So... I lied. I said you guys wouldn't have to wait a month until the next update, but you did, and I'm sorry! However, there's a good reason for my tardiness: My beta, Vicky, got married over the holidays! She's also moving out of the country with her new hubby, so obviously, 'Thirty Pieces' had to wait in the midst of all this excitement. Still, even though she's in the process of moving, she got around to editting my chapter anyway, because she's awesome. So, let's all give Mrs. Vicky a big, collective congratulations, and from me, a special thank you for getting this chapter done when you did!

Also, I want to say thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your comments are always appreciated, and they're great motivators! And, of course, thanks to those of you who favourited and followed. Your support means a lot :)

Now then, let's dump that cold bucket of reality on our poor heroine...

The cabin was filled with the muted hum of the jet's engines. Alucard sat across from Pip, sipping his glass of wine and smiling to himself. It had been a very long time since he had been sent into a real battle. He hoped it would give him a challenge, present him an enemy worth fighting. Excitement coursed through his veins, riling him up, and it took some considerable self-control to tamp it down.

Alucard had never been one to pass up a good fight. Battle was his passion, an addiction that seemed to intensify as the years went by. The days of defensive castles, chivalric knights, and sharpened swords were long behind him. However, engaging an enemy never failed to inspire within him a sense of whimsical nostalgia. Just enough for him to get his fix.

He let his eye wander to the window, drinking in the pale blue sky outside. Indeed, it had been over five centuries since he ruled his own land as a warrior-prince. However, this was the closest he felt to his royal past in a very long time. Not only was he overdue for a real fight, but his time with Maria last night had unearthed some memories he had since buried deep in his mind.

The tart red liquid burned his throat as he took a sip. It had been at least a hundred years since he went to bed with a woman. Back then, the woman in question had ended up rejecting him from both her bedroom and her life, as he had a feeling she might. Abraham Van Helsing's influence on her almost assured it, but Alucard had pursued Mina against his better judgement. In the end, she was lost to him, and he had to live with the knowledge that her feelings for him were not enough to make her stay.

However, he did not have the same nagging feeling that something was going to go very wrong with Maria. Perhaps the way she had stood up to Anderson assured Alucard of her loyalty. Perhaps it was the countless times she told him he would be missed. Whatever it was, he was more at ease with her than he had been with Mina. Maria's goodbye reminded him of another time, before the incident with Mina and Van Helsing. She made him think of another world, wherein he had ridden to battle with the knowledge that his young bride would be waiting faithfully at home for him.

The smile on Alucard's face disappeared as his grip tightened dangerously on the stem of his glass. He lowered his gaze and tried to crush the budding memory with one affirmation: He would not allow himself to think of her. It had been years, centuries in fact, since he had last thought about her. She was part of his past and she would stay in the past. There was no use dwelling on her now, even if Maria did remind him a lot of her…

Alucard turned away from the window and took a full gulp of wine. He told himself again that he was not going to think about it. There were battles to fight, enemies to stop, and three women who were counting on him. The princess he once knew would simply have to return to the confines of his mind, where she had stayed quietly for centuries before he had met Maria Sartori.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

At the Hellsing Manor, Maria was bored. She tried to continue Dracula, but her mind kept wandering. She had taken a walk around the manor, trying to appreciate the mansion's exquisite architecture, but all she could think about was Alucard, Seras, and Pip. She wondered if they were all right, and if they had landed yet. It was almost ten at night, and she had not heard any news from Integra. She had to find something to do, or she would go mad with worry.

Before long, her explorations led her to a beautiful library on the third floor. Unlike the cozy little reading room on the main floor, this room had high vaulted ceilings with white and gold moulding. Books that looked much too old to have been written in this century lined the countless shelves. The whole place smelled like old paper, and Maria was momentarily distracted by the beauty of it all.

As she made her way through the bookcases, she passed by a small study alcove. Tucked away in the corner was a polished desk, an antique loveseat, and a large television with a VCR. Maria made a note to go back to the alcove later if she found anything good to read.

A few steps away from the study area was a long aisle of bookcases with a sign overhead: History- Non-Fiction. Maria stopped and looked up at it, suddenly remembering Abraham Van Helsing's lecture on Count Dracula in Stoker's novel. She meant to ask Alucard about it, but she had been too scared of ruining their night together. Absentmindedly, she touched the tips of her fingers to her lips, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers. Yes, last night had been wonderful. It had not been worth souring by dredging up Alucard's past.

