NOTES!
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I've already written this story up to chapter five so all you need to do is review and you get your next chapter. I'm on fanfic everyday so there shouldn't be any delay.
Order 1: What Shapes A Man; What Makes A Monster
The bright sunlight shone into the large bedroom of a grand Wallachian castle. Stepping through the bedroom door was a somewhat unattractive, pale-skinned woman with silky black hair that touched the back of her knees. She was Chiajna, Princess of Moldavia come to wake her kids.
The elegant noblewoman strode to the bedside of her eldest son, Mircea. "Dearest, it's time to get up with the sun." The thirteen year old prince groaned loudly and pulled himself into a sitting position. He gave a tongue-curling yawn. Satisfied, Chiajna moved away to the bed of her youngest son, Radu. He was often referred to as Radu the Handsome. He did not possess the childish cuteness of a young boy but the good looks of a young man. He blinked rapidly then a smile spread over his face. "Good morning, mother."
Chiajna smiled and kissed her youngest on the cheek. "Good morning, my son." She rose up and headed for the door. "Be down for breakfast soon, darlings." Mircea rose to his feet and stretched. "What about Vlad?" Their mother paused with a smile. "Let your brother rest. He holds a unique aversion to the early morning sun. Do not agitate him." She gave a final smile then swept from the room.
Mircea shrugged and followed soon after his mother to wash up and head to breakfast. Eight year old Radu paused until his eldest brother had left the room then with a glare turned to Vlad asleep in his intricate canopy bed. Radu, spurned on by his jealousy of Vlad, flung aside the black curtain and shook his brother roughly. "Wake up," he said in a low hiss. "You shouldn't be allowed to lounge as you please."
Vlad Dracul III rose up in his bed, his eyes bleary and crusted over with sleep. His usually sleek black hair was up in a wild tussle like a lion's mane around his head. The Prince blinked twice then flopped right back to the bed, snoring loudly. Radu glared angrily. "Wake up, Vlad! Damn you, wake-"
In a flash, the young prince's hand lashed out and caught the younger in the cheek. Radu stumbled away from the bed, glaring fiercely. Vlad mumbled into his soft ornamental pillows. "Don't pretend you didn't hear what Mother said. Now get out and go to breakfast." He grimaced at the feel of the sun on his skin but the canopy curtain fell back into place, shielding him.
Young Radu begrudgingly turned away and went down to have breakfast with his family.
Vlad woke up at around midday. The prince got dressed and began to wander about the castle. In the main hall he noticed Mircea with his fiancée Mataji. The couple's marriage had been arranged when Mircea was eight and Mataji was five. She confided in Vlad alone her distaste of the situation. In fact now she wore an expression of coldness when being addressed by her future husband so sure enough after a moment, Mircea turned and stalked away in frustration.
Vlad snuck up behind her and said lowly. "You shouldn't antagonize him, Mataji." She flinched away having been frightened and spun on the middle prince. "Vlad! Please don't do that." At ten, she was already beautiful. She had beautiful creamy white skin and pale blue eyes that looked like crystal oceans. Her brown hair was arranged decoratively. Once she had gotten over her initial shock she smiled at him, friendly. "Can we take a walk through the woods, Vlad?" she asked with a faint note of pleading.
"I'm not dressed for such things," he said, referring his ornate robes. Mataji spread her arms. "Nor am I. Come Vlad." She looped her arm through his and, with a laugh, headed out of the castle.
The two children strolled leisurely through the dark woods. "Mircea is so indifferent to me lately," she said with a hint of sorrow. Vlad looked at the sky, wincing at the sun. "He is decidedly moody. Mother said that's what happens to boys his age." Mataji looked rather indignant. "I'm happy such things don't happen to girls." Vlad gave a faint smile. He had learned from his short life that no matter what, old or young, girls or women, females were always moody. But to say that would be an affront to Mataji's good company. Instead, he released her hand. "Let's see if you are able to catch me yet." And he took off.
