~A Tale of Florence~

She arrived in a carriage drawn by two creme painted horses, at the cusp of nightfall. The trip had been arduous, but not entirely unenjoyable. Lady Rosamund Alys Darlinge had always taken pleasure in traveling, though the distance she had come in a fortnight was admirable, even by her standards.

As the carriage came to a full stop, the Lady Rosamund waited patiently for the footman to open her door. When he did, she took his offered hand and exited into the calm evening.

The English countryside was a vision this time of year, as the sky seemed to glow like crystallized silver. Being near the middle of October, snow was not far off. Soon the thriving hills and dells would be covered in blankets of white and gray. With the numerous trees and cottages that dotted the land, it would be a sight lovely to behold.

Rosamund was grateful she'd be able to enjoy the winter months in her homeland. After years of being abroad, she drank in the crisp air of England like a drowning woman. It had been too long since she's traversed these paths. But she was home now, and she'd savor it without a second thought.

The pale lady calmly walked past the footman, thanking him softly as he began to unload her luggage, before she made her way towards the house in her view.

Arkae Grove was a lovely three story manor, with large windows and arches that overlooked a quiet lake surrounded by maple and ashwood trees. The structure was at least a century old, but with the constant care it received, one would never have known of its history. Bright mixes of clear cut marble and granite could be seen easily against the darkening sky, as if the house itself was made with a touch of eternal light.

It had been upwards of eight years since Rosamund had seen Arkae, and she found herself almost overwhelmed by her rising feelings of nostalgia. The longer she gazed upon it, the lighter her heart became. The reason behind her sudden return made the lady smile, but she fought down her excitement. There would be ample time to explore that elation later. For now, she would only focus on the moment.

As the footman fumbled with her two large trunks, the Lady quickly made her way towards the manor, her shoes crunching on the dirt path that led to the entrance. Though before she could come anywhere near the spacious porch, the door was thrown wide, and a figure darted out of the manor to greet her.

Rosamund's face split into a wide grin long before the figure- a woman with unruly black curls- tackled her in an embrace. The lady did little to quell her pleasure at the warm welcome, as her arms wrapped around the other smaller woman. The two continued to laugh and hug, before Rosamund peppered her companion with kisses.

Though one was dark skinned and the other quite pale, the two women had always been equals. They had grown together and had always been the best of friends. And now they embraced contentedly, giggling like schoolgirls, as they greeted each other fully.

"I should strive to visit you more often, Lyn, if I get such a lovely welcome," Rosamund teased, pulling away to look at the brown skinned woman happily. "I feel like a Queen."

"You should dearest!" Lyn, the plump young woman with dark bouncy curls said with another laugh. "You're earlier than expected, otherwise I would have rolled out the red carpet and brought out a glass of wine to meet you!"

"I'm glad you didn't go to the trouble," Rosamund said. "You've got enough to worry about without pampering me."

"But I should be able to pamper you, when you haven't darkened my door in years, lovie!" Lyn pouted. "It's cruel to make me wait so long to see you, my cousin. Shame on you."

"You have my apologies, dearest. . . But I am here now, for as long as you'll have me." Rosamund tucked her arm around Lyn's as they walked up the wide porch steps together.

"You are always welcome in my home, cousin. For as long as you wish to stay." Lyn gestured with her free hand towards Arkae. "What's mine is yours. You know that."

"Thank you, Lyn. I am obliged to you and your household," Rosamund said as they strolled past the entryway arm in arm. "It is so very good to be back."

It was sometime later that Lyn and Rosamund settled in the parlor. Rose's trunks had been taken up to one of the guest rooms, and the carriage had rolled away into the hills. Now only the two women remained, not that Rosamund minded in the slightest.

As Lyn brandished a chilled bottle of wine for Rose's pleasure, the two grew comfortable in the quaintly furnished parlor. They spoke for what seemed like hours, joking and reliving their girlhoods from so long ago.

In the dancing glow of the candelabra and crackling fireplace, the ladies basked in each other's company. It had been so long since they'd been separated by life, that it was almost too good to be true.

As Rosamund sipped her wine, she realized that the house was a bit quiet. Too quiet, all things considered… "Lyn?"

"Hmm? What is it, Rose?"

"It quite slipped my mind. . . But where's Vlad?"

At the mention of her husband, Lyn's eyes grew perceptibly lighter. "Oh, he took the children out to the lake to fish one last time before the water freezes over. I'm sure they'll be back anytime now."