Still, Maria's curiosity had only been temporarily forgotten. She looked up at the sign again and gave a little shrug. Alucard was not here and the questions that looped in her mind were driving her crazy; she might as well hunt for some answers.

Luckily for Maria, her topic of interest was not hard to find. The shelves closest to the History- Non-Fiction sign were crowded with Balkan folklore, the history of vampires and other monsters, demonology, and Eastern European history. Maria walked slowly down the aisle, scrutinizing each title until one of the books caught her eye.

It was a worn hardcover with a black book jacket and red title. The deep bends in the spine obscured the title except for one word: Dracula. Maria was disappointed at first, thinking she had only found another copy of Stoker's book. Nevertheless, she pulled the book out, flipped it over, and read the full title: The Real Dracula.

The authors were two university professors, but that is not what sold Maria on the book. Instead, it was the cover art, which was nothing but a framed portrait of a man who looked strikingly familiar. Garbed in a fur mantel and bejewelled hat, the man seemed to stare out at the reader, his deep blue eyes seeming to both question and judge. His angular face was framed by two curtains of curly black hair, and the slightest hint of a frown played over his full mouth, above which sat a neatly trimmed moustache. Maria stared at the cover, feeling an unexpected rush. Without the facial hair, the medieval clothing, and the blue eyes, the person in the painting was clearly Alucard.

Only, he was human.

Without thinking to look at the other books, Maria tucked the volume under her arm and hurried back to the study alcove. She settled down on the loveseat and crossed her legs, but not before looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone. She felt slightly guilty, like she was prying into Alucard's life when she had no business doing so. But, since he was one of the only people in her life she could trust now, she felt compelled to know more about him.

That was not all, though. He had referred to himself as a monster on more than one occasion, but she never really believed him. She knew there was something more to him, and now she finally had some answers beyond the half truths of Bram Stoker. With that, and a deep breath, Maria pushed the last shred of guilt from her mind and opened the book.

After reading the introduction, Maria could feel her heart begin to sink. This was not going to be a happy story. Even before the first chapter, the authors were already describing the world into which Alucard had been born as a bloody, unstable, and frightening time. Fifteenth century Romania had been divided into three kingdoms: Moldavia to the East, Transylvania to the West, and Wallachia just below them. South of the Danube River, the Ottoman Empire encroached on southernmost part of Romania, which Maria learned was ruled over by a prince named Vlad II Dracul. Wallachia had been at war with the Ottoman Turks for years, and in the midst of all the fighting, Dracul took a wife and sired two sons: The older one was named after him, thus becoming Vlad III, and the younger one was called Radu. The brothers grew up in Transylvania, dangerously close to the Hungarian border, while their father battled the "infidels" in the Balkans.

Maria skimmed the first chapter, trying to make sense of all the marriages and royal bloodlines when she ran across a picture of Dracul's two boys. On the page opposite a wall of text, a photocopied image of a Renaissance portrait took up the entire page. She held it close to her face and inspected the glossy, coloured page carefully.

One of the children was the most adorable little boy she had ever laid eyes on. He looked no more than six or seven, with soft, pudgy cheeks, large dark eyes, and smooth brown hair curling delicately below his chin. The older boy, however, was the exact opposite of his brother. Maria guessed he was about twelve or thirteen at the time of this painting, and even though he was well dressed, he did not strike her as terribly healthy or graceful. He looked skinny, pale, and his bright blue eyes seemed to dance with a sort of arrogant defiance that only a boy trying too hard to be a man could exhibit. Maria stared at the portrait with baited breath as she read the footnote at the bottom of the page: The heirs to the Wallachian throne, Prince Radu cel Frumos and Prince Vlad III Dracula (c. 1444)

A shiver ran up Maria's spine. She could hardly believe what she was looking at: The eldest boy, Prince Vlad III, was Alucard. If she did not see his nickname, Dracula, in the footnote, she would have still recognized him from the haughty glimmer in his eye and the way he held himself. This was her prince, before he had grown up, before he had become the vampire known as Alucard. He even had a Christian name.

"Vlad," Maria murmured to herself, testing it out. It was strange, calling him by that name, but it was his real name. She ran her thumb down the page, brushing over Alucard's face, as a strange sense of nostalgia welled up within her. "Vlad Dracula..."

