So you all may be wondering "why the hell is Remember updating AGAIN?" Firstly - don't complain ;) Secondly, and more importantly, I must confess, I just really want to get to chapter 9. Chapter 9 is where Dracula and Hera cross paths again and I know a lot of you are very eager for that to happen. That chapter is seriously one of my favorites in the entire story (and I mean that in a very non-arrogant way. It was just super fun to right, that's all) and I REALLY want to share the improved version with you, but we have a bit more to get through before we arrive at that point in the story. Once we get there, I'm sure my posting will be less erratic and more predictable. But in the meantime, relish in the fact that I seem to be updating like a madwoman - please and thank you.
A huge shout-out to those that reviewed the last chapter! Seriously, I know you're probably all tired of hearing me say it, but I love you for reviewing and I seriously want to hug each of you individually for doing so.
Your feedback (in all it's glorious forms) means the world to me and I can't thank you enough for the time you take to not just read each new chapter, but for telling me what you thought - sometimes in-depth and at length. I can't even begin to articulate what that means to me as a writer. So thank you! Chocolate shaped Dracula's for all! *cackles*
Alright my friends - let's see what happens when Boris comes home from a hunting trip, and then we can check in on the state of Dracula and Verona's relationship.
VII
Winning Their Hearts
Hera hadn't been able to sit still all day.
To own the truth, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so anxious. Boris Valerious, king of the gypsies, was to arrive home within the hour and Hera found herself dreadfully nervous. Over the past month and a half since her arrival here, she had come to fit in rather nicely in Visceria and the Valerious Manor; and now with the imminent arrival of Anna and Velkan's father, there was a very real chance that come the end of the evening, she could find herself homeless – or worse, in a dungeon.
The Valerious siblings had done their best to put Hera's mind at ease over the last three days since Boris' letter had arrived, informing them of his return. Anna, although the two of them still had their differences, was still a very good friend of Hera's and as she oversaw the preparations of the estate, she tried to assure the young woman that everything would be fine and Boris would love her.
Velkan, on the other hand, had been rather withdrawn since his father's letter had arrived, and though Hera had noticed the change in him, she said nothing on the subject.
As of right now, she was still pacing about in her room in an agitated manner, wringing her hands in an effort to keep from biting her nails in nervous anticipation. She was in an outfit that suited her well, something that would hopefully impress Anna and Velkan's warrior father. Her red hair was pulled back into a careless twist, as she was too restless to do anything else with the mess of curls.
While the house remained in a buzz with preparations for their king's return, Hera was making herself sick with worry, anxious to make a good impression simply because Boris was the one to decide whether or not she would be staying here permanently, and even though Anna and Velkan had been assuring her all day that she'd be fine, their confidence didn't seem to soothe the woman's troubled mind.
Hera grabbed her iPod and began to listen to some music, seeing if that would calm her down. Shockingly enough, her iPod was still working, and though she couldn't explain the miracle, she was grateful for it. Her music proved to be her sanctuary, that thing that kept her anchored amidst the lunacy.
A knock at her door interrupted her solitude and she turned to see the comfortingly familiar face of Velkan peeking in from the hall. She removed the ear buds and put the iPod back under her pillow where she usually left it, managing a smile as gypsy prince entered her room, shutting the door behind him.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Absolutely!" she fibbed, but he saw right through her.
"You know, you're a terrible liar," he replied with a smile, leaning against the post of her bed. She turned to face him, laughing rather sheepishly.
"I know. God, I'm so nervous, I can hardly stand it," and she started fidgeting with her hands again. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm a wreck!" she proclaimed and she started to pace once more. "Velkan what if he doesn't like me? What if he sends me away? What if he throws me out of the house and then Dracula swoops in and makes me his prisoner… oh God forbid! Could you imagine? Me living with that… that man and those three women! I don't think my poor neck could take any more strangulation attempts."
Velkan laughed.
"Hera, I don't think it's possible for anyone to not like you. You happened to prove that a few nights ago. Remember? With Verona?"
Hera only continued to pace, unconvinced.
"But what if your father doesn't like me?" she asked him once more. "I mean, what if he thinks I'm stupid, or weak, or pitiful… or! Or what if he doesn't like my red hair? You do realize that red hair is the hair of the devil – or at least that's what François used to tell me when I was a child, but I think he did it because he knew he could get a rise out of me. But what if I mess up, or what if he thinks that I'm ugly and he kicks me out of the house because he can't stand the sight of me?!"