"Out by the lake? This late?" Rosamund wondered, as Lyn nodded.

"Yes, they were bundled up well for the weather, and Vlad has always been a night owl. I fear it's rubbed off on our babies as well. Bedtime is rarely honored before midnight at Arkae. Hopefully it won't offend you, dearest."

"I appreciate the night, Lyn. We shall be owls together." At Lyn's relieved expression, Rose continued, "How many little ones do you have now?"

"Three," Lyn replied happily, moving to refill Rose's glass of wine. "Lydia, my oldest, and then my two-year-old twins, Jack and Jareth."

"I didn't know you'd had twins! What a wonderful gift that Gods have granted you." Rosamund had always loved children, and the news of her cousin having so many healthy ones made her heart incredibly light.

"I am blessed, Rose, there is no denying it," agreed the plump woman, with a peaceful smile. "Between Vlad and our children, I am surrounded by love. I have never been happier. Especially now that you've returned to top off my fountain of cheer."

Then with a thought, Lyn asked easily, "How goes your life, cousin? I have not heard from you in at least three years, not even in letter correspondence. I had honestly feared the worst, until I got your notice that you were coming to visit. What has happened to you? Where have you been all this time? You must tell me it all!"

Rosamund's eyebrow rose with humor, as she took another sip. "Are you sure you wish to know? It is a long story."

Lyn bounced in her seat, like she had as a little girl, before granting her cousin her full attention. "YESS, dearest! Tell me everything! You know I love a good story, and when last I spoke to you, you were in the midst of great adventures!"

Rosamund lowered her glass, beaming as Lyn's contagious giddiness captured her too. If Lyn wished to hear of Rose's exploits, who was she to refuse? It was a simple enough request, and one that she could easily indulge in. Seeing as she had looked forward to the opportunity since her arrival.

"Alright then," Rose said thinking back. "I shall tell you about my last three years. . . Though I'm not sure you'll enjoy it."

"Liar," Lyn chuckled. "Now, you must begin where we left off.… After leaving England, I recall that you found your way to Italy where you lived with our sister Aora for quite sometime. You were painting, studying the great masters, and living a life of glamour among the elite of Florence, or so your letters implied."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose," Rosamund laughed. "But it wasn't quite as glamorous as all that."

"Oh, let a woman embellish won't you?" Lyn snorted with laughter, before sobering as she recalled, "Last I heard you were smitten with some man you met.. . . You must tell me more! What became of the man, and how did you meet him in the first place? What happened after your first encounter? Spill your secrets, Rose! For I will not let you be until you do."

"Such curiosity! … But so be it. I shall tell you all."

Rosamund Darlinge considered her words carefully before she began, slipping into a deeper cadence as she relived the past. Her last three years had been full of adventures and wonderful memories. Though she set her sights on several incidents and meetings in particular. Those unshakable memories that had followed her every step of the way, even on her journey back to England.

The lady took a deep breath and began her tale.

~Three Years Ago~

Rosamund's blue eyes lifted to the high pillars above her head with an almost imperceptible sigh. Her heart ached at the beauty before her, though she had admittedly witnessed the glorious designs of the Florence Cathedral innumerable times. She had come to stay in Italy some five years ago with her younger sister Aora, though she never grew tired of the beauty of Florence and its architecture.

The woman walked through the Duomo with soft footfalls, taking her time to gaze at the frescoes that lined the dome of the cathedral. Rosamund had never considered herself particularly religious, but the artistry of the sculptures and paintings was not lost on her. The details were absolutely exquisite in their singularities, and Rosamund often found time in her weekly schedule to come and wander the cathedral.

It was a sunny June afternoon, and Rose had happily taken refuge within the cooled dome. Florence had been sweltering for the better part of the week, making it nearly unbearable to stay outdoors for more than a couple of minutes. So, for her health as well as her personal fashion choices, Rosamund had donned a simple day dress with a loose neckline and a breezy skirt of her own design. She had received more than her fair share of glares and disapproving glances on her way to the Duomo, but she had ignored them. Let them talk. Let them stare. It was their privilege, as it was hers to be comfortable.

Rosamund now smiled as a cooled breeze from the depths of the cathedral swept past her. It was subtle enough to barely ripple her light hair, but pleasant enough where she found her body relaxing. Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck and bosom, as she stared up at the frescoes, grateful to be shielded from the unforgiving sun.

