Angel of Beauty: Or should I say constant reader? (I will never get over that… oh pride… heheh…) Here is another ¡gracias para tí! Please continue being a constant reader! (¡Gracias mi amiga!)

Chapter Seven: 1461

Red Moon

Dear Crimson Moon

In my midnight zone

Below red moon

A river all our own

Now we are home

In red we run on water

Now lead us home

-"Red Moon"

The Count held out his hand and helped Shyriyh step out of the coach once they had reached his summer palace.

"It is late noon now, so we should have a few hours time to prepare before the guests begin to arrive," he said as his Elven Princess walked daintily beside him. The tiny servant woman, Aysel, leapt playfully off the coach from where she sat with the driver, who was another servant. He was dark and rather handsome. His name was Nicholai and Aysel thought that if it was absolutely impossible to be loved by the God-like Count then Nicholai was certainly a good fall-back. They had already begun to make nice. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Count.

"Aysel, would you please accompany Princess Shyriyh into her quarters and show her to her belongings?" he asked rather than commanded, which Aysel always loved about him.

"Indeed," she said with a slight courtesy before leading Shyriyh off to find her dress. She watched as the Count walked into the palace first accompanied by his dark driver. Shyriyh suddenly wondered what his name was. He reminded her of a younger version of the Count. Both Aysel and the driver looked very young… teenagers at that.

"Here you are my Lady, you may prepare. Your dress has already been set in the wardrobe for you and the golden jewelry box is where your accessories have been kept," Aysel informed the Elven Princess as she walked out the door of the bedroom. "If you have any questions, please summon me from the library which is a mere three rooms down the hall to the left."

"Wait!" Shyriyh called out before the young servant could leave. She turned around and presented the princess with a welcoming smile.

"What is it, my Lady?" She asked. She was rather jealous of this woman but if it was her Count's wish for her to treat her well then…

"When will I be seeing the Count?" Shyriyh asked as her cheeks grew crimson. The servant struggled to keep her pleasant smile.

"You shall see him shortly. Once he is fully prepared he will meet you in here. You must give him alone time, my Lady. He is a male after all… and we are women… we get prepared separately," Aysel explained oddly. Shyriyh raised a confused brow and just nodded to agree as the servant walked out.

"Strange," she muttered as she stood up and walked towards the washroom.

After a nice, warm bath she walked over to the wardrobe and opened it with the same excited enthusiasm as the Count had when he presented it to her for the first time. She still couldn't get over how beautiful it was and she wanted to know how much it cost. The Elven Princess gently removed the dress from the lucky manikin and laid the heavy garment out on her bed. She stared at it for a moment before pulling off her light summer dress that the Count had bought her a day or two after she had left her Uncle's palace. She was so glad he hadn't come after her. He had however sent a page just to check on her. She felt rather foolish telling the Count that the man at the door was just someone coming to check up on her well-being… She was also glad that now she had a palace of her own… "My home is now your home, my darling," she remembered the Count telling her one evening before they left each other for their own quarters. She was rather disappointed that the Count hadn't invited her into his bed yet… but then again, she thought to herself, isn't it a bit soon for that? I mean it's only been about a week since you've been staying with him… Her mind rambled. She grinned a devious grin as she struggled to get the many-layered dress onto her little body.

Once she had finally gotten the dress on she walked into the washroom and did her hair while glancing constantly into the looking glass.

"Princess?" She heard from the door. Shyriyh poked her head out of the washroom with her hair half-up. "Princess, you do not have to do that. I have others to help," Aysel said as she and two other young women ran into the room.

"How do you want it?" The smallest one asked in a childish voice.

"Umm… How about… curled and loose?" Shyriyh suggested as the women moved around her head and began to pull at her hair.

"Which do you think is better?" Nicholai asked the Count who was sitting on his bed combing and re-doing his hair. The driver held up a costume that rather resembled the Count's militant outfit with more golden streaks, and one that was a black suit under a long, black and red cloak which once belonged to the Count's father.

"I like that one," he said pointing to his father's old celebratory garment.

"Then this one it is," Nicholai said as he put the other one away and began to undo the buttons on the costume for the Count.

"You may wear the other if you like it," he said to his driver as the dark man handed him his costume. Nicholai smiled admirably.

"I would love that indeed, thank you much Count," he said excitedly as he reopened the wardrobe and pulled out the Count's other costume. It was going to be a bit big on him since the Count was so much taller but he didn't mind. It was an honour to be wearing one of his garments.

"Which dress do you think Aysel chose?" The Count asked as he slid on the silk coat over his white, fluffy shirt.

