I fancied writing something different...
Accidental prompt from Werepuppy Black, 'someone should write about Erin getting jealous for a change'. I wanted to explore how jealousy is a destructive emotion which can ruin a relationship, whether or not there is good reason to be suspicious. I deliberately tried to make Bertrand and Vlad's changing relationship ambiguous so readers can make up their minds as to whether Erin was right or wrong.
Kudos to HopeCoppice and Starrrz, undoubtedly their amazing fics on Bertrand/Vlad have influenced this.
Hope you enjoy it
xo
Smile
'From now on my number one priority will be opening that book... Starting tomorrow. Today, we are going to hang out.'
Erin knew that she shouldn't have shot Bertrand that smug smile as Vlad grabbed her hand and tugged her gently away from the training room. She knew that she was only goading the vampire further but she simply couldn't resist. The tutor's behaviour towards Vlad brought something out in her, something dark and vindictive. She felt it in the rush of power that surged through her when the tutor was barely able to control his fury, when she caught his eyes flashing black with frustration at Vlad's rejection of him and his precious book. It pleased her to know that she was hurting the tutor. That she was able to inflict some form of harm on at least one member of the Dracula household even if it wasn't the one vampire that she had set out to destroy.
That smile had repercussions for them all. She would often look back to that moment of triumph and wonder if it was then that the competition for Vlad started in earnest.
Where Vlad was concerned there was always competition. The Count was childishly possessive over his son and heir. Erin could see his eyes on her neck, the cogs of his mind whirling as he contemplated how to get rid of her, in the end she supposed that the Count decided that her demise wasn't worth the risk of losing his son's affection. For all his flaws and there were many, the Count did seem to genuinely care about Vlad's happiness. Perhaps she was being too generous; perhaps all he cared about was the power that Vlad could wield.
Ingrid, well there were no words to describe how much Erin hated that particular member of the Dracula clan. Ingrid had destroyed what little remained of Erin's family, she had taken Ryan away from her, twisted his loyalties, clouded his mind, Erin barely recognised the vampire that followed at Ingrid's designer heels. The coldness of Ryan's eyes, his contempt for her, his rejection of her sisterly affection had reduced her to tears on more occasions than Erin cared to remember. Yet surprisingly, despite being allocated the position of Vlad's deputy, Ingrid made relatively few demands on Vlad's time. The steady stream of vampire admirers and followers making their way to the Draculas seemed to keep her occupied. Either that or she was plotting once more to dust her more powerful sibling.
That left Bertrand as her only opponent. And make no mistake about it – the tutor was a rival. His devotion to Vlad verged on the obsessive.
After the destruction of Sethius, Erin had anticipated that Bertrand would leave the Draculas. Preferably as a pile of dust in the rubbish bins, after all he had committed a heinous act of betrayal against the very person he was supposed to serve. She should have known really that Vlad would forgive him just as he forgave her lies and deceit and Ingrid's attempts at assassination. Whereas, Ingrid treated Vlad's forgiveness with disdain, Bertrand accepted it with solemn gratitude. It seemed as if the treacherous tutor was determined to demonstrate that he was worthy of redemption. He was Vlad's shadow, forever walking in his wake and yet consuming more and more of his student.
The tutor certainly knew how to put on an act, how to bow his head respectfully, how to appear sincere but he was not to be trusted. Erin was no fool; she knew instinctively that Bertrand was her biggest threat, that the tutor's quiet intensity was masking sinister intentions. She saw it in the way Bertrand's eyes lingered just a second too long on his student, on how he took every opportunity to touch Vlad, a pat on the back here, a touch of the arm there. Most of all, she saw in his eyes when he looked at her, the shades of brilliant blue filled with seething hatred.
At first, it had been easy to thwart the tutor's ambitions. Much like any teenage vampire, Vlad was happily distracted from his duties by the promise of getting some action in his coffin. It had been almost too easy to press a suggestive kiss against Vlad's throat, to lure him into her room and lock the door, to send him down to the training room an hour too late with her scent all over his body leaving Bertrand without any doubt as to why Vlad hadn't turned up on time. It had been gratifying to imagine the hidden pain and anguish of the older vampire.
