Title: hourly conceived and hourly born
Fandom: Once Upon a Time/Dracula/historical
Disclaimer: title from Milton; not my characters
Pairings: Dracula's son/daughter in law
Warnings: references to violence
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 400
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dracula/any, Dracula (+/) any, expanding into new territory.
Vlad loses the war. He has but a moment to decide how to proceed for the good of his people and it is an easy choice to make: there is nothing for them here. The kingdom will be annexed into various other kingdoms, by both Christians and Moslems – there is nowhere safe for Vlad's people or especially his family.
When he was younger, while Father was away at war, Mother had told Vlad and Mircea stories of a place where they could be free and safe; she called it the Wishing Room. She and Father are both dead now, and so is Mihnea. Whether Father or Mihnea knew about the Wishing Room, Vlad does not know. And it is probably nothing more than a story.
Vlad returns home just ahead of the invaders; Neacsa is with her women and Vlaicu, who has only recently begun to walk. Vlad orders Neacsa's attendants out and scoops up his toddling son. "Where is Mircea?" he asks.
"In the library," she says.
Mihnea's children are scattered and Vlad cannot help them now, can scarcely protect his own son. "Come," he says and Neacsa follows.
.
"The Wishing Room?" Mircea murmurs, closing his eyes. "I remember stories."
"It is our only chance," Vlad says. "Can you send word out to those who are loyal? If perhaps enough find their way…"
Mircea opens his eyes. "Yes," he says. "Prepare supplies; we will need to leave tonight."
Vlad hands Vlaicu to Neacsa. "Dismiss all the servants; they need to gather their families. Wallachia is lost to us."
.
The Wishing Room, Mother had said, could be summoned with a drop of dragon's blood and a fervent desire.
Their people stream in, all those who received the message and understood it. "This is blasphemy," Neacsa murmurs, looking out over the nervous crowd. "Devilry."
"It could save our son," Vlad replies.
Mircea slices into his own palm and lets the blood drop onto the dirt.
.
A hundred people follow Vlad through the light and into a room full of doors. The light fades behind them as they gape – doors that stretch on out of sight, doors of all design and size.
"What is this?" Neacsa asks, shushing Vlaicu as he begins to cry.
"The Wishing Room," Mircea says, openly grinning. "We must choose a door and go through to our new land." Mircea gestures at the options. "Vlad, our king – choose where we go."