A snippet from my longer story Darkness is Falling. I thought it could stand alone as a one-shot about Count Dracula's point of view on Vlad's coronation. Apologies to any Darkness is Falling readers as this isn't new but I hope you enjoy it. xo
The sun, a burning orb of red-orange, was finally sinking in the horizon. The sky was ablaze with vibrant colours of red and yellow intermingling with the cold black of the encroaching night. Count Dracula shifted restlessly from one foot to another waiting until it was safe for him to leave the confines of his castle. Deep in thought, he failed to notice the beauty of the sunset. Once the last glimmer of red-orange dipped below the horizon, he transformed into a bat which gave him the freedom to fly in the cool night air without alarming the peasants below. The sensation of the air beneath his wings was still as pleasurable as it had been over six hundred years ago when he first transformed.
Flight enabled him to organise his thoughts which were focused on his son and heir as usual. Vladdy's reaction to the Guild's proposal of a peace treaty had been decidedly muted. He had anticipated that his son would be overjoyed at the news but instead Vladdy was suspicious. His son suspected the Guild was going after the source and biding their time before launching an attack. Yet he still refused to sanction any form of retaliation against the breathers. Vladimir was always so ... what was that word? Oh yes merciful. Hell only knew where his son had gotten that particular characteristic.
The Count transformed and landed softly on his feet on the edge of a cliff where he could gaze across the valley. This had been a favourite spot for centuries because from this vantage point he could admire the magnificence of the Dracula castle and the surrounding villages. This land was only part of the legacy which he had bequeathed to his only son and heir. It was only a few years since he had fled the family castle with his children and servant and ended up in the United Kingdom. A peasant mob had reacted badly to his methods of dispute resolution. Apparently eating their clan leaders had been unacceptable. There had been a time where he would have quite happily wiped the villages off the face of the earth but times had changed; he had a young male heir to protect. His decision to flee had of course been much derided by some of the other vampire families. However his return had been triumphant. The very same vampires who had derided him were compelled to bow before him as the Regent.
Preparing for the Halloween Ball reminded him of the arrangements for Vladimir's coronation as the Chosen One. He had always known his son was going to change the world but even he could never have anticipated that Vladimir would be the Chosen One – a legend of the vampiric world.
He would never forget the night that Vladimir was crowned. The castle had been packed to the rafters with vampires from around the world. It was not just the clan leaders who attended, nearly every member of each clan had attended, all of them intrigued to see the so called Chosen One. Rows upon rows of candles had blazed and the blood ran freely. Despite Vladdy's vehement veto of human sacrifices, no one could say the Draculas didn't know how to throw a party. He still remembered with a shiver of delight how the crowds had instantly hushed at Vladimir's appearance on the red carpet. As Regent, it had been his duty to crown his son. Standing at the end of the hall, holding the Crown of Power and watching his son's progress up the red carpet, the Count thought he was going to burst with pride. Vladimir had been resplendent in traditional vampire attire of morning dress and cloak. Rows of vampires fell to their knees one by one as Vladimir passed them. Before Vladimir kneeled at his feet to be crowned, the Count had caught a glance of his son's face, the memory still troubled him. Vladdy had been whiter than white, pale even for a vampire, his expression an agonising mixture of sadness, determination and resignation but it was his son's eyes that still stung the Count's conscience when he lay in his coffin unable to sleep in the day. Sparkling sapphire blue his eyes revealed the anguished pain of someone in living hell. Nonetheless the Count still placed the crown upon his son's head. What happened next proved indisputably to all present that Vladimir Dracula was the Chosen One.
The ground rumbled with ferocity behind their feet, lightning sparked through the medieval hall and a strange blue-purple light surrounded Vladimir as he rose to his feet and turned to face his people. Vladimir rose into the air, lightning dancing around his figure, the light surrounding him almost too painful to look at. Some of them, only a handful, had witnessed a similar phenomenon five years earlier when a thirteen year old Vladimir had placed the crown on his head in the middle of a fight to the death with slayers. It was both a terrifying and inspiring sight for all vampires present whether or not they had seen the preview. Vladimir's voice, deep, harsh and majestic, echoed throughout the hall and within their heads at the same time. "Vampires recognise me. I am the Chosen One."
Vladimir gracefully descended back onto the ground and suddenly all the light and noise appeared to flow back into him leaving the hall candlelit and silent.
Yes, there were many reasons why the Count would never forget the night his son was crowned. His overwhelming pride for his son and the glorious sight of his son glittering with power were the memories he treasured. But when he was tossing and turning in his coffin, it was that dreadful memory of his son's eyes which haunted him.