Chapter Eight: 1461 December
No More His Song
My lover's gone…
I know that kiss will be my last
No more his song.
The tune upon his lips has past
I sing alone.
I will not watch the ocean…
My lover's gone.
No Earthly Ships will ever
Bring him home again…
Bring him home again.
-Dido "My Lover's Gone"
"Are you sure that's all you want?" The little servant girl asked her master as she began to prepare some food. He looked up from his seat at the table. He had his head in his arms.
"I am quite sure thank you. Anything else and I shall fall asleep in it," he told her as he yawned. Aysel smiled as she began to prepare plain toast for the odd Count. She didn't think she could bear to live without him. Even if she was just a servant to him… he was an angel to her.
"Vlad?" Shyriyh walked out into the kitchen wearing a long, red evening gown. It was short and low revealing a lot of her long, slender legs, and gorgeously muscular shoulders. The Count looked up and then back down as his face turned a light crimson. "What do you think?" She asked as she spun and modeled her new gown for him. She had just finished sewing it. The Count stood up and walked over to her.
"It looks positively lovely," he assured her as his cheeks turned ever more crimson. Shyriyh smiled and spun one last time before hugging his greatly drawn out chest.
"Why thank you. It was for you in the first place," She said as she looked up at him. He looked oddly at her.
"Darling, why—oh," he nodded with sudden understanding.
"Dear Count, all lingerie is more men," Aysel put in with a giggle. "That's what Nicholai told me at least." The Count turned to her with a surprised smile.
"He said that?" He said as his smile grew. Aysel nodded. "Oh my, and have you demonstrated yours for him?" She nodded again.
"That's why he said it," she said and this caused the Count to laugh madly.
"Dearest Nicholai always has the most interesting things to say," he commented as the dark driver walked into the kitchen looking tired.
"Good evening, Count," he said as he bowed to his master. The Count bowed back, which made both servants stare in surprise.
"Good evening to you too, Sir Nicholai," he said before pointing to Aysel. "Dinner is being fixed. Do you desire anything specific?" He asked. Nicholai smiled. When he had first begun working for the Count at age fifteen, about three years back, his mother had told him that all Counts and Lords were very strict men and did not like to be defied or talked casually to. She had told him to never speak casually to his master. It was always supposed to be formal… but the Count never made him feel this way. (Granted, that if his mother knew he spoke this way to his master she would cook him and eat him for dinner…) The Count made him feel like a friend, not a servant. He smiled again before turning to the Count.
"Whatever is being served is fine with me," he concluded before walking over to Aysel. Another thing he loved about the Count was that he allowed love to go on between him and the other servant. His mother had been very strict about leaving the other servants to their business and finding a woman on the streets. How lovely his mother could be…
He wrapped his arms around Aysel's waist and kissed her cheek lovingly.
"Good evening, Love," he said as she smiled and turned towards him. She seemed to glance at the Count for permission before kissing him on the nose. The Count walked over to the fire and pushed the two servants aside.
"Go to bed," he said. "You look rather exhausted… both of you, go on," he said as he play-threatened them with a hot utensil. Aysel smiled.
"Thank you so much, Count," Nicholai said before bowing and walking out with Aysel. She poked her head back into the room for a moment to wave a flirtatious good-eve to the Count who smiled and waved back. Shyriyh waved too and silently wished them well.
"Here you are, Darling," the Count said as he placed some chicken in front of her. She smiled and thanked him before placing a napkin on her legs. He sat down next to her and began to munch silently on his crispy bread. She wasn't sure why he ate such strange things… he just seemed to like them. Then again she was the one who experimented with steak and cocoa powder and liked it…
Shyriyh jumped when a little bat flew through the window and landed on the Count's shoulder. The Count jumped at first too but upon realizing it was only a little Flying Fox was able to keep from shouting.
"H-how did you get in here?" He asked the little creature who was trying to swipe a piece of his toast. The bat squeaked lovingly and began to make a little nest of his hair. "H-hey there," he said as he tried to pull it away from himself.
"Where did that little thing come from?" Shyriyh asked as the Count pulled the bat off his shoulder. The tiny flying fox clung to his finger upside-down as if still in its branch. "How sweet… she likes you," the Elven Princess said as she gently touched the top of the bat's furry, black, head. She ran her finger down its tiny orange body and then over its perfect black wings.
"How lovely," the Count said as he walked over to the window with his new little friend. "I adore bats. Such creatures as those of the night need love to guide them when all else fears them." Shyriyh began swooning.
How wonderfully poetic he can be! She thought with a smile as the Count tossed the bat out the window. She jumped. "W-why did you—"
"Bats cannot fly off from a level area. They need to be given a little height," the Count explained as he watched the little fox spread its wings and fly off towards the crescent moon of the chilly December eve. "He should find a place to sleep now—it is too cold for him to be out," he said as he walked back over to the table. Shyriyh smiled. An elf couldn't help but feel love for those who had a genuine passion for animals and nature. And the Count was certainly worth passion.
"Aren't you cold?" The Count asked as he peeked out from beneath the many layers of blankets on his bed at the open window, which was allowing cold wind the blow in. Shyriyh shook her head after closing it as she climbed into the bed next to him.
"Not really, maybe a bit," she said as she cuddled up against his warm body. Humans were always warm, someone had once told her. Apparently their body temperatures run higher than that of elves. She loved it. It was only recently that she had been invited to sleep in the same bed with him and she was still not over how lovely his warmth felt. She was also not over how quickly she had begun to feel rather… intimate with him. She was usually timid but didn't mind changing in front of the Count. She just wished he'd be a little more open with her too. She wished that he'd take his clothes off once in a while around her… and… well… the like. She tried to keep her face from turning red at the thought… but it did anyway.