As she read on, Maria discovered the painting of the two princes had been done just before Dracul gave them away to the Ottoman sultan, Murad. It was common practice in those days to exchange hostages as part of peace treaties, but Maria was horrified. How could Dracul have given his two little boys away? From what she understood, Vlad and Radu had been raised to hate the Turks, but then they were expected to live with them? It did not make sense.

Maria lowered the book and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. A frown played across her mouth as she compared her situation to Alucard's. Like him, she had grown up without her parents, but she never knew them. Even when Father Anderson told her that they died in a road accident, Maria could only feel pity for them and said a prayer for their souls that night. But Alucard- or Vlad- knew his parents, and her heart ached to image what he felt when his father abandoned him in Anatolia with the sultan.

Maria slid down onto her back and read on, unable to help her morbid curiosity. The entire story was reading like a bad accident: It was terrible, but she could not look away. She had to know what became of her prince and his darling little brother.

Just as she expected, life was not easy for Vlad in Sultan Murad's court. While Radu was well behaved and loved by all for his looks, his older brother was something of a problem child. According to the authors, he would defy every rule set out for him by his new masters: He refused to speak Turkish for the first two years of his captivity, he constantly broke his curfew, had no qualms about treating the children cruelly (including the favoured Radu), and on more than one occasion, he tried to run away. The punishments meted out to him were always severe, and often included a beating or a trip to the torture chamber to witness other's suffering.

Maria held the book away from her face, momentarily sickened by what she read. She tried to imagine what twisted soul would force a thirteen year old boy to watch someone else suffer. She could only imagine how frightened Alucard had been, or what that had done to his psyche.

A few pages later, Maria knew she made a mistake by continuing. The authors had yet another anecdote, something that they referred to as "the moment the young prince was finally broken." Maria gripped the sides of the volume. Did she want to read this? She knew that any story that started with someone getting "broken" was never good. And yet, she found herself reading on, because the authors presented some primary evidence: A correspondence from one of the sultan's eunuchs, who had witnessed Prince Vlad getting punished yet again. Although, this time, there was no mention of beatings or trips to the dungeon. Horrified, Maria devoured the guard's letter:

...And so, it did happen again. Dracul's son tried to escape, and this time, he had the audacity to steal the sultan's prized stallion. The silly fool tried to ride out of the stable in the dead of night, but only succeeded in letting all of the horses loose in his haste. There was a great commotion when we noticed, and the animals were naturally spooked. One of the steeds reared and came down on Mehmet, the sultan's heir. His wrist was snapped, but he was otherwise unharmed. Still, when this happened, the only person that was more enraged than Murad was his vizier, Ahmed. He volunteered to punish the boy for the sultan, which Muard allowed, as he was preoccupied with his son's injuries. I cannot say what occurred immediately after this, but near midnight, I saw the vizier drag the Wallachian brat by the hair into his bedroom. I was stationed by his door, and I shiver to imagine what unnatural things occurred within. When the boy emerged, he was weeping, and his tunic had been ripped to shameful tatters. And, as he limped to his own room, I prayed to God that He would judge Ahmed according to His law...

Maria stared at the passage, hardly daring to believe the guard's words. The book began to shake, and that was when she noticed her hands were quivering. With a little cry, she threw the volume down and scrambled away from it. Her throat constricted painfully, and her mouth began to water. She was going to throw up.

Abandoning the book, Maria leapt off the couch and sped out of the library. She raced down the hallway with a hand over her mouth and stumbled into the first bathroom she could find. The door slammed closed as she rushed to the waiting toilet. She flung the seat up and leaned forward, her eyes screwing shut as her stomach heaved painfully. But, all that left her mouth was a terrible gag.

She breathed shallowly, cringing as her stomach roiled again. Another wave of nausea threatened to come up, but all she did was retch again. As she leaned over, her light-headedness got the better of her. She was on the floor in an instant, staring at the underside of the toilet bowl. That was when the tears came.

Maria sat up, brought her knees to her chest, and rested her head on her folded arms. She leaned back against the nearby cabinet and wept, hardly caring if anyone heard her. She felt as if she had just been punched. Her stomach hurt, her mind was a mess, and her heart was broken for Alucard.

