll keep your secret. Would you-?"

But Lisa paused, looking away and muttering, "nevermind." Imelda's brow raised.

"What?" she asked.

"It's nothing. I'm sure you won't want to."

Imelda crossed her arms impatiently. "You're saving my life and endangering yours by keeping my secret. Let me help you in anyway possible. What is it?"

Lisa blushed. "It's just…would you like to walk with me…back to the village?"

Imelda's eyes widened again, and Lisa's blush deepened.

"Never—" but Lisa was cut off.

"Yes, I'll walk with you. Happily," Imelda said, hooking her arm around Lisa's.

Lisa blinked a few times. Then, she smiled. The two girls made their way back to the village, making slow conversation.

Chapter Text

Lisa stood in the pathway of the bright sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window in Midwife Rochelle's home. She hummed happily, a dark, stone pestle in her hand as she ground away at a mixture of herbs in the pestle's matching mortar. She had her silky blonde locks tied back with a leather strap in place of her usual ribbon to better keep her hair out of her face. Once she had the herbs nice and ground, she poured them onto a square, thick parchment and tied it up into a small bundle with a string. Careful to get out of the mortar the bits that did not end up in the bundle, she added more herbs and began to grind again.

She was midway through humming a simple lullaby when she heard a knock on the front door of Rochelle's house. After a year and a half, Lisa knew that light knock.

"Come in, Imelda! I'm in the kitchen!" she shouted.

Imelda was grinning when she entered the room, her black hair, as always, braided down her back, her hunter green dress sweeping the floor of the room. She carried with her a very small basket filled with flowers and herbs. She sat it down in front of Lisa and took a seat on a stool across the table from her.

"I was in the forest and thought you might need some of that," she said, propping her elbows on the table, and propping her head in her hands.

Lisa peered into the basket. Off-handedly, she could identify most of the plants within, her midwifery skills having grown considerably with practice. She smiled at her friend.

"Yes, those are fantastic! I was actually going to have to fetch some of them when I had finished with this for Lora's mother. You've saved me some time, thank you."

"Never a problem, Lisa. I have to do my work in the forest, mostly. So, why not gather while I'm there?"

Lisa nodded, concentrating on her grinding. She knew well what Imelda's "work" was. Imelda was a healer of her own kind, a witch who used her powers for good. She had kept her friend's secret for over a year now. She looked up, sighing.

"This is the worst part of this healing process. These little plants are harder to grind than they appear," she said.

"I can imagine," Imelda responded, leaning back off the table.

Lisa stretched her hands for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she continued with her work. Imelda rocked a bit on her stool, watching. Finally, she grinned up at Lisa.

"You know…you don't have to be born with magic," she said.

Instinctively, Lisa shushed her. "Not so loud!"

Imelda shrugged. "There's no one here, Lisa. And the walls don't have ears. Hear me out."

Lisa's eyes darted back and forth before she finally nodded.

"What I meant was, you can be taught magic. Lisa, would you like me to teach you some of my healing magic?"

Her eyes widened. She stared at Imelda, who grinned at her. Then, shaking the shock from her, she smiled sheepishly.

"No, Imelda, thank you. I really don't think that magic is the path for me, my friend," she said.

She stared down at her mortar now, making sure that she had not over ground her work. She was startled when the sound of Imelda suddenly and roughly pushing her stool back reached her ears. She looked up, setting her work aside. Her friend's mouth was set somewhere between a grimace and a pout, and her eyes were narrowed, focused on Lisa.

"What is it?" Lisa asked, bewildered.

"You think what I do is evil, don't you?" Imelda hissed at her.

"No!" Lisa said, shaking her head.

"Then how I do it, then. The magic…you think I'm evil!"

Imelda whirled and moved to stride out of the house. Lisa threw herself around the table, catching her by the upper left arm.

"Let go!" Imelda yelled.

"Imelda, listen to me! I did not mean to offend you!"

"Then why won't you let me help you heal, to teach you some magic?"

Lisa sighed. "I love to heal people. It's true that learning healing spells would be terribly useful in my art. However, magic is secret, hated, and hunted. I wouldn't be able to heal in the open, like I do now. Oh, Lord help me, that sounds like vanity! I swear that is not how I mean it!"

She quickly made the sign of the cross over her body. She had let go of Imelda and found herself thankful that she had stayed to listen.

"What I meant by that was that I would not be able to heal as many, to help as many, as I do now. If magic should ever be looked upon kindly, then I will gladly take up your offer, should it still stand. Please, forgive my poor wording."

Imelda stared down at the floor, away from Lisa. Finally, she gave a small grin up at her friend.

"If I had not known you for as long as I have, I would think that you were lying. But I know you speak the truth to me. Please, forgive my quick temper."

Lisa hugged Imelda, grateful to have avoided a disastrous blow to their friendship. "There is nothing to forgive!"

When the girls had pulled away, Lisa moved back to her pestle. After a moment, Imelda announced that she had to leave, that her parents expected her. Lisa nodded, saying her goodbyes.

In the doorway, Imelda paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"Lisa?"

"Yes?"

"My offer will always stand, out of our friendship."

Lisa blinked, unable to reply before her odd friend swept from the house.

Chapter Text

Lisa pulled her cloak tightly about herself as she crossed the road to the town's tavern, which also served as an inn for travelers. It was a fine night for her seventeenth birthday, the air growing cold for winter's arrival. She had been roused by a messenger sent from Midwife Rochelle. Being an older woman, the colder the night, the harder for her to tend to emergencies or labors that should arise. Thus, the messenger told Lisa that a traveler was ill at the inn, and Rochelle was unable to attend. Lisa had hurriedly dressed and left, much to her own and her family's dismay. A maiden about the town at night was not safe. But Lisa knew her duty…rather she liked being roused at such a late hour or not.

She stopped her angry thoughts against the duty, sad at herself for her feelings. She loved to heal, and it should not matter the time. She pushed open the door to the tavern, the patrons turning to see who the new arrival was. She received a few whistles and suggestive calls from the more lewd of the men, but she ignored them. Shaking loose her hair and holding her basket of herbs close to her, she strode up the barkeep.

"I was told that a man had taken ill here. I was sent by Midwife Rochelle to tend to him," she said, strong and confident.

She must show no fear in the sight of these men. They were coarse and tough and were known for taking advantage of the weak…especially if the weak one was a woman. And being in the mood she was in, it was easy for her to bite off her words.

The barkeep eyed her, a bit too closely. He absently washed out a mug with a cloth too soiled for the job. Then, he sighed.

"I'm sure that healing this man is what you're here for, miss. I'm sorry, but your kind is not welcome in here. I run a respectable establishment, and no young harlot is welcome here, no matter how pretty," he said, setting aside the mug.

Lisa's eyes widened, and she felt a hot blush color her face. She took another step closer to the bar. The barkeep, a balding, fat, and greasy man with no hair on his face, rested each of his hands on the counter and leaned forward, trying to intimidate the girl. Lisa hissed her next words.

"I am no harlot, sir," she said, a bit more loudly than she had intended. "Now, I am unsure of the nature of this traveler's exact illness, but if I was roused at this hour, I am sure that it is serious. I must see him, and you must allow me to pass!"

"I must do exactly nothing, child. And my point has been made. Run back to your corner."

Lisa opened her mouth to protest again, but the sound of the door to the tavern opening drew her attention—like the other patrons—to the new arrival. And, like the others, she was struck still.

Watching the statuesque man enter was quite a spectacle. It was as if the shadow of death itself had fallen over the crowd. No one spoke for a long moment as he stepped farther inside. No one was moving, and all eyes were trained on him as he weaved through the tables. The stranger, in turn, was regarding the crowd with a cold glare, his eyes—most of whom would have sworn were tinged with red—sweeping the room. However, Lisa was not to be deterred and brought herself back to her task.

Whirling about to the barkeep, she pressed, "Please. A man is sick. This is the medicine for him here in this basket. I need to know the room he is in. I was told he was the only new arrival for this night. Which room is he in, barkeep?"

Before the barkeep could answer, Lisa drew a sharp breath. It felt as if her heart had leapt up into her throat and was pounding hard to escape through her mouth. Somehow, she knew that the new arrival to the tavern had trained his eye on her. It was a great shock to her system as she felt his hand—as cold as ice—come to rest on her shoulder. Lisa had to master every fiber of her being to keep from crying out in shock, and even then she was sure a small gasp had escaped. She looked up at him from over her shoulder.

He had a sad, yet wondrous, look on his face as he stared down at her. His mouth moved, as if to whisper some spectacular something to her. However, after a moment, his face cleared, instead placing a smile on his face. He turned his attention to the barkeep, and Lisa saw his eyes darken as he spoke.

"Kind sir, surely this young lady could take care of her business. It seems rather dire."

His voice was rich, deep, and regal and sent a shudder through her body. The smile on his face was not of mirth, but of sarcasm. He was fair with pointed features, possessing a long mane of white-blond hair that shook ever so slightly whenever he moved. She gazed at his face, noting the thin mustache and the beard on his chin. She shuddered again when she remembered that the style of the beard-cut he sported was often called the Devil's Beard. The barkeep was in the same frame of mind that she was in. Stunned.

"Uh, um, my…that is, she can't. She's—" the barkeep stuttered, but the stranger interrupted.

"A harlot? Sir, have you ever seen a harlot? I can assure you, she is not one," he said, smiling kindly down upon her.

When he turned his attention back to the owner of the tavern, there was a different look on his face…one that Lisa could not place. When he spoke next, it was not exactly unkind, but rather commanding.

"You will give this young maiden the number of the room that her patient is in, and you will give her trouble no longer. Isn't that so?"

The barkeep suddenly seemed in a trance. He nodded and mumbled the number five. Lisa nodded and stuttered her thanks. As she turned to depart, smiling and nodding her thanks to the stranger, the owner came back to himself.

"Uh…accompany her, then, if she must go upstairs," he said, shaking his head as if he was trying to clear it.

The stranger turned and bowed slightly to Lisa. "If it pleases the lady?"

"Y-yes. I suppose that is acceptable."

The two made their way upstairs to the fifth room. She knocked, and a rather plump woman answered, looking distressed. She eyed the stranger, eyes full of fear and confusion. Lisa cleared her throat to call back the woman's attention.

"I was sent by Midwife Rochelle to heal a sick man. Is this the correct room?"

The woman nodded, looking suddenly relieved. She stepped aside and motioned Lisa and the stranger inside. The room was small, and it was only a few steps from the door to the bed that contained the sick man.

He was drenched in sweat, muttering in delirium. Lisa approached him and nodded. She turned her attention to the woman.

"Ma'am, if you may, will you fetch me some hot water from the bar? The herbs I have here will heal him if brewed as a tea. I'll make him comfortable while you are gone," she said.

The woman nodded, looking quite happy, and bustled from the room. Lisa turned to the stranger, who had watched all of this with quiet introspection, it would seem. She lowered her eyes as his own met hers and set herself to propping the sick man up on his pillows. The stranger moved to help her.

"You are quite skilled at this, I see," he said, smiling at her.

"Thank you," she said. She then added quickly, "And thank you, as well, for convincing the barkeep to let me up."

"Please, think nothing of it. It was worth it to spend time in your presence," he replied.

Once they had finished, the stranger stood back and inclined his head.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dracula. May I have the honor of yours?"

"Lisa," she said slowly.

"Lisa…"

He seemed to savor her name, drinking it in. It made her slightly uncomfortable. She was glad when the woman returned a short while later with the water. Dracula's eyes were upon her as she brewed the tea and fed it to the man. She left extra herbs with the woman, instructing her to feed him more tea every six hours until he was better. The woman thanked her again, handing her a small satchel of coins. Lisa nodded and left, followed by Dracula.

"Lisa, if I may beg a favor," Dracula said, stopping her in the hall outside the room.

She turned, unsure if she should be sparing the time to be alone with him. She nodded, keeping a safe distance. He smiled.

"I would be…honored if you would meet with me again, tomorrow night. We could meet anywhere of your choosing…if I may only ask that it is at night. I…have business in the morning."

Lisa opened her mouth, about to refuse. However, she was raised to be kind and to remember to whom she owed a debt. And if it had not been for this man, she would have been unable to complete her duty. She smiled, the move straining her face.

"I would love to meet with you again. There is an area, near my house, at the end of the town where people often go for leisure. If we could meet there? It will be populated, but I'm sure you understand."

He nodded, relief spreading over his face. Her smile became more relaxed, natural, upon seeing this. He was quite handsome…and he had helped her.

"Thank you," he said, bowing again. "Would you like me to escort you home?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Well…until tomorrow?"

"I eagerly await it."

She nodded and turned, chiding herself against moving too quickly. There was something…unearthly about this man. As soon as she had exited the tavern and was sure to be out of Dracula's sight, she broke into a run to her home.

Chapter Text

Only a day had passed since her first encounter with Dracula, and Lisa was anxious about her coming meeting with him. Twice while healing that afternoon she had almost given the wrong herbal root to the wrong patient. Madam Rochelle had chided her thoroughly. It was a great weight lifted off her shoulders when she arrived at her home, at least four hours before sunset, to find Imelda waiting for her.

Lisa had long informed her parents of her meeting with the mysterious Dracula. They were not exactly thrilled to know that she was going to be alone with a strange man tonight, but they were pleased to hear how Lisa had conducted herself with him. And, of course, they were the ones who taught her long ago of debts and favors. They knew that she must meet with him, to erase her debt. And her family left no debts…probably the only family in the village who could claim that status.