Excited, Mataji gave chase.
Vlad weaved in and out of trees, over fallen logs, skidding and twisting through the woods. Mataji was hot on his trail, stumbling to imitate his movements. One of Vlad's sharp turns left her skidding to a fall. He paused for a moment and watched her scramble to her feet and kept going. He laughed and kept running. The young girl followed him doggedly, hand outstretched. She could feel the silky caress of his hair and knew if she could run just a little faster she'd catch him...
Vlad twisted to the side and Mataji struggled to stop. She dropped to the ground and looked up at him, panting. "You win again." The Prince smiled and held out his hand, helped her to her feet.
Life progressed as usual for Vlad. Though, he was soon to learn the threat to his family.
Vlad Dracul II was under considerable political pressure from the Ottoman sultan. The lord was threatened with invasion; he gave a promise to be the vassal of the Sultan and gave up his two younger sons as hostages so that he would keep his promise.
That day, Vlad and Radu were summoned to the main parlor. The princes were naturally curious. They stood behind the rest of the family. Mataji was present also. The Ottoman sultan was a hard and ugly man. He glared down at the children with contempt. "You must keep your promise," he said to Vlad II. The Lord waved his hand dismissively. "Take them."
The younger Vlad wondered who his father meant.
"Men!" the sultan barked. His soldiers emerged behind him. "Take the children," he said and snapped his fingers.
Children? What did he mean take them? Vlad's eyes widened as he saw the men advancing on him and his younger brother. He jerked to attention. Despite his dislike for Radu, he flung himself in front of the young prince. Radu, forgetting himself, clutched Vlad's sleeve in fear. The men carried heavy iron chains. Vlad's eyes opened wide. He concentrated on the men. He was thirteen years old, wouldn't be able to fight back. If he could escape with Radu though, they would never be able to catch him.
A man reacted with more speed that Vlad had thought possible. In a moment, he'd wrapped his forearm around the prince's throat and lifted him off the ground. Seconds later, he heard a yelp of fear from his brother who had likewise been put into this position. Mataji and Mircea gasped. "Let go of them!" they said in unison. They too were restrained.
Vlad growled ferociously as he held his arms being chained behind his back, his feet likewise. He twisted and thrashed madly before someone delivered a blow to the back of his head, disorienting him. Radu was crying, screaming for his mother. Chiajna turned away, tearfully. Vlad, struggling to refocus his eyes, saw Mataji pulling against the man who held her. His eyes forced her to stop. The penalty for a woman's disobedience was death. She stopped and stared at him with tears streaking down her face. "Vlad..."
And before he was completely whisked away, he stole a glance at his father. The older Vlad was looking at his younger sons being taken prisoner with no present emotion. Young Vlad bared his teeth in a vicious expression and noted with pleasure the fear he felt in his father's eyes. And then they were gone.
-
Vlad twisted his wrists in the metal cuffs while Radu wailed loudly. "You can stop doing that," the sultan, Mehmed, commented nonchalantly. "You won't break them."
"You bastard! Where are you taking us?"
One of the sultan's guards riding with them lashed out and slapped Vlad across the mouth. "You will address the Sultan with respect," he said formally and settled into his seat. Vlad glared at him viciously. Mehmed looked out the window of the horse drawn carriage. "You are going to become a servant of my house."
"A servant?" Vlad repeated, outraged. "How dare you? Do you know who the hell I am?"
At this, Mehmed gave a contemptuous sneer. "You are the son of a weak-minded fool who was so ill-equipped he couldn't even stop my invasion."
Vlad glared at him. "I would rather die then serve you."
Mehmed looked at him, stoically. "We shall soon see."
The carriage rattled on for days before coming to the grand Ottoman Castle. Vlad's eyes widened. It was much bigger than his own. He growled and averted his eyes. Radu, on the other hand, was gaping at the huge palace with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. The door was opened and the Sultan stepped elegantly to the ground. "Get out," the guard inside ordered the brothers.
