This is a story that I have been toying around with for awhile now. I think its ready and for the most part, its been planned out in my head. This is fiction with some facts about Vlad the Impaler and others. Also, names were found by the amazing thing known as Google, other works, or my pets.
The lady of winter, the oncoming storm, the sword of the dragon, the lightning countess, and the wolf of the battlefield, the bloody terror, and the great red dragon were some of the names used to describe the woman who kneeled before him. In her hands, she offered the decapitated heads of the Turkish leaders to the Prince as she bowed her head in respect. A focused gaze remained on the floor, obediently waiting for the Prince to allow her to look up at him. For years, she was trained and molded into the perfect submission she displayed. She was his greatest soldier who had never lost on the battlefield and yet, despite being covered in dirt mixed with the blood of her enemies, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room.
The Prince glanced at the gift she presented him for a few seconds before nodding, allowing her to stand up and giving him the chance to study her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a beauty like no other. In her youth, she was often an object of mockery and ridicule. That bright red hair that stood out against the dark hair of everyone else, big blue eyes that seemed to be curious of everything, and the simple fact that she was rather small child made her such an easy target. Then, she grew up and everything changed but it was only recently that the Prince began to notice just how much she had transformed. Her hair was the deep color of blood and when it was worn down (which was so rare), it flowed down her shoulders in gentle waves, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Most times, those locks were tied into a high ponytail or a braid that touched her shoulder blades. Those blue eyes turned icy and pierced right through the souls of those who met their gaze. Full pouty lips taunted everyone into desiring a single touch of the red flesh. Flawless skin molded over a willowy lithe body made her into a thing of heavenly lust. The Prince shamelessly admired those curved and her bare arms that were hugged by the leather jerkin she wore. Unlike the typical woman who wore skirts and dresses, she wore a pair of leather pants that had been tailored to show off those slender legs of hers.
She was Anastasia Belacqua, the adopted daughter of Lord Commander Dragomir Belacqua, and one of the captains in Wallachian military. It was rumored that after the raid of the village of Čachtice, Dragomir stumbled upon a sleeping baby in a barn. Despite the loud screaming that occurred outside, the babe slept soundly and barely stirred when he pushed back that red hair. His wife, Lady Romana von Helgra, had passed months before he left for war and they had no children. Instead of slaughtering the child, he saw her as a gift from his dead wife and took her as his own. Since he was a highborn count as well as the Lord Commander, it was expected that the little girl would be a noblewoman but that was not the case. Yes, she had learned about music and history and was taught to read and write but that was not all. Dragomir had her educated in military tactics and she became a soldier, quickly rising through the ranks until she stood at her adopted father's side as a captain. She became as dangerous as the sword strapped to her waist and the white wolf at her side.
Of course, there were many who frowned at the thought a woman serving their great Prince. Most other women her age were married with children or they had joined the convent but not Anastasia. It wasn't as if she wasn't attractive or anything but she merely did not have any interest in marrying. At eighteen, Anastasia was still single and even though there were many suitors, she scorned them all. She turned down every proposal she was given. Even the Lord Commander scoffed at the other noblemen who offered their sons for his daughter. They were not worthy enough for her was always his typical retort whenever someone asked why he turned another suitor away. With all of that, she was often referred to as unattainable.
But that didn't stop Prince Vlad from admiring the beauty before him.
Anastasia nodded once before taking her spot next to the Lord Commander who stood to the left of the Prince, her prized wolf following close behind. Her father often encouraged her desire for battle and was incredibly pleased at the victories she brought. As his daughter, she was his heart's treasure but as a soldier, she was also his pride and joy. No other captain led their troops the way she did and in fact, she actually cared for her troops and treated them all equally and respectfully. In return, the troops remained loyal and obedient to her. They didn't care that she was a woman or the daughter of Lord Commander Belacqua. No, she was the Red Dragon who charged first into battle, swinging her sword and annihilating those in her path.
"It seems that I will be needing another room to accommodate all the gifts you bring me, Lady Anastasia," chuckled the deep voice of the Prince, "I am willing to wager that you are pleased with your daughter, Dragomir."
A low murmur filled the throne room as several let out quiet laughter. He was the Prince so whatever he thought was amusing was, by default, amusing to everyone else. Except the Lord Commander and his daughter. Unlike his daughter who was lovely and beautiful, Dragomir Belacqua was a rugged man with a strong frame and a stern face. His dark chestnut hair had been cut short and his beard was trimmed but he still held a disinterested look upon his handsome face. He had served the Prince for many years, as his father had served the previous monarch, and was one of his most trusted advisors as well as the Lord Commander.
"Why take that wager when it is obviously true?" Dragomir replied with a hint of playfulness in his strong voice, "Anastasia is gifted with a sword and skilled in battle. I am a proud father."