Velkan's laugh resonated in his belly as he took Hera by the shoulders, forcing her to cease her pacing and face him.
"Hera, the last thing you are is weak, stupid, or pitiful, and if Anna is incapable of denying that, then my father will certainly be unable to as well." He then lowered his voice, as if he were fearful that someone might overhear him. "No man in their right mind could take one look at you and say that you aren't lovely," he said gently. "In fact, if nothing wins over my father this evening, I can guarantee your beauty will do the trick. No one can say no to you, not with your smile."
Hera blushed deeply.
Despite her confidence in other areas of her person, her appearance was one of those things she had always kind of struggled with. It wasn't that she didn't think she was attractive, but it was never anything beyond that. There was always going to be another woman who was more beautiful than she or in better shape or better endowed.
In truth, Hera had always believed herself to be rather plain and simple most of the time, outside of her hair color, but the attention she was receiving now was starting to make her believe otherwise. The little boost of confidence from the gypsy prince's compliments was a welcomed change.
Velkan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand as he stared deep into her eyes, something he had been doing a lot as of late.
"You are a beautiful woman, Hera. Heaven help the man who falls in love with you."
"Why do you say that?" she asked him, holding his gaze. He ran his thumb over her lips and in that moment, she knew exactly what he wanted to do. And heaven help her, she wanted it too.
"Because he'll have to compete with hundreds of other men to win your heart," Velkan whispered. "I envy the one you choose. You are a remarkable woman, Hera Garret, forwardness and all."
He paused as they both smiled in response to his comment before his expression grew serious again and his gaze moved from her eyes to her lightly parted mouth.
"I wish I was free to show you," he breathed, the words barely audible and full of a regret that Hera did not presently understand. He could see the confusion in her expression but instead of explaining himself, he only smiled, regaining his composure as he stepped away from her before the temptation became too great. "We should head downstairs. Father should be here any moment now."
Hera nodded tentatively and followed him out of her room and downstairs to the front of the house, both of them pretending that what had just happened – whatever it was – had never occurred.
They joined Anna a short time later, the trio waiting in the foyer for Boris Valerious to arrive, and the wait, as Hera had predicted, was torture. After five minutes of tense silence, her nerves started to act up again, and she couldn't keep herself from fidgeting distractedly. Velkan noticed, and in an effort to pacify her, he discreetly grabbed one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She took a deep breath as he did this, calming herself down.
"I swear, if I have to wait another second, I'm going to throw-up," she said.
Anna laughed quietly at the woman's melodramatic announcement.
"Don't worry… he'll be here soon. He promised he would."
After a few more lengthy minutes in silence, the sound of a horse's hooves could be heard in the distance and Anna and Velkan instinctually straightened, standing tall and at the ready as if out of habit. They listened as the steed was pulled to a stop and the sound of boots and a voice Hera did not recognize drew closer and closer to the front door. The tension mounted as the deep voice drew nearer and within moments, the door opened.
Boris Valerious wasn't at all what Hera had expected.
Considering the fact that in Van Helsing one only sees a snap shot of the gypsy king for a grand total of three seconds, Hera had never really had much to go on by way of appearance. In the film, she remembered him looking very severe, even slightly creepy – in a carny pirate kind of way. But the man standing in the doorway was the farthest thing from what her wild imagination had concocted. In fact, he looked like the sweetest old man she had ever seen, even with the eye-patch.
Anna ran to her father and the two embraced, both laughing and talking excitedly as the youngest Valerious welcomed her father home. Soon, Velkan joined them and Hera observed in silence as the small family reunited in the front entry.
The family resemblance was obvious – the dark hair, the chocolate colored eyes, the noble yet trial-worn countenances. Yet, there was this inexplicable joy that swelled so naturally between them and it soothed whatever fears Hera had been previously harboring as a wonderful warmth gradually filled her being.
The woman watched in quiet admiration, and even a hint of envy, as Boris, the loving father, wrapped his arms around both of his grown children, tears glistening in his good eye, assured at last that his heirs were alive and well. He couldn't stop touching their faces or laughing for joy. It was evident to all that Boris Valerious was glad to be home.
As Hera continued to look on, she soon captured the attention of the gypsy king and he observed her with evident scrutiny from across the room as Anna and Velkan continued to greet their father. They quickly realized, however, just how quiet the man had become and it didn't take long to figure out why.
