A/N: Short little piece inspired by the last episode
It wasn't until Elizabetha was taunting him with his face that Vlad was really aware of what he'd lost. She had kept his face for last, knowing it would cause the most pain and it did. Vlad had never felt pain like it. It burned at the pit of his stomach and made him feel as though someone was trying to force feed him garlic. It hurt, so very much. But it brought something with it. A clarity. A clear plan inside his mind that he'd never thought on before and wondered why it hadn't occurred to him.
He didn't tell his Dad or his sister, they'd only try to advise him against it. Well, Ingrid would, and knowing her luck when it came to advising him, she'd be right. But the sick feeling in his stomach wouldn't be quelled until he at least tried the plan, at least tried to put things right. It took longer than he remembered, but he could remember how to do it. That was the important thing.
He was sitting on his own in the throne room when the door open. He turned his head and smiled.
"Nice to see you back."
Bertrand smirked
"Took you long enough."