Verona had given her a lot to think about during their last visit, and a bottle to gnaw on in order to take away the boredom. It was now well into her third month of solitude, and Ileana spent less time brooding over her and Dracula's relationship. In fact, she barely thought about it at all; what else was there to think about? She had assessed the positives, the negatives, the past, and the future, and she had reached a point in her thought process where she simply couldn't think about it anymore. Instead, she thought about the dichotomy of his brides, wondering how any of them were accepting of the strange relationship they found themselves in.

Did they really have a choice? Had there been others over the years, or had it been almost three centuries of those four living together, unhinged and defying social norms? Verona said she had been the first… How could she have accepted the fact that her husband wanted to bring two other women into their relationship? She had read about polygyny in the Arab nations, but her book insisted it was done in order to steadily increase the population. After all, if one man was married to many women, he had a better chance of producing more children at a higher rate than if he was married to only one. In Europe, she knew most men simply kept a mistress, and would occasionally acknowledge a bastard if that meant there would be an heir to their line. Did this way make more sense?

Verona insisted that she did care for the women, but it was clear that the negative emotions lingered in their relationship. However, that had to be what it was like in any family; sometimes she and her uncle fought, and as she muddled through her teen years, she found sometimes he annoyed her endlessly, made her want to scream, and she went through a phase where she thought she was better than him because she wasn't hell-bent on making insane experiments a reality. Ileana realized they were a family. It was a dysfunctional family, but Verona, Aleera, and Marishka were some sort of odd combination of women who constituted a family. Was it a modern one, or were they an ancient breed that was more common all those many years ago?

They were all there because they loved one man, and in theory he reciprocated in the only way a man could. She had seen the way he looked at them, and the way he sometimes gazed at her when they were alone, and Ileana knew it was a strange sort of love that couldn't quite be explained. But was that enough? Was it enough to have a third of a man's love, now a fourth, and be forced to watch as he gave the rest to different women? Did any of them, Verona especially, feel that the connection she had with the other two women justified never having a full connection again with the man who was once her husband?

Sometimes Ileana shook her head, baffled by the situation that those other women found themselves in. However, there wasn't much that she could pass judgement on, because aside from the fact that she wasn't 'technically' a bride, her lot in life didn't seem all that much different. Perhaps, at one point, Aleera decided she was upset with Dracula, and like Ileana, she wanted to leave. There was this power the man had over them, this pull that kept them there because, deep down, they were desperately in love with everything he is and was, and potentially what he will be. After all, if by some miracle they did manage to bring his children to life, he could have thousands of small vampires doing his biding by the end of the year. The human population would be doomed, and Ileana would be an idiot to argue that a powerful man was not an attractive man.

So there they were, four women who were supposed to be fairly intelligent – or Ileana would have assumed – and they were willing to share themselves with one man who could twist them in any direction he wished. Ileana didn't want to be that person, but when she looked at Verona, so bitter but adoring toward her husband, she couldn't help but see herself in the vampire. Perhaps not anytime soon, but it was a depressing thought to think that in the end, Ileana would settle. After all, three women had already done it before her, so why should she be any different. She wasn't any stronger, physically or emotionally, than any of them. She might have been more intellectual, but in retrospect she had no idea if the others had bettered their minds over their time on this earth. They couldn't be idiots… Dracula wouldn't surround himself with women who had air for brains.

Mind you, she wasn't particularly sure why the man thought to surround himself with women in the first place. Was it because they were the weaker sex? Did he simply want there to be a group of adoring ladies to look up to him throughout all of his accomplishments? Did he genuinely enjoy the company of women that much that he would make three of them to spend eternity with him, and then suddenly a fourth? There were so many questions that Ileana could ponder while she was locked away, and no answers in sight. That was why this could be so frustrating; she could assume whatever she wanted when it came to Dracula, his wives, and their relationship, but as long as she was trapped in this coffin, starving, there was nothing she could do to find an answer.

She had gotten good at counting the days simply based on Igor's patterns in the castle. Even though she had finished her blood within an hour of Verona's last departure, the vampire had brought her more than before, which meant her senses stayed in-tune for longer. She could hear the footsteps of the man when he rose, when he shuffled around the castle, and when he finally retired. She wasn't particularly sure of his sleeping pattern – diurnal or nocturnal – but she was sure it was accurate enough to assume that when she first heard him after several long hours of silence he was waking up. From there, if she wasn't lost in her own head, it was easy to follow him over the course to day, or night, until he finally retired again. From all of those cycles, she estimated it had been roughly a month since her last visit with Verona, and the estimate was proven correct when the same old door creaked open.

Ileana perked at the sound of heeled shoes strolling toward the coffin, and she licked her lips eagerly at the thought being brought something to sustain her a little longer. Nails trailed along the side of her prison, and she traced their path with her own, waiting in silence. Verona took her time, tapping her heel on the floor for a moment or so, until she finally removed the lid of Ileana's coffin at such a painstakingly slow pace that she wanted to scream. However, when she saw the woman's bored face, she smiled up at her, the skin across her cheeks stretching tight over her cheekbones.

