Disclaimer: The story Dracula, and all its characters, settings, and situations, belong to Bram Stoker. Who died in 1912. Yeah, not me.
Warnings: Definite mentions of slash. Not the main focus of the story, but it is there. Don't like, don't read. Also pretty anti-religious. If you have a problem with that, there is a back button. Any flames I receive for either of the aforementioned things will be completely ignored, because anyone who sent them is an absolute idiot. Are we clear? Good.
Notes: Okay, this takes place sometime before Dracula goes to Jonathan's room in Lust for the Flesh. It's basically just his thoughts on life, the universe, and everything. If you were looking for something as... er, explicit as that, you will not find it here.
And since this story is mainly for everyone who liked Lust for the Flesh, I wanted to thank all of my reviewers: Good Evening, Kurohyou Nightcat, Nightcrawlerlover, DarkPriestessofAssimbya, and yes, even randomperson. My favorite-ers: BloodChilde, who also put my story on their alert list(?), BloodyRoses13, Kurohyou Nightcat again, Oracion Seven, WickedGlamour, little miss artemis, and onederful. You are all thanked and appreciated so, so much.
And, finally, one question: Because I myself received two suggestions of this sort, I just wanted to pose this question to the general public: Do you think I should continue with a full-length story about my take on the characters from Dracula? Please answer in a review- and yes, this is me asking for a review. It makes me feel good.
To any humans, the night was… Just that- a night. Dark. Eerie. Cold. But high in his stone castle, staring out the windows of his own private quarters, Count Dracula would have had much more to say.
To him, the night breathed. It sang with sheer majesty, raw power humming in the air. The tune was dark, seductive, enticing. Utterly beautiful. Humans couldn't hear it. They couldn't understand it. They couldn't experience what Dracula did, at his window, one with the night.
It was a familiar pastime of his, one that never got older, no matter how many years he had spent on this Earth. Sometimes he believed it was the only thing that kept him sane. If he had ever been, he thought with a dark chuckle.
Many times he had come here, lost himself in the experience, neither time nor even thought comprehendible until the dawn came and he would retreat, preferring to save his battle with the sun for another day. There was no need for complex things such as motion or thought. It was simple, experienced only in that moment, like a dream one always forgot upon waking, but which always returned. It was the most peaceful he'd ever been, or ever would be.
But to-night, no, to-night there was no room for peace. Plans had been set in motion, plans drawing to a close to-night. He had many things to think about, and instead of becoming one with the night again, he merely leaned against the window's edge, gazing upon the moon as he sorted through all of his thoughts.
He found the moon that night amusing. True, he found many things amusing, he supposed he had to, living as long as he had- if one could call his four centuries upon Earth 'living'.
The moon was full. Among other things, this struck him as a twist of fate, destiny's joke, that it should be full on this night, the night so many of his plans commenced, the night when the dying day of June began, the night when Jonathan Harker would become his.
Dracula stirred slightly at this, shifting. Yes, Jonathan Harker was the root of everything- his plans, his problems, his desires.
The Brides knew nothing of his newest plot. As far as they were concerned, he was trying to get to England, and had, along the way, acquired a new human pet for them. They couldn't understand that, in Dracula's mind, England could wait in the face of such pleasure as he was sure to receive from his newest acquisition.
They had been very unhappy when he had denied them him that night. They didn't understand why their Master had claimed him. They'd never seen anything like that in him before. So he had been forced to go hunting again, bringing them back a new babe to appease them. He knew it would not satisfy them for long. They had not had a full-grown human to play with as they pleased in so long. They wanted Harker. They wanted what was his and no one else's.
For a moment, Dracula had to calm his rage before thinking again. Something was… different in the Brides. They were harsher. Crueler. Less feeling. They thought of nothing but having blood to feast on and humans to terrify. They were the epitome of what the humans thought them to be.
No, Dracula could not understand it. Perhaps it was because they were of a different gender, perhaps because he was the First, and they his kin. He fervently hoped it was the former, else all his plans would come to naught with Jonathan.
Whatever the reason, Dracula was not like his Brides. He could feel. Understand. He had emotions. He could imagine a life other than his own. These were things that the Brides were incapable of. They were like animals. It was them, not him, who were the 'soulless monsters' humans were so terrified of.
His lip curled in disgust. Humans. What an awful race. They were arrogant, foolish, pompous, ignorant, self-righteous, stupid, and narcissistic. Their time on Earth was so short, even for the elderly. How could they presume to know all? They knew nothing. In their race's time on Earth, they had done nothing but create strife.
One of their worst follies was believing in their petty religions. He saw no concrete evidence of their God, and even if he did, he would have laughed at the humans who worshipped some one who clearly took no care of them. Death. Disease. Hunger. These were the things this 'God' brought, not miracles.
And more than that, other religions had existed for thousands of years longer than these. These had been created as a tool to control the masses and unite them. How long until these faded out of memory as well? Humans were a foolish race, condemning in the name of a Lord who could not, logically, exist. For instance, condemning him for being a creature that preyed upon them. It was only his nature, self-preservation. Humans had it too. But they passed it off as those creatures being 'lower' life-forms. Did they ever stop to consider that, compared to him, they were 'lower'? No, for their pride and narcissism believed themselves invincible. The top of the food chain. And yes, he knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill anything that got in his way- but, truthfully, weren't humans just the same?
Dracula, at least. Could see his kind's faults. Accept them. Humans couldn't, and it caused them to destroy everything they couldn't make their own and use to 'better' themselves.
They could not accept things better than them. He was faster, stronger, smarter, so he must be soulless and evil. They could not see that, apart from his own cool logic, he was governed by emotions just as powerful as theirs. Anger. Frustration. Joy. Even lust.
Dracula stirred a bit again. Oh yes, he had lust. Not towards his Brides, no- truthfully, he found them a little repulsive, and would not hesitate to get rid of them should they continue to try his patience- but towards Jonathan Harker. He actually found it amusing that these emotions which were so obviously human were directed in a way that they were so obviously a human sin.
He also found it amusing that the man he had been prepared to discard for the sake of all his plans would come to be the object of desires that had lain dormant for so long. For it had been so long since he had tasted living flesh the way he wanted to taste Jonathan's. His emotions were tangled, convoluted, ending in a deep and powerful need for the young man, a need he would soon satisfy.
Yes, he would satisfy his lust- and perhaps more- for Jonathan Harker to-night. The man would be his, so much more than what he was now.
Sighing, he straightened and glanced at the moon again. It was time. He could feel it. Smirking, he left behind the moonlight and his musings, and, leaving his chambers for Jonathan's, began the night that would change the course of the young man's life.
The night was about to gain new company.