Countess Dracula Chapter 1, a rwby fanfic

I do not own RWBY.

Chapter 1:

The Schnee Manor always looked so cold, so distant, even in the hottest of summers. In fact, Lord Qrow Branwen often wondered if the estate changed at all. During his many night watches he would keep an eye on the building, and no matter what nothing seemed to stir.

Sometimes he reminded himself that he needed to return to his duty. As a veteran of the Vale Hunters Legion, he was one of the more experienced militiamen guarding the small-but-growing town of Patch. And as one of the more experienced soldiers, and in spite of his lordship, he took it upon himself to lead the night watch, keeping a sharp eye for any Grimm that would try to attack the town. But in spite of his duty, he always found his eyes drifting towards that manor, perhaps hoping that something would arise from there.

It was a strange building. Located on the top of the hills about half a day's walk away, it always seemed inactive. Nothing ever happened on that manor, in spite of the countless nights of guarding. Sometimes he wished that Grimm would attack in hopes that the manor would somehow hear the ringing steeple bell and candles would flicker in the tiny windows.

But alas, nothing. Not even the night when Beowolves struck and nearly destroyed the Valkyrie household, leaving only a young girl for the name to survive by, and not much longer at that. She was approaching the age of marriage, and she was already well-infatuated with a particular young man. Her name would change, and with it the land would change hands. All but the Schnees had come to mourn the passing of an old family.

Qrow did, however, get to see the servants of the particular household now and then. They always arrived towards dusk, when the sun was nearly disappearing under the horizon. They were strange folks, constantly bundled in heavy clothes as if they were cold. Their skin was always pale, and those that did business with them said that their hands always felt sweaty or damp, slippery even.

But they were gentle enough and they paid well. While arriving at unusual hours, they were well-mannered and never haggled, as if money was not an issue. They were prime guests for whatever lucky merchant was available and had the goods they were searching for. In fact, so gentle were they that whenever someone asked about the family, they provided a lighthearted, nonchalant reply on how the family was never at the manor for long, constantly busy and maintaining other interests. And everyone accepted their word like the gold that left the servants' hands.

Qrow knew that it was a lie, but he still tried to give up on his curiosity. He was beginning to enter the tail end of his prime. Some of his dark hairs were beginning to dull and sometimes he felt just a little slow. Things were getting to the point where he was starting to become the old man of the town, nearly old enough to become a grandfather in some cases. Yet for every evening that he was on duty, his still found himself drawn to the strange manor on the hill.

And then on one cold night when he was manning the tall steeple bell, where snow was gently falling and the pale and full moon hung wide in the night sky, Qrow swore that there was a dim light coming from the manor. Squinting his eyes, ever so curious, he watched as the light just as quickly went out. It disappointed him that nothing else had happened at that time-frozen house. All this waiting, and the only thing to show for it was a flicker of light. He felt his lips sneer at himself, at his own foolishness, at his own wasted time and beliefs.

But as he was about to draw his eyes away, back to the borders of the small town of Patch to watch for any Grimm, he could see small somethings rising from the manor. They were like specks of dust, insects that flew towards the town. Qrow reached towards the bell, preparing to ring it if needed, but something stilled his hand. Something in his mind told him that whatever it was had no intention of harming the town. As the splotches drew closer and closer, so came with it a chittering of light screeches. And there was a flap of wings, but he could see no feathers.

Bats. A natural occurrence in the local area. His eyes squinted at them, however, as they congregated unnaturally at one of the close rooftops. The creatures condensed into place, and the chittering stopped.

Before he knew it, they disappeared and he was staring at the back of a woman. Her hair was long and white, cascading straight down past her shoulders to the middle of her back sans a few casual curls, signs that her hair was usually worn differently. She was turned away from him, but the white coat she wore was not unlike that of a decorated soldier - prim, cut, and ending in a parted tailcoat that went up to her back and was cinched at the waist, with a white and flowing cloth under the opening, perhaps a dress. And beneath that coat were boots. Tall, black, heavy boots, whose tops disappeared beneath the coat.

Her hands, covered in black gloves, reached for her hair and pulled it into a practiced bun. After finishing, one hand fell to her side as she took a deep breath of the cold air. A second chittering approached, and Qrow felt his eyes widen as another swarm of bats crowded by the woman. Yet just like her, they drew to a fine point and gave birth to another girl, though she was younger, far younger and with her white hair in a ponytail set a little off-center. And though her clothes were also white, her dress was a stark contrast against the militaristic coat the other wore. Both, however, had a blade at their sides.

Armed and dangerous. Again Qrow thought to ring the bell, but his hands stayed still, lost in examining the visitors. From how they dressed, their same hair color, and ultimately how they arrived, he could only surmise that they were sisters. A conversation ensued, followed by a light laugh from the elder, one that he ached to get close and listen to but could do nothing to catch. The tall woman turned a little and he quickly ducked into the shadow of the pillar, standing straight and leaning against it, hoping that he wasn't caught spying on the pair. But his curiosity was insatiable and he leaned over the side.

The woman was turned towards him, though she did not seem to see his presence. The moonlight accentuated the blue of the vest beneath her coat. And below that were white pants, tucked into her boots. Straps from their tops traveled upward and attached themselves to whatever was underneath her vest.

