All content belongs to their rightful owners: Lord of the Rings to J. R. R. Tolkien and Van Helsing to Stephen Sommers. All role play content is posted with the role players' permission and consent.
Role players featured in this chapter: princessannavalerious and boromirofminastirith
1. Footsteps of Foreigners
"In the name of God, open this door."
Anna Valerious watched in awe as the map, painted into the wall of the Manor centuries ago-the same map her father had stared out for years, surrounded by tomes and volumes of their family history, much as she was now, the same map that had perplexed the King of Vaseria for his entire life-disolved before her very eyes. The rivers seemed turned to ice and, with a sound earily similar to the shrill pitch of the wind through the mountains, the familiar landscape vanished, replaced by the clear reflection of the room and it's occupants.
"A mirror," Carl supplied, peering at his reflection. It was painfully obvious, but again, true grasp of the concept slipped through their fingers.
"Dracula has no reflection in a mirror," Anna reminded, brows furrowing.
"Why?" Van Helsing asked, his own expression changing to one of confusion and frustration. They were so close. The princess was livid herself, coming so close to the final answer, the final fight, only to be stopped short by another puzzle.
"Maybe... Maybe to Dracula it isn't a mirror at all," Carl interjected. Shocked, Anna watched as Van Helsing stepped forward, pressing his fingers to the glass, and jumping when they slipped right through.
"It's cold... and it's snowing." Removing his hand, he turned, showing her the flakes collected in his palm. He grabbed a torch from its wraught iron sconce and stepped into the glass-the door, she realized suddenly with awe-with the promise that he would meet her on the other side.
Steeling herself, the princess took a torch of her own, gripping the cold metal tightly in her hand, inhaling deeply, and closing her eyes before stepping forward and charging through, hearing the crack of ice all around her. It was surreal and, when her feet found the hard surface of ground beneath themselves yet again, she reminded herself that beyond the protection of her eyelids was the very fabric of nightmares. Still, apprehensive as she was, she was prepared for the thrill of the fight that lay ahead.
Peeling her eyes open, Anna was startled to see not darkness, not ice and snow, not the horrific visions of what she knew was her greatest enemy's personal prison and kingdom, but an empty room. Confusion splayed across her face and she glanced to the left and right, even leaning forward slightly in case of a trick wall, stumped.
Where was she?
"Van Helsing?" the princess whispered fiercely, free hand gripping the pommel of her sword. "Van Helsing?"
The only reply she received was silence. The moment of quiet was broken almost instantly by the sound of approaching footsteps. Her head jerking up, Anna went rigid, preparing herself to meet the figure coming towards her.
The man that rounded the corner towered over her easily with broad shoulders. In the moment they both took in the other's presence, Anna noted the scattered pieces of armor on his person, as well as what looked like an ornately decorated horn on his belt. She saw next the broad sword and, in an instant, the man dropped the cloth in his hands and drew the weapon, staring her down. She jumped, letting the torch fall from her hand as she drew her own blade.
"Who are you and why are you here?" he demanded briskly.
She had been anticipating a fight, but not like this. If anything, Anna was dismayed; she was not only separated from her friends and allies, facing a stranger who seemed intent to skewer her, but she was hopelessly lost. Only two choices remained before her-she could try to negotiate the situation to her favor or end up fighting for her life.
It was in times like this that she remembered her title and the immunity it sometimes allowed her.
"Princess Anna Valerious!" she answered, her grip on her weapon tightening. "Where am I? And just who the hell are you?"
The man only raised an eyebrow. For a moment that seemed to draw on for eternity, her heart pounding in her ears, he regarded her, looking her up and down. For the first time over a year, Anna felt a gaze as hard as her own on her.
"You are in Minas Tirith, more specifically the private quarters of the Steward of Gondor" her adversary answered, raising his sword in the beginning of a strike, prompting her to hold her own in a defensive gesture. Her thoughts ran rampant, some laced with sarcasm at her situation and others befuddled at his words. Gondor? Minas Tirith? She had never before heard of such places!
"Tell me where you are from," he ordered next, frown deepening. The princess balked, knowing if he did not recognize the territory, she could be doomed. Still, she could easily make her tone match his.
"I am from Transylvania," she replied coldly, holding her stance in case he struck. "You didn't answer my last question; who are you? The Steward of Gondor?"
"No, his heir." The man's reply was short and clipped and, from what little context she had to go by, Anna guessed that they were matched in titles. Before either of them could say anything else, a flurry of footsteps met their ears and they both turned, the princess tensing at the appearance of another man, who froze in fear at the sight of them.
Half-turning away from her, her adversary lowered the tip of his blade slightly as he leaned closer to the man, whom the foreigner suspected was a servant, and began relaying hushed instructions.
"Send word to my Father that I am in need of his counsel," the Steward's heir ordered, casting a glance back at her before adding; "Bring a handful of guards." As the servant hurried away, Anna's eyes narrowed and her lips turned down in a frown. If the saying was true, like father, like son, she could be doomed.
The moment they were alone again, the man turned back to her. "Since you have offered no threat and declare yourself royalty, you have been granted a fair chance with the Steward to tell your tale." Satisfied with his response, he then lowered his blade until the tip touched the floor. While she was still tense and wary, as she knew he was of her, the princess lowered her weapon as well, hoping it would help to defuse the situation and make it less hazardous for the both of them.
"And then what?" she demanded. "If I am found a threat by your father, what will become of me?" It was part curiosity and part fear that she would be unable to complete her mission that made her ask, but it was a valid question-as a prisoner, as she assumed she now was, what punishment would await her, if found guilty?
"It will hinge on what he decides you are," he said finally. It seemed as if he was as relieved as she was that their swords had been lowered. "If you are indeed an enemy from the Black Lands, we will have no choice but to kill you. Should what you claim prove true, perhaps there may be a way to return you to Transylvania."
Anna sighed, hating the fact that her fate was being passed between unfamiliar hands yet again. It was inevitable, she supposed, meeting this strange man's father and being judged, as much as she disliked the idea. Still, if it must be done, so be it.
"Very well,' she replied, raising her head high as she sheathed her sword. "Take me to see the Steward of Gondor." She paused, testing the word on her tongue fully, noting how odd it was. The Steward's son fixed her with an intent look, studying her as she stood before him. Whether or not he was trying to pick apart her appearance or note any flaws in a guise, she didn't know, but she motioned with her hand towards him, intending to walk alongside him. Before she would move, however, she had to make one thing clear to him-to plead her case in the hopes of swaying him, even in the slightest.
"I am not lying to you. That you can be assured of." Her brows furrowed slightly as she continued, "As a princess I make this promise. I am sure you as an heir understand your duties as I do mine."
The man turned his stern eyes to her again as she came to stand beside him. "That I do," he answered gruffly, turning and leading her out of the room. Anna cast one last glance behind her, wondering if the door was still there. The only sight that met her was a blank wall and her dismay returned. She was trapped. With a silent sigh, she turned back, tilting her head to look up at the man's face fully, a subtle frown tugging at her lips.
"You don't believe me." She had known from the moment he began studying her that convincing him-let alone his father-was not going to be easy. He glanced at her briefly as the requested guards filed in behind him, seemingly easing his mind but setting hers on edge.
"It is not me you need to convince," he supplied, regarding her once again before turning and leading them away.
