Another prompt from redrachxo - this one has so far taken up 2 days of my life and I'm still going. Love that kind of prompt. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Here's part one.

Disclaimer: I own neither Young Dracula, nor the fairytale this is based on.

Count Dracula landed with a soft bump and looked around, annoyed. He was sure he should have taken a left somewhere in Norway, but it seemed this was the wrong direction after all. He began to make mental calculations of where he might be; he had to get back to the school as soon as possible, before Ingrid got her claws into her brother.

A twig snapped behind him and he turned, wondering if he had time for a bite of peasant before going on his way. But it wasn't a peasant who met his gaze.
"Count Dracula."

The vampire who stood before him was young and built like a seasoned fighter. The crest on the clasp of his cape struck fear into Dracula's unbeating heart; this, then, was Du Fortunesa, the most terrifying vampire in the world. He was the legend mothers told their children when they were getting too big for their boots – Don't act like you're the Chosen One, or Du Fortunesa will come and turn you to dust – and he seemed no less impressive in reality. Now he was speaking again.
"The Council has been looking for you." The Count winced; he'd known they couldn't hide forever but really, they'd been so close to Vlad's 18th when he could deal with all this business himself… No, it seemed that he hadn't managed to hide for his entire regency after all.

"What do they want from me?" At least he knew where he was now; he must be somewhere near the Council's headquarters. Du Fortunesa was known to dwell in a small castle in the woods in the middle of nowhere, but this was clearly not it. He must have been in the area on business.
"The Chosen One requires training. You will send him to me and entrust him to my care until he is ready to take his rightful place." The Count raised an eyebrow; why should he give up his son and heir to this… monster?
"And if I refuse?" Du Fortunesa smirked, as if he'd been hoping he'd ask.
"Then I take you. A hostage, as it were. We'll see how much the Chosen One values his obsolete old father." The Count bristled.
"Fine! Fine. Where should I send him?" He should have known better than to expect it to be that easy.
"Oh, that's quite unnecessary. I'll return with you now and pick him up."

Vlad had listened quietly as his father explained the situation, the strange vampire standing just out of earshot by the door.
"You told him I'd go with him? Who is he?"
"I didn't have a lot of choice. That's Du Fortunesa, Vladimir." Vlad swallowed nervously; he'd been told the stories as a child, of course, before they moved to Stokely.
"…Fine. Then I'm safe, right? I am the Chosen One. The visions, remember? And if I don't go, he'll call me a fraud and slay us all." The Count nodded worriedly. "Then say goodbye to Ingrid and Wolfie for me. I'll see you when I'm Grand High Vampire." He closed his eyes for a moment, then gave a decisive nod and began walking towards the menacing vampire in the shadows. "Mr Du Fortunesa? I'm just going to get my stuff." The legendary monster followed him out and Vlad realised there really had been no chance at all of getting out of this arrangement.

They landed at Du Fortunesa's castle not long before dawn; it wasn't what Vlad had expected. For one thing, it was substantially larger than rumour had led him to believe, albeit falling down a little around the edges. It was heavily fortified, but there was a strange kind of imposing beauty to it. Du Fortunesa didn't speak until they'd almost reached the front door.
"Come in." Then he grabbed Vlad by the arm and pulled him along, down into the depths of the castle. There was a small, bare room down there, and Vlad found himself deposited matter-of-factly in it. "Get some sleep. Training begins at sunset." A key turned in the lock, and his host was gone. Vlad pulled his backpack from under his cape and dumped it on the floor, looking around miserably. The room was completely empty, but at least it didn't seem to have any chance of letting sunlight in. He spread his cape on the dusty floor before stretching out on top of it. He was doing what he had to, that was all, for his family. It wouldn't be for so very long, he was sure. After all, it was only just over a year until he turned eighteen. He could survive this long, he was sure.

It didn't seem like it was going to be fun.

The monster paced in his coffin room; he should have been sleeping, but sleep wouldn't come. He had spent years waiting for a lead on the Chosen One's whereabouts, but he'd hardly expected him to just fall into his clutches like that. Now he had a matter of hours before he had to start training the boy, which meant working out where to start in the first place. He'd had to train pretenders to the title before, of course, but never in his own castle, and he was dreading the moment he'd have to sweep up the dust of this… Vladimir Dracula. But for now, he would settle for working out a training regime.

