Wladislaus Dragwlya, Son of the Dragon

The Dark Prince of legend. Imprisoned by Roman Lucious and betrayed by Julian Ajax, but not broken... and that was their mistake. Arianna Reinhart's progeny and master to Alexi Nicholis and Dakota Ryan.

[princevladtepes]

Resolutions - @fangtastic_Pam @JulianAjax_ @RomanLucious @LaceyTB @JackDanielsTB @SultanaSafiye

His fingertips trailed lightly over the pale flesh of the arm @fangtastic_Pam had draped over the covers of the bed as he sat beside her. The sun had set in Scotland hours earlier, but she had barely stirred from her death slumber since, not even to acknowledge when he had risen to shower the dried blood his skin had collected throughout their activities from his body. The development failed to surprise him. If there was any who knew and understood the paralyzing potency of @ClaudeCrane, it was without question he himself, and he had been able to smell and taste the fairy's presence upon every inch of Pam's skin in the few frantic hours they had shared together before the sun had risen on New Year's Day.

2014 had now come to a close, and as far as he was concerned, good riddance to it. He had missed a majority of the year anyway. In the grand scheme of the many centuries he had lived, a year meant very little, passed in the blink of an eye, and was nothing of note or great importance. Such was as it had always been. He had imagined such was how it would always be.

And yet... this year had been different.

How much had this year cost him? How much had he lost since he had last been aware of the changing out of years? Had the ground beneath his feet always been this unstable and his position upon it so precarious? Or was this a new development?

He would regain his footing, of that he was sure. He was a survivor. When all other things passed away, when all his contemporaries were little more than footnotes in the annuls of seldom called upon or forgotten history, he would still remain. This was as it had always been. This was as it would always be. It was why he was showered in deserved praise, raised above all others, protected and sacred. He was worthy of it. He had earned it.

But it came at a hefty price.

And no one but him seemed capable of grasping just what it was, nor how long he had been paying it. He had foolishly allowed himself to believe @JulianAjax_ had understood, yet his progeny-- the only thing in the world that was truly of his blood-- had become a turncoat with such ease, and he found he could still feel the stinging blade of betrayal buried between his shoulder blades, deep within his back.

Rising from the bed soundlessly so as not to disturb the vampire Pamela, he moved across the room, stepping over the fallen remnants of the room's furnishings that had become casualties to their frenzied fucking with disinterest. Pulling open the heavy curtains of the room, he stood naked in front of the window and surveyed the darkened world outside his room. It bristled with life and activity. All of them were so insignificant, so simple, so temporary, yet they celebrated the mere triumph of the earth's rotation of the sun with one another as if they themselves had been what made it go round.

It seemed utterly impossible that any one of them had anything they could offer him, yet maybe-- just maybe-- he could learn a thing or two from them.

Hands and forehead pressed against the cool glass as he surveyed the world beneath him, he tried to recall how it was the living marked this occasion, though he had never taken much interest in such things in the past. Resolutions, was it not? Oh, goals he had... more at present than he had possessed in centuries. They piled, one atop the next, until they threatened to topple over and consume him, yet he remained undaunted by the number and the work that they would require. Why would it be a threat? In the end, he always got exactly what he wanted.

And so, he silently counted each to himself.

First and foremost, Julian lingered in the forefront of his mind. A part of the prince was impressed his wayward progeny had succeeded in dodging him this long, but such a triumph was doomed to failure sooner rather than later, as far as he was concerned. He had given Julian ample opportunity to come to him, but it was becoming abundantly apparent his child had no intention of doing so. A small part of him was proud of him for neglecting his duties. It was self-preservation, there was no doubt of that, and there were few senses more important for a vampire to possess, but Julian needed to remember to whom he truly belonged. If he wished to end him, such was his right, but would he? No, no he would not, not for what had transpired. Not yet, at least.

But they were overdue for their reunion all the same, and it was time Julian understood that in the same way he himself did.

There was one thing his prodigal progeny could not ignore, no matter how far he fled, nor how desperately he concealed himself, and that was from the connection they shared within their very veins. His call through the distance that separated them was silent, and-- to his own surprise-- not a command and instead, only a prompting. It was a chance, and one he hoped Julian was wise enough to take. If his progeny required more than that after all he had done, he was certain they would both come to regret it.

