Disclaimer: Dracula belongs to Stephen Sommers; at least, this version does. Not even Miletta is mine! She's my version of my friend SilverFlover, who writes amazing Fanfiction that I suggest to all the world. Well, the civilized world.
Thank you…
SilverFlover- You'll die if I do update this. I am so glad you liked this! And no, it was not the one with the Christmas tree that inspired me!
Agnes Fey- Yes, it's a tragic tale, and is different because I'm not treating it like a Fanfiction, because I actually know 'Miletta'.
Countess Alana- Well, if you're lol-ing, then I'd suggest you don't' read any more of this, as humour is not my intent in the last two chapters.
LadyValerious- Well, it will be sad. Am I good at showing that, or are you and Ms Fey psychic? Or did you read the secondary genre? To clear all up…this is separate from SotD. No competition.
Countess Carmilla- Well, he's not totally in character here, cos he's got his emotions. I address this later, though. But thanks; I liked writing the ballroom conversation.

Miletta sat on a chair in front of her dresser, brushing her long, dark brown hair to make it shine. Long hair is really only the kind worth brushing, she thought to herself as she pulled the brush through her hair, then began to style it. She looked at the open window behind her reflection, staring into the mirror at the night sky, the white curtains billowing in the wind, the sliver of moonlight in the corner of the window. She sighed. It had been a few weeks since she'd last seen Vlad. She couldn't fathom where he was or why he'd gone. She dearly wished to see him, and fingered the ring on her finger, the only thing that told her he hadn't been a dream.

"Oh, Vladislaus," she whispered plaintively. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here." Miletta looked up at the mirror with shock- he wasn't by the window, so how else did he get in?! Wildly, she looked around, and saw him-

Sitting on the windowsill, leaning back against the frame. She glanced back at the mirror, where she did not see him. When she looked back at him, he had stood and was striding towards the mirror, where he remarked, "It's awfully hot in here. Mind if I take off my coat-?" and took off his coat, then hung it over the mirror so that the reflective glass could not be seen.

She stared at the black coat swinging on her mirror, then looked back at him and said, "Where were you?!"

He took her hands in his and stepped closer to her, looking into her eyes. She was quiet, as though listening to powerful sermon in Church, one that moved her. His eyes often had that effect on her. They were dark like that accursed sea, and intensified his gaze. Already she could feel the web of shadows pulling at her, and she never made any move to break eye contact. She always felt sort of curious, and yet patient, waiting for a secret to unfold there before her, and calmly she knew it would.

"Miletta," he said quietly. "Do you still…"he looked away and sighed, but his thumb brushed against her ring and she knew what he meant.

"Oh!….yes, of course I still want to marry you," she said, smiling weakly. "What girl wouldn't?"

"Quite a few," he replied with a laugh. It came out harsher than his usual eloquent voice.

"Well, they're all fools," she replied. Once again, he was back on that subject. What did it mean?

"You didn't answer me," she said suddenly, irked. "Where were you?"

"Arranging our wedding," he said, flashing her that devilish smile she'd gotten used to. "That's why I was so worried you had changed your mind."

"Oh," was all she said. Somehow she felt that was not quite right.

She looked up at him pensively and the smile faded a bit from his face. She grew alarmed, hoping he wasn't planning on leaping from her window.

"What's wrong?" she urged.

Sounding a bit hurt, he answered, "Well, aren't you even going to ask when it is?"

Bewildered, she asked, "When what is?"

He stared at her, looking mortally wounded. "Our wedding!" he yelped.

"Oh!" she said, and felt so relieved at his recovery, she started laughing, and was not even unable to stop after he had fixed a sulk on his handsome face.

"You're laughing at me," he said crossly. "You know how much it bothers me when you laugh at me. It really hurts my feelings, you know." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, choking on laughter. She was overwhelmed with happiness. She was going to marry this man! She loved him, he loved her, and they were getting married…oh, wait. That date she didn't know.

He turned his head so that his mouth was near her ear, then said softly, "Really. It does. Despite the roguish grin on my face, inside I'm sobbing over your considerable lack of consideration."

She hugged him, and finally stopped laughing. Then she took a step away from him and smiled up at him, feeling shy again. He knew so much about her…why did he want o marry her? What could she possibly have to offer him that he couldn't find elsewhere?

"Well- well-" she tried to think of something to say to him. "When is it, anyway?"

The smile fell away from his face and confusion settled in. "When is what?! You've just switched subject son me!"

"Switched subjects?!"

"Yeah, you know- we were talking about me, and now we're talking about…er, something else that isn't me."

She hit him lightly. "When is our wedding?!"

"Oh, so now you want to talk about it…oh." A blush crept over his face when he understood the 'switch of subjects'.

Miletta began to laugh again. He covered his face with his hands and she heard him groan before taking his hands away. "Miletta….you wound me…"

"Oh, okay, okay," she said, regaining composure again. "When is it?"

"Next Friday," he responded promptly. "At 9 pm."

"Nine? Isn't that a little late?"

"Did you have someone you wanted to invite?" he asked, looking up at her serenely.

She thought about it. Her parents might not care for her marrying a man they hadn't approved of first…maybe she ought to tell them later. She was an only child. She hadn't any friends that were so important to invite to the wedding…but still!

