Father
Author: H.J. Bender
Pairing: --
Rating: T
Summary: Stranded in a fearsome hailstorm with his little sister, Velkan is visited by three beautiful angels...
Disclaimer: Main characters, events, original storyline, etc belong to Universal Studios 2004.
A/N: I have taken a few liberties with ages and dates, though minimally. Enjoy.

I am the corner of all rooms
I am the shadows of all trees…
I am the nightmare of all fathers.
-Rammstein, Mann gegen Mann

IV. The Three Angels

Days passed, the months yielded themselves with each phase of the moon, and the seasons swept through their colours like dancers dressed in dazzling costumes. Holidays came and went like the ebb of the tide, bringing with it death, birth, and the inevitable process called Life that took place in between. Time, that petty thing which had in the past been no cause for concern for the Count, now worried him as he watched his estranged son grow tall from afar. Human lives were brief and fragile, regardless of whatever immortal influence they carried on their souls, and the child must be watched closely to ensure his survival. And survive he must.

From the moment when they had met face to face in the forest, Vladislaus knew that Velkan was truly the One, the Key to the Draconian rule, the child he had so desired. The prince had stared into his eyes with neither terror nor abhorrence, but only with curiosity. He was fearless like the living man the Count had once been, unaltered by the mysterious, revelled by the things that struck horror in the hearts of men. Vlad had gazed into the boy's mind for an instant, read the years of his brief life like the pages of a book, and for the first time in centuries, thought he could remember how happiness felt.

Velkan Valerious had died the day he was born, and Velkan Dragulia had been resurrected from what would have been a worthless mortal corpse. What the Count was doing now –cultivating a human being and shaping him into his heir and ally– was unheard of and unimaginable, but his efforts were beginning to bear fruit; the boy did not require manipulation of the mind in order to do what Vlad expected of him. This was a pleasing discovery indeed.

"He grows closer to us, fonder of us, with each passing night," he told his brides as they lay nestled against him in their ebony bower, eager to hear news of their beloved son. "The dreams that we send him are well-received, and his heart remains unsoiled by the stain of the Valerious hatred. His blood runs dark, my lovelies, as dark as ours. I tasted myself in him, the bitterness of a dying angel and the sweetness of an awakening demon. If we stay our course, he might sooner be joining our family."

"It shall be wonderful having him here with us," Verona crooned, nuzzling her husband's neck seductively. "Our first child."

"Yes," agreed Marishka. "The prince of all our young."

"Tell us, master, what does he look like?" Aleera asked, combing her elegant fingers through Vlad's hair.

"He is beautiful," said the Count with a distant smile. "Like no other child in this whole wretched world. He will be tall and strong in his prime, and he is clever, attentive of his tutors. He is principled, fair of face, and well-spoken like a proper prince, mindful of his manners. He sparkles like a jewel amongst the refuse of humanity, who are but lowly swine in comparison. Valerious could never have sired such nobility, not in a thousand years."

"He is only thus because of you, my lord," Verona whispered.

"Already he takes after his true father," murmured Marishka as she wrapped herself around the Count.

Aleera echoed, "Whatever grace he possesses is what he has inherited from you, master. I cannot wait to see Valerious when the prince sides with us against him. Such sweet vengeance it shall be!"

"So it will," Vlad said with assurance. "But let us not forget our other children, my darlings. They too shall share the glory when we triumph over our enemies."

"We have not forgotten our own," Marishka insisted. "Though we wonder when they shall fly the night with us."

"Do not worry," the Count said. "The times are changing, and the world grows more modern with each year. There are great machines being built by men, engines of steel and iron and pistons, metal dragons of the earth who breathe smoke and ash and are powered by fire. Science is progressing. Mankind has discovered ways to battle diseases and open a living body to mend its insides without killing it, and mortality continues to decline. There is also much to be invested in the study of electricity; I have heard of western scientists performing experiments with promising results, and I believe that this element will aid us in time soon enough.

"There is a revolution taking place now –Man's revolution– a symbol of his refuting against God. Science is the new religion of the world, my precious ones, and it shall serve our purpose, of that I am certain."

"I know nothing of machines or science," Aleera said in a lazy, sultry voice, "but I know how to please my master."