She wasn't quite sure when or even how it happened but slowly there was a fundamental shift in dynamics. It was subtle at first but over time it became glaringly obvious that Bertrand was winning the war. Possibly, it began when Vlad started asking questions about law and policy at the dinner table, Bertrand would recommend a book and after the meal, if Renfield's cooking could be called that, the two would continue to sit at the table, Vlad quizzing Bertrand persistently on the finer points of the 1674 Treaty of Westminster and its implications for werewolves or some other nonsense. As his coronation approached, Vlad seemed to realise the enormity of the task awaiting him and he began to spend more and more time training with Bertrand.
'It's like it's becoming real now. I've only got a few months left.'
'All the more reason to have some fun,' Erin slid her hand seductively down his chest, her lips parting invitingly. 'You're working too hard.'
Vlad shook his head earnestly. 'No really, I'm not. Bertrand says ...'
But at that point, Erin would turn her head away and Vlad would fall silent.
Then Vlad started taking the older vampire on outings, the occasional visit to a museum or to the cinema.
'He's lonely Erin. That book was his entire unlife.' Vlad shrugged into his leather jacket, his eyes shining with concern for his backstabbing tutor. "Actually, to be honest I think he's depressed.'
'So watching some kids' film is going to cheer him up?' Erin hated the snarky tone of her voice but she couldn't help it. Vlad was her boyfriend, he shouldn't be abandoning her on a Friday night to hang out with his tutor, no matter how "depressed" he was.
'Yeah. I mean Hotel Transylvania has got vampires in it.' Vlad gave her that smile, the one that made butterflies flutter in her tummy, 'I'll make it up to you. Promise.'
And on that disastrous night out with Jonno and Becky, it was Bertrand who intervened on behalf of a drunken Vlad, Bertrand who sent the aggressor flying backwards with a violent punch, Bertrand who drove them home in her car and provided them with alibis when the Count got suspicious. It was also Bertrand who sat in the bathroom with Vlad for hours as the younger vampire's body reacted violently against the alcohol that he had consumed with such enthusiasm only hours before.
'Seriously Erin? Oh come on! I just didn't want you to see me like that. It's hardly sexy is it?'
'That's not the point Vlad. I care about you, I should have been there.'
Vlad huddled deeper into his coffin, his skin coated in perspiration, his eyes still dull from sickness. 'Please Erin; can we just drop it now?'
She wanted to believe him, truly she did but she struggled to understand how anyone could be so blind to the obvious. How Vlad couldn't see the adoration in Bertrand's eyes, how the vampire visibly preened with pride when Vlad asked his opinion or how his tutor's whispers were turning them against each other. Sometimes, she found herself examining the relationship between the Count and Renfield trying to reassure herself that Bertrand was nothing more than a servant and Vlad was merely acting the part of master. In the end, she resorted to ever more desperate measures to keep hold of her boyfriend. She began checking his pockets and coffin for anything that may indicate that his relationship with Bertrand was inappropriate. She began lingering outside the training room in an effort to learn what they were discussing. Sometimes, she would get up in the middle of the night and peek through the door to Vlad's room just in case. Yes, Vlad certainly acted the innocent but it was only a matter of time before she had definite proof.
Vlad's room was barely lit by candlelight but it was clear that the large silhouette kneeling on the floorboards was Bertrand. Vlad was sitting on the edge of his coffin, head in his hands, his eyes black and mysterious in the dim light, his face grey and strained with worry.
'I'm scared Bertrand.' It was clear these words were a struggle for the young vampire.
Bertrand's hand rose up to touch Vlad's cheek, his love and reverence for the Chosen One all too evident in that single gesture. 'It doesn't have to be that way. You said it yourself; you will write your own destiny.'
When she burst into the room, the tutor didn't even have the grace to move away, to pretend that nothing was happening. Somehow everything got twisted with Vlad accusing her instead of explaining his own actions. It was the closest to the edge she had ever seen him, fury making him clench his fists tightly, his eyes glistening with tears, his voice a curious mixture of resentment and pleading as he shouted at her.
'Why don't you trust me?'
'I do. I do Vlad. It's him I don't trust.'
Then brokenly, 'Why are you doing this Erin? Why won't you believe me?'
Bertrand began to melt away into the waiting darkness of the corridor before Vlad caught his sleeve. 'I'm sorry.' But it wasn't Vlad's apology that tipped her over the edge, even though it was clearly to the wrong person, it wasn't even the way Bertrand nodded understandingly at her boyfriend. It was the way that Bertrand looked at her as he left the room, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. She recognised that smug smile instantly, it was the exactly the same as the one she had once given to him.
'I win.'