Imelda was politely chatting with Lisa's mother, Mavis Farenheights, over a cup of tea when Lisa entered her home. Both women smiled and stood at her approach.

"Imelda thought she might visit with you tonight before you go to meet with…Dracula, was that his name?" Mavis said, her lips pursing together the way they often did when she was censoring herself.

Mavis had vehemently disagreed with her daughter meeting with Dracula. She was, and with good reason, worried about her daughter's safety. It had been Lisa's father, Owen Farenheights, that had put his foot down. Lisa would fulfill her debt and return home safely. After all, he had argued, they all knew where she was going and with whom.

"Yes, Mother, that is his name," Lisa said, planting a kiss on the woman's cheek.

"Perhaps we could go to your room, Lisa? I would like to help you dress for your meeting," Imelda said, eyeing her friend purposely.

Lisa knew that Imelda had really meant that she had something concerned with her magic to discuss with her, but she still couldn't help but look down at the clothing she now occupied. It was a fine dress, not worn at all. It was certainly no noblewoman's outfit, but she thought that the pale, dulled pink dress looked just fine on her. She sighed and nodded. The girls excused themselves from Mavis's presence and headed upstairs.

Once in Lisa's modestly furnished bedroom, Imelda shook her head.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Lisa? And don't give me any reasons that have to do with this silly debt talk!" Imelda said, shaking a finger in her friend's face.

Lisa sighed. "I'm going through with this, Imelda, but I thank you for your concern. I'll be all right. Everyone knows with whom I am meeting and where I will be. And I was careful to pick a place that is often heavily populated, even at night. I have not been stupid about this."

Imelda shook her head, lifting her hands, palms vertical towards Lisa, and shaking them. "I didn't think you had been stupid about this. But…since I knew I couldn't talk Stubborn Lisa out of this…here."

She took Lisa's hand and placed a small, draw-string leather bag in it. Lisa stared at the item, gingerly feeling of its contents through the rough material. It felt like many of the dried herbs that she used daily.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It's magic, Lisa. Please, I know how you feel about things like this, but hear me out. It's a charm for safety. Its effects last for one day. I made it just before coming here, to ensure as much time as I could give you. Just…hide it in your skirts or somewhere on your person. It'll make me feel better."

Lisa smiled, hugging her friend. When they parted, she nodded.

"Of course I'll keep it with me. Thank you."

They switched Lisa out of the pink dress into one of similar design that was hunter green in color. Lisa securely hid the small, magicked bag in her skirts, as Imelda had asked. Before long, the sun had fallen behind the horizon. With a cheery wave to her parents and Imelda as she walked down the pathway from her home, she went for her meeting with Dracula.

She found herself in the little, almost garden-like area within moments. She stood in the center, in a small structure that one of the village's wealthier families had built for a place of rest in the middle of a hot summer day. Candles hung from the posts of the structure, giving little light in the darkness. But she felt safer, standing in this place.

Couples, mostly those who were married, walked along the parameters of the area. Occasionally, Lisa caught sight of a true harlot, signaling for the attention of the single men who were also enjoying the night air. She saw one or two of these men accept the ill-reputed women's company. She shuddered.

"Have I kept you waiting long?" came Dracula's voice, quite suddenly, from behind her.

She jumped and whirled. He was dressed much in the same way he had been the previous night, but he had tied back his hair. He smiled kindly at her, apologetically.

"I did not mean to startle you, Lisa. Please, forgive me," he said, inclining his head a little.

Lisa smiled, finding that her face was tight, and shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for. And you did not keep me waiting long."

"Oh, good," he said.

A moment of silence fell between them. A slight breeze cut through the structure and made her shiver. Dracula's eyes widened in concern. From his shoulders, he removed his cape and offered it to her.

"Please, I don't wish your discomfort," he said.

"But then you'll be cold as well," she replied, staring at the proffered garment.

He smiled as if she had made some sort of jest. He stepped forward and slowly wrapped it around her.

"Cold…is not a problem for me," he said, stepping back. "Shall we sit?"

He gestured to the bench behind them. Lisa looked quickly behind her, watching the other couples chatting merrily. She had planned to walk with him, to be among people. She looked back at Dracula, and, evidently, looked quite panicked, for he quickly retreated a few steps from her.

"Please, I mean you no harm. I only wish to speak with you," he said, sliding onto the bench.

Her stomach tightened with apprehension. She swallowed once, hard, and sat down beside him…but not too close. More silence fell between them. Lisa threw her attention often back out to the other people occupying the small gardens.

Dracula was staring at her, intently, as if she might suddenly vanish. It was making her uncomfortable. Silently, she thanked God that Imelda had provided her with a safety charm, and decided, in that moment, that magic could never be truly evil. She put her hand on her knee, feeling of the charm beneath a few layers of skirts. She instantly felt emboldened by it, comforted. She turned and looked Dracula in the eye.

"You're different than the other men of the village," she said, succinctly.

He seemed frightened by these words and moved back from her, taking his eyes off her face and directing them towards the ground. Lisa felt guilt well up inside of her.

"I didn't mean it as an insult. What I meant was…nobody else would have helped me get past the barkeep, not one of the other men in this village. It was…very kind of you. Thank you," she said.

He looked back at her then, relief on his features. Her brow furrowed, unable to understand why her previous statement would have made him so uneasy. He smiled.

"You…remind me of someone I knew…years ago. It was my pleasure to help you. If only to speak with you," he said.

He looked so sad. Lisa's tenseness was beginning to ease. She moved toward him a bit, and he seemed surprised by this.

"Who do I remind you of?" she asked, smiling.

He returned the expression. "I would like to tell you…but not tonight. Tonight…I simply want to talk with you. No reliving the past."

"Very well," she said. After a moment, she added, "How did your business go this morning?"

He smiled again like she had made a joke. Nodding, he said, "Very well, thank you. So, tell me of yourself. Do you enjoy the profession of midwife?"

"Oh, very much! I love to heal, to know that I saved a life. I love the feeling of knowing that…I don't know, I've given a father more time with his family because I cured his illness. That I saved some poor child whose life was going to be snatched away too soon. It's a wonderful sight to see a family rejoice over the healing of a family member."

Suddenly, Lisa stopped, blushing.

"What is it?" Dracula asked.

"I…I did not mean to speak of myself in such a way. Vanity is a sin," she said.

He laughed. "Lisa, there are worse sins. Besides, you were not boasting. You do a wonderful service, and it should give you such pleasure. You glow when you speak of it."

Her blush deepened. "Th-thank you," she stuttered.

They sat for hours, chatting back and forth. Dracula, Lisa noted, was quite respectful of her. He treated her as a lady and honestly listened when she spoke. In turn, she spoke with him of many things, from her midwifery to talking of Imelda. Several hours had passed when Lisa suddenly shook her head, a smile that she had been unable to rid herself of plastered across her face.

"You have not spoken much of yourself, Sir," she said. "Tell me something about you. I feel as if you know all about me now."

He nodded. "Very well. First of all, call me Dracula. I don't wish you to be formal with me. Actually, if you should like to know, Dracula is…an acquired name…a title of sorts. It would please me greatly if you would call me Vlad."

"Very well, Vlad. Tell me more of yourself."

Suddenly, he stood, offering a hand to help Lisa to her feet. She took it without thought.

"It's quite late, Lisa, and I'm sure that your parents were worried enough to begin with. If it would please you, I would like to continue meeting with you. I have enjoyed talking with you tonight…more than I have enjoyed myself in…ages, it seems. May I meet you here again tomorrow evening?"

Lisa's smile had yet to waver. "Yes, I think I would quite enjoy meeting with you again. I look forward to it."

It looked as if Dracula had had to use a great deal of restraint to hide his true enthusiasm. He now had a smile on his face to match hers.

"Very well…excellent. I cannot wait. If you would like me to walk you home…?"

Lisa shook her head. "No, that's quite okay. I've walked this village at night many times. True, I'm never very happy about it…but…"

She paused, still feeling the charm at her knee. She continued.

"But I feel very safe tonight. Until tomorrow…Vlad."

He nodded. Lisa returned his cape and turned to leave. She could feel his eyes upon her as she walked away. But this time, she walked quite calmly, her heart feeling as light as a feather.

Chapter Text

Months had passed. And not one night in that time had passed without Lisa seeing Dracula. Her parents were not…overly thrilled that their daughter had continued to meet with this strange man alone, but Mavis and Owen were a rare breed amongst the parents of the village. They knew their daughter to be a capable woman, who was more than able to conduct herself honorably. So, any argument made on their part was feeble, and short lived.

Lisa and Dracula always met in the same place, under the same structure. They had talked of many things over the time passed. She learned that he lived in a vast castle somewhere in the woods beyond the village, but there was a small cottage he also spent his time in. She also learned that he was both a scholar and a warrior. She knew his hopes and fears. In return, she gave him her heart. She told him everything, even the most secret things that she thought that she would never be able to tell anyone, save for Imelda. She even told him of Imelda's secret, finding it a great burden lifted off her shoulders. And he had not judged Imelda nor her.

A greater happiness than Lisa could ever describe coursed through her. She rarely found herself in an ill mood any more. The villagers were whispering, but she was deaf to their rumors. Her only concern was that her parents may feel hurt by them…for they were cruel. Most of them concerned Lisa having taken a secret lover whom she gave herself to nightly. But Mavis and Owen said nothing to their daughter, so Lisa continued with her meetings with Dracula.

She smiled at the sunset before her now, walking slowly and dreamily back to her home. She had to ready herself for meeting with Dracula later again that night. She rushed up the stairs of her house, only pausing to kiss her mother and father both on the cheeks, and into her room. She quickly shucked the rough clothing she had worn to Midwife Rochelle's and switched into a fine gray dress. She tied her hair back, still allowing it to fall down her back. By the time she had finished dressing, the sun had set. She said her now nightly goodbyes to her parents and all but ran to her meeting place with Dracula.

She arrived before him, as she did many nights. She simply sat on one of the benches, knowing he would be there in moments. However, after at least twenty minutes of waiting, he still had not shown. Lisa was growing worried now. She began to pace the structure, turning to gaze whenever she heard a noise that might indicated someone arriving…not that Dracula had ever really made a noise when he arrived. More often than not though, she simply found herself startled by some unexpected creature.

She stood on tiptoe at the end of the structure, staring into the woods just beyond the recreational area. Dracula had mentioned that his cottage was not far beyond the barrier of trees. She looked around, knowing that she should not venture into the forest so late at night. The older villagers were superstitious, and often spoke of the monsters that inhabited the forest after sunset.

Lisa drew herself up, stepping boldly out of the structure. She had been in the forest plenty of times by herself, never minding that it had been daytime usually. It could not possibly be any different at night. She was not a child. She would face the scary dark and find out what had become of Dracula, whom her heart was increasingly growing more and more concerned about. She trotted very purposely up to the barrier of trees, and through them without stopping.

It was darker than Lisa would have thought possible within the forest. Instantly, she began to rethink her decision…and began to wish that Imelda had made her another safety charm. Then, she scolded herself. She needed only the Lord's protection, not magic of any kind. She crossed herself, venturing in the direction Dracula had pointed his cottage having been in.

He had not been wrong about the distance. Before long, Lisa could see the quaint, flower covered structure before her. She smiled at the building, noting the reasonable size of it and its distinct homey feeling. However, her gait slowed as she noticed that the door to the building was open. She began to shake, noticing for the first time that no animal made any noise, and the only sound that she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.

Lisa stepped cautiously through the door, stopping herself from calling Dracula's name. She paused inside the home's sitting room, listening. She heard something…a strange sound. It was like…moaning. She followed the noise towards the back of the home. It became louder the more she approached what looked like a bedroom door.

The door was adjacent and the light from what must only be a single candle spilled through the opening. She stopped once more, listening as she heard now two distinct moaning noises…from both a man and a woman. She stepped to the door, peering through it.

Dracula was there, looking mostly clothed, laying on top of a woman that Lisa had only recently noticed about the village. In fact, Lisa was sure that she was a harlot. Her face reddened. Dracula was moaning against her, his face buried in her neck. Lisa felt her body shake as she looked upon the dark-haired harlot's pleasure-enveloped face, her eyes closed. Her moans were slowing, ending.

He was making love to this woman! Lisa's heart ached, and she felt hot tears forming in her eyes. How could he do this to her? She loved him…and she had been sure that he had felt the same way about her! Finally, swallowing back her tears and letting her growing anger take over, Lisa threw open the door. And gasped when Dracula turned to her.

From his mouth protruded a long set of fangs, covered in red. His mouth was dyed the same crimson, and some of it dotted his chin. His eyes were wide in alarm and red…much like Lisa had always imaged Satan's eyes must look like. Lisa's gaze fell upon the woman, seeing now, where Dracula's face had been, two large puncture holes, and her own red blood spilling down her neck. The woman's eyes weren't closed in pleasure…she was dying…or dead. Lisa screamed. A long, bloodcurdling scream. She turned from the room and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Lisa, please!" she heard Dracula's voice call after, but all she could do was run.

She was crying when she reached her home. Her parents were already in bed, un-hearing of their daughter's arrival. Lisa threw herself into her room and into her bed, feeling sick and sad. She cried until, finally, sleep took her.

The next day, Lisa was sure her parents must have thought that she was dying. She could not find the will to rise from bed to go about her midwifery duties. Mavis had sent a messenger to inform Madame Rochelle. Rochelle, an aging woman with frizzy, stark gray hair that stood away from her head on all sides, arrived to examine Lisa. Her bright blue eyes crinkled, deepening the wrinkles already there. She sighed, her thin face taunt.