Both hesitated; Vlad, out of stubbornness, and Radu, out of fear. The sentry, having determined his dislike of Vlad, reached out and shoved the boy from the carriage. Tripping with the chains round his ankles, Vlad landed face first on the ground. Radu, in turn, scrambled from the carriage.
This isn't happening, he thought, dazedly. A dream, a nightmare, not real...
But the reality slammed into him when he was roughly pulled to his feet and shoved forward. The sentries forced him to walk by poking spears into his back. Radu went unassisted. Vlad had to be forced along every couple of steps as he would stop in his tracks and refuse to move for several seconds. The guard escorts would promptly smash him about the head.
The head guard, Gajin, glared down at him. "You should learn to behave yourself, boy. Take a note from your brother." Vlad glared back at him and let loose a string of obscenities which got him punched in the mouth. Radu, on the other hand, had a different reaction.
The youngest one was staring into space. Take a note from your brother. Truly, in retrospect, it was the first compliment he'd ever received that upbraided Vlad as well. He smiled mentally.
"Do as they say, Vlad," he said softly. Vlad glared at him. "Shut your mouth, maggot."
Within minutes, though, Vlad was again pulled to his feet but this time he was dragged. The guards led the brothers to a run down shack about a hundred feet east of the castle. Radu walked in and Vlad was thrown in seconds after. Gajin addressed the two.
"You are to report to the castle as soon as the sun rises and clean the first, second, and third floor of the castle. Any defiance will not be tolerated. Guards are stationed around this hut at all hours of the night. Escape is impossible."
"They won't stop me," Vlad grumbled.
Gajin sneered at him. "You want to run, boy? Go ahead. We're hundreds of miles from Wallachia. It was four days by carriage. How will you hope to return to your home on foot and with no sense of where you're going?" He continued. "Your meal will be determined by your work. Any desire not to work is ultimately a desire not to eat. You start tomorrow morning." And he turned and left.
Vlad looked around the small shack. There was only one bed, a bedpan, and a window. He growled lowly and kicked the little bed. Radu looked on, sullen and silent. Vlad walked to the window and looked out. He could see three individual guards stationed. He walked to the door and pushed it open a crack. A guard looked down at him from his place at the door. Vlad stuck out his tongue and closed the door again. "Damn it," he said lowly.
Radu meanwhile had climbed onto the bed and curled into a ball. Vlad watched him for a moment then Radu turned and grinned at him. "Looks like you won't be treated like such a prince anymore," he said maliciously and turned over to face the wall and was silent.
Vlad paced and raged for an hour before exhaustion overwhelmed him and he settled into a corner. He didn't dare sleep. He dozed in and out of consciousness until the sun came up and he was ordered to work.
-
Naturally he refused. He looked down his nose at Radu who did all his chores obediently. And he soon became exasperated. "Where's your Dracul pride, Radu?" Vlad asked desperately.
"Pride doesn't count for much if you're dead, Vlad," he said seriously, a wise thing for someone his age.
"I was not born into a life of servitude," he said loudly. "I am and always be a prince, no matter where I go." And he sat down and refused to be moved. And after three days of refusing to work and not getting fed, the Sultan was fed up with Vlad's defiance.
"You insolent little whelp," he shouted. "If you won't act a servant then you'll be treated as a dog!" And he was dragged to the palace's underground dungeon where he was left alone for three full days. On the third night, the door opened and a group of guards entered, one carrying a whip and filling young Vlad with dread. Immediately, he charged the guards swinging his fists but was soon overpowered and pinned to the floor. "Will you comply?" the main guard asked seriously. Vlad struggled to see him and spit out, "Go to hell!" The back of his shirt was ripped open and the whip bit into him again and again until he screamed from pain.
And they left him there, broken and bleeding with pain blinding him on the ground.