A hearty laugh was the Prince's response as the white wolf next to Anastasia released a low growl. There were a few glances sent towards the great beast, unsure as to why it was always present. As usual, there were those who found it greatly disrespectful that Anastasia Belacqua kept the wolf at her side all times, even in the presence of the Prince. Yet, no one said anything in fear of her sword and the wolf's sharp teeth. It was more than one occasion that the pointed blade rested against a pale throat, waiting to pierce the flesh those who insulted her. Most times, it was the wolf who would pounce upon the rude soul, giving a clear view of just how dangerous its jaws were. That and the Prince didn't seem to mind the beast. In fact, he often offered it pieces of meat from his own plate. He had favored the white beast as much as he favored its master.
Yet, long ago, there was a time when the Prince that she was not in his good graces and therefore, he had set out to kill Anastasia Belacqua. Not because she was a woman but because of the bloodline she carried. He could recall the very day that he almost pierced her little body with his own sword out of fear. He wanted her dead and to deny her any chance of becoming a woman. As he turned to look out the stained-glass window, he began to recall the very day that sealed Anastasia's fate.
From the shadows, Prince Vlad of House Drăculești watched as a little eight-year-old girl sat on the stone bench, reading a book. Her red hair was tied into two neat braids that rested delicately on her shoulders while those light blue eyes focused intently on the written words in her book. She wore a simple light-colored cotton dress and had abandoned her shoes somewhere in the field on the Belacqua land. Her adopted father was due back today and he wanted her death before he returned, that way the blame could land on robbers or those filthy Turks instead of him.
Gripping his sword, the Prince inched forward, silently making his way closer to the girl. He chose to complete this task himself out of fear of Dragomir's retaliation. The Lord Commander was loyal the Wallachian nation but she was his daughter. Adopted or not, the little girl had become his family and she was very dear to him. He had often called the little girl his "heart's treasure" and showered her with love and affection. He had even named her heir to all of his titles and lands, making her a little countess and the future of House Belacqua. The Lord Commander had also ensured that while he was away, his daughter was educated. At her current age, she was able to read and write as easily as a noble highborn. Often, the child was found, reading to the servants and other children who were not as fortunate as her. Thus, she was adored by the low born servants at the Belacqua manor.
If it was revealed who his daughter's true murderer was, the Prince would be unsure who the troops would follow. Their Prince or their Lord Commander? He was well aware of the fact that there were many that obeyed his law simply because Dragomir Belacqua enforced them. What if he turned his back and declared war? The Prince would not risk that.
Suddenly, the child looked up and focused in on the Prince's direction. Those piercing blue eyes narrowed as she focused on something. The book fell from her lap as his breath hitched. Did she see him and if so, how did she sense his presence? He didn't want her to scream and alert those in the house. He needed this to be quick and efficient, denying her the chance to make a single sound. She stood up and took a cautious step forward, tilting her head to the side as if she was debating on coming closer. If she did, it would be much easier for the Prince to swing his sword and roll her head to the ground.
"Papa?" the girl asked in a confused voice as her nose wrinkled.
"Hello, my little firebreather, my heart's treasure."
Internally, the Prince screamed with rage. Dragomir had returned early and thus ending his chance to kill the little girl. Angrily, he watched as the Lord Commander scooped up the child, spinning around and holding her tiny body close to his own armor-clad one. Delightful laughs escaped as she told her father that she had missed him very much. In return, Dragomir said the same to her and asked what she had done while he was away, prompting the child to reveal that she had pushed the cat in the wash and found his secret library. A deep laughter escaped as he sat down and listened intently to his daughter's tale.
Deep down inside, the Prince didn't want to do this terrible thing. He didn't want to end her life but fear had forced him to hide in the shadows and wait for the opportune time to drive a sword through her chest. Maybe it was fate that Dragomir Belacqua had decided to arrive early but in the back of his mind, the Prince contemplated on whether or not this was the right course of action. The woman who greatly resembled the little girl and what she revealed was the reason why the Prince had gone on this path. Despite her chains, she taunted him from her jail and laughed at his horror when she revealed her darkest secret.
"The power of the Bloody Lady of Csejte flows through her veins" the Prince whispered, trying to force himself to remember why he had come, "She would be my downfall if I do not kill her."
"The other children made fun of me," the little girl revealed to her father, still telling all that had happened, "They said I look like a Hungarian."
Unfortunately for the child, it was true. Her features were not common in Wallachia which caused her to often be taunted on a daily basis. This just added to the Prince's list of reason why to end her life. Those rotten Hungarians had sided with the equally dreadful Ottoman Turks thus placing them, in his eyes, as enemies of Wallachia. He couldn't have a disgusting Hungarian in his midst.
"What did you say back to those nasty little brats?" Dragomir asked, tugging on one of her little braids.
"I may be Hungarian and I may have Hungarian blood in me but my heart is Wallachian and I obey only the Prince."
