Love runs in the veins
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story, the rest, characters and setting belong to our beloved Terry Pratchett.
Warning: Contains Igor talk and Uberwaldian(?) accent.
The dawn was more than two hours away. Havelock couldn't sleep. In fact,since he came to this castle...since he met...Three weeks and he couldn't find rest*. True, the nobles were dangerous and the simple people were superstitious and unfriendly. The whole country was stuck in the past and its old ways. But wasn't Lady Margolotta the same? She lived in a castle because it was traditional. He guessed she also slept in a coffin, with many candles around and smoke streaming down the lid. As for the dangerous part...well, she was a vampire! But still...sometimes the way she addressed to him...She reminded him of someone's mother! Almost as though she was trying to play the role of his wise aunt, because he was young and he had to learn, and she was older and could teach him. But he already had an aunt and mother altogether. And he certainly didn't think she resembled Lady Margolotta in any way.
*Funny, really, finding rest was all the Ank-Morpork people were sure of finding in Uberwald. In fact, terminally so.
Vetinary was now out of his room, looking puzzled at the stairs leading to the cellars. Well, it would be traditional, wouldn't it?
"Thir?"
"Igor? Igor! Yes, I was looking for you..." , he said a bit unsure.
"Yeth thir...? What ith it that you wanted?"
"I was wondering...I..."
"The thellars are all locked thir, but if you with to thee them I could open—"
"Why, thank you Igor, but what I wanted was...well...um...I was actually looking for the bathroom..." , not quite so convincing, ready to quit.
"I would be glad to help you, thir, but which bathroom ith it that you wanted? Becauthe there ith the one next to your room, and the thmall one at the Great Hall, and the one at the right of my mithtrethe's room, jutht oppothite the stairth at the firtht floor, and of courthe there ith alwayth—"
"Thank you very much Igor, I will visit the closest one. You have been very helpful. Don't let me detain you."
"Goodnight young mathter.¨"
"Goodnight, Igor."
How do Igors do that? Creeping onto people was a speciality assassins had too, of course, and it was not that difficult, but still...if he was creeping onto him, he would have certainly acknowledged. Instead, it was as if Igor had popped out of nowhere!
Anyway, after taking a short stroll around the house, he found himself climbing up the stairs to the first floor. Darkness ruled at the silent corridor, and there was no sign of life. Not that there would be. Anyway, no sign of Igor anywhere.
Now in front of the door. Would she be surprised? Maybe. Angry? Possibly...No, not angry. She never seemed to get nothing more that slightly frustrated. It was experience that had come over the years, he came to know. He didn't know how old she was, a few centuries old, perhaps? But he certainly couldn't figure out how old she was when she was turned into her current form. She had been so far...an enigma to him. She always seemed so restrained, so confident in the knowledge of everything and everyone around her... Even on those first afternoons, wearing as usually her pearls and that ridiculously pink sweater (although, if you observed closely you could notice the little black bats design around her bosom), with her hair twisted into a bun., he knew...he knew she could hear every breath he inhaled, every heartbeat. And, for a little while, he thought he could see the thirst in her eyes, almost palpable, growing stronger for his—and by the next minute it was gone. She had taken an oath and she would keep it. Plus, Havelock had been trained in the Assassin's Guild, and he could use the tricks he had up his sleeve if someone tried to claim an ounce of his blood.
With a sigh, he opened the door. With some dissapointment, he realised it was empty. In the center of the room laid a normal, though kind of gothic, double bed. This was not her room, then? Igor lied to him? Couldn't be...Igors were loyal...His gaze fell on the end table. There were various books along with Twurp's Peerage-strange, he knew they used the Almanack de Gothic in Uberwald-but on top of the pile lay a diary. No harm done since it was not the lady's...or was it?
It had today's date on the last written page, which was almost full with writing.