Barring such extreme measures, this year, he and his child would come to an understanding. There was no other option for them.

Next, his mind wandered to @AlexiNicholis. In a world that had turned its back to him, only Alexi had mourned his loss and absence. Alexi alone had pulled him from the depths of his endless nightmare and returned him to both his body and his unrivaled strength. He was a vampire who owed nothing to anyone, ever, and yet, he felt an unspeakable debt to the Elemental, and struggled with some way to repay his true and faithful servant. Simply securing Alexi's safety from those in Area Five who would have hunted him as he had did not feel as if it was enough. This year, he would find some way to show his eternal gratitude. He deserved nothing less.

@AriannaReinhart emerging from the rock she had hid herself beneath for the past few centuries warranted attention as well. The brief reunion with his Maker had been telling, perhaps more so than she intended. Then again, he was certain he had revealed more of himself to her in their short time together than he had intended. He couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips as he thought of it. Hadn't such always been the case? This year, he would remind his Maker of who she was, and perhaps more importantly, of what they had accomplished together.

It was no easier to shake his recent reunion with @LaceyTB from his mind than it was to shake the reunion with his Maker. There had been no deception spoken when he had admitted he was pleased to see she had shed the inferior human existence she had possessed the last time he had seen her for the one they now shared. She had had his blood when little more than a temporary breather, so there had been no denying she was meant for something far greater than what she had known, but did she know what that was yet? Did the blood cow she had shackled herself to-- @JackDanielsTB-- understand? He imagined they did not. This year, he would see to it that they did.

Then, there was @SultanaSafiye. She had been a windfall delivered to him when he needed it most. He was not one to trust others without cause, and she still had not earned his in full, yet he found he believed she would. She had secrets, of that he had no doubt, and he was determined to learn of them. She had already proved her talents and usefulness, and he was certain she could become a treasured ally in a world where he possessed few of such a thing. This year, he would learn her secrets and share some of his own in turn. This year, he would have one of his own in Louisiana he could count upon.

Safiye had not been entirely a boon, however. Her first words spoken to him still haunted him now. She had addressed him simply as the “Sheriff of Area One.” A year in a silver prison, and that was what he had been reduced to? And even that worthless title had been pilfered from him, first by his progeny, then by @AnghalRadu. That would not stand. This year, he would deal with both the ancient that had robbed both he and his child, and with his position within the vampire political hierarchy, meaningless as it truly was where he was concerned.

@DakotaARyan was only just worthy of passing through his mind in this moment of reflection. She had been so quick to turn on him when her own existence was on the line with his, yet she seemed earnest in her attempts to repent. Then again, she was always earnest, yet so often disappointed him time and time again. In one way or another, this year, he would deal with her.

And then, there was Area Five and his shaky alliance with them. They fought together now, though he doubted it was with anymore trust toward him than he had for them. @SheriffNorthman was easily enraptured by him, but even Northman had proven he could put aside his devotion at the drop of a hat if it suited some “greater good.” That would have to be changed. While much of the future seemed decidedly and uncomfortably uncertain, he was certain that he needed their trust and cooperation. This year, he would earn it.

Turning away from the window in order to look back to Pamela, a smirk crossed his face. He was already making progress on that front.

As he moved about the room to dress for the remainder of the night, his thoughts finally fell on the one who was so often the plague of his eternity, @RomanLucious, just as they always seemed to do. Where Barbarossa was concerned, he knew earning trust would be impossible. He had little interest in doing so, nor offering any to his “brother” in turn. There was too much history between them, too much bloodshed, too much pain to forgive, forget, or ignore. Such would always be the case, so long as they both existed.

But they had both existed for seven centuries time. As much as he hated the thought, it had circled his head many, many times in recent nights. Would a time come when either was ever able to end the other? How had neither succeeded in the task as of yet? He had ended more vampire than he could count. The most ancient of the ancients, royalty, those so protected, all believed them untouchable, yet he could not end a rather unremarkable vampire only a small number of years older than himself? Barbarossa credited the ridiculous notion of “luck,” but such was utter nonsense. It was more than that. It had to be more than that.