He glanced at the hourglass on top of the bookcase – the ash that had once filled the top half of it was now almost all in the bottom, more trickling down to join it as he watched. It had taken four centuries, but it seemed his time was nearly up. Still, he could deal with one more Chosen One imposter before the end.

As darkness fell, the lock clicked and Vlad scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off. Du Fortunesa pulled the door open and stood aside, waiting impatiently for Vlad to follow him upstairs.
"Well, we may as well start on your flying. You were very wobbly last night." Vlad grimaced.
"Nerves." His new tutor's raised eyebrow told him that wasn't a wise thing to admit to. "I mean, it… gets on my nerves, flying. Feels weird. Not natural, you know, flying rodents."
"You're a vampire. What could be more natural?" Then he launched into a series of commands Vlad didn't feel able to disobey, putting him through his paces. By the time sunrise approached, Vlad ached in muscles he hadn't realised he had, especially when in human form, but he had to admit that he was flying more confidently. Du Fortunesa nodded his approval, then escorted him firmly back to his cell and locked him in with a couple of bottles of blood. Vlad ignored them and went to sleep.

The next night, his gaoler decided to assess his telepathy, which meant leaving him in the sparse little room with only a walkie-talkie and a set of picture cards. He was to concentrate on describing the cards to the near stranger holding him prisoner here, and Du Fortunesa would tell him what he was getting, if anything. Vlad's hopes weren't high; his father had tried to teach him telepathy once. It hadn't gone particularly well – the Count had, in fact, declared that his son clearly had no thoughts in that empty little head of his. The Chosen One grimaced at the memory and started trying to think about snakes in grass, only about snakes in grass… Yellow snakes in lush, green fields…

The monster chuckled grimly to himself. So far all that the Chosen One had managed to communicate was a vivid image of his father telling him there were no thoughts in his head to transmit. This, while amusing, was hardly a promising start. If this Chosen One turned out to be the real deal – he scoffed at himself for even entertaining the notion – they would have to practice a lot more. He sighed and waited for something else to come through.

"I'm not getting anything," the walkie-talkie snapped, "try building up a vivid mental image in your mind. You need to picture a scene you could almost stand in. Over."
Vlad pulled a face, then winced – knowing his luck, that would have transmitted perfectly – before turning back to the cards. Alright, the snakes weren't doing anything for him. He was sure Ingrid would have had something to say about that.
"Stop thinking about girls and concentrate. Over." Oh, for fog's- well, it seemed he was capable of transmitting some thoughts, at least. He turned over a new card and tried to remember his gaoler's advice. A tower, with lightning hitting it. How hard could that be? He closed his eyes and tried to picture himself standing at the base of the tower, looking up.

Driving rain lashed at his face and whipped at his cloak, sending him lurching towards the nearest shelter as thunder roared overhead. Lightning flashed and he began to count as he ran, one Transylvania, two Transylvania, three- and the thunder drowned out his thoughts again. He rushed inside and slammed the door behind him, only to find himself in his cell at Du Fortunesa's castle.

"That's more like it. Try not to get lost in the next one. Over." Vlad blinked hard, returning to reality. He picked up the walkie-talkie and pressed down the transmit button.
"That worked?" There was no response. He turned the next card over and frowned at it. A golden chalice. The Holy Grail? He considered trying to project the image of King Arthur and his faithful coconut-clopping servant galloping over a hill, but he suspected his keeper wouldn't appreciate it. He didn't want to anger the most fearsome and ruthless vampire who'd ever walked the earth.

The chalice sat on the table before him, close enough for him to reach out and pick it up. He did, tilting it towards him slightly to observe its contents. Blood. Thick, rich red blood; his eyes blackened. He was so close, he could almost taste it – but no. He didn't drink real blood, he would have to resist. Oh, but he was hungry. He would do almost anything for soy blood, in that moment, but… no! He slammed the chalice down onto the table and pushed himself away from it, but the blood had spilt, was still spilling, he could smell it everywhere and the tablecloth ran with it, a steady stream of warm, delicious blood…

"I gave you blood; why didn't you tell me you didn't drink it?" He recoiled; when had Du Fortunesa come in? The older vampire was shouting – Vlad curled himself up in a corner of his cell, trying to present as small a target as possible while he fought to get his bearings and shake off the bloodlust. His gaoler glanced upwards, then stormed out, taking the blood he'd left with him and locking the door.