«Ι avoke a little late today, so first thing I vent in the dining room. He vas already there, in fact he already had dinner», he read. «It vas so considerate of him-I despise it when people eat in front of me. He asked me if he could join me for a drink, instead. Oh gods of the Discworld help me get through this! I smiled distractedly and answered that a glass of vine vould be excellent, adding to myself that a sip of him vouldn't hurt either. He pulled out the chair for me, alvays a gentleman, and luckily he didn't notice my look when he reached for the red liquid on the tray. I dismissed Igor and now we were all alone. Him, me and the table between us like some kind of safety barrier. Oh, he has seen me Look at him. That's vat he does-he observes. I am supposed to teach him the way of Ubervaldian politics, but he teaches himself.
I don't know how I vill keep my oath. He causes me to think about stuff I hadn't thought for a long time...» And the writing stopped there. He was wrong. It wasn't all about blood after all. He started to leaf through the rest of the journal, when the door creaked.
"Havelock? Vat are you doing here?"
"I was lookig for the bathroom and accidentally..."
"Maybe you should have tried the one next to your room, then."
...Like someone's mother...but he wasn't a boy. And had just realised that the lady was wearing nightdress, which was a lot lighter than what she usually wore at their meetings.
"The truth is that I was looking for... , he started saying in a firm voice."
"Is zat my journal you have in your hand? Zat is very rude of you, young ma—Havelock, to be through my personal things! Did you read it?"
"Oh this? I beg your pardon, I thought it was addressed to me, because it says «I am supposed to teach him» meaning—"
"Havelock it vould ne so kind of you if you left my room."
Vetinary composed himself-it was a task difficult to achieve while she was standing in front of him wearing that nightdress, her wavy hair left down.
"No."
"No?" , she said in disbelief.
"I came here to talk to you."
"You could have talked to me in the afternoon. Unless it is a pressing matter."
"Yes it is a pressing matter."
"Please take a seat."
Vetinary chose to sit next to her, to her bewilderment.
"Lady Margolotta, I've been staying in your castle for the past three weeks, and everything has so far been fine. You surely are a woman of hospitality. Nevertheless, I've been feeling that something is missing."
"Vat is it dear boy? I vould be glad to arrange it for you."
"I am not a boy, my lady." , he said bringing her hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly. And then he leaned down and kissed her lips, the smoothest brush of flesh on flesh. Lady Margolotta shot up and gave him a slap.
"Vat do you think you're doing, Havelock? Vat you came here to is learn! You should show more respect to your elders."
He had never seen her angry before. He placed his hand over his cheek, where she'd slapped him. Like all vampires, Lady Margolotta had very long nails, and now on his cheek lay a deep scratch. And...
"Blood." , she whispered. "You're...bleeding, Havelock,go put some ice or something on the wound."
Havelock, who'd been starring pensively at the blood on his hand till then, got up and moved closer to the lady.
"Alright, I vill have Igor fetch something, then. Ig—"
But Havelock's tongue shot in her mouth, engaging it in a passionate kiss. Lady Margolotta was breathing heavily now, her eyes fixed on his face.
"Havelock, please, for your own sake and my sanity, leave the room at this instant!" , she said in an ominous voice.
"No."
The lady closed her eyes, as if trying to deny the vision of Havelock with blood running down his chin. He reached his stained hand to her mouth, her eyes shooting open, and finally she gave in and sucked gently his fingers clean of blood. After a short argument with her conscience, she went on to lick the blood around the wound, down his chin, down his throat, until she reached the part where it had stained his collar. Havelock had finally made her lose her composure just as she was afraid he would. She proceeded to loosen it, and afterwards things got out of control.
The lady seemed to have fallen asleep after a while, after all it was almost dawn. Havelock thought about all that, and once again wondered where was the lady's coffin and why could she sleep on a bed? Before he left her room, he whispered:
"I think I'm in love with you, my lady."
Lady Margolotta shivered in her sleep.
THE END
Thanks for reading! Open to constructive criticism. And thanks to the person who suggested the title (you know who you are)