Boris released his children to move unrestrained across the foyer towards the stranger standing by the stairs. The sound of his leather boots against the worn wood floor seemed much louder in Hera's ears than they perhaps were in actuality. He stopped only a few feet in front of her and then the two stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an age, but was truthfully only a few seconds.
"Miss Hera Garret, I presume?" Boris clarified at last, breaking the tense silence.
Hera nodded, but never uttered a word.
Although poised and calm on the surface, inside her mind was running a hundred miles a second. Should she curtsey? Maybe fall to her knees? Well, if that was what she was supposed to do, her body wasn't responding. Hera remained fixed in her spot, her eyes locked on the man's only remaining eye as they had their stare down. The strain in the air was palpable and both Velkan and Anna were beginning to feel uncomfortable.
Velkan could only imagine how Hera must have been feeling about now, but she seemed so calm, so peculiarly at ease. He eventually took note of the faintest of smiles now curving her lips, as well as the one that was slowly appearing on his father's. He and Anna looked at each other in confusion.
Why were the two of them smiling at each other?
The silence remained, and Hera and Boris only continued to stare, their smiles growing wider, although Hera's looked a little sad, and in an action that took both siblings by surprise, they watched as Boris took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Hera who accepted the embrace. The sense of anxiety quickly dissipated, only to be replaced with sheer confusion.
"What did I miss?" Anna whispered to her brother but he appeared as lost as she.
"Nothing dear, nothing," Boris said, having overheard his daughter. He then extended his hand out to Hera after releasing her and the two shook hands. "My dear girl, you are far from home, aren't you?"
"Yes sir," Hera said.
"Well, if it is any consolation, it is a pleasure to have you as a guest in my home. I have heard nothing but the highest praise."
Hera smiled.
"I am honored to make your acquaintance at last, your grace."
Boris laughed, waving off the formality.
"There's no need to call me that, Miss Garret. I want none of those superfluous titles. Boris will suffice."
"If you insist."
"I do. You know, while I was travelling through the village, I was hearing the most fascinating story about you a certain bride of the Count's. I'd love to hear the tale first hand. Sorina? When is supper to be served?" Boris inquired of one of the maids.
"It is ready when you are, my lord."
"Excellent! Let's have supper. Miss Garret, if you'll allow me," and he offered Hera his arm, leading her toward the dining room as his children followed close behind, relieved that their father had evidently taken such a liking to their house-guest.
Dinner proved to be quite the event.
Never in Hera's life had she enjoyed a meal as much as she enjoyed tonight's. She had thought supper with Anna and Velkan had been entertaining, but with Boris added to the mix, her stomach was soon sore from all the laughter. Velkan and Anna naturally shared all the stories they could about Hera, and her encounter with Verona was one that Boris found himself particularly impressed with.
The siblings then filled their father in on all of the improvements to the traps they had set on the outskirts of the village with the assistance of Hera to keep the people safe from the monsters that continually lingered on the fringes. By the end of the tale, Boris officially announced his approval of the young woman from the future and everyone sighed in relief.
Hera had officially won all the hearts of the Valerious family.
The company talked for hours after dinner was over, as Boris was all stories of his adventures and Hera proved to be the perfect listener, her eyes fixed on him as she responded to his various tales of hunting werewolves or tracking down vampire nests.
Velkan quietly observed how his family and the servants reacted to Hera as the night went on. His father seemed delighted with her. Anna, he already knew, was now close friends with Hera, and the house help had never taken so quickly to a stranger before. The gypsy prince couldn't help but watch Hera each time she laughed or smiled or spoke. How he wished he were free to do as he pleased when it came to the woman, but duty it would seem had a different plan for him.
Boris had announced that evening after dinner that Velkan had just been betrothed to a young noble woman in Budapest. Although the two weren't due to be married for at least a year, this fact was a bitter pill to swallow, particularly for Velkan because each time he looked at Hera, he ached.
It was late when the house finally retired for the evening, but the prince continued to wander the halls of his father's house, the announcement of his betrothal and his conflicted feelings for Hera making sleep impossible. When he passed her bedchamber door on the way over to the stairs, he noticed the young woman's light was still on and there were muffled noises coming from within.
With a gentle knock and an invitation to enter, Velkan found Hera seated on the floor near the balcony window, her eyes glistening with tears.
Being a man and the brother of a woman who rarely ever cried, Velkan was not well versed in the complex feelings and emotions of females. But seeing Hera in distress concerned him, and he was at her side in an instant.