Eventually, he pulled himself to his knees. "I refuse to die," he muttered lowly to himself. And he rose to his feet and tilted his chin up like the defiant prince he was and vowed to survive.
-
The next years were influential in shaping Vlad's character; he was often whipped by his Ottoman captors for being stubborn and rude. He witnessed many tortures and occasionally took part in various discussions on the art of torture, which was used frequently by the Ottoman Turks. He learned from one of the gloating guards that Radu had caught the eye of the sultan's son and was now released, converted to Islam, and involved in a homosexual relationship with Mehmed II. Vlad shrugged it off, not caring. He developed a well-known hatred for Radu and for Mehmed II, who would later become the sultan.
Over the years though, Vlad began to change. He had always held an unusual aversion to the sun but now he cringed and ran from it. Several times the guards would not feed him and Vlad feasted on his own blood. His eyes became adjusted to the dark and changed from black to red, as one of the guards once told him. His back eyeteeth grew long and sharp. Vlad couldn't understand these changes and didn't particularly care much either.
And one day, seven years later, the Sultan himself entered the chamber flanked by his guards. Vlad immediately tensed his body. By now, the boy was covered in scars and would attack anyone who walked through the door but now he hesitated. The Sultan raised his head high. "Boy. We have received word that your father has been assassinated." Vlad shrugged. He had grown a deep-seated hatred for his father and couldn't care less what happened to the man. "Is that all you came to tell me?" he asked rudely.
"You should keep a civil tongue," he advised. "Because of your father's death, you are hereby released." Vlad's eyes widened. "I can go?" The Sultan nodded. "You are free to leave." Vlad edged closer to the door. No one moved to stop him. He looked around at the guards, the Sultan then fled as fast as his feet could carry him.
Fortunately, it was nighttime. He reached the edge of the Sultan's palace coming upon a blacksmith and found his way in.
The smith looked up from pounding a flat steel blade. "Can I help you?"
Vlad averted his eyes. "I'm just looking for a new sword." He began to inspect the swords. "Have you heard about Vlad Dracul II?" he asked conversationally. The smith shrugged. "I heard he'd been assassinated by boyars. A pity. The Draculs used to be a respected family until the old man gave up his two sons and the eldest died." Vlad stopped short. "Mircea?"
"Yeah, that was his name. I heard he was blinded with hot iron stakes and buried alive by his political enemies. Brutal stuff. Like I said, a pity."
Mircea...Dead...Buried alive.
Anger swelled in him as he pulled a blade from a wall. "This one looks nice. How much is it?" The smith named a price. Vlad considered. "Yes, that sounds reasonable. But I have a better one." And he spun and shoved the sword into the blacksmith's heart. The smith looked on shocked for a moment then fell to the floor, dead.
Vlad tucked the sword and two others into his belt and stole the blacksmith's horse. He mounted it and headed for Wallachia, going home.
-
Vlad's actions after returning home were well documented. Except for constantly performing acts of amazing cruelty, he seems to have led the life of all the other princes of Wallachia. The early part of Vlad's reign was dominated by the idea of eliminating all possible threats to his power, mainly the rival nobility groups, i.e. the boyars. This was done mainly by physical elimination such as impalement, but also by reducing the economic role of the nobility: the key positions in the Prince's Council, traditionally belonging to the country's greatest boyars, were handed to obscure individuals, some of them of foreign origin, but who manifested loyalty towards Vlad. Nonetheless, even these people were eliminated regularly.
More than anything else, Vlad Dracul III is known for his exceeding cruelty. Impalement was his preferred method of torture and execution. His method of torture was a horse attached to each of the victim's legs as a sharpened stake was gradually forced into the body. The end of the stake was usually oiled, and care was taken that the stake not be too sharp; else the victim might die too rapidly from shock. Normally the stake was inserted into the body through the anus and was often forced through the body until it emerged from the mouth. However, there were many instances where victims were impaled through other bodily orifices or through the abdomen or chest. The records indicate that victims were sometimes impaled so that they hung upside down on the stake.