"I can find nothing wrong," Rochelle said to Lisa's parents. "Rest is all I can recommend for her."

Mavis, her own face taunt with unshed tears, only nodded. Owen thanked Rochelle as he escorted her out. Lisa's parents had then brewed her tea, leaving the pot with a cup, and then left her be to rest. Five hours before sunset, Imelda came to her friend.

Imelda sat at Lisa's bedside, her black hair braided in a circle about her head, murmuring words in a different language over her. Lisa moaned and turned her face away from her. Finally, Imelda gave up, sighing.

"You're heartsick, Lisa," Imelda said, sadly. "There's nothing to heal that…not even magic. What did Vlad do to you? Did he steal your maidenhead?"

Lisa reddened.

"No! Of course not," she said, as forcefully as she could manage; she felt absolutely sick. "Imelda, thank you for your concern, but I'd rather not speak of it."

Imelda nodded and furthered the subject no more. She sat there with Lisa for hours, neither saying anything to the other. Finally, just as the sun began to set, she stood, kissing her friend on the forehead and wishing her well, and took her leave. Lisa closed her eyes and kept them that way until the sun had completely vanished.

A servant arrived and lit a candle for her, refreshing the tea that Lisa had not touched. The woman curtsied, looking concernedly at Lisa, and hustled from the room. Lisa sighed.

A sudden, light tapping came from Lisa's window. She looked, confused, towards the glass pane. She was on the second floor, after all, and no trees grew near her room. She gasped, leaping upright. Dracula sat before her window, his eyes dark with sadness.

He moved his hand and the latch on the window opened, followed by the window itself. Lisa's breathing grew ragged. She made the sign of the cross over herself and noticed that he flinched at it.

"Be gone from me, monster!" she hissed at him.

She had no desire to yell for her parents. She feared what this monster might do to them. Dracula's hand gripped the outer wall of her room, looking as if she had stabbed a dagger into him.

"Please, Lisa…I'm sorry. I should not have kept this from you," he said.

"You…killed that woman!" Lisa squeaked, tears filling her eyes. "Were you planning the same for me?"

This looked like it hurt him more than calling him a monster. He swallowed and looked very close to tears himself.

"No, never! I love you, Lisa, and would rather be destroyed than see any harm come to you. If I ever hurt you…seeing you like this…I feel like I'm dying," he said.

She shook her head. "How could a creature such as yourself love? What demon are you?"

"I am what is known as a vampire. I must feed on blood to survive…and I can love quite easily…though it has been ages. I have not loved a woman since I was human…many, many years ago," he said.

Lisa crossed herself again, and, again, he flinched. She had heard some of the older village women speak of vampires as lusty, deadly creatures. Sinful creations of the devil.

"You were once human? How could you kill that poor woman then?" Lisa pressed.

Dracula nodded. "Yes. I was a tactician in an army fighting in the Holy War. I was married to a kind, beautiful woman who looked very much like you do. Her name was Elisabetha. She died while I was away at war. I…wasn't with her to comfort her in her last hours…and all she spoke of, I was told, was of her concern for me."

Lisa blinked at him. She wondered, briefly, if he was lying to her. But the pain in his eyes…the faraway look…those were not fake. Lisa put her feet to the floor, standing. She did not approach the window, but Dracula looked hopeful at this movement.

"How did she die?" Lisa asked.

"Illness. It wasted her away."

"And is that what led you to this?"

Dracula's eyes were wide, shocked at Lisa's unabashed-ness. He nodded, slowly.

"I cursed God's name and became an eternal creature of the night. I thought that I would never love another woman again. But…when I stepped into that tavern that night, and saw you, so like Elisabetha, I fell in love again. Please, Lisa, I've felt more alive with you than I have felt in my long years. I beg your forgiveness!"

"What were you doing in the tavern? Were you looking for another to…feed from?"

Lisa shuddered at the thought. She shuddered again when Dracula nodded.

"Please…I love you, Lisa. And I know you love me. I can feel it whenever I'm near you. Please…I wish to be with you…to love you as a man should…to call you, one day, mine," he said.

Lisa shook her head. "I can't love a murderer."

"Then…I'll refrain from killing humans…I'll feed off animals for the rest of eternity, only to be with you…to please you. I wish to continue courting you, my love. I swear that I will not kill another human."

Lisa weighed this in her mind. She recalled the village women's stories of the vampire's almost insatiable need for blood. They had said that human blood sated a vampire best, and, although they could feed off of animals, they would only choose to do so in the direst circumstances. And now, Dracula was swearing that he would not kill another soul…if only she could love him.

And she did love him. That was why his…unnaturalness, his inhumanity had hurt her so. She stepped closer to the window, now only the threshold separating them. She remembered that vampires could not enter a house uninvited and felt a little like she was teasing him, which made her in turn feel guilty.

"On your word? On my life, you would swear it?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, on my word, and I will swear it by my love for you. No more taking of life…no longer will I hurt you," he said.

She smiled, the expression spreading slowly across her face like a flower blooming for the first time in the spring. Dracula's own smile, his fangs absent, burst forth, like a fountain spout.

"Very well. I will continue to allow you to court me…so long as your word holds…for I do love you, Vladimir."

She leaned forward, placing her lips lightly against his. She had never kissed a man other than her father, so, she had never given more than a chaste kiss. She waited, her lips still pressed to Dracula's, and allowed him to lightly touch her face, kissing her deeply. She sighed when they broke away. He stroked her face along her chin, gently.

"Rest tonight, my love. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow evening," he whispered.

Lisa nodded. In a blink, Dracula was gone from her window. Lisa made her way back to bed, her legs feeling unsteady. She laid down, smiling wider than she was sure she had ever done in her life. With a single puff of air, she extinguished the candle, glad to once again anticipate the night.

Chapter Text

Lisa laughed quietly to herself as she rounded the corner and emerged on the pathway that led to her home's front door. She wiped her feet against the wooden stairs outside and opened the door, careful not to be too loud. Mavis and Owen were usually asleep by this hour, and she loathed waking them. She hung her cloak on a hook by the door and found that she could not wipe the bright smile from her face.

She had been seeing Dracula for a little over a year now, and as far as Lisa could tell, he had kept to his word. He had confessed to her, early on in his promise, that it was most difficult to do without human blood, having survived on it for so long. He described the thirst for his accustomed human blood like the way some of the patrons of the tavern seemed to need the beer, not just want it. But he was holding to his word. All to please her. Lisa almost danced into her home's sitting room, and almost right into her father's statuesque figure.

She stopped, the smile still present, and stood on tiptoe to kiss the older man on the cheek. Owen Farenheights's hair was the same color as his daughter's, only with a few darker streaks in it. He was much taller than both his daughter and his wife, both had to look up to meet his eye. He was broad-shouldered and square-faced, and could look quite fierce if the need presented itself. His eyes were a light amber color and he had a pale brow arched, currently, at his daughter.

"You're home late, Lisa," he said evenly.

"My apologies, Father. I was…enjoying the moonlight," she replied, which was not really a lie.

Owen made an "hmm" noise and gestured his daughter into the sitting room. Lisa went without protest, but was completely lost in curiosity. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant that she was still asleep. Lisa slipped into the chair across from the one her father was now occupying. Owen crossed his legs and leaned back, eyeing his daughter. After a few moments, Lisa narrowed her eyes.

"Is there something wrong? Have I done something you disapprove of, Father?" she asked.

Owen shook his head. "No, no, not at all, really. It just occurs to me that you are eighteen now, Lisa. Your mother and I were speaking the other night, and we've come to a decision."

Lisa leaned back in her chair, becoming increasingly worried about the direction of this conversation. She remained silent, waiting for her father to continue. Whether he was taking his time in order to make her nervous or whether he was simply trying to find the right words, Lisa felt like she was going to scream. Finally, Owen sighed.

"We've decided, Lisa, dear, that it's time that we find you a suitor, a husband," he said.

She was sure her heart had stopped. A husband? Her breathing was becoming heavy, erratic. No, this could not be. Her parents would never force her into a marriage. They had never forced her into anything else. Lisa put her hand over her chest, willing her heart to start up again. She swallowed once, hard, and evened her breathing before she spoke.

"A husband? Who?" she asked.

She knew that it would be in vain to hope that they meant Vladimir. They knew very little about him, about their relationship, and had never actually met him. Owen smiled gently at his daughter.

"Clarence, from the village. The blacksmith's son," he answered.

Lisa searched her mind for a face to match the name. Once the connection was made, her eyes widened.

"Melody's brother? Oh, Father, I could never—!" she said, but cut herself off, not quite sure how she should word how she felt about that.

Melody and Lisa had never been friends. In truth, the only real friend Lisa had was Imelda, but she had always been able to at least get along with the other girls of the village. All except Melody. For a blacksmith's daughter, she often strutted about as if she were the child of a higher born man and woman, looking down her long nose at those lesser beings—like Lisa.

"Lisa, it is time that you became a wife and a mother. Your midwifery skills should serve you well, and your mother and I were hoping that a marriage between Clarence and yourself would mend the…tension between our two families. I've never ordered you to do much of anything, not like the other parents, Lisa," Owen said, sitting forward now in his chair.

Not Clarence. Never Clarence. Lisa was breathing heavily again. She could not enter a loveless marriage, for the sake of mending relationships between two men of the same social standing. Lisa did not hate a single soul in the whole village…but she did highly dislike Melody's and Clarence's family.

"Father, I am grateful beyond words for the freedoms you have allowed me in this life," Lisa said slowly, diplomatically. She had to make her father understand. Let him know that her heart was not hers to give anymore…it belonged to another man altogether, a man who was not quite a man…but Owen need not know that.

Her father nodded slowly and gestured for her to continue. She took a deep breath, as if about to plunge into a lake right at the beginning of the warm season, before the waters had had time to be warmed by the sun.

"Father, I love you with all my heart…but I…already have a suitor," she said.

She thought that she would have to chase her father's eyes as they popped out of their sockets and rolled around the room, but thankfully, both amber eyes stayed in place…only a little wider than usual.

"A suitor? The man you have been meeting with?" Owen said, an edge to his voice.

Lisa remained calm. She would have to make her father understand and ease any worries he might have at the same time. She prayed in a quick moment for the Lord Almighty to give her patience.

"We have been honorable, Father. He has confessed feelings for me, only recently," she said.

She prayed forgiveness for her small lie. She had known of Vlad's feelings for her for a little while now. She continued.

"I beg your forgiveness that I have not introduced him to you. But…I am quite in love with him, Father. Please, don't make me marry Clarence…not when my heart belongs to someone else."

Silence as her father eyed her cautiously. He had never before doubted his daughter's word, having never had reason to. She prayed further that he remembered that in his consideration. Finally, he nodded once.

"I want to meet him. He must obtain my blessing, you know. For all your freedoms, Lisa, I am still your father," Owen said, standing.

Lisa leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around her father's neck in a tight hug. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek.

"Tomorrow night, Father, I give you my word. I will bring him here tomorrow night!" she said as she dashed off to bed.

The next day passed all too soon, as it often does when one dreads something. It was not that Lisa dreaded Vladimir meeting her parents, or anything like that…she dreaded something that she had not yet found a name for. She had not prepared him, nor her parents, for this meeting. She found herself more worried about Vlad's reaction. After all, he was a vampire who tried to associate as little as possible with humans, because, eventually, humans would discover him…and attempt destroy him.

What if he refused to come with her?

That would not happen, Lisa was almost sure. She was certain in Vlad's feelings for her, which meant that he would have to meet her parents to ensure that she would not be married off to Clarence. Surely he would not let that happen.

Trepidation in every step she took, Lisa made her way to the recreational area she always met Vladimir in. For the first time since their first meeting in this place, he had arrived before her. The worry must have been evident on her face, because his eyes narrowed and he strode quickly towards her.

"Lisa, whatever's the matter?" he asked, trying to lead her to a seat.

She stopped, shaking her head. "My parents want to marry me off to Clarence, the blacksmith's son."

His eyes widened, a faint reddish glow in them. "I will not allow it."

This provided some relief for Lisa, who sighed. She closed her eyes slowly, nodding. When she opened them again, the red was gone from Vlad's eyes, but he still looked quite concerned for her.

"I was hoping you would feel that way," she smiled at him. "I…hope you don't mind, but I told my father that you, Vladimir, were my suitor. And he asked to meet you. Tonight."

Lisa breath was caught in her throat as she awaited his reply. To her utmost relief, he smiled and held out his arm for her to take.

"Lead the way, my dearest," he said.

Lisa slipped her arm, which was a good deal smaller, into his and did as he had requested. Moments later, she was inviting him inside and ushering him towards the sitting room. Mavis and Owen, both dressed in their very best clothes, were already waiting for them. Mavis's hair was a coppery red and was pulled back in a tight bun while her husband's hair was being held back in a neat ribbon. Both were wearing muted colors and were smiling at their guest as they gestured for Vladimir to sit across from them. Lisa sat beside her suitor.

"Mother, Father, this is Vladimir Tepes Dracula," Lisa said. She turned to Vlad and added, gesturing to each in turn, "Vlad, this is my mother, Mavis Farenheights, and my father, Owen Farenheights."

The three exchanged civil greetings as they all settled into place. As soon as the formality was done with, Owen lost no time in getting right to business. He eyed Vladimir, and Lisa noticed that his look was not unkind. In fact, Owen looked quite please with the suitor that Lisa had captured the attentions of. Mavis was also smiling in approval. Lisa bit down a grin as she wondered if Vlad could read her parents' looks as well as she could.