"No, but…won't it look a little odd if you have your family and I haven't got mine there?"

He looked surprised. "But I haven't invited anyone either. I'm sorry, I thought you knew that."

As he inspected his fingernails meticulously, she glared at him for a while. Wasn't it just typical of him to keep secrets like that, then figure that she'd known it. He was so...so…oh!

Shaking her head darkly, she went over to her calendar and marked the day down and the time, then asked, "Wait…but…I need a dress!"

"You'd look better without one," he said, and before he could infuriate her with the teasing smile she hit his arm.

"Okay, okay," he said, rubbing his arm where she'd hit him, then said, "Well, okay, I wasn't sure what you'd think, but…"he withdrew from his vest pocket a folded piece of paper, then slowly unfolded it and handed it to her. She took it and, a smile coming onto her face, ran to the window to see it better in the starlight.

"Oh, Vlad…" she murmured, ecstatic. It was a sketch of a wedding dress, and it was the loveliest thing she'd seen. The lace floating around the farthingale skirt, the delicate ribbon stays on the corset, even the embroidery on the neckline was exquisite. "Did you..?"

"Well, I drew it, and I know someone who's making it. The same tailor who made my own outfit. But I need your measurements…" he said, taking a roll of ribbon from his vest. She smiled and stepped back.

"Height, first," he said, and held the ribbon up against her from the top of her head, to her feet. She heard him snip the ribbon, and write on it what it was for.

"Next, hips," he said, slipping the ribbon around them, then snipping it. He was very careful, she notised, to not touch her with his hands- as best as he could, anyway. So he was, as she'd always known, more of a gentleman than he pretended to be. She couldn't help but smile at his chivalrous manner.

"Waistline," he said, and she lifted moved her hands up for him to measure that, feeling him snip the ribbon again, and put it away.

"That's it?" she asked.

"One more," he reminded her gently.

"Which is?…oh."

"Bust line," he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

Face burning, she lifted her arms into the air so he could measure that, too. She could hear him trying not to snicker at her humiliation.

"Vlad!"

"I know, I know…but it's so-" here she heard the snip of scissors- "hard. Why is it, Miletta-" he spun her around so that she was facing him suddenly- "that you can laugh at me all the time, and yet you have a problem with my laughing at you? Just tell me that and I promise I'll behave for the rest of my visit."

Miletta tried to contain herself, but found herself incapable of doing that. She started laughing, and the disbelief and 'here we go again' look on his face did not help matters.

"You are too much for me," he mumbled.

"You are a bit too much for me, too," she said, calming down, but still grinning widely.

"Am I? Well, I can't be as bad as you."

"No?" she asked, entertained. "You'd be surprised at how bad you get!"

He rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. You're- you're-" she tried to think of something to say, and turned around, pacing the room. Coming across something sure to make him laugh- he always laughed when she exaggerated things- she snapped her fingers and said in an accusing tone, her back towards him (so that he wouldn't see the grin on her face), "You're the son of the devil himself!"

She waited for laughter, a kiss on her neck, a groan, or a childish retort- "Well, you're Lilith incarnate!"- something of that nature, but was met with silence. Wondering if he'd heard her, she turned around, confused, only to find him looking at her, face ashy and pale, almost…dare she say it? Shaken.

"Vladislaus?" she asked, walking towards him. He quickly took a step away from her and towards the window, putting his arms in front of his face as though she'd hit it, and said in a tense tone, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Miletta!"

"Vladislaus?!" she repeated, baffled, touching his arm lightly, then shaking him. "What is- that is- you're suddenly- you're so- what's wrong with you?!"

He slowly lowered his arms, his eyes looking into hers. She searched them for answers, knowing they would not appear to her then. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Can't you tell me?" she whispered, and he embraced her.

"Not now. Not now!" he whispered back fiercely, and let her go, taking up his jacket from the mirror. She was momentarily disoriented by how she didn't see him- or was the mirror not facing where she thought it was? Then she notised him head to her window.

"Wait!"

"You'll see me at our wedding," he said by way of good-bye. "And, to inform you, it's back behind the inn where we'll be staying, the one I told you about last month- in the orchard, you know," and he pulled on his jacket and leaped from the window.

Racing towards it, she looked out. There he was, walking quickly towards- no.

It couldn't be.

Miletta stared, then rubbed her eyes and stared harder, shivering.

It was. The black carriage.

There was no doubt that it was black. The horses- she loved horses, had loved them all her life- frightened her, so dangerous they seemed, like creatures from Hell. Things that only appeared like horses to the human eye. They were black and big, much larger than normal horses, much larger than Vladislaus. The hunchbacked man driving the carriage seemed to look at her, just for a moment, leering. Vladislaus swung open the door and stepped in, shutting it.

Miletta watched them drive out, out and away, disappearing from sight with inhuman speed. She looked on as he went, then rushed out from her home and inspected the road. It looked at though a fire had burnt it. She rubbed the soot between her fingers, then straightened her back and looked up at the splinter of a moon. Soon it would be gone completely…with a start she realized that her wedding was on the night of the new moon.

Oh, moon…she thought with a sigh. Tell me where my love has gone!

The twinkling silver sliver winked at her and gave no reply, merely foretold of ominous things to come.

A/n: One last installment, which will be longer, and will be more from Vladislaus' point of view towards the end…