With those words, the Prince stared in shock and disbelief at the little girl who looked up proudly at her adopted father. It was obvious that she had little affection for the nation that she was born in and turned her back on it. There was a deep pride when she said where her heart lay and a disgust when the Hungarians were mentioned. Her loyalty was strongly with Wallachia and the Prince knew from that moment on that if she was forced with killing him or the Turkish leader, she would point the sword away from him. It was from that moment that Anastasia Belacqua was spared and had become favored in the Prince's eyes. Little did he know, it would only be a few years before she presented him with the head of a Turkish general for the first time and killed another Turk at his command.
"That's my heart's treasure," Dragomir smiled as he got up, "Now come, I have a gift for you. A hunting dog is not worthy enough to be your companion so I found you something that would match that wild rage of yours. But remember this: you will train it yourself, you'll feed it yourself, and if it dies, you will bury it yourself."
That companion that Dragomir spoke of all those years ago had grown to become the same white wolf that sat next to Anastasia Belacqua now. As instructed, she had trained it in the ways of battle and because of the ever constant presence of the beast, she gained several wolf related nicknames.
Suddenly, a messenger came running towards the throne. The young boy of twelve bowed quickly to the Prince before turning to the man on the right of the Prince. He was Baron Darius of the House Stelian who was a served on the council of the Prince's. But it was a known fact that he sought to increase his family's standing by using his children. His eldest son, Constantin, was also a captain in the military who often attempted to court Anastasia on numerous occasion, only to face her wrath and her wolf's attack. He was not as successful as the daughter of the Lord Commander and often was jealous of how she led her troops to countless victories. Baron Darius also had a daughter, Lavinia, who often vied for the affections of the Prince. It was rather common to find her seeking out the great monarch, trying to make herself a permanent fixture in the great castle. Yet, she, too, had been unsuccessful. Like their father, both siblings wanted desperate to increase their standings and saw the Prince and the House of Belacqua as their ways to do so.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Baron Stelian, your son and his troops had been captured at Silistra by the Turks!"
"What!" roared the Baron as he stepped forward, "I must go to him. I must rescue my son."
"Baron, wait," the Lord Commander called before the shorter man stormed off, "This could very well be a trap to lure one of the council."
Darius stared at the Lord Commander as if he had been slapped on the face while Dragomir held his composure and gave an impassive glance. Everyone in the kingdom knew how much the Lord Commander detested the Baron and found him to be a rather stupid and moronic individual. In return, Lord Darius was envious of the Lord Commander. It was said that he coveted Lady Romana and was determined to have her hand in marriage but in the village of Helgra, it was allowed that the woman could choose her husband and instead, married Dragomir. He was not yet Lord Commander and Darius challenged him to a dual out of rage but was easily defeated. The Baron never forgot and as the years passed, he became a member of the council, hoping to one day watch the Lord Commander fall from grace. He also hoped that by his son marrying Anastasia Belacqua, Dragomir would finally accept the Baron as an equal but instead, she harbored a hatred of their family that matched her father's.
"I agree," said the Prince, standing up, as the Baron crumpled to his feet and stared at the marble ground, "We must have a plan before aimlessly running towards the city."
The Baron looked at both the Lord Commander and the Prince with a pitiful look, unwilling to admit that they both were right. It would be chaos and murder that would result if they marched towards the captured village immediately. Yet the Baron was blinded with the desire to save his son at once and he had forgotten that he no longer had any military standing. It was at that reminder that he glared at the Lord Commander. Easily, the Prince could see that the Baron was mentally cursing Dragomir, blaming him for his son's capture.
"Silistra is by the river, is it not?"
Everyone looked to the female captain, including the Prince, to see that she was calmly still standing there with her hand resting on her wolf's head. As a military captain, she disliked the idea of one of her fellow captains being captured even more than her dislike of the idiotic Constantin Stelian. It was evident that she feared that Constantin would betray the Prince and reveal secrets and military strategy, thus possibly contributing to the downfall of Wallachia.
"It is," the Prince answered, walked towards the woman, "Why do you ask, Lady Anastasia? I thought you weren't fond of Captain Stelian."
"He is a moron but I would not have any of our troops in the hands of those filthy Turks," Anastasia replied with a savage tone, "Allow me this task of reclaiming Silistra for you, my Prince. I will not fail. I will kill them all if that is what you wish."
In that instance, the Prince saw the fire of blood lust in her sapphire blue eyes and he knew that she, like times before, would not fail him. Like her father before her, she had glory and fame to his reign and never once backed in the face of battle. Dragomir had successfully bred his adopted daughter for battle and as a result, the Turks fled at the sight of the Great Red Dragon on the field. She spared none and she would do so again if that is what her Prince desire.
"As long as you honor me by allowing me to ride with you. I wish to see the Great Red Dragon at her peak."