"Well," Owen began, "Lisa informs us that you have been courting her. She calls you her suitor. Is this true?"

"Very much so," Vlad answered with no hesitation.

Lisa's heart swelled. Owen nodded, taking in this answer.

"May I ask, what is your pedigree? Are you of noble blood?" her father continued.

Now Lisa blushed. She had never heard her father been so blunt with anyone. Hers was a family raised on formality and manners, and it could be considered quite rude to so openly question one's heritage, no matter the reason. Thankfully, Vlad smiled as he answered, appearing to have taken no offense.

"I am, so to speak. I can assure you that I want for nothing, if I may be so bold."

Owen and Mavis looked quite pleased by this. Now, it was Mavis's turn to ask her questions.

"I have but one concern, and I'm sure that it is one that all mothers have concerning their daughters," Mavis said, pausing as Vlad nodded her on. She added, "What are your intentions with my daughter? This isn't…an idle way to pass your time, is it?"

Lisa was sure that she would never rid herself of her blush now. But still, Vlad only smiled.

"Not at all. I love your daughter well, and my intentions are pure. In fact, I was most pleased to hear from Lisa that you wished to meet with me. I was going to arrange a meeting with you myself soon," he said.

"You were?" Lisa asked, unable to stop herself.

"Yes," he smiled at her before turning back to her parents. "I wish your blessing on me, kind sir and madam. I wish to ask your daughter for her hand in marriage, and I would like your permission before I do so."

Mavis clapped both hands over her mouth, stifling a shocked and excited squeal. Lisa gasped, her eyes wide, and Owen was grinning from ear to ear.

"I could never deny my daughter's hand to one of such a noble birth as it is obvious that you are from," Owen said. "You would provide nothing but the best for her, I suppose. And she has claimed to love you dearly. Yes, you have my blessing."

Vlad smiled and turned to Lisa, taking her hand in his. "May I have the honor of taking you as my wife, Lisa?"

She was speechless. She had known that Vlad loved her, never questioned it. But, after discovering his true identity, his vampiric nature, she had thought that a marriage to him would be impossible. But now, here he was, asking her hand. A sturdy kick from her mother brought her back to her senses. She smiled and nodded emphatically.

"Yes, I'll marry you. Of course I'll marry you!" she said, hugging him tightly before she thought better of it.

Chapter Text

Lisa and Dracula had decided on a short engagement. In fact, they had agreed on all the details and arrangements within a week's time after the proposal, with their wedding date set for a week after that. They had requested a nighttime, garden ceremony, for reasons obvious to only themselves. After all, Lisa had not even found the time—or rather, the appropriate way—to tell Imelda of Dracula's true identity. The two had also requested very few guests. Dracula had informed Owen and Mavis—in whose garden they were being married—that no one would be coming from his side to witness the union. Lisa's parents had been shocked.

"Why ever not?" Mavis had asked, gently.

Dracula had smiled at the woman. "Dear Lady Farenheights, I have no family yet living, and I am…was much secluded. That is to say, exactly, that my…friends live very far from here, and I do not see them often."

"We could postpone the wedding, to give them time to arrive," Mavis had then suggested.

Dracula had laughed. "No, my dear woman, please! I could not wait any longer to be married to my beloved…and I know they would understand that."

Mavis had smiled, nodded, and gone about conducting the servants in properly decorating the yard. Lisa touched her betrothed's arm gently after her mother was out of earshot, and whispered, "Friends? Of whom do you speak?"

Dracula had chuckled gently and said, "My dear, I have not mentioned them as they are not quite of your world. I think your family and friends would be much…dismayed if my friends arrived."

Lisa was not sure whether she should laugh or not at that. Instead, she had simply smiled and went on speaking of other ceremony plans. Her only invitee was of course Imelda, who was all but glowing at the prospect of her friend's impending marriage. After all, no one but Imelda had known of Lisa's deep love of Dracula before the proposal. Owen, again in efforts to patch things up, had invited Clarence, Melody, and their father, Sergius, to the wedding. Lisa was not entirely sure how well it would be to invite the man to whose son she was almost betrothed to her wedding to another man…but her father was just so desperate to be in good standing with everyone. She had not protested, but had complained only in private, separately, to Vlad and Imelda. The three extra guests—bringing the total attendance, not counting servants, the bride, or the groom, to the wedding to seven…Midwife Rochelle would, of course, be present—were the only dark spot on Lisa's vision of her wedding to come.

And come it did, quicker than she had imagined. Before she had known it, she was ushered into her room upstairs and being shoved into a simple, white wedding gown. It was cotton and it hung straight down her form. It had very few embellishments, but the few that it did have, Lisa loved. It had delicate lace around each cuff of her sleeve and around the square neckline, while cloth flowers—not many—made a falling design down her skirt. Her mother had sewn the basic dress for her several weeks ago, she had confessed, when Owen had first brought forth the subject of marrying their daughter off. The embellishments and lace had been added by a joint effort between Mavis and Imelda, in order to finish the dress in time. Imelda had also chosen the flowers for her bouquet, careful to choose those which promoted happiness and prosperity. Of course, she had only shared the meaning of these with Lisa in a moment when they had been alone in the room.

Finally, Mavis and Imelda were with her, finishing the final touches. They had braided her hair in a loose braid, ending in a voluminous white ribbon, with tiny white flowers placed sporadically throughout. Over her head they placed a white, sheer veil that fell to just past her chest. Once they had finished, Mavis was smiling with shining eyes while Imelda was discreetly handing the woman a dainty handkerchief. Finally, Lisa's mother sniffled and clapped her hands.

"Down we go, loves! We must have Lisa waiting when it is time!" she said, her voice a little higher than she had probably meant it to be.

Lisa kissed her mother's cheek through her veil and smiled. She thanked her for the beautiful dress. Mavis simply waved her hands dismissively, but took off rather quickly out of the room. Lisa and Imelda laughed.

Imelda had to help Lisa down the staircase. Although the veil was sheer, it was still rather hard to see through it, especially at night. Imelda brought her friend to the rear door of the home and hid her off to the side.

"I'll come and get you when we're ready. I will go see what their progress is. Besides, I've still yet to meet your groom." Imelda said, kissing Lisa's cheek. "Congratulations. May God bless you in this union."

Lisa blushed and could not help but wonder what Vlad would have thought of that. Out loud, she thanked Imelda as the witch—her own outfit a pale pink dress with lace accenting it as well, and her dark hair hanging loose down her back—slipped out the back door. Lisa peeked through the window. She saw Vlad instantly, dressed handsomely in black with gold embroidery, missing his usual cloak. His white-blond hair was pulled back and tied low with a black ribbon only slightly less thick than her white one. He seemed to be pacing up and down the small aisle of chairs. Lisa giggled. She had never seen him so nervous.

Imelda came into view, and Lisa saw her friend freeze, her eyes locked on Vlad. She raised a brow, wondering why Imelda looked so…frightened by him. Vlad had not even taken notice of her. Finally, Imelda seemed to shake herself and found Owen, standing by Sergius—a balding man who looked as rough as befitted his profession—and spoke quietly with him. Owen nodded when she had finished and announced, so loudly that even Lisa could hear him from within the house, that it was time for everyone to be in place. She watched as the holy man brought to marry them appeared from somewhere off to the right—which had been out of her windowpane-view—and took his place at the altar, with Vlad in tow. Imelda took her place to the left of where Lisa would stand, the proper place for the official witness to the marriage. The other guests took their seats while Owen came up the aisle. He entered the home and smiled at Lisa.

"You look beautiful," he said, offering his arm.

She took it.

"Thank you."

With one deep breath, they made their way slowly up the aisle, Lisa's and Vlad's eyes locked, lovingly, with one another the entire way.

The ceremony had been short, but for a reception that had so few guests, it lasted much longer than Lisa would have thought. Melody had congratulated her most flatteringly and was being rather more talkative with her than usual. Lisa guessed that this was probably due to the fact that, to the casual observer, she had just married one of noble blood. Clarence, for his part, was very cold toward the newlyweds, currently engaged in a conversation with Midwife Rochelle, which suited Lisa just fine. In fact, she secretly wished that Melody would take her lead from her brother, but, alas, the girl just simply would not leave Lisa's side. She was no doubt hoping that perhaps Lisa could use her husband's influence to find her a noble-born husband, if she made friends with her. This thought amused Lisa greatly, and was one of the reasons she was able to hold her smile of interest in place as Melody spoke to her of things of absolutely no consequence whatsoever.

Owen and Mavis were busy chatting with Sergius, who seemed pleased to be in attendance. Truth be told, Owen was chatting, and Mavis was playing the role of the faithful audience, meaning that she laughed at every joke her husband made…no matter whether it was funny or not. Vlad and Imelda were nowhere to be seen and it hurt Lisa, just a little bit, that her best friend and new husband were not there to rescue her from Melody's seemingly incessant babbling. The red-haired young woman was just about to begin discussing the importance of braiding one's hair just so when Lisa interrupted.

"I'm so sorry, Melody, but I believe I've already lost my husband. If you will excuse me?" she said, not waiting for a reply.

Lisa made her way around her small group of guests with no notice, except for the cold black eyes of Clarence which she was able to shake off with no trouble. She stopped just before the rear entrance the Farenheights home, trying to remember if she had seen either Vlad or Imelda enter the house. Her answer came in the form of hearing Imelda's voice issuing from around the corner of the house in a loud hiss. Lisa crept up to the corner and peeked around. There, standing at least three feet apart, stood Imelda and Vlad, face to face. Vlad's countenance suggested that he might be angry, but that was nothing compared to the dark look on Imelda's face.

"Does she even know? Does she know what kind of monster she has married?" her friend hissed at her husband.

"I don't know what you are speaking of," Vlad hissed back in kind.

"You know exactly what I speak of…vampire."

Imelda had spat the word out, disgusted. Lisa's eyes widened, and she fought gasping. She had not told Imelda, but it had been in no effort to keep her husband's identity a secret…she had simply not had the way to tell her. Of course, she had worried of what her friend's reaction might be to this news, that Lisa had indeed married a vampire, but she had never expected anything like the display before her.

Vlad sneered and shook her head. "I know of you, witch, and you do not frighten me. If it pleases you to know, yes, my dearest Lisa is quite aware of my…status."

"Status? You say it as if you are a preening peacock!"

Lisa felt her chin quiver. She rested her hand against the wall of her home, gripping tightly to it. She wished Imelda would stop saying such hateful things.

"You say she knows?" Imelda continued, unabashed. "On what grounds am I to believe you?"

"If you know my nature, then you should trust on the fact alone that she is yet living."

Those words chilled Lisa to the bone and she shuddered.

"She would have told me, if she had known."

Lisa berated herself for her mistake, for her worrisome nature. If she had done just that, this little…confrontation could have been avoided.

"Perhaps she simply had not thought to. A slip of the mind," Vlad offered, a little less malice in his voice…just a little.

Imelda shook her head and set her teeth on edge. "I won't let you do harm to her."

With that, she reached into a pocket sewn into the side of her dress and pulled out a small vial. Lisa did not even stop to see what it was. She threw herself in between her husband and her friend, hands outstretched protectively in front of Vlad with tears in her eyes. Imelda gasped at her sudden appearance and halted the motion of the vial.

"I'm sorry, Imelda. I did simply forget to tell you…No, in truth, I was afraid to tell you," Lisa confessed, wholeheartedly.

Her friend's eyes narrowed, while Vlad gave a comforting, "Lisa…" from behind her.

"Afraid? Why?"

Lisa shook her head. Her tears were now silently falling down her cheeks.

"Please, forgive me. I should have told you. Perhaps I was afraid you would advise against my love."

Imelda blinked, placing the vial of what looked like just clear water back within her pocket. Lisa gave a shuddering sigh of relief. Imelda stepped forward and hugged her friend, which Lisa returned.

"Never be afraid of telling me your heart, Lisa. You are my friend, and the Lord knows I've no reason to judge for such secrets," the witch said, as she pulled away.

When she released Lisa, she turned to Vlad and inclined her head ever so slightly.

"Forgive me. I was…mistaken."

"You were merely concerned for Lisa. That I can easily forgive," he said.

The rest of the reception passed without event. Vlad had helped Lisa dry her tears, while Imelda had taken on the task of deterring Melody from further conversation with the bride. Finally, the guests all gathered round the front of the house to wish Vlad and Lisa farewell. Mavis was now openly crying, with Owen trying to console her. Imelda and Madame Rochelle both wished them the best, and waved at the carriage containing the two until it disappeared into the forest.

It was a short ride to the cottage that Vlad kept outside his castle. The very same that Lisa had espied him at in his more his vampiric nature. He had assured her that he had completely redone the cottage on the inside, to make it as little as it had been that night, so as to make her comfortable. Lisa had wondered why he had insisted they spend their wedding night in the cottage, rather than his castle. Vlad had answered this by explaining some of the…things present within his Castlevania. She had put forth no argument against the cottage after that.

The carriage stopped just before the door of the cottage, and Vlad stepped out first, sweeping Lisa up into his arms and carrying her over the threshold of the home. She laughed as they continued into the bedroom—which had been pre-candlelit by person or persons unknown before their arrival—and he laid her down upon the bed. She blushed a deep crimson, averting her eyes slightly.

"What is it, dearest?" he asked.

She did not meet his eyes still when she replied, "I am nervous. I am a maiden who has lived by God's Will and kept my maidenhood intact. I am… uncertain how to proceed."

Vlad kissed her lightly on the lips, which brought her eyes back to his. He was staring at her kindly, in utter understanding. He placed a gentle hand against her cheek, and she did not shudder from the cold of it, like she had when they had first become comfortable with one another.

