Southern Romania

Bran Village, 1885

The storm that descended upon the quaint village of Bran that night had no equal. It appeared without warning, creating gusts of wind so strong that they knocked down fir trees as old as the village itself. Entire windows were shattered, even, leaving the terrified villagers exposed to the bone-chilling howl of freezing air.

However, it wasn't the frenzied flurry of snow that had people frantically reaching for their rosaries, but the massive and ominous clouds of dark smoke that had swiftly enveloped the old castle atop the hill that overlooked the village. The castle had been abandoned for decades when the last lord of the Dragos family died, and no one thought anything of it.

That is, until "The Great Scourge" arrived.

This storm, this scourge, brought with it an evil so great that Bran's inhabitants cursed the night it arrived and damned them all to generations of suffering. Their children, born into unfortunate wretchedness, grew accustomed to stories of the sadistic lord and cruel mistress that inhabited the fortress and were warned to stay out of their sight.

Castle Dracula, as it came to be known, was nothing but a place of blood and death. The villagers had sadly come to this gruesome realization following the sudden and mysterious disappearances of friends and family as time went on. A fate that they were sure would befall them, and everyone else in the village, eventually.

But most important of all, the outside world had no idea that strigoi had taken up residence in rural Romania. They would soon find out.

Castle Dracula

Winter of 1890

The villagers referred to the mercurial lord of House Drăculești as a monster. It was only fitting, for there was no better word to describe a man that enjoyed the taste of human blood than monster. A foul creature of the night. And to everyone's dismay, his bride was very much the same.

Lady Drăculești was characterized as a willowy wraith of a woman by those lucky enough to escape her grasp. She was gentler in her cruelty than her husband, only drinking from her victims after they collapsed from fear and exhaustion. It was as much mercy as she could offer them in their final moments, and there were occasions where the guilt was simply overwhelming.

"Dragă mea." He had purred one evening, pulling the pale blonde into his lap, "I wish you would not worry yourself over a simple peasant."

The ill-fated princess of Arendelle buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. "You know why I can't do that." She murmured, feeling the human's loss in what remained of her soul. "The Dark Curse…"

"Stripped you of your magic." He finished, gently stroking her platinum locks. "I haven't forgotten, Ingrid."

She shuddered involuntarily. "I can't bear it any longer. It's been five years." The lady of the castle slumped against her mate, enjoying the way his nails caressed her scalp. "Blood tastes….different now."

Dracula purred again to comfort her, a low rumble that reverberated deep in his chest. "I know, my darling. Which is why I have sent for the solicitor."

"The one from Exeter?" Ingrid asked, pulling away from his embrace. "He actually responded?" She hadn't expected their correspondence to result in anything productive, not since her husband threatened to have the young Englishman fired from his practice for blatant disrespect of his elders.

"As much as I dislike the arrogant whelp, he finally agreed to be our estate agent." Dracula was pleased to see her smile, at last, for the first time in months. "I expect him to arrive by the end of January."

The solicitor was less than thrilled when he learned that he would have to traverse the Carpathian Mountains in the dead of winter. Being from England, he had lived through many a blizzard in his lifetime, but Romanian ones easily outdid them all. There were multiple times throughout the journey where he thought the carriage would overturn on the road and he would be left freezing to death in a snowdrift.

That aside, Johnathan Harker arrived at Castle Dracula three days ahead of schedule. With no idea of what to expect, the Englishman couldn't help but marvel at the foreboding gothic fortress of his mysterious client. It was a labyrinth of towers and turrets interconnected by colossal stone walls, and obviously designed with potential invading forces in mind. Johnathan decided right away that he was going to do anything and everything humanly possible to satisfy Lord and Lady Dracula.

"Welcome…Mr. Harker." The coachman drawled as they came to a stop in front of the massive main gate. "You'll find your stay at Castle Dracula to be, shall we say, a life-changing experience."

Johnathan had no doubt whatsoever. "Thank you, sir." He shook hands with the odd man and retrieved his belongings from the carriage. "Are winters here always this miserable?"