As she sat there, crying, she wondered what kind of monster could do such a thing to an innocent child. She could hardly imagine the hurt and humiliation the evil vizier had put the little prince through, and when she tried, it only made her cry harder.

"Oh, Alucard..." she sobbed. "My poor, dear Alucard..."

Before long, her tears of sadness turned to tears of hate. She wanted to go back in time and shake Dracul by the shoulders for leaving his boys in Anatolia. She did not care if he was a ruler; no child should ever have to endure such a crime, even for the sake of their country. She found herself wishing she could confront the vizier and throw him in the dungeon for what he had done. More than anything, though, she wished she could meet the young Prince Vlad and take him away. She wanted to shield him, protect him, let him know that he was loved and cherished in the purest of ways. These thoughts ran through her mind over and over again, and like the guard who had written the letter, she found herself wishing the vizier would burn in Hell. She had never hoped for such a thing before, but she took exception with Ahmed.

Now, more than ever since she woke up, she wanted Alucard back home. He had not even been gone for a full day yet, but logic would not dictate her emotions this time. She wanted nothing more than to lie down, wrap her arms around him, and never let go. She knew a bit of cuddling could not erase the damage he sustained over the years, but what else could she do?

Maria did not know how long she sat on the floor for. She hardly moved, even when her knees began to ache and her thighs grew numb. She only uncurled her body and pushed herself to her feet when all of her tears were spent.

Feeling perfectly miserable, she left the bathroom and slowly made her way back to the library. The book remained where she had thrown it, Alucard's portrait on the front gazing intensely at her, as if he was irritated that she had run off. Sighing, she placed the book on the desk behind the couch and turned her back on it.

Maria glanced up at the television and reached for the remote, which was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Perhaps some mindless entertainment would help get her mind off everything. The TV sang to life with a push of the button, but Maria quickly found there was nothing good on. She had no patience for reality shows, and every other channel was playing commercials. After a moment of channel surfing, she finally decided to settle on the news.

There was nothing interesting on the news, either. There was a report about a bridge collapsing in Malaysia, and some coverage on a fashion show taking place in London that week, but other than that, Maria was perfectly bored. She was tempted to switch back to the infomercials, but she did not touch the remote. She was trying to find the motivation to move, when suddenly, the screen lit up with crimson tickertape that read BREAKING NEWS.

"We interrupt this program with a special broadcast from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil," the anchorwoman announced as she hurriedly shuffled through some papers.

Maria's spine snapped taut at the sound of her words.

"BBC is currently receiving reports of a potential terrorist attack in a luxury hotel just off the coast of Guanabara Bay."

Maria's blood ran cold when she realized Alucard and Seras were probably stationed at a beachside hotel. Gripping the side of the couch, she breathed deeply through her nose. She had to calm down. There were many luxury resorts in Rio. What were the chances this was happening at Alucard's?

"We now go live to our South American correspondent, Sandro Guerrero."

The image on screen switched to a harried looking man standing in the middle of a crowded plaza. Behind him, a large, alabaster skyscraper rose into the starless night.

"Thank you, Jennifer," he said. "No less than half an hour ago, two terrorists killed a number of guests and staff at the hotel you see directly behind me. They have barricaded themselves in the penthouse, and SWAT teams are on high alert. So far, there have been no new developments, but we are on standby for anything that may happen."

Suddenly, Sandro Guerrero disappeared, only to be replaced by photos of the two "terrorists": A confused-looking Seras Victoria, and a sidelong shot of Alucard, perhaps as he had been turning away from the camera.

A sharp cry left Maria's throat before she could stop it. She clapped her hands over her mouth, hoping by some miracle this was a mistake. But, the longer Seras' and Alucard's images stayed on screen, the more the reality of it sunk in: They were in trouble, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

Eventually, the SWAT teams were sent in, and BBC chose to keep the camera rolling outside the hotel. Maria leaned forward, her blood rushing in her ears as she watched the heavily armed men enter the building. The more men that filed in, the closer her hands came together in silent prayer. Once they disappeared from sight, she began to murmur the Our Father, almost automatically, as she watched. It had been a while since she prayed, but she needed the strength to be brave now. She had to believe Alucard and Seras were going to be all right.

These hopes were shattered as soon as a commotion broke out on the topmost floor of the hotel. The camera swivelled up as the surrounding news casters and bystanders screamed. The windows of the penthouse burst into a million tiny shards, and the sound of gunfire rang out through the night. When Maria saw a puddle of thick red blood oozing out from the destroyed sill, she leapt from the couch and ran out of the library as fast as she could.