The monster didn't understand; what kind of vampire didn't drink blood? Still, it was clear from the boy's thoughts during his vision that there was some form of synthetic substitute available; he would find some before dawn. It would make teaching him far less of a struggle. On his way out he glanced at the hourglass. Judging by the amount of ash, he had less than a year left.

Just before dawn, the door slammed open again. Du Fortunesa stormed in, thrust a bottle into Vlad's hands, and watched him stare at it for a few seconds.
"Well? Is that the right thing, or what? That's what you wanted, isn't it?" Vlad nodded, a little confused by the shouting. "Then drink. Sleep. We'll continue tomorrow." He hesitated at the door, about to lock it as usual. Then he shook his head, tucked the key into the keyhole, and walked out. Vlad, distracted by the soy blood, failed to notice this rather strange behaviour. Once he'd quenched his thirst, he lay down on his cape and went to sleep.

He woke the next night feeling considerably better, although his back was killing him. It took him a few minutes to realise that the door was slightly ajar, and when he did he wasn't sure what to make of it. He reached for the walkie-talkie in the middle of the floor and hesitated for a second.
"Um… Mr Du Fortunesa?" There was a long pause.
"What is it? Over." Well, that was hardly an encouraging reaction.
"Did you know you'd left the door unlocked?"
"Yes. That's so you can go through it." Vlad sighed; at least this meant he was allowed out. He was about to start making his way through the castle when the walkie-talkie crackled again. "Use your hunting skills to find me. And take the radio with you just in case. Over." Well, Vlad supposed, that had sounded slightly less like a fervent wish that he would fall on a stake than anything else his new tutor had ever said to him.

He made his way out into the corridor, absently wondering which 'hunting skills' he was expected to be using to track down his mysterious gaoler. It would be easier to track down the main doors and make a bid for freedom, but he knew his family would be put at risk if he did that. Instead, he found his way to the entrance hall, glad he'd thought to wrap his cape around himself - some of the corridors were very draughty. He looked around briefly, then sighed and focused really, really hard.

Could you give me a clue? I don't usually hunt vampires. He winced, realising that Du Fortunesa certainly did, if the legends were to be believed.
At least your telepathy's improving. Stay where you are. Within seconds, Du Fortunesa stood before him in all his imposing glory. Vlad shifted awkwardly as the older vampire stared at him in silence. Was he saying something telepathically that Vlad just wasn't picking up?

"Um… thanks. For the soy blood, I mean. And letting me out. Sorry about yesterday." He rubbed at his back, not really aware of making the gesture. Du Fortunesa's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment.
"Provided you don't try to escape, I see no reason you shouldn't have a little more freedom. It may yet prove a moot point." Well, that didn't sound good.

The monster hesitated, the boy halting in his wake, outside the room where the Book was kept. His hand was almost on the handle when he made his decision.
"Never go into this room, or the one directly opposite it. The rest of the castle… consider it yours to roam. But those two rooms are private. Understand?" Vlad nodded, and the monster led him a little further along the corridor, unsure what to do with him now he'd decided to postpone the test. "This will be your new room."

Du Fortunesa pushed the door open and Vlad peered in. It was a simple room, Spartan – just a bookcase, a wardrobe and, to Vlad's immense surprise and relief, a comfortable-looking coffin.
"Really?" He was far too grateful for this most basic hospitality, he knew, but his back was killing him. His gaoler nodded.
"Go and get your belongings. And meet me for dinner at midnight." A scowl crossed the older vampire's face suddenly. "We must discuss proper etiquette and correct protocol." Then he was gone, leaving Vlad to stare after him.

Vlad returned from the dungeon he'd been living in – walkie-talkie still clutched in one hand, just in case – with his backpack and began finally unpacking the assorted rubbish he'd shoved in there before he left Garside. He hadn't really been giving the task his full attention, what with the looming presence at his shoulder putting him off. Now it turned out he'd brought a load of rubbish he didn't really need, including a very old photograph of him and Ingrid, back when photos could still be taken of the pair of them.

Midnight came and went as he stared at the picture, wondering if Ingrid and his father had killed each other yet. He wondered if whoever was left missed him; if they were looking after Wolfie. He and his sister had had his ups and downs, but in the end they'd always been there for each other. Well, mostly. He'd barely been away a few days, and he missed them more than he could have thought possible. There was a bang at the door.