"Hera, what is the matter?" he asked sympathetically.
The young woman looked up at him with a weak smile, holding her iPod close to her breast.
"It's nothing," she assured him.
"Forgive me for contradicting you, but you don't strike me as the type of person that cries over nothing."
Hera laughed pitifully before looking down at the small piece of technology in her hands, the one thing that reminded her of home, and Velkan watched as more tears began to tumble down her cheeks.
"It's just… seeing you and Anna with your father this evening made me realize how much I miss …" She stopped abruptly, clearly distraught and unable to speak.
He felt so awkward, helplessly standing there as she fought to regain her composure.
"Should I go fetch a doctor?" was all Velkan could think to say. "Are you ill?"
"No, I'll be fine. Just a bout of homesickness is all. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning," she managed.
"Shall I leave you alone, then?" he asked gently after some moments of silence.
"That may be best."
"I'm sorry I disturbed you. If there's anything I can fetch for you…"
"Thank you, Velkan," Hera interrupted quietly. "Good night."
"Good night."
Verona sat alone in the lounge meant specifically for her and the Count's other brides. Luckily, she had the little sitting room to herself this evening. Marishka and Aleera had left to feed, and Verona, having had no real appetite for some time now, was content to stay behind. Her master, however, was still to go out for the evening.
The eldest bride assumed he was perhaps finishing up with some business, though she couldn't be certain. She had been avoiding him the last several days and though she was well aware her behavior hadn't gone unnoticed, she remained apathetic.
Verona lingered comfortably in solitude, the chamber littered with enormous feather pillows, silks, satins, and other expensive fabrics. It looked like the Persian harem of a prince, and how appropriately so. The woman was situated beside a window, staring out into the night, something she had taken a habit to as of late.
Marishka and Aleera had tried to talk to her about what was amiss, why she seemed to keep only to herself, why she was staying away from the master. It didn't take long for Verona to realize that Dracula had sent them to acquire the information and that awareness forced her to keep her mouth shut.
If the Count wanted to know what was bothering her, he could man up and ask her himself. Yes, she had forgiven them all for the pain they had unwittingly caused her, and she continued in a state of civility around her sisters at least, but her feelings towards the master remained presently unresolved.
As the lone bride continued in her solitude, her thoughts diverted to her life before vampirism, her brief existence as a mortal. Hera's words had reminded her of this period of time and she found herself dwelling on it often. Verona privately recalled her days when she had been in love with the one called David. Before Dracula, she had been merely the youngest daughter of a washed-up noble, a pawn in her father's schemes to regain his lost wealth and prestige. David, the son of a well-respected hunter, had made her feel loved and worthwhile – even if their love had been forbidden.
The young Verona had had every intention of running away with the hunter, of living out her days in provincial bliss, but then came that fateful evening when she had first met Dracula, the night that had changed everything.
Verona could recall that evening with perfect clarity, even after all these centuries. She had gotten into a now long forgotten argument with David and oh how she had hated him in that moment in time. That's when the Count had stepped onto the scene. She remembered how he had seduced her, how he had made her feel desired, and she became addicted to the sensation, soon dependent to him and the untold pleasure he could bestow upon her paltry flesh.
He would come to her for several nights after the first. He'd ravish her and then feast on her precious blood. He'd whisper poison into her ears, the sweetest poison she had ever tasted. But that night, the night he sired her, he gave her the choice, telling her the honest truth, that he didn't love her, and most likely never would; but the life he offered her, a life of immortality, of luxury and ease – how could she refuse?
Verona knew, even now, that it was she who had made that choice.
No one had forced her or coerced her into it.
She had made it willingly.
Count Dracula's eldest bride then recollected how several years later, she had learned that David had forgotten all about her, had even married another woman. They had children and grandchildren, growing old together as mortals do, and then he died.
Verona had once assumed that her affection for the mortal had ended the evening he had died, but she came to realize that some loves never end, just as certain wounds never heal. But what made it all the more tragic was that as much as she missed her old lover, a small part of her understood that deep down, despite everything, she still loved and was devoted to her master.
Verona leaned her head against the glass of the cold window as she contemplated her existence with the Count, the good and bad days. She'd be the last to admit that immortality was dreadful, for it wasn't – not entirely. She liked being a vampire. She enjoyed the power, the influence, and the material aspect. She enjoyed the fact that she was tied to the most powerful man in the world. But despite it all, she knew what she had sacrificed, and there were moments when she wondered if she had made a mistake.