She raced down the hall, calling frantically for Integra. She had no idea where the heiress was, or if she was even aware of what was going on. Fear nipped at her heels and chased her down the stairs. She could hardly breathe, but she continued to run, desperate to find Alucard's master. Maria was about to scream for her again, when she skidded around a corner and nearly bumped into two men.

"Whoa! Slow down," one of them said, reaching out to steady her. Maria looked up and recognized them as Hugh and Etienne, two of the Wild Geese she had had breakfast with earlier that morning.

"Integra is where?" she panted. "I must speak with her."

"I believe she's in her office," Etienne offered, furrowing his brow. "Why? What's wrong, Miss Sartori?"

Maria shook her head. "I cannot explain now. I must find her."

She left the mercenaries without another word, too panicked to excuse herself politely. She surged back up the stairs and barrelled down the main hall, until she reached the door of Integra's office. Without knocking, the young woman grasped the brass handles and pulled the double doors open.

The darkness nearly swallowed her whole as she hurried inside. The massive windows behind the bureau allowed the light of the full moon to spill into the office, sharply outlining Integra's and Walter's silhouettes. The heiress turned away from the window and glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Maria's approach. Although her face was hidden in the dark, she did not appear to be perturbed in any way.

"Sir Integra," Maria said breathlessly. "A terrible thing is happening- I saw on the televisione. Alucard and Seras, they-"

Integra held up her hand. "It's all right, Maria," she murmured. "We know. We're handling it right now."

Maria glanced at them both, her heavy breathing the only noise in the room. Of course they knew what was going on. She should have realized that they would have been the first ones to know.

"But, then," she started. "What will happen? How can we know they are safe?"

"I'm fairly certain their safety isn't an issue," Integra told her.

"But, I seen the blood," Maria insisted. "On the news channel, I saw from the window, there was blood, and-"

"Calm down," Integra interrupted. "I know what it looks like, but you have to understand that-"

The Hellsing leader was cut off when the phone on her desk began to ring. Everyone fell silent and looked at it, the little red bulb lighting up with each piercing trill.

"Someone is calling the direct line," Walter murmured. "Do you think it's-"

Integra gestured for him to be silent and approached the desk. She bent over the phone, hit the flashing button, and asked, "Who is it?"

"It's your humble servant, Sir Integra."

A rush of air filed Maria's lungs. That was Alucard's voice. He was all right. She suddenly felt like crying in relief.

"Give me my orders, Master."

Maria glanced at Integra, expecting to see a similar expression of relief on her face. Instead, she thought Integra looked rather pale, and her blue eyes were wide and uneasy behind her glasses. She looked almost… scared? Maria's smile vanish. She had never seen Integra look so unsure of herself before.

"… What did you do to that SWAT team?" the heiress asked softly.

"I killed them."

Maria gasped. His admission horrified her, chilled her to the bone, but his tone of voice was worse. Alucard sounded so flippant, so unfeeling, as if he did not care about the value of human life at all. Maria had seen the SWAT team file into the hotel with her own eyes. There were a lot of policemen, and her prince had killed them all in cold blood?

"I slaughtered them like cattle. There's not one left standing."

Maria's chest tightened, and her stomach churned dangerously, like it had done earlier. But, this feeling was worse. After reading her book, she had been heartbroken. Now, she was terrified. This did not sound like the man she knew and cared for.

"Now, all that I require is your order, Sir Integra. I believe the senior officials of the local police are under Millennium's control.

"These people who stand against me may be innocent humans, but I will kill them," Alucard promised. "I'm ready to strike them down without a moment's hesitation or the slightest hint of regret!"

Maria turned away, fighting the urge to cover her ears.

"I'm a monster, and I will do what needs to be done. But, what will you do, Sir Integra? My guns are prepared for battle, my sights are trained, my magazine is fully loaded…"

Directly ahead of her, Maria could see the doors, standing ajar, inviting her to escape this madness. She needed to go. She could not bear to hear another word out of him. All night, she was worrying about him, weeping bitter tears for the things he had suffered in the past. Now, she realized she should have been crying for the SWAT team who ignorantly followed Millennium's orders.

She was about to leave, but something Alucard said made her stop in her tracks. She glanced over her should and listened intently.