"You seem to be getting better with each month," Verona stated. She took a seat on the edge of the coffin as Ileana sat up, and then produced a very small cup of blood from behind her back. The stench was overwhelming, but the size barely lived up to her expectations.

"That's it?" Ileana asked, staring at it in surprise. "Verona, I'll shrivel away if I don't-"

"This has gone on long enough," the vampire told her, shoving the cup in her hand. Ileana winced as a little bit spilled over the side, but she managed to catch it on her finger. "Marishka's children will start to rot in a few weeks, and we are no closer to finding a way to make the experiment a success."

"I'm sorry," Ileana muttered, the cup of blood shoved up under her nose. Verona smirked.

"You aren't, but I'll tell Marishka you said it anyway," she mused, clacking her nails together. They were always so perfectly kept, and Ileana glanced down at her own, noting that although they had healed, they were quite discoloured and uneven.

"So, is this his plan then?" Ileana asked after she took a sip, "Starve me with only a cup of blood so I'll have to come out?"

"Actually, it's my plan," Verona told her flatly. "He's so moody without you around to be the cause of his anger… He doesn't know who to take it out on anymore, and it's starting to bother me."

Ileana blinked up at her, and then took another small sip, "It's bothering you?"

"Plus I don't want to do this every month for the rest of our days," she told Ileana, cocking her head to the side. "I think it's time you apologize and we can get on with our lives. I'm sick of stasis."

"I shouldn't have to apologize," Ileana snapped. "He's left me in here for three months and doesn't have the decency to see if I'm still …"

"What? Still alive?"

"Well, in theory," she muttered, taking a gulp of her blood, unable to sip it anymore. "He's done far worse to me than I've-"

"Oh, Ileana," Verona groaned, rolling her eyes upward. "Save it. Enough of this… I assume you didn't have a mother to bestow this type of advice on you, so let me be the first."

Ileana opened her mouth, about to come back with some retort, but then slowly closed it again, sticking to her drink instead.

"Men will never apologize," Verona explained, leaning a little closer. "They will never grovel, unless they want to take you to bed, and they will never admit they were wrong, even if you both know it. They expect the woman to take the blame, and we do. We do, because we know deep down that everyone knows who the bigger person is here… We're right, they're wrong, and that is acknowledged, even if it isn't out loud."

"Well, what's the point?"

"The point is," she continued, her eyes narrowing a tad, "that the fight is over, and you won. Oh, he seems to think he's come off as the victor because you gave in first, but really, you both know you did it because he's too stubborn to, and that's the way things will always be. You would be superior, Ileana, not him."

Ileana snorted, "Stop trying to say what you think I want to hear."

"I'm telling you how the world works between men and women," the vampire snapped sharply. "This is how we handle conflict. It saves us the trouble, and they come out feeling like they've won some great battle. We know the truth, Ileana. We know who runs the relationship, and it certainly isn't him."

"You're delusional if you think he doesn't control any of us," Ileana muttered, tapping her finger against her cup, "but I can… see your point. Apologize, but not mean it… and then just move on."

"Well… More or less, yes," Verona said after a moment of contemplating, giving her a nod. "It isn't difficult to keep a man pleased with you, my dear. You simply need to learn all the right tricks."

"Oh, are you going to teach me?"

"No," the vampire purred, snatching the cup from her hands, "this is just a little tip to get you through this crisis. You're on your own for the next one, and I'm sure there will be one soon."

"Hey…"

"I'll tell my husband you're willing to crawl on your hands and knees to him," Verona insisted, pushing Ileana back down. "He'll know how sorry you are, how much you miss him… and when he comes for you, you had better live up to my stories."

"Can't I finish that?"

"Ileana," she hissed, grabbing her chin with such force that she winced, "I am doing you a favour. Do not make me regret it."

She nodded quickly, but her eyes lingered on the cup in Verona's other hand. The brunette snarled and released her, and then hauled the lid of the coffin back over, encasing her in darkness once again.

An entire week passed before Ileana heard the sound of that familiar door open once more. She couldn't believe Verona hadn't even let her finish the small cup of blood before she disappeared, but Ileana had assumed that Dracula would be there within the day once he heard of her apology. However, she sat there, stewing for almost an entire week. She wondered if Verona had even bothered to tell Dracula about Ileana giving in. She must not have, because why would he take so long to return to her? Did he even care? She was furious that she had to wait, even though she was the one being the bigger person… Ridiculous.

However, as soon as she heard a door open and footsteps enter the room, her anger had to dissipate. The footsteps weren't quite the same as she was used to hearing, and she suddenly felt a tiny hint of anticipation knot in her stomach. They were heavier and more solid sounding; she steadied herself for the moment she had been waiting for these whole three months. She knew she didn't exactly look appealing, but hopefully she could muster a look of sheer adoration that would be passable. However, when the lid of the coffin was abruptly thrown off, clattering somewhere on the floor, the false look of love disappeared, and was instead replaced with one of concern.