It was sometime later that the Lady felt the foreign pair of eyes watching her. For a moment, she waited, before turning her light blue eyes to regard the one who was staring at her.

The man, who stood several feet away to her left, was undeniably handsome. With long white-blonde hair that draped well past his mid back, and intent pale blue eyes, he was unique. He was tall of stature and boasted a lithe physique. His clothing was obviously expensive and tailored to fit him flatteringly; a suit and day coat of the most lovely shade of forest green that Rosamund had ever seen. While his gray leather shoes shone brightly in the natural light and gleam of the candles.

The lady turned her head fully to look at him. And to her quiet surprise, the man held her gaze firmly, without any signs of remorse for being caught staring at her. He studied her for a moment longer, before he dipped his head minutely in her direction. Rosamund found herself returning the gesture, before she lifted her eyes back to the ceiling. When she still felt his eyes on her, she spoke, though didn't redirect her gaze from the frescoes.

"I would inquire to what has caught your attention so completely, sir. But I fear I already know the answer."

If Rosamund had been looking, she would have seen the brief smile that graced his lips as he replied. "I take pleasure in beholding beauty, my dear. I would scarcely restrain my senses from the things they delight in."

Rose's brow rose despite herself. His voice was like silk, and had the same effect as the sumptuous cloth. It crept deep into the folds of her dress and spine, and made unbidden goosebumps rise. Internally she was intrigued, but externally the woman kept her calm.

"So your eyes delight in the sight of me. I don't know whether to be offended by your familiarity, or flattered by your honesty."

The man calculated her expression before he took several steps closer to her. The tips of his shoes clicked against the soft stones of the cathedral, and echoed into the otherwise deserted area.

"Social Propriety obviously doesn't suit you, so I assume you to be flattered."

Rosamund finally glanced back to find him closer than before, his pale eyes searching her with a coldness that didn't match his tone. It gave the woman the slightest moment of pause, before she plowed forward.

"What gave you such an impression?" Rosamund wondered aloud with humor coloring her voice, as she tried not to laugh.

As he gestured to her person, mainly her dress, it was clear that he understood her amusement well.

"If you cared about observed decorum you wouldn't be clad in so . . . light a garment."As he said light, a smirk rose to his lips, making Rosamund's smile rise to match him.

"I am sorry if I offended you with my lack of petticoats, sir." Rosamund couldn't have cared less if it bothered him, but she kept that gem of an admission to herself.

His pale eyes seemed to spark again as he gently shook his head. White strands of gold wafted about his handsome face, as he chuckled softly. "Speak no apologies on my account, my lady. The view has been most enjoyed and appreciated."

Rosamund found herself laughing heartily at his bluntness, a rosy hue rising to cover her pale skin. If she had been younger or a maiden, his words might have flustered her. But having been married before, the woman found his words refreshing and could relish them for what they were. He made no unwanted advances, or proposals. He merely complimented her beauty and physical virtues sincerely. Her face lit up at the thought.

Then before Rosamund could think to introduce herself, the man was offering her a bow. "I shan't take up anymore of your time, my dear. I wish you a fair afternoon."

Rosamund felt the smallest pang of regret, as she bid him farewell. "Good afternoon, sir."

His lips quirked upward again, before he turned and stalked away the way he had come. Rosamund watched him go, and listened to the click, click, clicking of his heels disappear into the depths of the Duomo. Though even after he had taken his leave, Rosamund found that the feeling of refreshing giddiness stayed with her.

With a small snort of laughter, the woman shrugged and strolled deeper into the cathedral. She would spend another hour among the artistry, before making her way home for dinner.

A shame he couldn't join me for dinner, Rosamund thought humorously, as she sat down at one of the countless pews to think. I would have enjoyed his company.

But she then pushed the thought away. She wasn't one to pine, especially over strangers. So she locked her thoughts of the handsome stranger away and continued to study the breathtaking structure well into the late afternoon. Never once considering that she'd ever see him again…

"Oh my goodness, Rosamund! You are simply scandalous!. . . . I love it!" Lyn laughed, as she leaned forward in her seat. "Why on earth, didn't you introduce yourself to him? He sounds like a lovely specimen of a man. And he clearly appreciated your feminine stature."