And in the last several days she had had plenty of those moments.
"Verona," came Dracula's voice from behind, abruptly pulling her from her private thoughts.
The bride stood and turned her lovely head to face her master, acknowledging his presence, but still remaining silent. Although selfish by nature, the Count had not overlooked his eldest's sudden reserve and coldness towards him and he found it uncharacteristic of her, considering that Verona had always been his most obedient, the most devoted. Never before had she questioned him or doubted him or defied him until recently.
"Why aren't you out with your sisters feeding?" he asked her, his voice how, but his presence remained powerful, oppressive even. It was clear who was in control here and Verona found herself submitting to his dominance, just as she had willingly done time and time again. It had been his authoritarian air that had made her helpless, and though she longed to stay angry with him, the way he looked into her eyes made it impossible.
"I wished to feed alone and I am not hungry as of yet, my lord," she answered penitently.
He didn't smile, but it pleased him to know his bride still understood her place.
She was still compliant, just distressed. He could tell with her. Verona was very quiet and discrete in her own way, unlike his other two brides. His dark-haired beauty evened everything out, and that's what he liked most about her. She brought balance to their dysfunctional little family – balance and order.
"You are troubled my dear. I am not blind," he responded, letting her know that he was aware.
"I did not wish to inconvenience you, my lord. After all, you have the progeny to worry about. You need not trouble yourself with me," she insisted, looking back out the window. She felt him move in closer towards her, his aura overbearing.
"Tell me what is on your mind, Verona," he commanded softly. "Do not think that I care little to nothing for you."
Count Dracula had always been charming – in life and in death – but his abilities in charisma, allure, and seduction had been part of his gift when the devil had claimed him as his son. Verona felt a small spark of will alight inside of her, pleading with her to remain silent, but she did not have it in her to defy him outright – not at present anyway.
"Why did you choose me?" she inquired, deciding to get to the point. "Why did you choose me to be your bride?"
The Count gently grabbed her chin, leading her eyes towards his.
"Is this what has been bothering you?"
She nodded.
"I wish to better understand your reasoning, master."
He released her chin, but continued to hold her steady gaze.
"Because you are strong. I noticed your strength all those years ago and I wanted it for myself. I chose you for your resilience, your passion, your beauty, and…" and he touched her face with the back of his fingers, "…you have been a wonderful and most devoted companion to me for the past four centuries, Verona. You know this."
Although it was clear she appreciated the praise, there was more on her mind and he silently urged her with his expression to continue.
"Was there ever a time, even in the smallest moment, that you loved me?" she asked him softly, already suspecting the answer.
He would be honest; she knew that.
"No," he answered, his voice very hushed, but firm. "Unfortunately, my dear, I have never loved you, or your sisters. Our souls were never meant for each other, and even if they were, you know my feelings on the subject."
Verona looked away from him, unable to keep his gaze.
"Do you even have a soul?" she asked boldly.
He led her eyes back to his.
"Yes, I do," he answered softly. "You and I were never meant for each other. You were meant for another and I will admit it, I took that from you. But I apologized to you centuries ago for that, and I will not do so again," he answered sternly.
Verona nodded in submission and bowed her head, not in disappointment, but in understanding. She then sweetly took his large hand in both of hers and kissed his knuckles in reverence.
"Yes, my lord."
Verona began to retreat from the room when the Count caught her arm in his hand, forcing her to stop.
"Verona?"
"Master?"
Dracula looked into his eldest bride's eyes for a moment, still wondering what had been said to cause these questions in her, this change in her behavior. What had happened in Visceria two weeks ago?
Verona sensed his unasked question and she stepped out of his hold.
"Hera," was all she said, and she exited from the room to go out and feed, leaving Dracula to stand alone, contemplating that one name, the name that had been secretly clawing at the fringes of his thoughts for the past two months now.
He knew Verona wouldn't tell him what Hera had obviously said to her, but perhaps he could get the mortal to speak instead?
Besides, it was time their paths crossed again.
He was at last ready to become better acquainted with that strangely alluring mortal and her honey-suckled eyes.
Oh yes, my beloved Count. It is definitely time you become better acquainted with Hera. The plot demands it.
Alright my dear readers - please do leave me your thoughts on the chapter. What do you think of the current developments? Do I have any Hera/Velkan shippers out there? ;)
Thank you for stopping by and I'll see you very soon for chapter 8!