And then there was Barbarossa. He had had the opportunity to end him once and for all. Had the positions been reversed, he had no doubt he would have plunged the stake into his nemesis' chest, yet Barbarossa had not. Why? Why had he been spared? Why had Barbarossa foolishly let him live, when he had to know a coffin would not be enough to hold him? What had truly stopped him?

When the fairy had threatened to light him aflame for a second-- then third-- time, he had little doubt in his mind that Barbarossa's bride would not hesitate to reduce his superior form to nothing more than ash, so what stilled Barbarossa's hand when his blood and strength had been furiously pumping through the elder vampire's veins? He failed to believe there was a simple explanation for the phenomenon.

Could he ever truly end Barbarossa? Could Barbarossa ever truly end him?

Facing a reality he hesitated to face, more and more it was seeming impossible, which was beyond maddening, but could he fight whatever force it was that intervened? He had been unable to as of yet. Though he refused to accept it would always remain impossible, he had to accept that, for now, it was the one thing in the world that was beyond his capability.

Instead, this year, he would make Barbarossa understand, if it was the last thing he ever did. He would make him understand why this war had waged from life into death and beyond. He would know with certainty what Vlad was certain Barbarossa had always known, yet refused to admit, even to himself: that he alone was responsible for creating Dracula.

And this year, he would do everything within his power to see to it that Barbarossa understood that “favor” could be returned.

Slipping soundlessly from his room, he was quick to encounter one of the worthless mortals who worked in the hotel the party from Louisiana had taken up in. It was fortuitous for him, but unfortunate for the blood cow. Hand snaking out with lightening speed, he forced the human into the wall before lifting his feet from the floor, suspending him by his neck as his fingers crushed into the flesh of his neck.

Glamour was easy and meant for newborns and those who cared about covering their tracks. Fear was an art form, and it happened to be his specialty.

“You are a slave of this hotel,” he stated, and though it hadn't been a question, the human furiously nodded while simultaneously clawing at the arm that gripped him and robbed him of air. “A vampire within that room will require a donor, the best you possess. Anything less than the finest blood cow in your stable will be deemed punishable by your death, and it will not be a quick, nor merciful one. She will require fine clothing as well, as her own did not survive their shedding. I will not have anyone I have bedded be subjected to the leer of unworthy humans should she leave the room. I will remove one of your limbs for each complaint she has about anything she is offered. The room could do with some repair as well, and I expect it to meet my approval by the time I return, or I may find myself angered. Understood?”

Releasing his hold on the cow's neck after one desperate nod, the human crumpled to the floor in a gasping, desperate heap, the print of his palm and fingers already marring the man's vulnerable skin. He was fairly certain the cow had defecated itself, but such was somewhat routine when he dealt with the unsuspecting and unprepared living. Giving the man one final frown of disapproval before setting off down the hall to hunt for his own meal for the night, he called back over his shoulder. “Oh, and happy new year, human.”

[princevladtepes]