"Vladimir? You're late for dinner."
"I'm not hungry." He felt bolder, somehow, thoughts of his family still fresh in his mind. He was here for their sakes, but that didn't mean he had to let himself be a prisoner. He was the Chosen One, for crying out loud, that had to mean something.
"It wasn't a request!" The door handle turned, but Vlad simply used his telekinetic powers to shunt the heavy (albeit empty) bookcase in front of the door. Du Fortunesa let out an inhuman roar, slamming his hands against the door one last time. "Fine! We'll see how hungry you are in a few days!"

The monster raged, even as he wondered why he was so furious. He had spared the boy the Book, for now, and that was enough of a mystery to him, but why was he suddenly so determined to teach him the finer points of dining etiquette? And what possessed him to think that was a good idea, given that he'd been cast out of vampire society centuries ago? He didn't have the faintest idea how to behave around others, as he feared the boy had already realised.

After a few hours, however, the rage had drained away, leaving a high tidemark of anxiety in its place. The monster found himself outside the barricaded door again, a bottle of soy blood clutched in one hand, the other formed into a fist. He raised it, and knocked.

Vlad didn't move in response to the knock at the door.
"There's a bottle outside, if you get thirsty." Du Fortunesa's voice was clipped, curt, but no longer as angry and terrifying as it had been earlier. Vlad waited until he thought he was probably gone, then shifted the bookcase back into its original position and stuck his arm out of the door to claim the bottle. Soy blood; not a trick, then. He perched it on an empty shelf, adding the photo of himself and Ingrid beside it, and flopped back into the new coffin to process recent events. It would be sunrise soon, and he would have wasted an entire training night. No wonder his gaoler had been angry.

He didn't really understand, though, why dinner had been such a big deal. He knew how to behave himself in polite vampire society, probably better than Du Fortunesa did, based on his experiences of the older vampire since he'd arrived here. Perhaps that was it… could he just have wanted someone to share a meal with, lonely after all these years? He shook his head, kicking himself for his foolishness. This was Du Fortunesa, the vampire vampires feared. He had slaughtered whole clans of his own kind. He couldn't honestly be lonely.

Still, Vlad could use some company himself. He didn't trust his jumbled thoughts, so he reached for the walkie-talkie and jammed his thumb down on the button before he could think better of it.
"I'm sorry about earlier. Can we still have a drink?" He released the button, hearing nothing but static, then grabbed it again. "…Over?" The reply, when it came, sounded almost confused – no, suspicious. The vampire of legend would never be confused by anything.
"…Yes, I suppose so. I'll come and get you; you don't know where the dining room is. Over."

The monster lowered the radio and unfolded himself from his coffin, making sure his appearance was flawless and as intimidating as ever before leaving to collect the boy. He didn't understand what had prompted the sudden change in attitude and he certainly didn't understand why he'd accepted it. By now, by rights, the boy should have been dust; taking into account his behaviour, he should have been dust several times over.

But he lived, and he wanted to drink with the monster. And the monster was curious enough to agree.

They sat at opposite ends of a regular-sized dining table; Vlad sipped the soy blood he'd brought with him from his new room and his captor seemed to be trying to avoid looking at him. It fell to Vlad to awkwardly break the silence.
"Why do you always call me Vladimir?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but it was the first thing that had sprung to mind. The older vampire looked surprised.
"It's your name. Would you prefer Dracula?" Vlad shook his head, a little thrown by the concern his new tutor was showing for his preferences all of a sudden.
"No, but… most people call me Vlad. You could call me that." Du Fortunesa nodded.
"Fine. Vlad." There was a slightly awkward pause. "Why do you call me 'Mr Du Fortunesa'?" It was Vlad's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"It's your name. Isn't it?" The older vampire bowed his head over his goblet.
"It has been, for many years now. Usually, people don't add the honorific."

Vlad wasn't sure what prompted his next question. It just sort of tumbled out.
"What's your first name?" Du Fortunesa looked up, frowning as if trying to remember something.
"Bertrand," he said at last, his accent becoming much more distinctly French. "My name is Bertrand du Fortunesa." Vlad took a sip of soy blood for courage, then met the older man's eye and held his gaze.
"Can I call you Bertrand?" His tutor seemed startled, then drained his goblet in one swift moment and stood.
"Yes. You'll find your room? Good day." He was gone before Vlad could realise what had happened.

The monster stormed up to his room. How dare he? This boy, this… Vlad had no right to treat him like a normal vampire, like a man rather than a monster. He had no right to come along and shake up the monster's world. That was it. Tomorrow he would work him so hard he would wish he'd never laid eyes on the monster, let alone tried to be nice to him.