Rosamund snickered at her cousin's flabbergasted state, secretly enjoying how much Lyn was invested in her story. "Because it's not nice to yell after strangers in a cathedral, and he obviously had somewhere else to be."

"Don't you use logic on me, love," Lyn said with a fake sternness entering into her tone. "Matters of the heart don't follow the laws of horse sense."

"Who said he had anything to do with my heart?"

Lyn bounced her dark eyebrows up and down playfully. "Your eyes told me, dearest. . . Now back to the point! When did you meet him again?"

"Whoever said I met him again?"

"You mean to tell me that you met two handsome strangers in Florence?"

"Oh, hush you!" Rose gently smacked Lyn's forearm, as her light eyes crinkled with mirth. "You're ruining the story with all your guessing."

"Then you must be frank with me, my darling," Lyn chorused, nudging her back before reaching out to grab her hand. As her smaller hand grasped onto Rose's, Lyn offered her a bashful smile. "Please? Please divulge the rest."

"Very well... but no more interruptions or it will go straight from my head." It was clearly an empty threat on Rosamund's part, and both women knew it. But it didn't stop Lyn from nodding her agreement.

Rose refocused her thoughts before saying, "I didn't meet the handsome stranger again until almost two weeks later. And I must confess that Aora's connections are completely to blame for it…."

Lyn jostled in her seat once more, chortling as she settled in for the remainder of the story.

Rose held her breath, as she raised a tentative hand to rap at the door before her. She had never been particularly shy, but the woman always felt some apprehension when she arrived to work.

Since she had come to Italy, Rosamund had been honing her artistic abilities. After the death of her husband, she had done her best to become independent. Sure, she had enough wealth to live comfortably to the end of her days, but it wasn't enough. The lady was not happy when she laid idle. So she had taken one of her talents and molded it to its maximum form. Rose had always had a midas touch for painting and drawing, but in her years in Florence, she had soared into the confident shoes of a professional. Something that she was infinitely proud of.

Aora, her bubbly sister and best friend, was a well accepted socialite in Florence. And being thus, she had suggested Rose's expertise to all those in her inner circle. The rest was history. Now, Rosamund Darlinge had become a well known artist for the Upper Class of the city. She had nearly constant business, and had made a name for herself.

In truth, it was all she could have hoped for.

Currently, Rose stood at the threshold of her newest client. The woman had never heard of the Viscount that Aora had handed her the address too, but she had gone willingly. He had offered to pay her three times the amount that she normally charged for a portrait, so she didn't worry about the particulars. He was staying at the Piazza della rossa, in one of the best lodgings that money could buy. The Rossa boasted some of the most lavish accommodations in all of Florence, and was a barely hidden wonder of Italy. Rosamund had walked by it countless times since her arrival, but had never been granted access inside. . . Well before today.

After several unnerving moments, the door swung open to reveal a spotlessly dressed attendant. Rosamund gave him her name, and he bid her to follow him. She was expected, just as Aora had assured her she would be.

The chambers they passed were exquisite and varied in shades of beige and pearl white. Expensive decor littered the living space in lovely displays, while countless canvasses hung upon the walls. They brought the only reprieve from the neverending white, making the odd colored canvasses stand out against their surroundings. Rosamund instantly fell in love with it all; her inner artist sated.

The attendant finally escorted her to one of the handful of parlors, before taking his leave. Rosamund sat down upon one of the downy loveseats, struggling not to fidget, as she continued to observe the chamber. Several minutes later, another man entered the room, and her heart skipped a beat.

There, striding calmly through the doorway, was the man from the cathedral! Though his endless waves of white-gold were held up by a black ribbon, instead of cascading freely about his shoulders, he was unmistakable. Rosamund's eyes shifted from his handsome, angular face towards his body and immediately felt herself flush.

Today he wore nothing save for a pair of breeches and a crushed velvet robe the shade of starlight. His chest was bared for her disbelieving eyes, while his feet moved without the burden of shoes against the fine persian rug.

Rosamund forced her gaze to lift from his finely chiseled torso to meet his gaze again. For a horrifying moment she was frozen in place, before she regained her composure. Shooting up, she dipped into a small curtsey, as was proper. One of his eyebrows lifted in amusement as he himself dipped into a short bow.

"Miss Rosamund Darlinge, I presume?"

"Viscount." She returned, fighting the urge to grin like a fool at her good fortunes. "Thank you for having me."

