I've been playing with this idea for a while now and I finally got the plot figured out in my head. I really hope you like this. English is not my first language so sorry if there are any odd mistakes in this.
Enjoy! :-)

PLEASE READ THIS AS SOME OF THE DETAILS MAY NOT MAKE SENSE LATER ON.

Vasile is a Romanian name of Greek origin, the name means King and is pronounced; va see leh

Doru is an original Romanian name meaning Longing and is pronounced; Dohh roo

Ion, The Romanian form of the Greek name Ioannes, meaning God is gracious and pronounced; Eye on

Sorin, Romanian name derived from the word soare, meaning sun. Its pronounced; Soh rin

Radu cel Frumos,(pronounced Rah doo) also known by his Turkish name Radu Bey was the younger brother of Vlad Țepeș and Voivode ( Which means Prince) of the principality of Wallachia. Their father was Vlad II Dracul and their mother was, Princess Cneajna of Moldavia. Other than Vlad the impaler Radu had two other older siblings, Mircea II and Vlad Călugărul, both of whom briefly ruled Wallachia (Romanian before it was called Romania). Radu converted to Islam and entered Ottoman service, this seriously angered his brother even though Vlad had grown up with the Ottomans too. When Vlad the impaler was removed from the throne Radu took over and ruled from 1462-1473 when he was knocked off the throne. He re-took it quickly but was knocked off again, this happened on and off until his death in 1475 when Basarab al III-lea cel Bătrân took the throne from him and ruled until his death in 1477 only breifly loosing the throne to Vlad the impaler in 1476.

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Aaron Hotchner, because his name hadn't been Vasile Stolojan in centuries, sat at his mahogany desk in his large rectangular traditional looking office. The walls were lined with inbuilt bookshelves separated by aqua blue panels, the floor was a reasonably light hardwood. All together it felt more like a home office than something one would find on the top floor of The Hale Museum of European History, Hotch spent more time there than at home so it seemed fitting to him; home was just a place to sleep. The work day had just started but Aaron had been there since seven, he was always in early, beaten only by security guards at the shift change. His office door faced the desk and Hotch could see shadows of feet moving past on their way to their own offices, being a Vampire his hearing was excellent and he could easily hear the careful click, click, click of Penelope Garcia's way to high heels, Garcia was a sweet young woman with a big heart and a bubbly personality, she was also the museum's graphic designer. Her job was to design posters, leaflets and generally anything to advertise the museum; one of her job requirements was to be creative with color and if her bright yellow dress and neon pink shoes were anything to go by Garcia excelled at her chosen occupation.

Hotch was the museum's Curator of The European Early Modern Era over in the west wing, it covered everything from fifteen hundred right through to eighteen hundred. He was probably the most qualified man in the world for that job, he hadn't just read about those centuries he had lived them. Aaron was a pure expert, especially on Romanian history. The reason he was in his office rather than checking on the exhibit designer and her Prepartor, Emily Prentiss and Russ Montgomery casually known as Monty, was because a new item had been donated. The item was a sword of Romanian origin and exquisite, normally letters of thanks would have been Derek Morgan's duty since he was the Registrar but Hotch knew that sword well, it had belonged to the detonators ancestor Sorin Albescu and had saved his life on three separate occasions. Sorin had been one of Hotch's closest friends, along with Ion Miklos, back when he was still Vasile, they were good men and even better warriors , it hurt Hotch remembering his friends knowing they were lost. He, Ion and Sorin had fought under his father Vald Dracul the thirds command, not that anyone knew Hotch was his son, no, to everyone that knew him he was just the orphaned son of a knight that Vlad took a liking to when he was young. They had battled side by side later under the command of his Uncle Radu cel Frumos too.

Having known the donator's ancestor so well Hotch felt like he needed to respond personally. He looked up to the sword sitting in its protective black case and remembered Sorin, the man had been tall somewhere near six-foot-five and completely bald by the time he was twenty-six. Sorin had been mainly known for his jokes though, he could barely go a sentence without one or at least some sarcasm, his personal favourite one was to call Hotch Voivode, Sorin was one of the very few people who knew Hotch's real sire, it was just a silly joke though, Hotch was just the bastard son it was his younger brother Mihnea who would take the throne, not that Aaron had wanted to rule. He had always been happy being part of a team, he never wanted to rule everything. Hotch remembered Ion, a friend and fellow knight telling Sorin to rein in his jokes but that never happened. With his memories shifted to Ion Miklos Aaron felt tears well in his chocolate eyes, not for Ion but for Ion's son, Doru. The man Hotch had loved more than anything in all the world, the name Doru meant 'longing' and that was what Hotch had done for five and a half centuries, longed for him back.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door pulling him from his memories and back to present day, Hotch wiped the tears quickly from his eyes as the door opened and David Rossi appeared in the doorway. The Italian man wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit with shined shoes, a deep blue tie and a smile, Rossi was the museum's Curator of European Art History and had the next office along from him. Rossi was also the closest thing to a best friend the Vampire had, then again Hotch wasn't really one for friends since he out lived them all.