The coachman chuckled from atop his perch. "Boy, you haven't yet learned the meaning of miserable." He tipped his hat to Johnathan and lightly struck the horse with his whip, signaling the animal to begin a trot that would pull the carriage forward and away from the castle.

Mr. Harker was left standing in the cold, unable to shake off the feeling of impending doom.

Meanwhile, down in the wine cellar, the lady of the castle was busy savoring her latest vintage. The particularly fruity blend of cherry, raspberry, and vanilla slid down her throat in a smooth symphony of flavor, delighting what remained of her human senses, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the demon within.

Disappointed, the blonde countess set her empty glass aside and called out for her favorite servant. The girl, a human from the village, was the only one she trusted with the forthcoming task. "Juliana, iubirea mea, what do you know of wine?"

Not accustomed to such familiarity from her mistress, Juliana stammered out the truth. "Nothing, my lady." She was highly embarrassed of her answer. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use to you."

Ingrid was not deterred. "It's alright, little one." She made an effort to put the girl at ease by relaxing her posture. "I'm not going to punish you for your honesty."

"You're not?" The younger of the two blurted before quickly slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. Juliana was not as afraid of Lady Drăculești as the other servants, but that didn't mean she wasn't intimidated by the woman. If she could even be called that.

"No, my dear. Punishments are reserved for trespassers and misbehaving staff." Ingrid hooked her index finger under the girl's chin, forcing Juliana to look her in the eye. "Are you either of those things?"

Juliana shook her head.

"I didn't think so." Ingrid released the maid and gestured to the half-empty bottle that she had been drinking from. "So, instead, we're going to discuss how to make wine."

Juliana had never been this close to her mistress before, where she could easily make out the twin tips of her deadly fangs. "Red or white, my lady?" She swallowed hard, heart pounding in her chest.

"Red, eventually." The blonde's unnerving gaze was fixated on her servant's pulse point, deepening her desire for extraordinary blood. "Today you will learn what I require of a perfect specimen."

What followed were a series of tortured screams that echoed throughout the halls of the castle, informing its inhabitants that the mistress had sated herself on at least one of the many prisoners held in the chambers below. Johnathan's stoic escort, an elderly man by the name of Anton, hardly flinched at the sound.

"I suppose I should mention, Mr. Harker," Anton said as they entered the foyer, "that the mistress does not take too kindly to uninvited guests."

Before Johnathan could inquire further, the heavy iron door swung shut behind them, seemingly of its own accord. "I'll keep that in mind."

"See that you do." Anton remarked, looking grim. "You wouldn't want her to rescind your invitation."

If the harrowing sounds from below were any indication of his potential fate, the young solicitor had no desire to make an enemy of Lady Drăculești. "No, of course not."

He then dutifully followed Anton deeper into the castle. "I'm here strictly for business. What the mistress does in the privacy of her home is none of my concern."

The elderly escort, who had served the lord and lady for a few years, doubted he would leave the castle in the same state he arrived in. He was too…foreign. "Right then. Follow me, Mr. Harker, and I'll take you to your room."

Anton left Johnathan to unpack his belongings in relative peace. The guest bedchamber he was given was nestled high in the castle's northernmost tower, which would have been perfectly suitable if not for the colony of bats already housed in its rafters. They peered down at him with their beady black eyes, eyes that seemed to watch his every move, and chirped occasionally. He wasn't a fan of the flying mammals, per say, but these bats in particular unnerved him. There was just…something odd about their behavior.

He had just finished putting his clothes away in the provided wardrobe when someone knocked thrice. "Mr. Harker," the voice of Anton drawled, "the lord highly requests your presence at dinner this evening."

Johnathan knew it was more of a requirement than a request. "I'll be right down, thank you Anton." He replied, rushing to select an outfit appropriate for the occasion. House Dracula had their familial traditions, as all noble houses did, so he was confident that his black waistcoat and trousers were more than suitable for a proper introduction.

Not wanting to keep his hosts waiting, he quickly got dressed and went down to the great hall, unsettled by the now eerily silent castle. The screaming that greeted him upon arrival was no more, leaving Johnathan to wonder what had befallen the unfortunate intruders Anton had mentioned. With only a lit candelabra to guide the way, the solicitor found himself face to face with the lord of the castle, already seated at the head of the massive banquet table.

