For the 'Lightning Challenge' by HyaHya because drabble challenges are awesome!
'Write a one shot about Vlad meeting Robin again in the future.
Mindwiped, angry, clear headed, old, young, middleaged, I don't mind!
I challenge anyone who's interested to write one!
Remember to say when it's done so we can all read it!'
Hope you enjoy! xo
The vampires didn't understand it. The breathers were bewildered. The art critics had expressed scepticism. The Guild considered it nothing more than propaganda and placed the artist on a 'watch' list. He was after all a known vampire sympathiser. However, anyone who set eyes on the portrait, had to admit it was beautiful. It unsettled people. It made them think. It made them question things. It was dangerous.
The face of Vladimir Dracula was known throughout the world. Almost two generations had grown up under His Highness' rule of co-existence. The Blood Banks were operating effectively. The Guild still dealt with rogue vampires. It would be a lie to say that there wasn't any tension beneath the posed smiles of the world's politicians as they donated blood. Suspicion and fear still had a grip on the breather population. There were still incidents of staking and ritual burnings. However, the Grand High Vampire had made his objectives perfectly clear at the outset and he had been more than ruthless in achieving them.
The world shivered at the emptiness in Vladimir Dracula's eyes; the coldness in his demeanour as he swept through their cities and towns, they observed the cruelty in his smirk when he announced that yet another uprising had been resolved. His name was whispered to naughty children at bedtime, breather or vampire. So, there was a slight thrill to be had from visiting the gallery, from just looking at the portrait, for daring to imagine their ruler as someone different.
The gallery had known it was only a matter of time before the Grand High Vampire visited them. It wasn't as if they had done anything wrong by displaying the portrait. The U.S. Constitution still stood, they still had freedom of expression under breather law and in any case New York had always been a major hub for vampire activity. They had been one of the first cities to sign up to the Blood Bank... but all that didn't matter because if Vladimir Dracula truly wanted to, he could wipe the city out in a matter of minutes.
A crown of twisted bones rested in the boy's hands, dust was drifting through the air, the vivid scarlet highlighted the paleness of the boy's skin, the cut of the cape's collar attenuating those famous Dracula cheekbones. The Grand High Vampire was looking to the side, his eyes darkening, his lips parted, the expression on his face was a mixture of sadness and determination.
"It's called 'The Sacrifice'." The voice came from behind Vlad. It held the trace of a familiar accent.
Vlad reached forward and ran his fingers over the signature of the artist. Pain rippled through him at the memories that name evoked. It had been nearly twenty-five years since he had first placed that damn crown on his head. Nearly twenty-five years since Robin...
He stepped back. "I don't think it was necessary to include Mr Cuddles in the background." He turned around slowly and gave the breather an appraising look. He was almost unrecognisable, a superbly cut black suit, a discreetly expensive gold watch on his wrist, only the scraps of paint on his fingers gave away his true profession. And his eyes, of course. They were twinkling with mischief.
"It was only a little peek," Robin protested. "And he's mostly obscured by that skull." He stepped forward, a wide grin slowly spreading across his features, "Besides, I had to get your attention somehow."
For the first time in years, a genuine smile crept over Vlad's lips. "Fancy a bite?"
Robin's grin widened. "Thought you'd never ask."