Ileana flinched when Dracula's face suddenly appeared above her, a stern look in his eyes as he surveyed her. She gulped, unable to read a single flicker of emotion that passed over his face; it was as though a stone statue stared back at her. Finally, he reached into the coffin and hauled her out by her forearm, contorting and twisting the skin to something more painful than she had anticipated. However, she kept her yelp in. Her legs weren't stable enough to hold her up, but she managed to lean back against the siding of the coffin, her free hand resting against his chest. Neither said a word. Instead, Ileana gazed up into his cool blue eyes, and for a moment, everything was forgotten. He was here. He came for her.

It was only a moment of forgetfulness, but even beyond that point she wasn't sure what to say to him. She wanted to stand up for everything that Verona must have told him, but instead she merely stared at the man who she had thought endlessly about for almost three months. She knew he was waiting for her to do something, anything, to show just how sorry she was for all the trouble she had caused him, but he barely showed it.

Her body couldn't take being vertical for this long, and even while she was leaning on something she still felt her them wobble. So, she threw her arm up and around his neck, hauling herself up as she kissed him. He continued to feel solid for a moment, until she finally closed her eyes and she felt him react. The contact was overwhelming: lips to hers, a hand nestled in her hair, tugging, yanking, body pushing hers against the outer wall of her former prison. However, before she could sink into it, enjoy the moment, he turned her around sharply and pushed her over, hiking up her dress in the process.

Her body was sore. It wasn't the same pain a human would feel in this sort of situation, but she was aching and stiff, and he barely seemed to notice. Instead, he slipped one hand under her hip, and she cried out in surprise when he thrust forward, filling her in one go. Her eyes widened and she clutched at the coffin's crisp edged. He raked a hand through her hair, forcing her to arch forward as he took her. Ileana moaned, cried out, mewed, and begged him for more, and only half of it was part of her act to appear apologetic. The other half wanted it desperately, feeling complete and whole for the first time in months.

She still hated him. On principle, she had to hate him. However, when he wrapped a hand over her mouth, his pace quickening and her hips slamming noisily against the coffin, she couldn't quite hate him with the intensity she wanted. Instead, she sunk her teeth into the fleshy part of palm, her eyes rolling back as cool blood gushed into her mouth, smeared across her lips, rolled down her chin.

"You will never, ever, do something like that again," he hissed in her ear, emphasizing each word rather pointedly. "You will obey, and you will do as I tell you, when I tell you."

She moaned in response, but focused more on the free-flowing blood rather than on what he was actually saying. Yes, she would agree to everything, but because it served her purpose now. Wasn't that what Verona had been hinting at, anyway?

"If you disobey me again," he whispered, his grasp tightening on her hip as he started to slow, thrusting deep into her as she continued to drink, "I will lock you in here, and I will leave you to starve."

"I know," she managed, whimpering when he pulled his hand away. It returned to her hair instead, and she felt him shudder against her. After, he pushed her away, and for a moment she lay over the open coffin, hips on one side, head on the other. She heard him jostling around behind her, no doubt fixing himself up now that he had gotten what he wanted. Well, gotten what they both clearly wanted. She licked her lips; what she really needed was more blood, and not the cold blood from Dracula: fresh, warm, pulsating blood.

"So, when will I be back in the laboratory?" she inquired lightly, knowing the subject was going to come up at one point or another.

"You are banned from that laboratory until I can trust you," her lover told her as she pushed herself up.

"You're banning me from a room in my home?"

"Now, now, Ileana, it's my castle," he mused, arching an eyebrow at her. "I thought you would be happy… You're no longer a part of the experiment. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She frowned at him as she smoothed out her dress, "I don't understand…"

"I won't risk you destroying any new equipment I bring in," he told her plainly. "So, I have a new assignment for you."

"Oh?"

"A friend concocted what he believes to be a potion that can cure a werewolf from his disease," Dracula explained as he strolled toward the door, his hands clasped together loosely behind his back. "I'd like you to make it. We will test the batches on my wolves until we get it just right."

Ileana stared at him for a moment, completely baffled by the task she had just been presented with. The casualness of his tone… It was like he had never been angry with her to begin with. She took a few steps toward him, as though unsure of herself, and then stopped, "I'm drafting a werewolf's cure?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to," Dracula ground out, a flash of danger suddenly noticeable in his eyes. "Any more questions?"

She shook her head quickly, mind reeling at the possibilities that awaited her now. Would this actually work? If there was a cure for werewolves, could there be a cure for vampires?

"Come along, Ileana," Dracula called as he departed from the room. "Don't you want to go hunting?"

All thoughts of werewolves and a cure vanished from her mind when he mentioned the hunt, and she sprang out the door after him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

All right, done with my ramblings about all the complexities of the relationships that these women face with each other and Dracula. I just wanted to try it out. We'll be steering back toward the normal storyline ASAP. Can't believe I actually managed to get this out within the week (ish) of what I promised. Hurray! I lack muse for my other stories, so this seems to be a main focus for the moment.

Thanks for the lovely reviews!