Lessons Learned - @RomanLucious

He couldn't open his eyes. There was not a single muscle within his body that was under his control. He hadn't had so much as a drop of blood in more time than he had ever imagined going without. He had seen no one outside of the confines of his steady, unending dreams. He had known no home nor shelter but the box he had been unceremoniously imprisoned to. His freedom seemed but only a distant memory now. He was no longer living, nor was he finally dead. He was nothing but a mind now, a consciousness, but one that was slowly waking, and tonight, it was more aware and alert than it had been at any point before. Because somewhere, somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind or in the darkest places of his long silent heart, he knew what tonight was. Time had ceased to have a meaning to him throughout his imprisonment, or so he had thought. It turned out his sense of time had only been looking for a chance to be reawakened, and now, it had found it, on this, the most unholy and loathsome of all anniversaries. For over seven centuries now, @RomanLucious had plagued the earth, and all who walked upon it suffered unduly for his presence. For Vlad himself, the eldest vampire Barbarossa had used those years to be a parasite, feasting off luck and those stronger and more powerful than he, and then, when the time suited him, a traitor. He was a thorn in the side of Dracula, one the Prince of all vampire felt as acutely as he could feel the stake that had been buried in his flesh to keep him in place now. Had it really been only a year since he had dismantled the beast belonging to Barbarossa before sending @DakotaARyan across the states of Louisiana and Mississippi to deliver the remains? Had it really been only a year since he had discovered his nemesis had taken a wife in @ClaudeCrane, and with it, sealed the fairy would meet the fate that had been intended once upon a time for Mina? Had it really been only a year since he had revealed to his enemy the continued existence of @JulianAjax_? Had it really been only a year since the younger of the Barbarossa brothers had then betrayed him as well? Would Barbarossa be celebrating this night among his friends and loved ones? Would he be toasting his triumphs in life, and his successes in death? Would he feel carefree and victorious on this occasion, reveling in his freedom and continued existence, without a thought reserved for those he had so grievously wronged throughout? Wrong. It was all so very wrong. Tonight, it should have been Vlad himself who celebrated the first of many a year free from Roman Lucious Barbarossa. He should have been the one roaming the night without a care, while his enemy lingered eternally in complete and utter nothingness. Foolishly though, Barbarossa had been generous a year previously. Foolishly, his enemy had not ended him once and for all, though regrettably, he had had such an opportunity. What had stopped the vampire from doing such a thing, Vlad was ultimately uncertain, though he imagined Barbarossa's lack of foresight and a certain knack for making unintelligent and unwise decisions factored in heavily. He would never have been so generous in turn. And he would get the chance to prove such a thing, of that he had no doubt. His escape was imminent, @AlexiNicholis had avowed to that. He would be freed from the prison that held him now, it was only a matter of time. Not one to easily admit defeat, he could admit now that the year previously, Roman had won the battle. That mattered little, however, when his nemesis had failed to insure he had won the war as well, despite having the opportunity. Barbarossa could celebrate another year infesting this earth as he did. Truly, it mattered little when the additional time made him no more wiser than any year before it. But this year had made Vlad wiser instead. He could see now where he had made his mistakes, and he would not repeat them yet again. He had been short-sighted, his vision clouded by his need for vengeance and retribution, and he had relied too heavily upon his superior strength and his potent rage to crush his enemy and to lead him to his rightful victory. Here, in this prison though, he had learned. He had learned there were fates far worse than final death. He had learned there were fates far worse than witnessing the loss of someone of great importance to an enemy. He had learned how to break a lesser vampire. For the sake of Barbarossa, he hoped the vampire was enjoying himself tonight. It would be one last, undeserved good memory before he found himself broken. Next year, it would be his turn to celebrate.

[princevladtepes]