"I do not know. But I hope she chose the white one. It is simply lovely," Nicholai said as he turned away from the Count to put on his own costume. He felt rather honoured to be preparing for the famous Transylvanian Count's annual ball… with the famous Count. He and Aysel were going to be attending their first masquerade party together and he was so very excited.

"I cannot wait any longer!" Shyriyh giggled to Aysel as they sat on the bed together doing each other's makeup.

"Nor can I. I bet they will both look absolutely stunning! Such gorgeous men!" Aysel said as she put the last of Shyriyh's blush on.

"Thank you much," the Elven Lady said.

"It is no trouble at all," Aysel answered. "Are you ready now?" She asked as Shyriyh stood up trying to straighten her dress.

"I am," she said as she sat down again with the newly straightened dress. "Will the Count be in soon you think?" She asked. Aysel sighed.

"I think he should be," she assured her with slight jealously peaking through. It subsided a bit when she thought of Nicholai.

"Come now," the Count said as he peeked back into the room to see Nicholai fixing himself up obsessively. The driver looked nervously back at the Count.

"What if I am not presentable enough for Ms. Aysel?" He asked with anxiety. The Count smiled warmly.

"You are finely presentable," he assured the dark man. "She will love it." The Count couldn't see why he was so nervous.

"You are so very lucky… you are naturally good looking," the driver said to the Count with a brotherly smile.

"Are you ready yet, Princess?" The Count said as he knocked lightly on Shyriyh's bedroom door.

"You may enter, Count," she called through the thick wooden door. She watched nervously as the handle turned and the door opened. She gasped when the Count walked in. He was dressed in the most gorgeous outfit… it was midnight black with a long cloak lined in blood red.

"Y-you look dearly handsome," Shyriyh told him as he walked up to the bed she and the servant were sitting on. He smiled with that dearly handsome face of his and held out his hand to her.

"And you look absolutely lovely," he told her as she stood and wrapped her arm around his own. "Come my darling… the guests are beginning to arrive," he said as he led her out the door followed by Aysel and the crimson-faced driver.

"Count Dracula!" The doormen cried in honoured surprise as the Count and his love walked arm-in-arm towards the main ballroom. They bowed their heads slightly as they opened the door for the lovely couple. Shyriyh smiled as her dear led her into the large crowd of marvelously dressed couples.

"Do you like the music?" The Count asked as he led Shyriyh in a lovely dance. She looked up at the woman on the stage-like setup who was singing an otherworldly opera.

"I love it," she said. It sounded like a story… a story of angst. Perhaps it was the story of the Count's life…?

As they danced around the many couples the Count got many a greeting. Shyriyh felt like Hermes. She could picture little wings on her shoes. She was a herald of love. Love to the Count indeed.

"What is this?" Shyriyh asked as she walked over to the table with all the food lined up on it.

"It is sushi. A Japanese meal. It is not very good," he said with a rather disgusted look on his face. Shyriyh picked a piece up and sniffed it before putting it bravely into her mouth.

"Ugh," the Count watched her in utter disgust as she ate it. She swallowed and smiled at him before taking another piece.

"I think it is tasty," she said. The Count smiled and laughed. She was such an odd woman and yet he loved her so very much. Him and her… so different and yet almost the same person.

Shyriyh looked up when the woman on the stage began to cry another mysterious tune. It was another story, Shyriyh thought. A story of the Red Moon in the sixth month. Shyriyh always thought June was the most beautiful month of all… the most mysterious. The one that gave birth to the most flowers. The happiest of moons.

"Shall we go out and admire what we are celebrating?" The Count asked Shyriyh as he took her hand gently in his own and kissed the gentle paw.

"Indeed I would love to do so," she said as he led her out onto the balcony of the ballroom. She stared up in awe as he pointed towards the full moon. It was redder than the blood he drew from the Turks… redder than the blood that was drawn from her mother in death… redder than all the blood that was soon to be shed in coming months. It was the Blood Moon. The Red Moon. One of June's beautiful births. The Blooming of the Blood Moon.

"It is lovely," she said as she leaned onto his sturdy shoulder. It reminded her of the stonewall outside her palace in Kaern. The one that has never fallen in all the four hundred years it has been present.

"Indeed it is," he said as he turned and looked directly into her eyes. He was telling her the story of the woman's cries. He was telling her what was hidden behind those dark eyes. And she was suddenly aware of how much torture he had felt following the siege. How little of his mind was left and how it had made him bleed. She saw the blood flowing through his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her with all the warmth he could derive from his tortured heart. Never in his life had he been able to get that much… it was always so cold. So very cold. And now this woman had given him a blanket to wrap around his shoulders when it became chilly… and hug him to make him smile. Yes… the Blood of the Red Moon needed to aid not. Shyriyh gave him all the warmth he would ever need.