Disclaimer: I own nothing except what I made up. Fair enough.
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Lucia was sitting on the windowsill, watching the snow drift slowly down from the sky. Her forehead was rested against the icy glass, unspilled tears sparkling in her sapphire eyes. Dracula had left her some twenty minutes ago to her own devices, and she found all she could do was think about Gabriel Van Helsing. She had never met the man, never even seen him, and it seemed hard to believe they were soulmates.
The door behind her opened with a creak, but she did not look around. It was the Count. She knew that by the intense cold that washed into the room with him. She did not hear his footsteps, but his hand was suddenly on her shoulder. She did not look at him.
"I'm sorry, Lucia," he said softly. She started. Three words she had not expected to hear from him.
She looked up at him, dark hair falling back from her face as her eyes surveyed him closely, looking for a mocking grin or patronising glint in his eyes, and finding none. "What did you say?" she whispered.
"I said I'm sorry," the vampire repeated, closing his eyes. "Can you forgive me?"
Lucia glanced at his hand on her shoulder, then back up at his face, twisted in sadness. She forced her voice to be cool and steady. "I could only forgive you if you let me leave this place and return to the Church."
His eyes were open again. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "That place has changed you. Made you bitter and cold." He saw her eyes narrow in confusion, and sighed, shrugging. "No matter, let us not talk of that now. Lucia, I promise you that when this is all over you will see things differently. In a way, its for your own good."
She looked back to the window, and to her surprise he sat down beside her, his hand still on her shoulder. For a long time they sat in silence, watching the snow fall. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet and perfectly calm.
"Are you going to kill me?"
They looked at each other, and a small smile curved his lips. "I think not. After all, neither of us want that, do we?"
"Don't you?" she asked, again confused. "How else will you get revenge on Van Helsing?"
To her incredible shock, he wrapped an arm around her slender waist and pulled her closer to whisper into her ear. "You'll see. But I won't hurt you unless you make me." She was stiff in his arms, caught off guard and not sure what to do. He rested his head on her hair, and gently stroked her waist, something which, to her horror, made her tingle pleasantly. She found herself becoming more relaxed, and also sleepy, and rested her head awkwardly against his still chest. Sleep washed easily over her.
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Lucia opened her eyes, feeling warm and content. She realised she was still on the windowsill, sprawled comfortably, her head and shoulders on someone's torso. Oh great, she had fallen asleep on Dracula. His arms were around her waist.
She scolded herself. He had kidnapped her. She should not be letting him get close to her. He was evil, he was a vampire.
She looked up at his face, and couldn't help smiling softly. His expression was one of utmost innocence, his eyes closed, a grin on his lips. She noticed that he had a silver hoop through one ear. He appeared to be sleeping, but it was impossible to tell.
"Count?" she whispered gently. He did not stir. Great, this was her chance to escape. She carefully slid out of his embrace, and walked quickly across to the door, pausing to look back at him and check he was still asleep.
He did not move. Smiling, she walked out into the corridor. It was long and dark and draughty, but she quickly located the narrow, creaking stairway and hurried down it lightly, praying that the Count was a heavy sleeper. She somehow doubted it.
The stairs wound down to the next level, and there she found another flight of wooden steps. She followed them down, then a couple more, until she finally found herself a large stone hall. Large ornate double doors stood huge in front of her, but these were the front doors and they would probably be lost. She would be better off trying a kitchen door or something. Her long legs carried her to the kitchen, a small square room. Alas, there was no door here, and just as she turned to leave she heard the creak of someone hurrying down the stairs.
"Damn it," she muttered, looking around for a weapon. A large sword hung from the wall. She did not have time to think about how strange this was, she just ran forward and grabbed it, standing with her back to one of the kitchen surfaces, and holding the sword out horizontally as the Count walked in.
He did not look angry. Merely disappointed. His mouth was a thin line. He leaned against the doorframe, and raised his eyebrows. "Escaping, are we?"
"Yes." Her voice was shaking, like her hands holding the sword, but he was walking towards her now, a small smile on his face.
"Oh? And may I ask how you plan to get past me?" He was standing right at the end of the sword now, looking distinctly impassive.
"I'll kill you if you get in my way," she replied heatedly.
He smirked. Then he stepped forward. A gasp escaped Lucia's lips as the sword entered his flesh. Black blood was pouring from his wound, but still he walked forward, until the he was standing right in front of her, the sword sticking right through his stomach.
"I cannot die," he said slowly.
Tears filled her eyes, and began to pour down her cheeks before she could stop them. Dracula stepped back, wrenching the sword from her grasp, then pulling it from himself and tossing it across the floor. It bounced loudly off the floor. He looked at the sobbing woman for a minute, and looked like he might embrace her, then thought better of it and walked off.
TBC.