Dreams

He had dreamed before-- countless times, in fact-- for as long as he had been a vampire. When he had still been but a mortal man, his dreams had only been as vivid as they had become in death when he had recently consumed the blood of the undead within his retinue, or more specifically, that of @AriannaReinhart and the eldest Barbarossa brother, the same Barbarossa who had become his own brother in death. He still found it odd that, of all the places and times to have gone to in his dreams, he had found himself in Wallachia so long ago, remembering a life and a time he had long left behind. But had he really? After all, this was where it had all begun, was it not? Finding himself atop the hillside his own elder brother had fallen at the foot of was no mere coincidence. The death of his father's heir had cleared the way for him to lead, and lead he had. His reign had ultimately been brief, but his impact had been great. Even when alive, he had etched himself so deeply into the annals of history and time that he was guaranteed to never be forgotten, nor ignored. Of course, @RomanLucious hadn't shown him the respect he had deserved, not by the end of things. As soon as the mere thought of the memory had crossed his mind, he found he no longer stood atop the hill in Târgoviște and was instead in the home he had known in Braşov. The sun he had stood in had vanished, the only light coming from the windows delivered by that of the moon. The torches that flickered on the walls cast everything in shadows, but his hands... He lifted them to examine them. They were stained in blood so fresh, it dripped from his fingers and pooled on the floor at his feet. The clothing he found himself in now were ripped and stained in more blood still. Was it his, or did it belong to someone else? The thought had only just flitted through his mind before he realized he knew this night. This was the night that had changed everything: the night Barbarossa had robbed him of his God given right to slay his wife for her treachery. Both she and the vampire had escaped his wrath then, if barely, but it had sealed the need for vengeance that wouldn't be held to the meager time constraints of a mortal life. Every time his thoughts turned to another moment in time, something significant, something regularly on his mind, he found himself transported abruptly, the world around him changing to adjust to his wanderings. There was the night Arianna had acquiesced to his demands and finally turned him to an existence that knew only night. There was the night he had conquered his first vampire as one of the undead, draining them callously of every drop of blood within their veins and taking their power for himself. There was the night his Maker had left him, fleeing into the depths of the night. And then, there was the night he had found @JulianAjax_. He had been so looking forward to the chance to eliminate the entire line of Barbarossa, punishing the weak humans Roman had left behind for the his irredeemable errors. Arianna had warned him of being a Maker when still new to the existence himself, but he had paid little attention to her words, both because he had no interest in observing any rules that weren't his own, and because he had had no interest in turning another. Yet when he had found Julian, that was precisely what he had done. Turning Roman's brother only to then turn Julian against him had been a stroke of genius for so many more than one, single reason, yet somewhere in it all, he had gone wrong. In the void, @AlexiNicholis had sworn Julian was loyal to him, yet his progeny had betrayed him with such ease when the opportunity had presented itself. Swiftly, the dream had turned again, and he found himself in his home in New Orleans, atop the staircase that led down to the foyer he had been burned, drained, and staked within, only to then be locked within a casket and damned to nine months in an impenetrable prison of darkness only Alexi had freed his mind from. Two things occurred to him at this thought. In these dreams now, he found himself alone. The places, the clothes, the details were all exact in their detail, but he was a lone being in an empty world. Secondly, he had never had such control over his dreams before. His mind attempted to work through the puzzle of both. The control he found now could only be attributed to Alexi, to either the witchcraft that had sent him to the purgatory they had briefly shared, or to the magic that had withdrawn him so suddenly and pulled him from the void with it. But why was he as alone here now as he had been before Alexi had found him in the nothingness? He couldn't recall a time when his world of dreams had been so completely vacant. Sitting down upon the top step of the staircase now, he had no idea how long he puzzled through the equation before understanding dawned upon him. Wherever it was Barbarossa had tucked his body away, it could only be the night. Without blood in his veins to awaken him in the actual world, he was left to the only world he could inhabit, but it wasn't meant to know him in these hours. The sun would rise, however, and when it did, with the newfound control over the manifestations of this world, he wouldn't be alone. For there were other vampires who dreamed, and he knew each of them well.

[princevladtepes]

In the Darkness

It had to be an angel, for what lesser creature could possibly reach him here? For what felt an eternity, he had known only infinite darkness. Though he had remained in one piece, his body was broken, a festering shell of the glorious masterpiece of greatness and dominance it had once been. There was no merciful healing in this hell, there was no peace that went with the rising of the sun. There was only pain as each day and night his charred flesh burned anew, shriveling and decaying beneath the weight of his silver bounds he could not fight against. It was here he rotted, betrayed by a body he had no power over and his very own blood. He had slipped into a purgatory of pain in the prison of his mind, not fighting the unbearable agony of it until he was no longer capable of even silent screams of torment and fury. He had wrapped himself in the darkness he submitted to until the nothingness shielded him and carried him away as great a distance as it could. Yet here, so far away from all else, hidden and alone, something pressed against the prison of his awareness, tickling undeterred at the corners of his consciousness, even when his prison fought against the intrusion. The fearless angel prodded further, coaxing the unyielding walls that had been built around him to give, and though it was tempting to only reinforce them and find solace in his solitude, this angel must have traveled so far, and not without the greatest of reason. Who was he to fight against this angel? He knew no fear, he would show none now. So here, in the nothingness, he pressed back.

[princevladtepes]