"My wife had been a maiden as well…but I was still human when we consummated our marriage. In truth, consummating is the only ceremony that might still hold some sort of holy significance to a vampire. You have no reason to be nervous…I would never harm you, in any way," he whispered, kissing her again, a bit more deeply.

When he withdrew, Lisa blushed again, but did not look away. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to choose the best way to word her next question. Vlad was ever patient with her, waiting with a benevolent smile playing about his mouth.

"I am, of course, aware of…Oh, God, but how to word it!—" at this interval, Vlad chuckled lightly at her, "I am aware of the physical…requirements to consummating a marriage…but…that is only with a human. Is there…anything else…with one such as you, my love?"

She knew she must be as red as the reddest rose as she voiced her question aloud. She felt like the silliest schoolgirl, just learning of such ways. But Vlad did not laugh at her, as she feared he might. Instead, he cocked a brow and asked, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean to ask is…will you have to…drink from me?"

At this, Vlad looked outright horror-struck, and Lisa was afraid she had offended him. She immediately regretted her words and berated herself for bringing up such a matter, on her wedding night no less! Finally, the look passed on Vlad's face and he shook his head rather emphatically.

"I would never, never, feed from you, my dearest. To be fed on by a vampire is to condemn that soul to horrors I would never wish upon you. No, I will not taint your soul any more than what I may have already done so. After all, I know not what God's Will is for a soul who would wed a demon such as I."

Lisa leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her hands in his hair. She heard him moan in pleasure as she did so, and she smiled through her kiss. She pulled back for a moment, looking deep into her husband's eyes.

"God would never condemn true love. I believe that with all my heart. And I also believe that ours is the truest love I could have ever known."

There would be no more talking, of this she was certain from the light in her love's eyes. Vlad pressed his lips against hers, laying her back against the pillows. They lay there for a moment, exchanging passionate kisses, with Vlad's lips tracing her jaw and neck only to find her lips once again. Finally, Lisa reached up, feeling quite brave and emboldened, and began to fumble with the buttons and fasteners on her husband's clothing. He smiled as she was obviously displaying trouble in simply removing his outer jacket. He deftly reached between the two of them and had the jacket and the tunic beneath removed in a blink of an eye. He pulled back now and Lisa looked up at him, marveling at his smooth, pale chest that seemed to glow in the candlelight. She ran her fingertips along the muscles of his stomach and he moaned again.

Gently, he pulled her up to him, kissing her as he undid her hair and her dress from the back. He pulled her swiftly to the edge of the bed and gently set her to standing, letting her dress—and soon her undergarments—fall from her body. She blushed again, all too aware of her exposed form. His lips moved, and he might have muttered the word, "beautiful," but she could not be certain.

He had her on the bed again, and somewhere between standing and lying down, he had fully undressed himself. His lips were now trailing up and down her body, pausing on her more sensitive areas like her breasts and...lower parts. He brought himself up again, his face over hers as he kissed her again on the mouth. Lisa could feel him against her nether regions as he positioned himself very deliberately.

"Are you ready, my love?" he whispered and she could only nod in reply.

He thrust and she gasped, feeling pain for only a moment. His eyes took on a different light, one that was almost crimson, but it faded quickly. He began to move above her, and she gasped with each one. She found herself clinging to him, digging her nails into his back, and he was gasping as well.

Lisa suddenly felt a heat overtake her body, spreading like a warm, welcoming fire to all parts of her…even her fingertips. She felt limp afterwards as Vlad kept thrusting, until only moments later, he went rigid and cried out in pleasure. He collapsed lightly on top of her, moaning into her ear as she kissed his cheek. He rolled to her side and pulled her into him. She snuggled into his chest and suddenly felt her eyelids grow heavy.

"I love you," she murmured and she just barely heard her husband's reply as sleep finally came.

Chapter Text

Lisa had happily been Lady Tepes now for the length of a year. Although she lived well outside her village's bounds, she still worked daily for Midwife Rochelle, who continued to grow ever older. In fact, the aging midwife had mentioned one day, quite out of the blue, that she suspected that the day when Lisa would take over for her might be coming sooner than she thought. Lisa had both been horrified and flattered by this statement all at the same time. Horrified by the idea that Rochelle might die any day—for the midwife had made clear, long ago, that this would be the only way she would ever give up her modest practice. And Lisa had been flattered because she had never, in her wildest dreams, assumed that Rochelle would leave her practice to her. She had simply thought she would work with the woman that Rochelle had named her heir. She had thanked Rochelle and begged her never to speak of such a thing again all in the same statement. The midwife had found that quite amusing.

Imelda continued to visit Lisa on a daily basis, often bringing her herbs. She usually visited her at Rochelle's house and then followed her out to the small, forest cottage that Lisa now lived at—after all, Vlad and she had agreed long ago that Castlevania was no place for her to live. For one thing, it was quite inaccessible to the common man, and Lisa's profession begged her to be at the villager's beck and call at all times of the day. And so, Lisa lived in the be-flowered cottage, where Imelda would visit with her until night began to fall.

Imelda was still not quite happy with the idea of Vlad being a vampire. She did not think less of Lisa, but she was truly uncomfortable around him. So, as soon as the sun began to set, the witch would say her good-byes and tell Lisa to give her husband her "best."

It was on such a night, as Lisa was bidding Imelda "good night," that she suddenly felt a wave of nausea overtake her. Clutching her stomach, Lisa groaned, bending forward and trying to hold herself up by the cottage's door frame. Imelda came rushing back to her friend's side, helping her indoors. She set Lisa down in the most comfortable chair she could find and immediately placed a hand to her forehead.

"Hmm, you don't appear to have a fever," Imelda said, taking her hand away.

Lisa gave a short laugh. "I'm fine. I'm sure it was only something I ate. You best be on your way, Imelda… Vlad will be here soon."

But Imelda shook her head, sending her raven locks—worn loose this evening—about her head.

"I'll wait here, and explain to him what happened," she said, taking a seat at Lisa's feet.

Now Lisa laughed, quite loudly. "You think that I can't explain to my own husband that I suddenly felt a little nauseous?"

"No, I think you'll make light of it, like you always do. Or conveniently forget to mention it. You don't like to be sick, Lisa, and you also don't like actual sickness to stop you. I'm waiting."

And wait she did, while Lisa sighed and reclined against her chair. The nausea had passed… or so she thought. A few moments before Vlad walked through the door of the cottage, Lisa doubled forward, one hand on her stomach and the other covering her mouth. Vlad entered just in time to see her sit herself upright once more and uncover her mouth. His eyes widened with worry as she rushed past Imelda—who had stood to greet him—and he dropped to one knee beside Lisa.

"Lisa, what's wrong?" he asked.

Lisa smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing, Vlad. I just feel a little sick to my stomach, that's all. Probably something I ate."

"Lisa Tepes, I know the way you worry over every little detail!" Imelda accused, pointing a thin finger at her friend. "You've never had a rotten piece of food in your house in your life, let alone eaten it! You're sick, and you know it."

Vlad's eyes went to Imelda, as if just noticing she was there. He stood and looked between the two women.

"Lisa, is this true?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm fine, my love, I assure you. Except for this nausea, I feel wonderful."

"Except for the nausea. Lisa, that's not fine," Imelda said.

"Imelda," Vlad said, in the tone of some general giving an order, "go into the village and fetch Rochelle, if you will."

Lisa shoved herself to her feet, shaking her head. "No. Vlad, Rochelle is getting on in her age. She can't be expected to walk into a forest in the chill of the night!"

"Then I'll send one of my carriages," he said.

"But I'm—" but another wave of nausea struck Lisa before she could finish her sentence, and this time, unable to hold it back, she rushed out the door to finally relieve her stomach of the offending substance.

Once they had Lisa inside and sitting by the fireplace, Vlad's carriage arrived, and Imelda was off without hesitation. While she was gone, Lisa could only sit, for Vlad would not allow her to move out of her seat. Thankfully, it took only a small amount of time for Imelda to return, with Rochelle rushing into the house after her. She immediately ordered Vlad and Imelda to leave the room while she examined Lisa, in order to give her privacy. After the two had stepped into the kitchen, Rochelle shook her head at Lisa.

"My best assistance had better not be sick," she said, teasingly.

Lisa laughed. "You mean, your only assistant."

"Either way, you are still the best. Now, Lisa, you know the way this goes…"

It seemed to take forever, but, finally, when Vlad could take it no longer, he used his supernatural hearing to listen in to the next room. This was followed, swiftly, by a smack on the back of the head by Imelda.

"Rochelle wanted Lisa to have privacy for a reason, Dracula," Imelda hissed.

"How did you know I was listening in?" he asked.

"Because of the ridiculous look you had on your face!"

Dracula stood to reply, only to be cut off by Lisa entering the room, a bright smile on her face. He rushed immediately to her, and she took both his hands in hers.

"What's wrong, my love?" he asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Oh, Vlad, how could I not have realized it? Vlad… I'm pregnant!"

Immediately, Imelda let out a squeal of joy and rushed past Vlad to wrap her friend in a tight embrace. Both women laughed while Vlad took a single step back, allowing this scene to play out before him. Finally, Lisa informed Imelda that Rochelle was waiting in the carriage for her. Imelda congratulated her friend once more and left, a bright smile on her face as well.

As soon as the carriage was heard pulling away, Lisa let out a happy sigh and sank down into the chair by the fireplace in the sitting room. Vlad followed, only to remain standing. She looking up at him, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Oh, Vlad… a child. Isn't this wonderful?" she asked.

Vlad said nothing, his face a total blank. However, Lisa seemed to take no notice of this as she continued.

"I'll admit something to you, my love. I've always wanted to be a mother. I never thought I would be, though, after I met and fell in love with you. So I made my peace with that. But… oh, isn't it just wonderful?"

Here, she finally paused, staring up at her husband. Her eyes narrowed as he seemed less than enthused about this predicament. He turned, his long cape sweeping Lisa's feet as he stared into the glowing flames of the fireplace.

"Vlad?" she asked, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"A vampire is not able to produce children, Lisa," he said, simply.

Her eyes widened. "What are you saying? Are you implying that I have been unfaithful?"

At this, he whirled, his eyes apologetic. "No, never! I know you could never do such a thing!"

"Then what is it that you are saying?" she asked, taking a single step away from him.

He averted his eyes from her gaze, which was growing ever more intense.

"I'm saying that… this is wrong, Lisa. It's not meant to be. This is a monster growing inside of you… I'm sure of that. I'm afraid I may have cursed your pure existence with this happening."

At this, Lisa felt her jaw set. She shoved a single finger into her husband's face and said what was perhaps the harshest words she had spoken to him yet.

"Children, no matter the parentage, are a gift from God. And I will not have you speak this way about our child ever again, do you understand me, Vlad Dracula?"

Vlad blinked once, surprised. Finally, he shook his head.

"I fear for you," he said, after a long moment.

"I know. But trust me, Vlad. This child is a gift."

At this, she wrapped herself around her husband, who wrapped his arms about her.

"I do trust you, Lisa. Only you," he whispered.

Chapter Text

Things were progressing faster than a typical pregnancy. Lisa, in her work with Midwife Rochelle, had dealt with many expecting women, as well as assisted in many birthings of many of the village's youngest children. By her count, based on her last bleeding cycle, she should only be around two months into her pregnancy. However, her belly seemed to tell a different story. By her size—and Rochelle's guess—she was looking to be about five months along.

This worried Vlad. But, then again, Lisa knew that everything about this pregnancy caused her beloved husband to fear. He was still convinced that the child in her womb—their child—was a monster. She knew he feared her destruction above all else. It was sweet, in a way. But it was growing tiring very quickly as well. They spent every evening together, as they had since their marriage, but he was… different around her. He treated her as if she were porcelain balanced precariously and ready to fall and break at any moment. He would stare at her growing stomach, and Lisa would, in weak moments, wonder if he thought her less beautiful than before her impregnation.

She asked him as much one night, as she caught him staring at her rounded womb, his brows furrowed just a touch, as they sat together before the fire.

"Do I disgust you now?" she blurted out, just barely above a whisper.

She hated how her bottom lip wobbled, and how she could already feel the sting of tears in her eyes. Vlad had given a start, his eyes wide as he met hers.

"My love, no. Never could I think such a thing. It's just…"

He looked away, and Lisa could feel her heart thudding in her chest. She pursed her lips tightly together, if only to stop her unsteady lower lip. She swallowed hard, trying to fight the constricted feeling growing in her throat.

"Then what is it? Why do you look at me like that? Look at our child like that?" she asked, cradling her stomach.

He sighed, resting his head in his hands. "You know how I feel about this. This… this isn't supposed to be. I've tainted you. You're paying for my selfishness. I fear for your soul. My love… I've thought long about this this. I think… I think you should abort this child before it can be brought into this world."

Lisa's mouth dropped opened, and she shoved her hand over it as she leapt to her feet. Her other arm went protectively over her belly. She shook her head.

"How dare you! How dare you suggest that!" she yelled at him.

Vlad stood, but wisely kept his distance. He held his hands out plaintively. "You could be damned for this. I should have…"

She balled both of her hands into fists now, holding them tightly at her sides. "You should have what, Vlad? You should have never married me? You should have left me alone? Have you considered, possibly, that it was not your decision alone to make?"

She could feel a fire in her veins. Lisa had always been bold, in her own ways, as a child. She had always had a mind for good works over the more domestic leanings of others of her gender in the village. But she was a God-fearing woman, who knew that her role was to be her husband's support. She knew that perhaps she was violating Holy Scripture to be so harsh with him now, but she also knew, in her heart of hearts, that defending her child against such a suggestion would be redemption enough for her acts.