But what drew his attention the most was her face. The silvery moonlight gave it a glow, alluring, drawing, and he found himself unable to look away from her. And the way her head tilted allowed the front part of her hair to lean towards the side, revealing her full face and eyes. Her skin was just a little pale, but he felt that there was just enough color for him to see the cold night leave her cheeks just a little rosy. Overall, she had a sharp look, but the way she smiled at the younger woman gave her a warm feel, one that belied the harder shell. Giving a quick pat on the head to the smaller one, he watched as that girl once again turned into bats and began to fly around in the dark.

His interest was not in the younger sister, however. But as he let his eyes fall back onto where the woman was, much to his horror she was staring at him with a small indiscernible smile. Qrow's body froze. It was in his mind to ring the bell, to draw alarm and unsheath his blade, but he could not move. Her arms were folded behind her back, truly the image of a soldier, and she slowly put one boot in front of the other, packing down the snow on the rooftops.

Crunch.

All the while she smiled at him. He felt his throat go dry, his hands clammy, his breathing unsteady. For a moment he thought he would be safe when she approached a gap in between the roofs, but to his surprise she continued walking, a white platform appearing beneath her feet.

It was a silly thought. This was a woman who could turn into a cloud of bats. Of course she would be able to walk on thin air. Warnings flared in his mind, demanding that he act, but his red eyes seemed drawn to her crystal blue ones.

He was still before such beauty when she finally rounded the pillar and stood in front of him. His body leaning heavily against the column, fully still except for his ragged breath.

This was stupid, Qrow thought to himself. He was being stupid. He was on night watch because this was when the most dangerous of Grimm were awake, and he was one of the more skilled fighters in this town. He blinked and bit his lip. With one final breath his hand fell to his sword. As dead as he might have been now that this woman had drawn close, let it be known that he did not surrender.

"Still your hand, Lord Branwen. You need not draw your blade."

And with that, any thoughts of fighting drew to a halt. Her voice was as sharp as she looked - pointed, but soft enough to warrant comfort. His hand still rested against the grip of his weapon, but instead curiosity permeated his mind.

"How do you know my name?" he tried to sound gruff, intimidating, coarse, but all he could eke out was surprise. Who was she that she could call out to him so casually? He was a lord of the area. Not the greatest, but certainly well known.

Her smile didn't change, as if she expected him to question her. But instead of immediately answering, she instead turned towards the bell that he was supposed to have been ringing, taking those slow, meted steps around the object. "I knew your father," she started. But as she continued to speak, Qrow could tell that her smile had widened by how she sounded. "Or, rather, I know of your father. And I knew of his father's father, and so on and so forth. In fact," she turned towards him, that imperceptible smile still there, "you are the seventeenth Lord Branwen. Is that correct?"

He felt his head tilt forward, wary that she knew so much. But he could not keep the awe from escaping his lips. "How do you know all this? If you knew of my father, how do I not know you? We are not so far apart in age as to have never seen one another."

"You Branwens have a knack for dark hair." That smile never left her as she spoke. That irksome, alluring, annoying, drawing, maddening, desirable smile. "But there is a bigger tell," she move her arms so that they were at her front and with her right index finger she tapped her left one, "at hand, so to speak."

His family ring. Looking down, the ruby and onyx ring stood out against his skin. "But how do you know that I'm the seventeenth?" he questioned. How did she know that much specifically when he had never seen her before?

"My family's servants often visit this town for goods. Some of the merchants charge them above the standard market price, but that leaves them easy to ply." He felt her eyes look up and down his body, like she was examining him at a market stall. "Money, while a concern for most, is not one for my family. But we enjoy obtaining information."

"Still," she continued, "as I mentioned before, you need not raise the alarm. My sister and I are simply perusing the night. While our father was good, he was a strict man. With his recent passing, however, so too have some of his stricter ways." She finally turned from him and sauntered away from the direction she came from, hands still folded at her back.

Crunch.

"Wait!" Qrow found himself calling out to her back. Now that she had proven herself to be no threat for now, his curiosity won out over his fears. "Who are you?"

She gave a little laugh, her hair bobbing just a tiny bit. And though it was only for a short moment, he felt the need to hear it again. "Another evening, Lord Branwen. We will have that conversation on another evening." She looked up at the sky and he saw that she was tracing the other bats in the sky, the ones that were of the other girl. "It has been a long time since I have stretched my wings. I am eager for flight, and I would like to enjoy this pale moonlight with my sister."

She spoke with such commitment that Qrow had no doubt that the two would meet again, but he felt that he could not have it at just that. He wanted more. He needed more. He desired to hear her voice again before he lost her to the darkness of the skies. "I... " he struggled to speak. "I feel as if I cannot doubt your words, but when can I expect to see you again?"

The woman stopped in her tracks, her back straight. With a slow angling of her head and shoulders, she locked eyes with him again, that smile on her face. "I will return on the next full moon. If you cannot wait, perhaps I will try to visit sooner. But know that I will be watching you, just as you watch the night."

Without another word, the woman disappeared in a swarm of bats, floating into the starless sky above. Throughout the rest of his night watch, Qrow Branwen was lost in thought as his eyes tried to trace and find the flying creatures against the darkness.

Beta'd by ImSoAwesome