"Really, you look like you've got a fever now," the Count observed oddly.
"N-no… I'm just… a bit… you're very good-looking, has anyone ever told you that?" She asked randomly. The Count just stared at her a moment before answering.
"No, no one's ever told me that. But thank you. And you as well are very beautiful… has anyone ever told you that?" He asked. Shyriyh blushed.
"No one like you… just family really," she said as she messed around with his white evening shirt. She wanted to unbutton it and make it look like a little slip… but it was too damn hard to get open. She stared angrily at the button before trying again to undo his shirt. He raised an awkward brow at her as she continued to struggle with his shirt.
"Can I help you with something, darling?" He asked her. She smiled up at him.
"No thank you. I believe I have it," she said as she simply ripped the button off. The Count stared at her with a rather questionable look.
"Oops," she said, "I think I slipped." The Count laughed before lying back and allowing her to pull open the gentle silk shirt. She looked deeply at his beautiful body before she was interrupted by a scream from the outside of the castle. The Count sat up abruptly, catching her as she fell off of him.
"What was that?" He asked as they both jumped out of the bed, the Count not seeming to notice his open shirt.
All the more heroic, Shyriyh thought as they ran down towards the stairs, which led to the front entrance. The Count threw open the large front doors to see a group of men struggling with Aysel who was beating at them.
"What in all Hell is going on here!" The Count roared when he saw the battle between four random men and Aysel.
"Count!" She screamed as the men began to restrain her. "Count, help me! Help! They killed Nicholai! They killed him! They're soldiers! Turkish soldiers!" The Count backed up slightly into the doorway.
"Vlad!" Shyriyh cried when she saw what the beautiful Count was carrying. His sword that he hadn't touched since that day the Elven Princess had first seen him in over twenty years. "No!" She cried as he raced out the door and lept off the stairs. He struck downward with his sword and killed a soldier by basically cutting him in half. "Wait!" The young elf ran out onto the marble landing and held out her arms. Aysel was dropped to the ground before she ran up towards Shyriyh. The electrical current, which she had not summoned since the Count had last touched his sword swam through the breakable December air and knocked all the men unconscious, including the Count.
"Oh Vlad!" She cried as she ran over to him. "I am so sorry! I did not mean to hit you too!" She cradled the limp man in her arms as Aysel ran down to the small battlefield.
"Count!" She cried as she pulled the bloody sword from his weak hand. "He saved me, he saved me!" She sobbed as she lay her tear-stained face down on his chest.
"Darling, please," Shyriyh said as she touched her love's face so very gently. "Please wake up."
"Please Count, please," Aysel added in. She touched his chest with same gentle love that Shyriyh gave to his delicate face.
"Wait," Shyriyh said as she leaned over him. "It's an Elven trick. If we want we can give energy through a kiss." She smiled and kissed her lover's nicely shaped nose before going down towards his lips.
"A-agh!" The Count choked awake when Shyriyh backed away from him. "W-wha—" He looked at his love with confusion.
"I'm sorry… you know we elves do not believe in killing… but I wanted to help you and Aysel so I…"
"Pulled the electric thing…" he completed. Shyriyh nodded.
"Yeah. I am so sorry," she said. The Count held up a hand, which excused her from striking him.
"Nicholai," Aysel sobbed quietly after her and Shyriyh had successfully gotten the driver's body and the Count inside. She hugged her love and sobbed.
"Aysel," the Count rasped. "Please do not cry Aysel," he said as he reached out for her. She took his hand and confided in him.
"Sir… I do not know what to feel. I loved him! I loved him!" She sobbed into the Count's chest.
Shyriyh joined the servant girl in her sobs. "Vlad, the poor man. Why would the Turks come back? Why?" The Count cringed in pain before turning wearily to her, still hurt from her accidental attack.
"They still want our land, they are still power-hungry and they will kill anyone they have to in order to achieve their goals," he said as he tried to sit up. He felt the weakness in his body subsiding a bit. "Nicholai, we shall give him a proper burial tomorrow," the Count said as he gently stroked Aysel's hair. The servant sniffed and nodded before standing up.
"I think I shall go off to bed," she said before walking out without a glance.
"Aysel, wait!" Shyriyh tried to comfort the servant girl but the Count stopped her.
"Let her go. Aysel has always used her time to herself as a convalescence," he said. Shyriyh nodded sadly.
"Vlad, I do not want another siege. I fear it so. I do not want you to be taken. I do not want you to be killed like poor Nicholai!" She sobbed as she buried her face into his chest. He stood up with a slight wobble before regaining complete balance.
"Come darling. We must get rest as well. The soldiers will not wake up for many hours, yes?" He asked her. She nodded. "Then we must get to our room now for tomorrow we have much work to do. I need to assemble the Transylvanian army as protection as well as contact the Father for a small funeral for Lord Nicholai," he explained as they walked off to their bedroom.
"But Vlad, what if you get taken or murdered or such before the army can arrive?" Shyriyh said as they walked into the room.
"Then fate will have it that way," he said. "But the chances of that happening are very low." Shyriyh choked.
"Whenever one says that it always comes true," she said trying to hold back tears for both her Count and for the lovely driver whose life had been taken too early. Well begun… too soon done.
"Darling, please. No more of this talk for tonight. I should rather speak of other things before my world turns into nothing but a war," he told her as he placed a gentle hand on her lips.
She felt a tear slide lazily down her cheek before the Count wiped it away with his silky finger. "Please," he said before leaning down and kissing her. "Please." He set her down on the bed and lay down on top of her small body being careful to monitor where his weight was. She sighed to release all of her angst for the night because she was sure of where the Count wanted to go with his desires. He had discovered his intimate lover for her as well…