Murmured Goodbyes

Summary: The blond woman raised her head to look at her daughter, withheld tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly her daughter dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped both arms around her mother. She rocked her gently, making soothing noises as the blond woman stifled sobs in her hands, another tear falling onto the black stone next to the other."He'd be proud of you, you know," she muttered between sobs, "Of both of you."

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Young Dracula.

A/N: mămică = mum in Romanian according to Google translate (which means it's probably completely wrong)

I began writing this somewhere between series 3 and 4, then didn't know where to go with it and forgot about it completely. Hence Erin is a half-fang, is quite content with this fact and isn't trying to eat everything in sight.

Thanks to the reviews/favourites for my last one-shot :D I really appreciate it :) Thank you again to way2cool4uxx for the beta.

The trees stood ward in a silent circle, not even a wind rustled the red leaves. The grass was still, stiff and untouched by bird or animal. Even the air seemed frozen, in an inexplicable state of stasis, gravitating around the centre of the clearing.

So quiet was the petrified dell, the sound of a cape disturbing a small twig between two of the trees was as unexpected as a gunshot.

The woman stayed in the shadows of the trees for a moment longer, gripping the edges of her stark white cloak as she teetered on booted feet, indecision warring within her before she gathered herself and took a step forward. Then another, and another until she reached the centre of glade. There she stopped and brushed her cowl from her head, a golden circlet atop her blond hair. Her eyes and face were diplomatically blank.

With quivering hands she brought a small, gilt container from within the depths of her cloak and placed it at the ground at her feet. Taking a slow step back she visibly shook as she raised a hand so it was facedown directly above the container. She turned her hand slowly so it faced upwards. The ground writhed as she did so, the container vanishing from sight as it was swallowed up by the earth. The woman trembled once more.

Her head whipped to the side as two more figures emerged from the opening she had previously come from. One was a woman with ebony black hair gathered atop her head, wearing a cloak to match the other woman's. She smiled bleakly, first at the blond woman, and then at the man accompanying her, before she glanced down at the large black slab she and her companion carried and her smile faltered. The man sent a helpless glance towards the blond woman. She attempted a smile as she looked at him but found it futile.

So alike…her mind whispered.

She moved back as the other two people walked forward. With great care they set the stone on the spot where the container had disappeared into the ground. They paused then moved to flank the other woman.

She bent and traced the words engraved on the stone, which were set with the finest ruby, with utmost care. Again she shook and bent her head in an odd kind of reverence.

A single drop of iridescent water fell onto the stone.

"Mum?" the dark-haired woman asked, her eyes flicking momentarily to the man before back to the other woman.

The blond woman raised her head to look at her daughter, withheld tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly her daughter dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped both arms around her mother. She rocked her gently, making soothing noises as the blond woman stifled sobs in her hands, another tear falling onto the black stone next to the other.

"He'd be proud of you, you know," she muttered between sobs, "Of both of you."

The man's jaw clenched as he blinked furiously. After a moment's indecision, he bent down next to the two women and rested his forehead against the blonde lady's shoulder, staring at the black slab in front of them.

"We know," the woman's daughter mumbled, her lips trembling.

They crouched there in silence for an unmeasured amount of time, swaying to an unheard rhythm as the woman in the centre wept quietly. Gradually, her sobs subsided into an eerie breathless silence as she stared blankly at the black stone.

"Mămică," the man lifted his head, "Should we…?"

The blonde woman nodded slowly and tilted her head slightly to one side, "Ingrid?"

Another woman, garbed similarly to the other two with long black hear, appeared in the clearing in a black blur. She shot a glance at the black stone then focussed on the blonde woman.

"Are you sure you're ready Erin?" Ingrid murmured, reluctant to raise her voice.

The blonde woman, Erin, nodded once more and swept over to Ingrid to stand slightly in front of her, then turned to face her children. As one they dropped to their knees. Erin placed a hand one both of their brows.

She raised her chin and said in a surprisingly steady voice, "We are gathered here as witness. Do you profess this witness?"

"We do," came the collective voice of the men and women gathered in the shadows of the trees, just outside the range of sight.

Erin's eyes dropped to her children, "Do you swear by what you say during this witness?"

"I do," they said in unison.

Ingrid stepped around them so she stood at their backs and placed her hands on their right shoulders.

Erin looked at her, "Are you too, bound by your word?"

"I am."

Erin faced her daughter once more, "Do you, Ştefania Dracula, first-born of Vladimir Dracula, Grand High Vampire and Chosen One, accept the responsibilities of your father's title?"

"I do."

Erin turned to her son, "Do you, Nicu Dracula, son of Vladimir Dracula, pledge your support in her as ruler of our kind?"

"I do."

"Do you, Ingrid Dracula, sister and Chief Advisor of the Chosen One, promise alliance to your new ruler?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to support her in her claim to the throne?"

"I do."

Erin lifted her head to address all assembled, shoulders drooping as a weight had been lifted off them, "My people, by the stone of this grave, it is done. Exult in honour of the heir to your throne."

Those in the shadows began a haunting chant, a mixture of a funeral song and a song of respect for the one marked as their new leader. Erin seemed indifferent as she once again strode forwards to the edge of the stone.

She tipped back her head and stared up at the glass domed ceiling, the pinnacle of design from vampire architects. The idea was that the meadow was bathed in sunlight during the day, as the man now buried beneath the stone slab had always wanted to be during his unlife. The trees, however, were a gift from the wolves, offered in tribute to the passing of the one with whom they held their treaty. The canopies were thick enough that a vampire would be able to stand under them and not be harmed by sunlight.

He would be proud, Erin realised, Proud that the races had worked together.

She crouched, tracing the ruby words once more, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Goodbye Vlad."

Here lies Vladimir Dracula

Grand High Vampire

Dominus Imperator Electus

Husband and Father

Who was killed in protection of his people and family

Death Hides, It Does Not Divide