"Please, my dear, you may spare us the niceties. We have met before. You may address me as Lucius while you are here," he said as he gestured for her to sit.

Rosamund slowly sat back down, and Lucius immediately joined her on the loveseat. He was close enough for her to catch a whiff of his personal scent, making her shiver. Fresh pommade and cologne that made her mouth water. Though she did her best to reign in her internal drooling as he spoke again.

"Your sister speaks most highly of you, Miss Darlinge. When I explained to her that I was seeking an artist, she was most eager to advertise your services."

Rosamund knew that the hint of a blush was lighting her cheeks, but she did her best to stay professional. He had asked her here for a painting, nothing more.

"Aora is very sweet… I would say that she speaks for me merely as a sister, but I believe that my work speaks for itself. I have years of experience and have done many portraits in that time."

The man, poised so expertly on the loveseat beside her, flashed her a small smile. The action made Rose's stomach clench.

Why was he bringing out this reaction in her? She wasn't a silly schoolgirl or a flakey female, by any stretch. So why in hell's name was she swooning?!

"I would be inclined to concur with your assessment, my dear," he drawled, with an unreadable twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "Seeing as the lovely Aora showed me samples of your art when last I visited her."

Rosamund had had no idea that Aora knew her handsome stranger. Nor had she expected him to be so familiar with her sister. Though she couldn't say that it was an unwanted development.

The two were silent for a long moment before Rosamund cleared her throat. "So I assume you wish to have a portrait painted?"

He nodded, studying her intently with seemingly playful eyes, though he didn't say another word as he watched her.

"I brought my paints and a canvass with me," she said after a moment. "Though your attendant had me leave them near the entryway. . . I was unaware of whether or not you'd wish to start today. If it's a bad time I can come back tomorrow."

"Heavens no," Lucius replied with an easy shake of his bejeweled hand. "It would be a waste to have you leave now. Not when you came all this way."

Rosamund blinked, before a smile lit her features. "As you wish… Where am I to set up?"

"Right here," he said, gesturing about the room. "Is the light suitable?"

The woman nodded, while Lucius called out for the attendant to bring in her equipment. Once the attendant had come and gone- leaving the palette, paints, canvas, and stand- Rosamund began to set up a workstation. She was so lost to the task that she almost didn't notice Lucius slipping out of his crushed velvet robe, before draping himself across the loveseat.

The lady stopped, glancing over at him with a wide smile as her amusement almost overflowed. Now, only the breeches remained, and her eyes were able to wander unhindered. Her gaze drifted back to his, as she lifted an eyebrow at him.

Lucius smirked as he lounged fully across the seat. His expression spoke of absolute humor, as he openly regarded the artist. "I thought it was only fair that I pose this way, Miss Darlinge. You offered me such a lovely view when we first met, it would be disgraceful not to return the courtesy."

Rosamund snickered, as she purposefully mixed her colors on the palette. "The view is most … appreciated." She mirrored the words he had offered her in the cathedral, not bothering to hide the upturning of her mouth, as she fixed her canvas and looked to her model expectantly. "Is that how you wish to be painted?"

"Yes. . . Though I am open to suggestions." His voice was a purr of deep tones, as he openly teased her.

"I wouldn't even know what suggestions to make, my lord. You posed better on your own, than anything I could have imagined." She chuckled, dipping her liner brush into a watered-down gray.

"Careful, Miss Darlinge," he bid, as she began to paint a basic outline on her fresh canvas. "Such flattery can lead to treacherous paths."

"I thought we had passed that point long ago?" She said, as she shifted her focus between the sprawled man and her paint.

"Have we?" He spoke coyly, making her heart pound just a little harder. "I was unaware."

"We have already broken propriety without a chaperone present. Not to mention your current state of dress." There was no judgement to her words, merely observation, as she continued with her outline. "I dare say we've already breached the rapids, at this point."

From his place upon the loveseat, Lucius snorted, rolling his eyes heavenward. Though otherwise, the man held perfectly still. From his controlled stance, it was clear that he had sat for portraits before. Rosamund absently wondered how many pictures of himself the man had requested, before he recaptured her attention with a sigh.

After that, the two fell into a comfortable silence, while Rose delved into her art. The only sound in the room was the soft brush strokes that the woman made, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. They continued like this for the better part of an hour before Lucius broke the calm with a question.

"Your sister mentioned that you were married, Miss Darlinge. . . What happened to your significant other?" The question was blunt, but Rosamund found that she didn't cringe away from it.