The Call

The night was too quiet. It wasn't the first time Vlad had thought such a thing since the entourage of Area Five vampires and Supernaturals had suddenly descended upon his city, an unwelcome infestation of degenerates and traitors polluting his territory like a plague waiting to claim its next victim. As he stood on the balcony of his home, pale hands clenched tightly to the wrought iron of the fence that enclosed it, his mind played through their arrival as it had so many times since, searching his memory for anything he might have missed in the moment, when he had been flooded with so much righteous anger and suspicion. With clarity and recall only a vampire could possess, he played through every moment, time and time again, absorbing and reabsorbing every tedious and infuriating moment of it as if experiencing it for the first time anew. Northman and his minions had been too calm. They had been too polite. It had been years since his ongoing hunt for Roman Lucious Barbarossa had first brought him to Louisiana, and in all that time, he had never been treated with the respect and consideration deserved of a vampire in his position and of his stature. @SheriffNorthman could occasionally be relied upon for paying his due respect with his righteous, if not pathetic, hero worship, but those who owed him fealty were far less reliable. He could recall with perfect clarity the first time he had encountered @VampyJo in the parking lot of @BarWithABite shortly after her turning. He had sensed and even smelled her bond with Barbarossa easily, and he had loathed her for it. She had been disrespectful, clueless, and a disgrace to the name of vampire, and with Barbarossa himself acting as her guardian that would never change, yet now she could be cowed into silence and obedience when in his presence? Who did they really think they were fooling? They had marched into his foyer seemingly with their souls laid bare. There had been no attempts to hide the fact that @WerepireLucian was a slain mutt still so fresh, the scent of his last full moon still clung to the air around him. The Werecat @BrierFerrior had stood among them at the height of the full moon, determinedly and resolutely unchanged despite the pull he must have felt, in order to make no secret of his presence in Area One. And then there had been the witches... Northman better than most knew of Vlad's deep hatred for those who practiced witchcraft, yet not one, but two had been led in for inspection and consideration. He hadn't been ignorant of the fact that the scent of death clung to both @JadeChiara_ and @WitchyHannah in the same way it might a vampire, though he had refrained from comment, unwilling to show his hand to the enemy as they so boldly and shamelessly displayed their own. The human bloodbags among them, the telepath @BarmaidSookie and the blood cow @EthanBlane were puzzling for other reasons still. While Vlad had made no secret of the fact that he had no interest in draining Northman's bonded for fear the burden of others thoughts would become his own, he wouldn't hesitate to dispose of the woman by other, more brutal means. Vlad didn't expect the Viking to be so careless as to lead her directly into his city and make no attempts to conceal her presence there. It had been tempting-- too tempting-- to appease the rage their arrival had spurred within him by ripping her fragile heart mercilessly from her chest, but he had the presence of mind to know such would likely be a trap the witches were warning of. The other human blood cow seemed equally likely to be a tempting trap to ensnare him. He would not take the bait. And he wouldn't be so foolish as to believe they had made their journey without Barbarossa either. Oh, they had claimed with conviction not to know where the bane of Vlad's existence was, but the faint traces of smugness that leaked into their voices while proclaiming their ignorance was enough to tell Vlad Barbarossa too would roam the streets of New Orleans for the foreseeable future. Whether or not they attempted to deceive him ultimately mattered very little to Vlad. What mattered first and foremost was getting his hands on Barbarossa once and for all. Once he was in his grasp, prone and begging for his final death, the others would be made to pay for their deceptions while Barbarossa witnessed. Only then would he be merciful enough to deliver the death blow that had been owed for centuries upon centuries. But finding the bane of his existence was no easy task. It had been practical if not tactical to send @DakotaARyan to trail the invading army from Area Five. His servant, while often a disappointment and even inexcusable failure, had actually proven herself useful in recent events. There was little doubt in his mind it had been the beast he had dismantled belonging to Barbarossa that she had discovered and delivered the carcass of on his order that had led his eternal enemy directly to his doorstep. Vlad knew that if she stayed on them as instructed, it