Her husband appeared to be stunned silent. Lisa drew in a deep breath, and pointed behind her, in the direction of the door of the cottage.

"It is time for you to leave," she said evenly.

"What? Lisa, I—"

She held up her hand. "Save whatever it is you have to say to me until tomorrow evening, when you've had time to think about the awful things you've said tonight. I do this for my child, and I need you to understand that this child is a blessing, not a curse. Until then, good night, my husband."

Vlad's lips parted, on the verge of arguing, when he finally shut his mouth. He nodded curtly and with a gust of wind, he was gone, the cottage door slamming shut behind him. Lisa sank back into her chair and sobbed into her hand.

A fluttering feeling, like a whole net full of butterflies, happened in her stomach. She sniffled, looking down. Her stomach jumped when the feeling happened again. Her child was kicking! She smiled a watery smile, resting a hand just above her navel.

"He'll understand what I—what we—already know. I know he will," she whispered to her unborn.

She received a swift kick in answer, causing her to smile even more.

Vlad arrived at Lisa's cottage just after sundown the next night. She was busy making supper when he entered. She didn't bother to acknowledge his presence, but she could feel a change in his demeanor.

"My dearest…" he ventured.

She turned, placing one hand on the small of her back, to try and give her any relief from her new weight. In his hand there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers that Lisa knew had been carefully picked from within the forest. Vlad looked as if he had an imaginary tail between his legs. His eyes were downcast, as was the tilt of his head just a touch. He held out the bouquet, not daring to meet his wife's eyes.

Lisa crossed her arms over her belly. "You know that just flowers are not enough, yes?"

He nodded. "Forgive me, Lisa. Please. I… I beg you to understand. I have… spent many lifetimes doing and seeing horrible… terrible things. I never dreamed… I could have never hoped to have a love like yours. I wish never to trouble you, never to demean your lovely soul, which is like a beacon in a cold, moonless night to me. I wish only for your happiness and your health."

She smiled, taking his proffered flowers. She gave them a cursory sniff, smiling at the bright scent of them. He met her eyes then, and she saw the hope in them that she had forgiven him.

"You will trust me, from here on out?" she asked.

"Yes, my love."

"And no more talk of the destruction of our child? Ever?"

He swallowed, hard, but nodded. She smiled and rushed to him, kissing him. He seemed relieved, sighing into the kiss. When they parted, he looked down at her, a question in his eyes.

"You didn't, by any chance… forget to mention our little spat to Imelda?"

Lisa smiled a bit sheepishly. "I may have mentioned… one or two things, this morning, to her."

Vlad rolled his eyes. "That will make my relationship with her so much easier," he groaned.

Lisa laughed, and Vlad lifted her from her feet as if she weighed nothing, carrying her into their bedroom. She giggled.

"Vlad! Supper!"

"It'll keep," he said, laying her gently on the bed. "But I've been thinking about this all day."

He kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her arms about his neck. She felt another fluttering kick in her stomach, and Vlad stopped his kiss to stare down at her.

"The child is strong," he murmured.

"It doesn't hurt," she said, by way of reassurance.

For a moment, the vampire looked as if was going to argue. When he looked back into his wife's eyes, it seemed as if that thought was pushed aside. His grin was wolfish.

"I hope you weren't too hungry…"

She laughed. "I can wait."

They had eased into a kind of easy compromise over the child. Lisa's stomach had swollen so much now that Rochelle swore that the girl must have miscounted her cycle. She claimed that Lisa was showing all the signs of giving birth at any given day. Imelda came by even at night now to check in, in case Midwife Rochelle had to be fetched quickly. Lisa was—God forgive her—getting tired of everyone fussing over her. She couldn't so much as walk from one side of the room to the other without Imelda and Vlad—working in harmony for the first time ever—jumping to ask her what she needed, and then getting it for her if she was stupid enough to tell them. She would lose the very use of her legs if she let them pamper her like they wanted to!

They were walking around her as if the slightest breeze would send her into labor, and Vlad constantly feared it would happen during the daylight hours. But, fate had other plans. In a move most fortunate, Lisa's water broke while spending a lovely evening with both Imelda and Vlad. She had stood, about to fetch herself a cup of water, when a sharp pain struck, following by wetness soaking her legs.

She would never, ever admit that she had been feeling contractions for hours. She knew, from experience, that this did not always mean the arrival of her baby. She knew, also, that she should have been timing them more closely. However, now, with her water broken, there was no question about it. Her child was ready to join the world.

Vlad and Imelda lost no time. Imelda left to fetch Midwife Rochelle, while Vlad helped Lisa to their bed and began warming water on the hearth. By the time, Rochelle had arrived, Lisa was sure she didn't have much longer to go, and the water had just gotten hot.

"Out," Rochelle demanded to Vlad. Turning to Imelda, she added, "Since this is my assistance in labor, would you please assist me, Imelda?"

Imelda nodded as Vlad began to protest. With a disapproving click of her tongue, Rochelle pointed resolutely toward the bedroom door.

"This is no place for a man. This is women's work. You will be allowed in once your child had arrived, and no sooner. Begone!"

Vlad looked as if he was going to protest some more, but a stern look from both Imelda and Lisa allowed his words to die in his throat. He nodded once.

"If anything goes wrong…"

"It will be fine," Rochelle said, dismissively. She glared over at Imelda, "Show this man the door."

Imelda did as she was told, Vlad following reluctantly along. Before the door was closed, Imelda whispered a promise that she would fetch Vlad if anything went awry. He thanked her, and the door was shut.

Lisa did not labor for long. In fact, in all her years of assisting Rochelle, her own labor had to be shortest she had ever been a part of. Her child was evidently ready to be with his parents. It wasn't long before the child—a son, Rochelle proudly proclaimed—screamed his arrival. Lisa smiled, forehead drenched with sweat and locks of her hair plastered to it. Vlad was called back into the room as mother and child were both being cleaned up. He gave a brief pause in the doorway, and Lisa wondered if it was the smell of blood in the air. But with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he rushed to his wife's side. He took her hand as she smiled, dazedly, up at him.

"It's a boy… I think Adrian would be a lovely name," she murmured.

Vlad's brow furrowed. "Are you well?"

"She's fine," Rochelle pronounced as she took a now clean and swaddled infant from Imelda. "She just made life. She's tired."

Lisa nodded. "I am fine. Everything went wonderfully."

She blinked slowly at him, a blissful smile on her face, before she leaned back against her pillows. In moments, she was snoring softly. Vlad couldn't help but smile at her.

"Your son," Rochelle said, placing the babe in his arms.

"We'll give you a moment," Imelda said, also grinning.

Rochelle and Imelda gathered their items, moving them into the other room of the cottage. Presumably, they intended to clean before they left. Vlad also wondered if it had to do with keeping an eye on Lisa, in case something went wrong.

In his arms, his son squirmed. The baby smacked his lips together, turning and nestling as best as he could into his blankets. He was asleep, like his mother. He had a smattering of white-blond hair atop his head, was quite long, and still a little red-skinned from the birthing process. He had no teeth—yet—but that did little to quiet Vlad's worries. He cast an eye toward the closed bedroom door, hearing the women beyond in the process of cleaning. His wife still snored softly in their bed, and a slight, cool breeze brought his attention up to the window. It was slightly ajar. He frowned, staring down at his slumbering son. Such a chill at such a young age… perhaps he could save Lisa even still.

He moved swiftly, but silently. He opened the shutters and the window and cleared items from the table that sat nearest the breeze's path. He shuffled the infant, gently, in his arms, as to not to wake him. Cradling the boy by both his head and his rear, he began to place him upon the table. Once the boy was there, he began the slow process of freeing his hands… and stopped.

He yawned. It was wide, and it was nothing new, in so far as humankind was considered. People yawned all the time. But… the way he did it (he was breathing, Vlad noted), the way he smacked his lips again, and, if Vlad wasn't driven crazy yet by his fear, he could have sworn the ghost of a sweet smile had played upon his lips. Had his heart still beat, it would have skipped one.

He knew. He knew now why Lisa had felt the way she had felt this entire pregnancy. Why she was so consumed with love for this tiny little being. Vlad felt it now too. He scooped the boy up, wrapping him in his blanket more securely, and closed the window entirely. He turned, seeing that Lisa had turned a bit in her sleep—and that she too was smiling. Vlad mirrored the expression, looking down at his son.

"Adrian is a fine name indeed. Don't you think?"

Chapter Text

Her son was different. Only a fool would say anything different, and Lisa Tepes was no fool. For one thing, he grew quickly, almost as quickly out of the womb as he had within it. It wasn't an alarming rate. Lisa feared, at first, that she would be robbed of all the glories of having an entire childhood to aid her son in shaping the man he would become. Vlad said that it appeared that while she would not be robbed of his childhood, it would still be a shortened time. Lisa was grateful for her wonderful, healthy, happy son. She would take all she could get.

She now laughed whenever she thought of Vlad's fear that Adrian would be an "abomination." He was a child of love and laughter, who reveled in dancing in sun beams and chasing butterflies. He was fast, far faster than the average toddler—though he was only three now, he appeared at least five and had the speaking capabilities of that age as well. He followed her often into town during the day, but given the nature of her profession, she often left him with her parents. At the end of her day, just as the sun was beginning to set, she would stop by her parents' home, get Adrian, and off they would go back into the forest. It wasn't long after sunset before Vlad typically joined them.

Vlad was a wonderful father. Lisa loved to watch the two together, as Vlad aided Adrian in understanding his more vampiric nature. Some nights, Vlad would take him out into the depths of the forest, just to the edge of Castlevania, and while Lisa understood the need to have Adrian control his powers, she worried. She wanted nothing but light in her son's life… but the darkness was hereditary. Lisa loved her husband, though, and trusted that he knew what best for Adrian when it came to his vampiric side.

Time moved by quickly, and before long, Adrian was speaking and older, and Lisa wondered where it had all gone. Gone was her chubby-cheeked little angel, and now a budding young man stood before her. He was still a child, no more than ten, yes… but she could see the shape he was going to grow into once he had reached maturity. He still followed her into the village each day—now that she was the sole midwife, Midwife Rochelle having passed a year or so before—but he no longer stayed with her parents. Now, he roamed the village, and Lisa fretted over him every moment that her work wasn't occupying her mind. It was at the end of one of these days that Adrian, meeting her at the edge of the forest as was their custom now, looked more than a little down when she approached. He took her basket from her, carrying it without her having to ask, as a gentleman might. Usually, Adrian was chatty with his mother, telling him all about his various and sundry adventures and misadventures while exploring. But not today. Today he was quiet and downcast. Playfully, Lisa bumped her elbow into his—as at his young age he was only a head and a half shorter than she.

"What's the matter, dear?"

Adrian shrugged. "Nothing, Mother."

Lisa arched a brow. "Now, Adrian… would you really lie to your mother so?"

A faint blush colored his cheeks, barely enough to be caught. He stared out at his mother from under long lashes. "It's truly nothing. It's just…"

She stepped over a fallen tree branch that recent winds must have knocked into their path. She still kept her eyes on her son. "Yes?"

"The other children… they… they were cruel. They called me a monster. One of the older boys threw a rock at me."

She stopped him, turning him and examining his face. "Are you hurt?"

Adrian graced her with a small smile. "No, Mother. I was too fast for the rocks to ever touch me."

Lisa said a quick prayer of thanks, and then they continued their walk. She searched her mind, trying to think of anything to say in response. She had guessed that this day would come. There had always been rumors about her, as a child, and now that she was grown, living and married as she did, they had only multiplied. It wasn't fair, though, to spread them to her child.

"Why did they do that, Mother? I was only ever friendly," he said, the tiniest fragment of sadness in his voice.

Their cottage within view, Lisa stopped, gently stopping Adrian with her. She heaved a heavy sigh, noting that it was still at least an hour before full sundown—before Vlad would join them—and she knew that this would probably be the first of what would be long list of hard conversations she would have to have with him. She took a moment, staring into his eyes, as she gathered her thoughts and her words.

"You know that you are… different, correct?"

He nodded. "I'm a dhampire. Father has been teaching me much about my abilities. I can almost turn into a bat!"

He perked up so much in that second that Lisa couldn't help but smile. "Yes, he's been telling me that you've done well. But… the other children… they don't understand."

"And I mustn't tell them, like father said," Adrian replied.

"That's right. You see… it's human nature to fear what they don't understand. It's our fatal flaw, unfortunately. And while it's not fair to you, or to us, to have to hide what you are… sometimes, it's a necessity. Do you… do you understand what I mean?"

Adrian pursed his lips. "Do you… dislike what I am, Mother?"

He eyes widened in alarm. "Heavens, no! I love every inch of you, from the outside, in!"

He smiled at her, hugging her about her waist. "That's all that matters to me. I'll be more careful in the future, Mother."

"Adrian's becoming a fine young man," Imelda commented from her place on the stool in the middle of Lisa's home.

Adrian, now thirteen but appearing at least fifteen or sixteen, was outside, practicing some fighting stances and motions with a practice, dull blade his father had been running through with him the previous evening. The sun was due to start its orange and red descent into the horizon any moment, and Lisa grinned at Imelda.

"Yes, I do believe he is. It's all I could have hoped for."

Adrian broke from his training, running inside the house to get a sip of water. Lisa sighed.

"Adrian, you're dragging mud inside again!"

The young man barely repressed a sign. "My name is Alucard, Mother."