"Hey, Aaron."

"Hi, Dave. What brings you to my sanctum?" Hotch asked with a smile.

"Well, the new Docent has his first tour today and I was wondering if you wanted to come watch with me."

"And what? See if he falls down the stairs and takes everyone out with him like the Archie did?"

Rossi chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, pretty much."

Hotch thought for a moment and then looked down to the finished letter, he had to check on Emily Prentiss and Monty but that could wait and after the memories that had just bombarded him, he needed a little cheering up. Hotch agreed and left his office with Rossi by his side, light poured in from the large Gothic widows that lined the office floor and Hotch had to admit it was a beautiful American morning.

"Doctor Hotchner, Doctor Rossi." Called Derek Morgan as he approached them from the right end of he corridor. "Are you going to see the new Docent?"

"Yes we are, Morgan." Said Hotch . "you know, just because we have three phDs between us doesn't mean you have to call us doctor, that's just etiquette."

"Yeah..." Agreed Rossi. "...totally not needed between friends."

Morgan smiled and stretched his arms out at his sides for a moment, he had clearly been hunched over his desk for a while, then again his job was to keep track of all museum objects as well as maintaining records on ownership and borrowing. It wasn't an easy job.

"Alright then. Lets go watch the kid, I wanna see if we get ten pin bowling like the last one."

It didn't take more than two minuets to walk down a level and to the balcony that overlooked the museum lobby. Hotch felt his stomach growl, he had to eat at least once every four days and he hadn't in three, Rossi and Morgan were talking about the young Docent as school children surrounded him but Hotch was far to busy trying to keep his fangs in. From his left pocket came his cell phone, he had a little app that told him how long until sunset, it was quite some hours yet but Hotch could cope; he'd feed that night.

"The kid looks nervous." Said Morgan leaning on the sturdy stone railing.

"Of course he is."

Rossi looked at Morgan with a well obvious expression on his face, neither had noticed Hotch pull out his phone. Morgan mumbled something that Hotch barely heard despite his excellent hearing since he wasn't really listening and then the older dark haired man spoke again.

"What's his name?"

"Oh, em." Morgan stood straight as he thought for a moment. "Garcia told me earlier, she seems to like him even though she hasn't spoken to him yet." He thought or another moment."Yeah, its Reid. Spencer Reid."

Rossi opened his mouth to speak again but Morgan shushed him saying he wanted to hear how the kid started. Morgan and Rossi struggled to hear as Reid began to speak, he was all the way on the other side of the marble lobby surrounded by children but Hotch heard him perfectly.

"Welcome to The Hale Museum of European History, I'm..."

Hotch snapped up as he heard the man speak, he hadn't seen Reid before but when he looked up there was no mistaking the thin frame, the chestnut locks and dark eyes, especially not the silk like voice.

"Doru."

Night had fallen and Hotch couldn't take his hunger, if he waited any longer he could go on a rampage; he wouldn't let that happen again, not after what Renáta had taught him. The street was dark and cool with a soft breeze, Aaron stood in a secluded ally way between a book store and a coffee shop. Seeing Spencer Reid had brought back so many memories of the man he loved, of coagulated blood coating a dust covered floor. Hotch had bottled it up for almost six hundred years, he could do it no more and finally let himself cry while mumbling to himself about how much he missed Doru and how sorry he was.

"Are you alright?"

A woman suddenly appeared at his side, she was African-American and had long black hair with a sky blue dip dye that somehow brought out her eyes. He hadn't heard her approach but as he looked up at her his ears filled with the sound of her heartbeat, the smell of her skin in his nostrils. Hotch was so very hungry and she smelt like life. With her pulse thumping in his ears Hotch locked their eyes, maroon meeting golden hazel.

"Sleep." He commanded and the unnamed woman collapsed in his arms.

Hotch sighed as he exposed her floral perfume scented neck and plunged his sharp fangs into her skin. She was a diabetic he could tell, the insulin had a rather distinctive taste that was different from naturally occurring insulin. Hotch didn't mind though, he was too hungry to worry about flavour. Blood coated his teeth and tongue slipping down his throat and satisfying his body, as he felt her heart begin to slow he pulled back; gone were the days of draining people in the street. With the woman unconscious in his left arm Aaron brought his right hand up and pricked his thumb on his fang then rubbed it over the wound healing it and hiding the fact that the Vampire had ever been there. He carried her over to one of the benches that lined the dimly lit street and set her down, she'd wake in a few minuets none the wiser. Her neck might hurt a little but any evidence was gone.