was inevitable the Viking and his underlings would eventually lead her straight to Barbarossa himself. He operated under no delusion that it would be immediate, quite the contrary. The Area Five entourage had simply been too pleased to say they were unaware of his location to believe they would be found staying together at one of the numerous vampire hotels New Orleans had to offer. No, it would be more complicated than that and require constant, diligent observation. Without it, Barbarossa would continue to evade. The whole thing reeked of confounded magic and fae trickery. He could feel it in the very air. And it was easy to place the blame for the fact that Barbarossa had managed to evade him thus far on the fairy his nemesis had taken as a wife, @ClaudeCrane. Vlad had always been able to find Barbarossa. He had tracked him around the world more times than could be counted. He had found him on the highest of mountains and in the deepest of valleys. He had traced him to the middle of oceans and to the most remote and hidden corners of the world, without trouble, without effort. Yet now, despite his attempts, Vlad could not find him... and in his own city at that! Infuriatingly, it was as if his enemy was cloaked and concealed in a way he had never successfully been before. There was no trace to track, not even a hint of the familiar scent that could boil his cold blood in an instant. The layer of protection the fairy was wittingly or unwittingly providing was difficult to crack, but it would be cracked. It had to be. He would allow no other option and humor no other possibility. The sizable bottle of the fae's blood that currently sat upon his bedside table would help with that, Vlad was sure. Uncorked only once in order to verify the boon Dakota had brought to him was as she claimed, he had easily recognized the scent as the same as the one that had clung to the marriage contract also in his possession. Untainted with the scent of poisons or other potential ensnarements, it smelled only of the rarest and most potent of fae and the magic that encompassed it. Barbarossa's weapon would become his own. With the fae's blood in his veins and his scent heavy upon him, Vlad was sure the fairy could be tracked and found. There was a small flaw to such a plan, and that was the only thing that had kept him from indulging in the windfall thus far. It was common knowledge that the blood of the fae had a tendency to inebriate a vampire well beyond his control. He didn't consider himself as obviously weak and as limited as other vampires, however. The lust he knew best was bloodlust, and there was much blood he yearned to spill across the streets of his territory. Still, with pieces of this great puzzle unfolding in front of him, caution was necessary. He was impossible to threaten and impossible to make feel threatened, but there was something decidedly different about this time from all other times he and Barbarossa had faced one another with the intention of ending the other. There was a distinct feeling of finality in the air that was impossible to ignore. Perhaps it was the fact that @BiancaNorthman had not been a part of the party that had traveled to New Orleans. Perhaps it was the fact that Barbarossa had had the unexpected bout of courage to march upon his city instead of hiding away in a hole as expected. Perhaps it was the fact that, after seven hundred years, Barbarossa had finally taken a wife. Perhaps it was simply the magic that permeated every recess of the city. Perhaps it was the fact that, for once, he didn't feel he knew exactly what the intentions of his normally transparent nemesis were. Uncertain exactly what was to blame, the feeling was strong yet strangely satisfying. Too long he had played this game with Barbarossa. Too long had the vampire escaped his due punishment by luck and good fortune he didn't deserve to have. Too long he had let others pay for the high crime that had been committed against Vlad himself. It had played out over seven centuries in shadows and left countless victims-- willing and unwilling-- in its wake. It was time for every secret, long carefully protected and concealed, to be exposed. It was time for every shadow in their long standing feud to be illuminated and laid bare just in time to put the final nail in Barbarossa's coffin. He would eternally bask in the shock he could cause before ending his nemesis once and for all. Pale hands still gripping the black iron of the balcony, Vlad's pale eyes fell closed. With magic present in the air over New Orleans, he called upon some magic of his very own to join it, a magic in his very blood. It shivered and pulsed through his very veins, unhampered by the limitations of miles and distance, reaching and calling out in a silent, yet impossible to ignore command, and with it, Vlad was certain he was sealing the finality of this encounter. A smile stretched across his lips at the thought. He was ready for it, of that he knew, but would Barbarossa be?