"… You must be the one to pull the trigger. So, what will you do? I'm waiting for orders, my master, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing…"

His voice trailed off, and Maria immediately disliked the insinuation. He sounded like he was taunting Integra, challenging her. Maria glanced at the heiress, trying to read her face. Yes, Integra certainly had to make a decision now, but which? What was the right to do?

With a little sigh, Integra sat down in her chair, deigning not to answer Alucard. Maria watched as she reached into her desk drawer and produced a cigar, which went immediately into her mouth. She lit it and breathed deeply. Maria did not say a word. She could only watch as Integra sat there in silence, letting the cigar burn. The tension in the room threatened to crush them all.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash as Integra's chair flew back into the wall behind her. The Hellsing leader was on her feet in an instant, her hands planted on the desk, her cigar tossed aside. Maria jumped back, frightened by the viciousness of Integra's expression.

"Don't you dare question my resolve," she shouted. "I've already given you your marching orders, solider: You will search and destroy, search and destroy! Any resistance you encounter is to be crushed! Hellsing does not run from our enemies- Kill them all! I order you to leave nothing but bloody stains in your wake!"

Maria gaped at her, wondering for a moment if she was trapped in some terrible nightmare. She had never seen Integra lose her composure before. The woman was enraged, practically frenzied, and thirsty for her enemies' blood. Where was the dignified and collected woman Maria had come to know? Did she even know any of these people?

While Maria stood there in a stunned silence, Alucard gave a hearty laugh.

"The final veil removed!" he said. "This is excellent news, indeed. You still know how to inspire my passion, Integra."

Almost as quickly as shock had gripped Maria, it fell away to be replaced by an even worse feeling. Her face grew hot, and a heavy, leaden feeling weighed down her heart. Did she hear Alucard correctly? She glanced up at the panting Integra and let herself get carried away on a current of jealousy. Alucard had never said anything like that to her...

"Then by your orders, my master, I hope you enjoy the show."

And with that, Alucard hung up the phone.

A heavy silence filled the room. All eyes were on Integra as she stood over the phone, staring at it, as if in a trance. Maria did not move from her place as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard. It was hard to think clearly when the haze of jealousy clouded her mind, though. Integra must have sensed it too, because when she looked up and caught Maria's eye, she immediately snapped at her.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. He was talking about his passion for battle, and nothing more. Don't be an idiot, Maria."

The young woman almost cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was agitate Integra even more. However, she could not deny the flood of relief that cooled her cheeks and calmed her mind. She would have felt more embarrassed for having jumped to conclusions, but there was too much going on in her head already. It was enough to know that she was not being played for a fool in at least one sense.

"Now," Integra continued testily, "I understand why you were concerned earlier, but now I need you to leave me so I can do my work. You've heard from Alucard, and there's nothing more you can do. There's no use worrying now."

Knowing she was no longer welcome in the office, Maria could only nod and say quietly, "Yes, Sir Integra. I thank you."

As she walked down the hall, Maria tried not to drown in her thoughts. She had discovered so many things that night, and she almost wished she had not. How was she supposed to feel, knowing half of Rio de Janeiro might be slaughtered by tomorrow thanks to Alucard? The way he promised to kill innocents if need be, the memory of the excited inflection in his voice, made Maria shiver. Was this the man she had chosen to share her bed with? She had been so enthralled of him before, even after she saw him kill Luke Valentine. But, she would have never thought he was capable of killing innocent people. She had to wonder if she would really let a murderer touch her body with bloodstained hands. Her mind screamed NO at her, and the feeling that he had somehow betrayed her was hard to ignore.

But, as she entered her room, her eyes went immediately to her bed. She stared at it, imagining thirteen year old Vlad Dracula sitting on the mattress, tugging at his patterned kaftan and wishing for an ermine mantle instead. Maria closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. The child she imagined to be sitting on her bed had never been taught right from wrong. Without parents to guide him, without a safe and secure way of life, morals meant nothing to him. Survival had been his top priority, even if it meant stepping on other people's heads to achieve it.

Maria slowly opened her eyes, which burned with fresh, unshed tears. She had a lot to think about.

Ugh. That was a hard chapter to write. People experience strong, conflicting emotions all the time, but it's hard to put it all down on paper sometimes. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! As always, thanks for your patience, and I'll see you on the next page ;)