He dashed back outside, and Imelda turned to her friend with an arched brow. "Alucard?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. "It's the reverse of his father's name. He decided upon the title when Vlad was explaining why he is also called Dracula. He seems adamant that I call him by it, but I can't ever remember to do so."

"Well, you've only spent thirteen years learning to call him by one name… surely a second shouldn't be so hard?"

There was amusement in Imelda's voice, and Lisa scoffed. "His beliefs exactly."

She shook her head, scrubbing hard at her favorite mixing bowl. Imelda crossed her arms over her body. "Are you alright?"

Lisa released the bowl with a sigh, shoving it to the side. "The children in the village were mocking him again. The miller's boy, specifically and his minions. Apparently, Adrian had caught the attention of a young girl that the other boy fancied as well."

Imelda turned, staring out at the young man—his long blond hair moving in a wave about his head as he practiced his swordplay. She turned back to her friend.

"He seems fine. They must not have hurt him much."

Lisa scoffed. "Hurt him? They didn't get a chance to lay so much as a finger on him. He's too fast for them, too strong… and frankly, God forgive my vanity, but too smart as well."

"Then what's the problem?"

Lisa shook her head and drummed her fingers listlessly on a nearby table. "Imelda, do you not remember your childhood? My childhood, before I met you? We were the subject of rumors, teasing, and bullies. Were it not for my role as Midwife Rochelle's apprentice, and your frequenting of that place as well, then they might not have ever ceased."

"They haven't, actually. You do live out in a secluded cabin with a husband rarely seen in town. The rumors have only multiplied."

"I don't want that for my son. For his future."

Imelda chuckled. "And I'm sure our parents didn't want that for us. Lisa, if this is truly worrying you, why not share your worries with Vlad?"

She nodded. "You're right, of course."

Imelda left shortly after. The sun finally set, and Vlad arrived at the cottage. They shared a meal—with Vlad not eating, as was his way—while Lisa and Adrian told Vlad what they had done during the day. Not long after supper was eaten and cleaned up after, did Adrian produce a wide yawn. They bid their son good night. Once the boy was in bed, Lisa and Vlad stepped outside, to sit under the stars that shone brightly through the swaying branches.

"I fear for him," Lisa said, with no preamble.

"What happened this time?"

Lisa relayed the offending event to her husband, who, after she had completed her tale, laughed—to her great annoyance.

"I don't see what's so funny about this," she said, tugging her shawl about her shoulders.

Vlad wrapped his arm about her shoulders. "Lisa, our boy is smart. He's strong. He can handle himself. Besides, from my understanding of these events, he did nothing to initiate this. A girl was admiring him, and some boys took offence. The same would happen to a mortal boy as well."

Lisa sighed and rested her head against her husband. "I suppose you're right."

"He's just a boy."

Lisa grinned, glancing back toward the cottage, in the direction she knew Adrian's room to be in. "Just a boy," she murmured.

Chapter Text

The afternoon was still early, and the forest had an almost eerie calm about it. Lisa had not ventured into the village—a rarity for her. Vlad had done well to remind her that midwives needed rest too, now and again. He had also quashed her worries over her fellow villagers' health by assuring her that someone would fetch her if something was wrong. So, Lisa had chosen to remain in her home, cleaning and cooking. Adrian had ventured out into the woods—now the appearance of an adult man, despite only being fifteen years of age. That was his daily activity now, no longer following her into town—which, of course, he wouldn't have been following her today anyhow. That had stopped the day her mother had finally passed away.

Owen had gone several years earlier, when Adrian had only been eight. But Mavis had only passed away the previous year. Adrian had loved his grandmother as he loved his mother, and Lisa thought that it might pain him to go by the house that they had once inhabited. So the house was quiet, and while she wouldn't have normally minded it—she had experienced rare moments of quiet before—there was something… unsettling about this one. It was like some great tragedy was about to strike, someone with bad news was going to arrive…

She counted herself as mad and continued her domestic work. The sun was only just over its apex when the door to her cottage flew open, banging violently against the wall. Lisa gave a huge start, her eyes wide as she beheld her forceful visitor.

It was Imelda, but not as Lisa had ever seen her friend. The hem of her forest green gown was torn and frayed, her hair coming wildly loose from its braid. The crown of flowers she wore was missing several blossoms, and leaves looked as if they had attempted—and failed—to take their place. Most shocking was her face. It was blotchy and red, clear that she had been crying—sobbing, really—not only from that, but also because tears still soaked her cheeks. She gasped for breath, with it coming out ragged and shaky. Imelda crossed the distance between herself and Lisa in a run, grasping her friend's hands in hers.

"Imelda! Sit! In our Lord's name, what is going on?"

Imelda took a deep breath, which resulted in a loud sniffle, and quickly shook her head. "There's not time! They know, Lisa! They know! Clarence's boy saw me and reported it to his father. Clarence then reported it to the Priest! Lisa, this is the end! I came to warn you and say goodbye! I loved you, please know that, and I have to go."

Lisa felt as if the air itself had left her lungs. She shook her head, and Imelda mirrored it, already denying Lisa's silent argument.

"They chase me even now, Lisa. I shouldn't have come, but… I couldn't just leave. My love to you all."

Lisa gripped her friend's hands as she tried to continue her run. "You could hide! You could go to Castlevania! Vlad would hide you. I would hide you."

"Lisa, that would directly defy your priest."

Lisa pursed her lips, a feeling that was not as foreign as she might have once thought it to be bubbling up inside of her finally escaping.

"The priest is not God! God would not condone this. The priest is wrong."

Outside, in the distance, there was the sound of several twigs and small fallen branches snapping. Imelda choked out a sob.

"I've lingered too long. It's too late. It really is the end."

In the next moment, Lisa's quaint little cottage was overrun with angry men, the old, stony faced priest at their lead. She could see Clarence and his son behind him, plus several more of the village's men. Most of these men Lisa had treated as midwife at one point or another. Imelda turned, ready to place herself between Lisa and the others, but Lisa whipped her behind her own back.

"Why have you invaded my home, Father?" she demanded.

The priest lifted a bony, spotted, and wrinkled hand, pointing a crooked finger at Imelda.

"We've come for the witch! Step aside, and no harm shall come to you."

"Lisa…" Imelda began, but Lisa cut her off.

"You've got the wrong one," she said, firm in her response.

Clarence scoffed. "My boy saw it! Saw her mend a lame horse's leg like it was nothing!"

Lisa's heart thumped in her chest. She knew, though. She knew the path that lay before her, clear as day. And she knew that she, alone, could walk it. She drew herself up to her full height, which was unimpressive to many of the men here, she was sure. With a deep breath, she said, "She was able to do that because I gave her the ability to do so. The temporary ability… she was unaware of it."

"Lisa, no!" Imelda cried, while all the men facing Lisa gasped, staring wide-eyed at her.

"I knew it," Clarence growled.

The priest nodded once in agreement. "Indeed. We all had wondered, especially when you married him. Your husband has never been witnessed eating, drinking… he hasn't aged. He only comes out at night. We were not ignorant of what he was, but… perhaps we were ignorant to have allowed this to happen. We thought that, perhaps, if we gave you to him… the virgin to the dragon, as it were. But no… a witch all along. Of course. No woman would have such skill with the healing arts."

Lisa bristled at such an implication, which not only insulted her, but poor, dead Rochelle—who was as undeserving of such an accusation as anyone she had ever met. The priest moved his eyes from Lisa to Imelda, who gaped at them all.

"Is this true? Were you simply bewitched?"

Imelda moved to protest, but Lisa whirled, hardening her features as they had never been. "Be quiet, you useless twit! How dare you disuse my gift by mending horses!"

Imelda's eyes widened, but she knew what her friend was doing… and what it meant for her. More tears leaked from her eyes as she seemed to force herself away from Lisa. But she could not bring herself to verbally accuse her. It didn't matter. The priest and his posse had heard enough.

"Seize her! We shall leave a few men behind to capture her son as well!"

"No!" Lisa cried.

"The boy is innocence!" Imelda said, rushing toward the priest.

He glanced at her, a brow arched. "Such an abomination, innocent?"

"H-he… He tried to rouse me from my enchantment. Several times… it's… it's all returning to me… Adrian, he tried to stop his mother from bewitching me. He is a gift that neither of them deserves," Imelda pleaded.

The priest considered her words, before finally nodded. "Very well. It is true that I've not known the boy to cause any ill."

"What?" Clarence's son—Lisa did not even know the boy's name—growled.

But she did recognize him. He had been a primary antagonist to Adrian, jealous of the dhampire if ever a young girl turned his way instead.

"Enough! Bring her and burn this place. It must be cleansed."

Lisa turned to Imelda as she was bound by the wrists and dragged away, hoping that her eternal thanks was conveyed to her for saving her son. Imelda was still crying, and she nodded at her friend. Once they had all exited, the men threw their torches into the home, standing and watching as it burned as the priest and a few others pulled Lisa back into the village she had not intended on visiting today.

Chapter Text

Lisa had been interrogated, humiliated, and finally locked away in a damp, dark cell to await her fate. They had cut her hair short—to her ears—and dressed her in the rattiest dress they could find. It was closer to that of a sack, if truth be told. There had been no trial, and she had known, deep down, that there was never going to be. The rumors had circulated enough throughout her life. Then, when she had fallen in love with and married Vlad, that had all but sealed her fate. All it had taken for them to sentence her to death, to be burned at the stake, was her confession.

She sat on the floor, as properly as she could manage, her body sore from their interrogation methods. She had confessed to more then, for the twofold reasons of making sure that all blame of witchcraft fell upon her and not Imelda, and to get them to stop. Her jailer had informed her, as he had all but thrown her against the stone wall at the back of her cell, that she was going to die the next morning.

She was scared. Of course she was scared. She had so much more she had wanted to accomplish with her life. She had wanted more time with her son, her husband, her friend. But this wasn't meant to be. The truth had seeped down as deep in her bones as the cold had. She was going to die tomorrow.

The door to the cell block opened, a rectangle of flickering light falling gently upon the floor outside of her prison.

"You have a visitor," the gruff jailer called.

Lisa managed to stir a little, fighting her soreness, as she heard the footsteps of the new arrival. She would know those steps anywhere.

"Mother!" Adrian cried as he reached the bars of her cell.

The sight of his fair face, his white-blond locks cascading down his slumped shoulders gave her the strength she needed. She jolted to her feet and ran to the bars, clasping her hands about his.

"I'll free you," he said, readying to pull the bars apart.

"No! You mustn't, Adrian," she protested.

"But I can. I'm strong enough."

He spoke those words as a whisper. She graced him with a small smile. She didn't doubt it. He was his father's son. She nodded.

"I know, but… You would have to fight and hurt a lot of people between here and freedom."

"But you'd be safe."

"But I couldn't live with that loss of life. I'm a healer, Adrian. I always have been. If my death can save others, then I'll gladly surrender my life."

She could see it in his beautiful amber eyes, the struggle to keep his tears from falling. He was trying to be strong, to be brave, for her. She smiled, cradling his face in her hands. She pulled him down, slowly—he was already a head or so taller than she, and not even eighteen yet—and rested her forehead against his.

"You are here with me. There is nothing else to be done," she whispered.

"No," he moaned.

Lisa held her son's head to hers as long as she dared, knowing that her end was nearing with every passing second. Of course, that was true of all humanity, wasn't it? Time was a precious thing, a rare commodity, and it seemed like a cruel, cosmic joke to have only those who saw their end in sight realize it. Too little, too late.

"I can't stand by and watch you die," Adrian bemoaned, gently pulling himself up to his full height once more. "Maybe I could go to Clarence, beg him to see the magistrate and tell him that it has all been a horrible misunderstanding."

It broke Lisa's heart to stand here, on death's almost literal doorstep, and find herself lying to her son. It was a misunderstanding… but a necessary one. She cupped her son's face in her hands. She summoned all her courage and smiled at him. "It's done. There's nothing more. Clarence, nor his son, would never relent, you know as well as I."

"What about Aunt Imelda? She could—"

"No!" Lisa said, a touch too sharply. Adrian narrowed his eyes in confusion at her. She amended, gently, "No. In fact, I've thought about it, and you're right. I can't stand to have you watch me die like this. Go to Imelda's. She will take care of you until you are old enough to do so on your own. She will love you as I always have."

Adrian stepped back, anger calling the smallest tinge of pink across his face. "So that's it? You're giving up?"

She didn't want to fight with her son… not now. She shrugged.

"I'm at peace with my fate, Adrian. It's more than most get."

"Well, I'm not ready to throw away your life," he said, and Lisa noted with a touch of fondness that he hadn't corrected her to call him Alucard. "I'll go to Father. He'll be able to save you."

"Adrian, no!" she said, gripping the bars of her cell tightly. "You mustn't bring your father here. You don't know what he would do."

"He'd save you."

"Go to Imelda. Stay with her. I beg of you."

Adrian stepped back now, out of reach. "I'm going to Father. I've made up my mind."

Lisa swallowed, hard. She glanced downward, surprised to see the room darker than it had seemed previous. She looked over her shoulder, through the tiny window, and confirmed it. Dawn was approaching. If she strained her ears, she could almost imagine the men already at work building her stake and pyre. She blinked, holding back tears. She didn't want her son to see her die. With a decisive nod, she put her gaze upon him.

"If that is what it takes to bring you peace, then go. Ride fast, for dawn approaches. Go to your father."