[princevladtepes]

Birthday Gifts

It was a strange metal horse. Dark eyes glittered as they examined the large, foreign intrusion upon the otherwise pristine entrance hall of the residence he called home when in New Orleans. The beast-- @DakotaARyan had called it a "motorcycle"-- was enough to make Vlad Tepes frown, and the expression was distorted and mirrored back to him from multiple angles in the shiny metal of the offensive thing. Dakota had rambled on incessantly, explaining both the broad and finer points of the beast, and Dracula had only half-listened with a bored disinterest. The details mattered very little. Nothing was prudent beyond the fact that this gaudy contraption belonged to @RomanLucious. "You are certain it is his?" he asked, his eyes shifting up and away from the thing in order to scan the face of his servant. She nodded dutifully, a hint of pride on her pale visage, and he nodded minutely only once in return. That was all the gratitude and acknowledgment she would get for wrangling the beast and delivering it to him. Had he been dissatisfied, she'd have spent the remainder of the evening recovering. He stepped forward cautiously, a pale hand reaching tentatively outward before he allowed his palm to make contact with the cool metal of the thing. He pulled it back just as quickly, turning his palm upward for examination by his eyes. Nothing. No telltale burn of silver. There was no pain whatsoever. What purpose could it possibly serve if not a trap of some kind? The beast didn't even emit a loud growl of acknowledgment as Dakota said it would when put to use. The beast was clearly as faulty and flawed as its owner. August 31st marked seven hundred and three years that Roman Lucious Barbarossa had plagued the earth with his existence. For seven hundred and three years, he had been allowed to roam only by the grace of exceedingly good fortune. Roman had been lucky, he could admit that to himself, but luck, like all things, came to an end, and Roman's had, because Vlad Tepes had a vested interest in seeing to it he never made it to seven hundred and four. "The beast was found in my city?" the vampire asked his servant, who once more answered his query with a nod. That was an infuriating fact, one which would not go unrecognized. Though he had long known Barbarossa had no respect for him, nor the things he possessed, New Orleans was his city, and always would be. His kingdom had been invaded by the enemy, despite the fact that he had shown great patience and restraint in not seeking the worthless vampire out himself. And this was how Barbarossa showed his gratitude for allowing him a few extra nights existence? No matter, the Dark Prince's patience and restraint was gone. He would make the vampire bow and grovel on his knees, praying for forgiveness to any deity who might answer, while the hearts were ripped from the chest of any Barbarossa held in any kind regard. His own would be taken last. Dracula already had a place on the mantle reserved for it. "It is of importance to him?" Again, a nod, and it was all the answer the Prince required. Showing no hesitation now, his hands once more grasped the metal beast. The silence of his estate gave way to the violent and angry sounds of twisting metal. Wheels of rubber became tatters, pieces of steel were knotted and tossed aside haphazardly in a clatter. The beast bled foul smelling and oddly colored fluids across the marble of his floor, but it failed to distract the Prince from his task. He dismantled the beast with an expertise usually reserved for enemies, both mortal and immortal alike. Part upon part clattered to the floor until nothing remained but barely recognizable pieces and parts. It was only after he took a step away from the knotted metal and torn fabrics to admire his own handiwork that he noticed a single piece of paper laying amid the wreckage. Despite the destruction that had been wreaked around it, it had remained whole and undamaged. Witchcraft, he suspected, but after he plucked the piece of paper from the floor and let his eyes fall upon the carefully scrawled words upon it, the Prince had to wonder whether this witchcraft was for his own benefit. If his eyes did not deceive him, this was a gift, the kind he had been waiting impatiently centuries for. He lifted the document to his face, his nostrils flaring as he held Barbarossa's signature beneath his nose. There was no mistaking the name had been signed in the blood of his enemy. It was a familiar scent, one he had spilled more times than could be counted over the years, and he knew the vampire well enough to know the script belonged to Barbarossa as well. The second signature was unfamiliar, as was the name of @ClaudeCrane, but it underwent the same treatment as the first. Even though the potency had faded with time and exposure to the elements, there was no mistaking the blood of the fae, and the Prince's fangs extended involuntarily. Barbarossa had robbed him of a wife. After so many years and so much waiting, Vlad could finally return the favor. "Were you aware of this?" he hissed, eyes turning accusingly toward the servant who had delivered him the beast, the paper in his hand wrinkling as his fist clenched around it. The Prince had eyes and ears everywhere, and as pleased as he was for the fortuitous discovery, he could not stop his fury for not having known sooner. Was there anyone he could trust even fleetingly anymore? That would need dealing with. In the meantime, however, he listened impatiently as all the information Dakota possessed about the union and the fae was recounted and he stood as motionless as a statue absorbing every tidbit until it permeated the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. When he had heard enough, his hand raised, effectively silencing her with the gesture. "It is the anniversary of the day the curse of Barbarossa was released upon this world," he began. "The occasion will not go unmarked and unobserved. You will deliver portions of the remains of the beast to @BarWithABite, to the den of gambling he owns in Biloxi, Mississippi, and finally, to @HooligansClub. He will know who it is from. The unwritten message will not escape his notice either." He had no doubt of that. "Go. Now. Do it." Crumpled contract still in hand, the Prince didn't wait to supervise his servant as the "gifts" were removed from the premises. The night and the news it had brought would take careful examination, beginning immediately. A dark laugh escaped him as he walked though the halls of his home. Happy birthday to Roman Lucious Barbarossa, indeed.