As expected, death by impalement was slow and painful. Victims sometimes endured for hours or days. Vlad often had the stakes arranged in various geometric patterns. The most common pattern was a ring of concentric circles in the outskirts of a city that constituted his target. The height of the spear indicated the rank of the victim. The corpses were often left decaying for months. And one day, he'd had enough.
No one knew what inspired it but on one random whim, Vlad packed his stuff and headed from the castle leaving it to whoever wanted it.
He was going to Transylvania...
-
On his way to Transylvania, he was ambushed. Someone recognized him and after a short battle, Vlad was impaled through the heart.
He didn't fall. He stared at the stake through his chest, bewildered. And the surroundings seemed to just fall away...
He blinked, confused. Am I...dead?
Far from it.
Vlad blinked, took a step back. A figure had materialized in front of him.
Man or woman, it was hard to tell. Does perfection have a gender? Vlad knew in that instant that he stared upon the most exquisitely beautiful creature he had ever seen. The person's dark hair flowed around its shoulders, swaying in a wind that didn't blow. Eyes as black as night stared down at him and in them, Vlad could see the answers of the world, understandings that alluded the smartest of mortals. These were the eyes of a God...or of a Devil.
Despite himself, he shuddered but sheer willpower kept him from falling to his knees before this awesome creature. He was filled with awe and fear.
The man - yes, it was a man, he could tell now - smiled with teeth so straight and white, the mouth of a god. And from him emanated an aura of black, the darkness of the universe.
Vlad gulped. Are you the Devil?
The man laughed, a sound that struck uneasiness in Vlad. Lucifer holds no weight with me. I am the Dark Lord.
What do you want with me? he asked, apprehensively.
I've come to offer you a chance at immortal life. All of your powers will mirror mine.
He blinked, surprised. How will I be changed?
That depends upon your own heart and mind. For each one is different. You shall become more powerful, but there will be conditions on that power. I leave you to discover them for yourself.
What kind of conditions?
You must spill the blood of ten thousand mortals and make huge your empire. When the time comes, you will gain a mass amount of followers and spread your plague upon this earth. Can you do this?
Vlad nodded cautiously. I can.
The Dark Lord's grin widened and, as Vlad watched, fangs grew from his front teeth. Then come here.
Vlad took two steps toward him before there was barely any space, separating the two.
The Dark One lowered his head to Vlad's neck. There are many types of vampires. Of them, I am chief. And he buried his fangs in Vlad's throat.
At the moment the fangs pierced Vlad's skin, he felt a surge of power, of exhilaration, move from the Dark Lord into him. There was no pain but bliss unimaginable. Vlad opened his eyes, the white near blinding, until he thought he would cease to exist...
When the light had faded, he was back in the swamp. No time had passed at all. His ambushers still stood in front of him.
Then his crimson eyes narrowed in anger at the sight of his flowing blood. He grasped the stake and after several painful seconds pulled it out.
The ambushers were shocked and afraid.
Vlad's eyes narrowed, glowing in demonic fury. The shadows underneath his feet slithered to life and wrapped around the assailants. His long sharp nails stretched out and in a moment he had forced his hand through the chests of all the men.
Vlad stomped on through the marsh. In the dark, he could see as if the sun was up. He could identify anything in the woods around him by its smell. He knew the animals were there without looking at them. Putting a hand to his chest, he noticed the wound had closed up and his heart wasn't beating. Without caring, he walked on.
Within another day, he reached a small Transylvanian village. He wandered through it, evading the strangers before coming upon more woods and within a stream. He walked to it, noting the small figure of someone sitting near the water. The scent that reached him was from long ago, a scent that used to chase him through trees.
"Mataji..."
Okay that was cool. Hang on, this story picks up around ch. 3. Don't doubt me, loyal readers, review and keep going.