He would never make it, even with his preternatural abilities. She knew to her core that this was her fate, to die by fire—as was the Lord's intention for the Earth, one day, perhaps. And once the sun rose, Vlad wouldn't be able to leave Castlevania's shadowed sanctuary any way. Adrian seemed to sense that much off his mother, nodding once.

"Father would risk burning for you," he said.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, holding her a second longer than perhaps necessary. "I love you. I'll return."

"I know that you will. I love you, and remember, Adrian, Imelda will shield you."

"I won't need her aid… I'll have yours."

"Still…"

"Have faith, Mother," he said.

With that, Adrian was off in a flash. She heard her son's exit through the main door. The guard moved to open her cell door. He looked at her and grunted, "My aren't you the popular heretic. You've another visitor."

Imelda murmured a polite and almost inaudible "Thank you," as she entered the cell. The guard shut the door with a loud creak and slam, causing her to jump. Lisa arched a brow at her friend, who looked like a quivering mass of nerves. It was clear from her red rimmed eyes that she had been crying in the very recent past. Lisa took a step forward to hug her, but Imelda shook her head.

"You can't. They don't know it's me!" she hissed. "I've glamoured myself so only you would recognize me. It wouldn't have been safe otherwise."

Lisa nodded. It was wise of her, considering how she had gotten herself here in the first place. She stayed back, then, gesturing to the cell.

"I'm glad you're here, but you shouldn't have risked it."

Imelda shook her head. "I couldn't stay away. Lisa… Lisa, I never meant—"

She stopped, visibly getting choked up, and Lisa raised a hand to calm her.

"It's all right. I'd rather it were me, than someone I loved, as selfish as that may sound."

"You're a healer. I'm depriving the world of a healer who truly cares about her patients."

Imelda was just on the verge of sobbing. Lisa smiled a small smile. "You are too, just in another fashion. Heal those I won't be able to in a little while. Watch over those I watched over and care for my son. That's all I ask of you. Do that, and your debt to me will be more than paid."

Imelda's face was soaked with her tears. "Why, Lisa? Why didn't you tell Adrian the truth?"

So she had been waiting on this visit for a little while. Lisa shook her head. "That's between you and I. The rest need not ever know."

"But—!"

"But nothing. That's one other thing I'll ask of you. Never tell them. Not Vlad nor Adrian. That is the last I ask of you, if you feel the need to repay a debt."

The door opened and the guard reappeared. He nodded to Imelda.

"Time's up. They've gotta get a priest in here, so she can confess."

Imelda nodded. She glanced one last time at her friend, then fled from the cell.

Adrian was in a race against time and the sun, and, to his horror, he was losing. The horizon was already tinging pink and purple with the peaking rays of the sun that would kill his father. But Adrian knew he had had the right of it when he told his mother that his father would gladly burn for her. The sun may hurt him, may even bring him to the brink of destruction, but he would still face it to save his dearest Lisa. No, his real race was against the ruffians and the monsters that wanted to burn his mother at the stake, this very day.

He was nearing his father's castle. It was just over the next hill, and then all would be well. No one was faster than Vlad Tepes. He would wing back into town in the form of a fearsome bat, scaring the villagers. He would free Lisa from the very stake and whisk her away back to Castlevania, where he would keep them, for their own safety. He would—

Alucard crested the hill and his heart stopped. There, at the base, across the cavernous cliff that served as Castlevania's moat, stood holy men. There was a whole church's worth, he noted as he descended the hill. They held up crosses, and they read holy scripture and phrases in Latin. Alucard scanned the crowd of them, His eyes finally fell upon one he recognized, Father Rikard. He approached him, and the Father eyed him sadly.

"You should not be here, my boy," he said, weakly chastising the younger man.

"What are you doing? What are they doing?" Adrian demanded.

"By the Bishop's own order, we are to keep your father contained until your mother has faced the Lord's justice."

"You can't! My mother's no witch, and you know it!"

"Aye, boy, but she confessed. It's out of my hands and in God's now."

Another priest approached the two timidly, and Father Rikard asked him to speak.

"The vampire lord has finally ended his screaming. It is our belief that the sun's hold is upon him now."

Adrian turned to see that, indeed, the sun had risen. It suddenly became clear what the priests had been doing. They had bound him to sleep while the sun was high. Whirling, he demanded of the younger priest, "What was he screaming?"

Father Rikard nodded to him. The younger priest said, "He said, 'Lisa. I must save Lisa.'"

The hard truth hit him. His father wasn't going to get out of Castlevania, and his mother was…

His eyes widened. "Mother!"

He ran from the priests, grabbing his steed by his reins, leading it at a brisk pace until they were no longer in sight of the holy men.

"I'll come back for you," he whispered to his mount as he tied it to a tree.

In a flash, just as his father had taught him, he took the form of a bat and raced up and over the trees, the wind itself like razors in his speed, while he made his way back to his mother.

Chapter Text

Lisa had begged forgiveness for her sins from the priest, as was expected of her. The priest had bade her to pray from the moment he left until she could no longer do so—she knew this meant until the fire scorched and destroyed her vocal cords—for God's forgiveness.

Lisa wasn't sorry. Maybe she should have been. She had been raised to be good and right in the eyes of the Lord, our God, but… But she had married a vampire—the king of his kind, for lack of better terminology—she had borne him a son, she had lied to the villagers and to the priests to save her friend, and she was going to be condemned as a most unholy witch.

But she was not sorry. They came for her just as dawn's light broke the horizon, grabbing her roughly by her arms and dragging her from her knees to her feet. The priest that had been sent to her was back, Bible in hand, and he began to pray as they led her out of her jail and onto the path of her death. There was quite a crowd, and Lisa recognized most, if not all, of the spectators' faces. Thankfully, there was no children present, and that comforted her. She would hate to have a child look upon the horror that was about to commence. They led her up the stairs of a small wooden platform that had been quickly assembled and led to the point where the pyre of wood and straw met the thick log of her stake. They whirled her about to face the crowd, and the Bishop—the actual Bishop, of whom Lisa had only seen on holy holidays—stood and addressed her, his voice booming out over the silent crowd.

"Did you confess your sins, witch?"

"Yes," she responded.

A chorus that was very mixed met her words—a collection of relieved sighs and boos of condemnation. The bishop raised his hands, and there was silence once more.

"We pray for your salvation. Now, you will be cleansed."

The men who stood on either side of her dragged her back until she was pressed tightly against the stake. She could feel the roughness of the rope as they bound her hands. It cut into her wrists, and it would have drawn blood if she had to stand here for too long. But she knew she wouldn't be here long.

The Bishop led a prayer, and Lisa barely registered it. Then, as a chorus of "amen" rose up from the crowd, the bishop signaled the two men—who now were at the bottom of the pyre and holding lit torches. They held the torches into the collection of straw and wood that would be her death, and it caught quickly ablaze. The crowd roared its approval, keeping a constant commotion going. She sucked in a deep breath when a motion in the crowd caught her eye. It had appeared like something had descended from the sky. She searched where the mysterious thing would have landed, finding her son's face quickly in the crowd. She managed a small smile, even as the flames were beginning to rise, higher and higher.

"Adrian!" she called.

No one with human hearing would have been able to catch what she was saying. But Adrian did. She saw his mouth form the word, "Mother!" It looked like was yelling it.

He made to break his way through the crowd, but she quickly shook her head.

"Come no closer. But…"

Her next words were selfish, and perhaps they were words no mother should ever ask of her son. She realized she wasn't afraid to die—the flames were now licking and catching at the rough hem of her sack dress—but she was afraid of being alone when she did.

"Mother, tell me what to do."

She couldn't bare the anguish in his eyes.

"Don't leave me," she whispered.

He heard it. She could see it in the set of his jaw and the gleam of his eye. The flames were through her dress's skirt now, beginning to eat at her legs. The pain was indescribable, like every nerve within her body was activated at once and confused and screaming.

"Don't hate them, Adrian!" she screamed.

Tears rolled down her face and evaporated in the heat.

"Don't hate humanity for what they do. They don't know! They don't understand! Their lot is already a hard one."

Were there tears in her son's eyes? She didn't know; she couldn't see straight anymore. The heat and the pain were growing too intense. She didn't have much longer. She could feel the heat filling her, entering her with each coughing breath. There was so much left to say, but she had no time. She was beginning to breathe the flames themselves.

"I will love you both for all of eternity!"

All around her now was flame and heat and pain, until, finally, darkness swallowed her.

Two Years Later…

"Don't do this!" Imelda's pleading voice called from behind him.

Adrian—now a young man of eighteen—whirled. How had she followed him? He shook his head. It was no matter. He had made up his mind long ago.

Imelda moved until she stood behind him, the looming shadow of his father's imposing castle covering them both completely. Alucard craned his neck upward to take as much of it in as possible. At his sides, both of his hands balled into tight fists.

"They're not even sorry," he said without turning.

Imelda, wisely, remained silent. Adrian—no, Alucard, as he had been called since his mother's death—continued.

"They ransacked and burned our home, her home, and found no evidence of witchcraft. The new midwife is inept, at best. But they've never apologized. They've never admitted their wrongs."

"They leave you be. It's enough."

"It'll never be enough!" he whirled, snarling at his mother's old friend. "They killed her, and they don't care. And it will never be enough."

Imelda shook her head. Her dark hair was tightly bound about her head, and with only the briefest of notes, he realized that the passing of time had yet to present itself upon her body like it had most other humans her age.

"Your father has been terrorizing the village since her death. And now you go to join him and do the same. Lisa wouldn't want this."

At this, the drawbridge lowered itself before them. A vortex like whirling darkness appeared, and in the next moment it was gone, leaving its passenger. Floating eerily over the wooden bridge, robes in tatters, and skull gleaming in the moonlight, Death awaited Dracula's son.

Death made no move toward them, instead silently waiting. Alucard turned to Imelda.

"Perhaps, if the villagers had accepted the truth of my mother's innocence, she would have been here to tell me herself what her wishes were."

At that, he moved onto the drawbridge, not stopping until he was face to face with the grim specter of death. He noted that Imelda made no attempt to follow him. Good. Maybe she had finally realized that there was no changing his mind now.

"Your father awaits you in the throne room," Death's rattling voice said.

Were Alucard fully human, he suspected that the voice would have chilled him to the bone. As it was, it merely gave him pause. Once he had recovered, he nodded.

"I'll go to him."

Though Death's skeletal face made no motion—lacking the sinew and muscle to do so—Alucard knew he was grinning.

"He will be pleased. He grieves for your dear mother and seeks his vengeance."

The dhampire could feel Imelda's eyes upon his back. He held his head up high.

"Then he shall have it."

Chapter Text

Decades Later…

Alucard wandered the castle alone, lost in only his thoughts. Despite its ever-changing appearance, Alucard knew Castlevania too well to ever be truly lost within it. He left the outer wall section of the castle, entering a portion known as the Marble Gallery. He kept his feet moving, his eyes downcast as he followed a path that his body knew on memory, not needing a thinking mind to guide it. He moved through the richly colored rooms, disregarding the snarling monsters—who paid him no mind, as he was the loyal son of their master. He stopped only once he had reached his destination—a place marked and decorated as one of honor. The place where his mother's portrait hung.

Only then did he cast his eyes up, taking in the painted features of her face that he knew oh-so well. He frowned, feeling a waver in his soul that his body dared not show. Such a waver would be a weakness in this castle. And weakness was a feast for the abominations within these walls.

"Mother…" he murmured.

Time was as cruel a mistress to immortals, though in a different way. While time showed its effects upon a mortal's body for all to see, it kept itself hidden inside the mind for immortals. Alucard had had so much time since the horrible morning his mother had burned. Her words had stayed with him. But he was only now beginning to realize their meaning.

He feared she would be ashamed of him.

The years following her death had been painted with humanity's blood as Dracula, Lord of Vampires, and his son had exacted their vengeance. The village where Alucard had been raised was nothing but cinders and ash, burnt to the ground after they had feasted upon its citizens. Even Imelda, his mother's dear friend, had not been spared. Though, the full truth of the matter would not be revealed to him until much later.

Dracula had told his son that Imelda had simply fled, and this was the story he had maintained for nearly fifty years. So many things had not added up for the dhampire, and he had kept at his father, asking every so often after Imelda. Finally, Dracula had relented and shared the truth he had discovered. The village had been after Imelda, seeing her as the witch she really was, and Lisa had given her life for her friend.

Had Alucard learned this at his young age, he would have been enraged. Learning it so many years later, he understood. That's who Lisa had been.

Dracula had never been the forgiving sort, and he had killed Imelda for costing him his wife. That, Alucard mused, had been the beginning of where he was now, learning the truth of that moment. That was when he had begun to question, to ruminate on his mother's final words. He understood. It had taken an embarrassingly long time, but he did, finally. Imelda must have hated herself for Lisa's death. Lisa had gone willingly for one she had loved. She had been a healer. She had witnessed, firsthand, humanity's woes. And she had sought to fix them, where Alucard and Dracula had sought to add to them. Wallachia was now well and truly baptized in blood, and Alucard had had enough of it. He was ashamed and horrified. This was not the man Lisa had wanted her son to become.

It was hours later when a minion of his father's had informed him that a hunter had entered the castle. A young woman named Sonia, a descendant of the Belmont line. Alucard had not moved from his mother's portrait, looking like a piece of art himself. Now, he turned and allowed the smallest of smiles to grace his face. The minion returned the look, no doubt thinking that Alucard was relishing the idea of tearing this young woman limb from limb.

Instead, he was thinking of salvation. He was thinking of his mother. Tonight, the bloodshed would end. He would aid Sonia in making sure of it.

Tonight, he would make his mother proud.