"He died, about ten years ago," came the simple reply.

The man's attention was almost staggering in that moment. "I am sorry."

Her features softened and she stopped painting to look at her model. "Please don't be. It was a long time ago, and there was no love lost. It was an arranged marriage, that held very little for me."

"And you never found yourself looking for another's affection, after his passing?"

"I was happy to be free," she told him truthfully. "I didn't see the need to chain myself down again. Not when I was finally happy."

He seemed to consider her words before asking softly, "Would you ever consider trying again with another? If he had no desire to chain you down?"

Rosamund's face crinkled at the notion. She hadn't given the idea much thought over the years since her husband's death. But as she answered Lucius, she knew that her words were sincere. "If I was with the right man, I wouldn't hesitate... I suppose I just haven't found him yet."

"Or you have and you merely haven't gotten to know him yet," the Viscount countered with a smile that reached up to touch his eyes.

Rosamund felt her mouth go dry, as she fought to understand his words. Was she reading too much into it, or had he truly meant it? She couldn't be sure.

"Perhaps." It was all she could muster.

Lucius was still again for quite some time, before his intent gaze landed on the woman again. When she looked up from her canvas at him, it seemed as if he was peering into her very soul.

"May I call on you in future, Miss Darlinge? I fear that having you disappear after finishing my portrait is a rather unacceptable prospect."

A bright pink blush rose to coat Rose's face and neck, as she felt her heart flip in her chest. "I would hardly refrain from something I'd delight in, Lucius. You may call on me anytime you'd like."

Once again she mirrored his words, and Lucius chuckled as he returned to his earlier pose. For the remainder of the afternoon, the two talked of pleasantries, though both knew that things were about to change. . . for the better.

As Rosamund stopped talking, the parlor fell into silence, save for the old grandfather clock, until Lyn broke it anxiously, "That can't be it! Why did you stop?"

Rosamund glanced behind her cousin, with happy blue eyes. "It's late, and I just saw your husband sneak in with your children a moment ago. The rest of the story can wait for tomorrow."

"But what happens next?" Lyn's jaw hung open as she laughed in shock. "How did your first date go? How did you fall in love with him?"

Rosamund laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her cousin's forehead tenderly. As she pulled back to meet Lyn's eyes, she felt her heart grow warm. "That is a story for tomorrow night, dearest. But for now, you must find rest."

"You promise to finish the story tomorrow," Lyn hedged purposefully.

Rosamund held the plump woman close with a contented sigh, "You have my word."

"Very well," Lyn agreed, as she rose from the sofa and turned to exit the parlor. "Until tomorrow, Rose. If you need anything, feel free to come and find me."

"I shall. Goodnight dearest one; kiss your babies for me."

Lyn blew her a kiss before disappearing around the corner, and Rosamund found herself sinking back into her chair. She watched the fire crackle in the stone hearth for what seemed like a lifetime, as she thought back on Lucius.

Rosamund let her fingers dip past the neckline of her dress, as she stared into the flames, pulling out a well concealed necklace chain. Suspended upon the burnished chain, rested a stunning circular band of the purest silver and green. An engagement ring. Her engagement ring.

Rosamund felt tears rise in her eyes, as she thought of the man who had offered her the ring. And she knew that she would enjoy telling Lyn the second half of her story, more than anything. . . But for now, she would rest and dream of Florence.

A/N: This was a commission for a friend that I originally posted on Deviantart, but I wanted to share it here too. I plan on having a second part of this sometime in the near future, so stay tuned. ;p

This story was super fun to write, not only because of the Luci snark and goodness, but because of my own little self insert into the story. X'D Lyn/Vlad wrote itself in there, though if you want more where that came from go check out my story Dancing into the Night, it's Lyn/Vlad central.

Also, AU's for Harry Potter characters is extremely trying and gratifying, and I love having Lucius without magic/not being a pureblood. lol

Quick Disclaimers: I do NOT own: the cover picture (which I found on google), Harry Potter (universe, books, movies, or characters belong to JK Rowling), Lucius Malfoy, Jason Isaacs, or Dracula (Vlad).

Rosamund Alys Darlinge (c) Than Blood while Lyn (lil ol' me) and Arkae Grove (c) belong to yours truly Lyn Harkeran.

Please drop me a review and let me know what you thought guys! I love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

~Lyn