Aaron peered down at his wrist watch, it read one-thirty-three. He had to go home, even a Vampire needed sleep. Over the centuries there had been so much lore on Vampires and as far as Hotch could tell most of it was false, he had to feed on human blood yes but he was unaffected by sunlight or crucifixes, even stakes. On one of his darker days in sixteen-forty-eight, his two hundredth birthday, he'd tried staking himself, it hurt like hell but didn't kill him. In the end Hotch just had to pull the wood from his chest and carry on. He did have amazing vision and hearing, sense of smell and speed when necessary. He did heal instantly which was handy. The only thing that did seem to work against him was silver, it burnt and sizzled his skin causing such intense pain that he could hardly stand it.

Aaron hated what he was, what he'd been cursed to be. He wasn't alive but he wasn't allowed to die either. Over the years Hotch had managed to numb himself to most emotional aspects of the world, but Doru had been reincarnated causing his dam to burst and for the first time in almost six hundred years his heart ached.

The Vampire walked towards his home slowly and silently with memories flooding through his head, one in particular stood out...the first time he met his sweet Doru.

It was a warm evening in fourteen-seventy and Radu cel Frumos was celebrating his seventh year on the throne of Wallachia, Vasile Stolojan was happy for his Uncle. The battle for the throne would never be over but Radu had been determined to have pause in the fighting not just for him to celebrate but for his knights to relax, they had earned it ten times over. Radu looked over at his nephew s e ated at the opposite end of the great hall, the room was dimly lit by flickering candle light but Radu could easily see the soft smile on Vasile's lips as he laughed and joked with his friends, two fellow knights Ion Miklos and Sorin Albescu, both good men and strong warriors. Ion seemed to say something serious for a moment and wandered off out the great hall while Sorin stumbled off probably to get himself another drink. Radu was glad they were there to protect his nephew as Vasile did for them. Suddenly Vasile looked up and locked eyes with his Uncle they shared a knowing look and a quick smile and then went back to their separate worlds like they didn't know who the other was. Radu had wanted to announce who Vasile really was to all of Wallachia but the knight had refused, he had no need nor want to rule and Radu respected that; the one person who seemed to deserve the throne didn't want it. Vasile was happy being a commanding knight and Radu wouldn't force him.

Vasile knew his Uncle cared for him, Radu was a good man and the chocolate eyed knight was more than happy to fight for him. His father had a hatred for Radu that went far beyond sibling rivalry but Vasile saw that Radu was a good man, and that he was a better ruler. Vlad had been the one to abandon him with his Uncle Radu after all, thankfully Radu had cared for him with the same love he had for his own daughter, Maria. He turned back from the quick glance he and Radu had shared just in time for Sorin to slam another full cup down, Sorin had been drunk pretty much since birth and so no one really noticed the smell or the way he had to slam everything.

"Where is Ion?" The tall man asked as he seated himself.

"He said he needed to get someone. You were here when he said it."

"I have more important things to do than listen to Ion."

"Yes." Vasile said as he wiped the ale from his arm where Sorin had spilt some from his cup. "Help people to bath in ale it seems."

"Oh you love it, Voivode." Sorin chuckled and made a small bowing motion.

"You should not call me that."

"Whatever."

Suddenly Ion returned with a young man in tow behind him, he couldn't have been more than sixteen, he had his face hidden under a dark hood but Vasile could still tell his lack of age. Vasile himself was only twenty-two and knew how some would look down on a man for his youth.

"Vasile, Sorin." Ion began as he clamped a hand down on the hooded man's shoulder. "This is my son, Doru."

Ion looked down at his son and pulled the hood from his head revealing the most beautiful man Vasile had ever seen, he had chestnut locks that curled a little at the ends and dark brown eyes that Vasile could easily get lost in. Doru's skin was milk white and looked like it was soft to the touch. Ion never looked up from his son and Sorin was far too drunk to notice Vasile staring.

"He turned sixteen three days ago and I think its time for him to learn to fight rather than reading all those books."

Ion seemed determined to make his son a warrior but Doru looked horrified at the idea.

"Its nice to meet you." Said Doru but he was quickly slapped on the back of the head, not with malice but the slap didn't look painless.

"Look at people when you greet them, Doru. Its polite."

"What do you care about being polite, old man?" Asked a very drunk Sorin.

Ion didn't respond, he just looked down at his son and waited until Doru raised his head and spoke in the same hushed voice.

"Its nice to meet you." He said again.

Vasile and Doru's eyes locked for a moment and the younger man felt his heart quicken. His father had always spoken of Vasile but he hadn't expected someone so...so handsome. The knight had rich hazel eyes that sparkled in the candle light and scruffy short black hair that looked like he had attempted to tame it, Doru liked it...a lot. Vasile's arms were exposed from his dark tunic coated in a little dirt and sweat from training earlier that day but that wasn't what Doru found himself thinking about, no, instead he was thinking about what it would be like to have the knights strong arms wrapped around him in an embrace.

It was only a spilt second that the two had their eyes locked but it was enough to discover one thing...they were in love.