Finding his manners, Johnathan gave a slight nod in deference to his host. "Good evening, my lord." He nodded again to the blonde woman on his left. "My lady."

Lord Dracula did not reciprocate the gesture. Instead, the count leaned forward in his chair to reach for a silver chalice, using the vessel to indicate where he wanted Johnathan to sit. "Please, Mr. Harker."

The lady looked at him expectantly, almost daring Johnathan to defy her husband. He felt like prey under her stare. "I'm terribly sorry for the delay." The Englishman explained. "This castle is quite the labyrinth."

Dracula chuckled. "Yes, it does take some getting used to." He then took a sip from the still-raised cup, an act that stained his lips a deep crimson. "I had hoped to discuss the acquisition tonight, if that's not too much of a bother."

"Not at all." Johnathan stuttered, suddenly flustered by the sight of the count's suspiciously tinted mouth. "Your documents are in my room, sir, but everything is currently in order."

To his surprise, Lady Dracula seemed confused. "What acquisition?" She set down her own chalice, identical to the one her husband was drinking from, and looked to her spouse for an explanation. "And do not sit there and feign ignorance. What decision have you made without me?"

Johnathan's host appeared to have anticipated his wife's reaction and rising temper, as he was quick to place a placating hand on her shoulder. "At ease, Ingrid. There was no decision to be made. Mr. Harker did exactly as we asked."

This seemed to have appeased the blonde. "He found Van Helsing? In London?" She asked, eyes wide. "That's excellent news, dragă mea!"

While the couple were occupied with one another, Johnathan dove into the feast laid out before him: marinated kebabs, potato soup, sausage rolls, and a whole roasted duck. He found it odd that neither of them were interested in the food, preferring to savor the wine in their cups.

The end of their conversation brought Johnathan back to reality. "…I've had Harker draw up the documents to purchase St. Bartholomew's Hospital."

"As I said before," the Englishman interjected, drawing their attention, "everything's in order. You'll be allowed full access to Van Helsing's ongoing research." He explained. "Including the laboratory."

Lady Dracula actually purred, if that was even humanly possible. "I must say, Johnathan, I'm impressed." She was eyeing him like she was seeing him in a new light. "Whatever did you say to get the British government to agree to the sale?"

"Well," the solicitor blushed, "it turns out that they no longer had the funds to keep St. Bart's operational." He couldn't help but squirm under her gaze. "Your generous offer was very persuasive."

The count was as smug as one could be. "Indeed." He raised his glass for a final time, downing its contents like a man dying of thirst. "You've done well, Harker. Keep this up and I might let you leave here alive."

Johnathan nearly dropped his fork. Lord Dracula was a deadly serious man, that much he had gathered from their discussion, but he never expected the Romanian to actually make threats on his life. "I beg your pardon?" He coughed, even more alarmed when his wife deflated like a disappointed child.

"This is the first I'm hearing of it as well." She huffed, casually trailing her index finer along the table's intricately carved edge. "Pity. You were going to be dessert." The fact that Lady Dracula was so…blatant in her displeasure was terrifying to the young solicitor.

What does she mean by dessert? Johnathan gulped, suddenly aware of her eyes on his throat. Who are these people?

"Ignore my wife." His employer drawled, ignoring the sulking woman to his right. "She has been rather spoiled as of late." The count uncorked another bottle of wine just as Johnathan realized Dracula was referring to the imprisoned intruders from earlier.

His stomach sank with dread. "In that case," he faltered, "how may I be of service?" Johnathan was prepared to do anything Lord Dracula wanted to evade death, even if that meant a lifetime of indentured servitude.

"It's rather simple, Mr. Harker." His host remarked, setting aside his third glass of wine to close the gap between them. And, as he did so, revealing the ace up his sleeve. "You're going to accompany us to London."

Johnathan found it impossible to do anything besides mumble his consent, utterly petrified of the other man's glistening, protruding fangs.