A/N-I don't own Hotel Transylvania, or any of it's characters, bleh bleh bleh, now on with the story.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He was being tormented by images of her murderers, of her screams, her very presence that he felt like he was trapped, surpressed by his fears.
Part of him wanted her presence to leave, but he didn't want to forget her. He clung to the image of her face as hard as he could, it wouldn't leave him alone anyway.
His friends had told him he would survivive. That the pain would fade to an ebbing numbness that lingered but wouldn't leave. Dracula wanted to ask them that how would they know, they haven't lost their true loves, their zings, Griffith and Murray even had yet to find theirs. They haven't felt this kind of pain.
There was too much that time could not erase.
In the human's world, they would never know Martha. They would only know the Lady Loubode, and the lonely, mysterious count she fell in love with. They would only know the fearsome and bloodthirsty Count Dracula, a vampire who was only a myth. A human historian would never even think of connecting the Count and the Lady together.
He had tried so hard to be there for her. He had wiped away her tears, he had protected her from her worst inner demons and nightmares. She had done the same for him. But when she had died, she had taken him with her. Now all he felt was empty, if it hadn't been for the little girl sleeping in the cradle. His daughter. The only thing that kept only a little bit of his spirit where it should be. All that was left of Martha was little Mavis.
But his daughter's face-it was his salvation, and his curse. Mavis was like the life Martha had left behind, and Dracula was bound to both of them. Mavis kept him sane, but Martha was chasing away what pleasant dreams he had and replacing them with nightmares.
"She's gone Drac. Don't do this to yourself."
She's gone...she's gone...she's gone...
The harder Dracula tried to tell himself that she was gone, the harder it was to let her go.
You only know you love her when you let her go...
How many times had he tried to tell himself that?
But it felt like she was still with him, holding his hand, laughing, smiling. Surrounded by flames, a stake in her chest.
It felt like she was still alive. As if Dracula could still call her name and she would come poking her head into the room. As if he could once again watch her hold Mavis, the two of his girls together and happy.
Mavis let out a cry from her cradle. Dracula immediately got up and swept to his daughter's side, cradling her in his arms as he comforted her.
"Shhh...hush little baby, don't say a word..." Dracula sang softly, and Mavis quieted with a whimper.
Fifteen minutes later, she was asleep again, and Dracula watched her. She looked so much like Martha...
That's when Dracula knew he would do anything to protect his daughter, that he would go as far as possible to keep her safe. If he lost her-it would be like losing Martha all over again, and Dracula knew that if he wanted to stay sane, he couldn't let that happen.
The fact that she was still there with him made Dracula wonder if had really been alone all along. The fact that she was still with him made him hurt even more.
His wounds couldn't seem to heal.
His pain was just too real.
There just too much that time cannot erase.