"You can concern yourself the progress of Man," purred Verona as she and Marishka shed their clothes. "Let us care for nothing but you and our children."

Vlad smiled as the pale bodies of his immortally beautiful brides slithered against him, yielding themselves to his dominance. "Very well," he breathed. "Then let us make certain that the world will not be empty when we rid it of God's children."

† † †

Velkan had entered his ninth year when Boris decided that he was old enough to begin learning the ways of the world and the evil that dwelt in it, though he spared him the reasons wherefore just yet. The prince would ride out with his father's small party of patrolmen and hunters, who surveyed the borders at the edge of the wilderness and offered their knowledge to him openly. He began receiving lessons in fencing, bow-shooting and trapping, and quickly advanced through each art with amazing skill for a young boy. Boris could not have been prouder.

Anna, with her brother but two years her seniour, was sad and jealous of the attention he received from their father, and at last Isabel went to her husband to demand that their daughter be allowed to train along with Velkan.

"She is just as gifted as Velkan and more than willing," the gypsy queen argued. "And you know as well as I that it would be in her best interest if she were instructed how to defend herself. At least then she could assist Velkan when he is out on the hunt, and he would have an ally he could trust with his life. You cannot deny that they would make an exceptional pair of fighters."

"Isabel, darling," Boris sighed, "the hunt is no place for a woman. It is a man's job, and always has been. There is a reason fathers do not allow their daughters to march off to war."

"So you would have Velkan face his destiny alone?" she snapped.

"I would have Anna survive were anything to happen to him, and keep the Valerious bloodline running strong."

"You would sacrifice one of our children for the sake of our grandchildren? How can you justify-"

"I would sacrifice none if I could help it!" Boris shouted, then lowered his voice when Isabel appeared hurt. "I cannot undo the past, Isabel, otherwise I would have taken you and the children as far away from this God-forsaken land as possible. But there is an oath I must keep, and generations of ancestors that must be released from Purgatory. I cannot walk away from my purpose, nor can I allow the Valerious lineage to fade."

"Then train them both, not just one," the queen begged. "Together, Velkan and Anna can become a fighting force that will drive fear into Dracula's very heart."

The king sighed, knowing that his argument was already lost. "Say that I allow her to undergo the same instruction as Velkan—what then of her nature? She cannot wear dresses, so she must be forced to wear trousers like a boy. Whatever feminine innocence she has now will be lost, and she will stand alone if Velkan, God forbid, falls at the hands of our enemies. Then she would be forced both to fight and to mother, and she cannot do both. Should we choose to bestow her this responsibility, she will become hardened and tough, our sweet little girl, and her days will be darkened by the burden we have placed on her shoulders. And what sort of man would marry a woman who wears trousers and fights like a ruffian?"

"O Boris!" Isabel laughed, and embraced her husband. "Do not worry about giving Anna away just yet. She has many years to go before she starts thinking of marriage, and if you have not noticed, she is the loveliest creature on this earth. No amount of ruggedness could hide that."

"She must have gotten that from her mother," Boris said with a smile, "because I fear my ruggedness stole my good looks years ago."

"My dear king, it takes a person of true character to fall in love with a Valerious, this I know from experience," Isabel teased. "Anna will have no difficulty finding a husband, and neither will Velkan a wife. We have two of the finest children in the country, Boris, and they are capable of finding happiness while carrying out our family's legacy."

And thus it was settled that Anna soon begin training alongside her brother, and it proved to be a wise decision after all; they worked excellently as a team, and the little princess put forth twice the effort that Velkan did in order to compensate for her youth and her sex. Both were upright and sensible youngsters, obedient of their elders and respectful of all whom they met, no matter how disagreeable a character it was—such as the village undertaker, with his moth-eaten stovepipe hat and leering grin, or the innkeeper and his ill-tempered mongrel who did not even offer a salute in their presence. The rest of the town paid no mind to these scalawags, and always welcomed the Valerious children whenever they appeared in the village square.

Velkan and Anna were allowed to move more freely about Vaseria as they became deft in their combating skills. They were granted a steed, providing that they both saddled and bridled it themselves and cared for it accordingly, though they were not permitted to roam about the wilderness and always were to be back before dusk, lest they face the wrath of their father and guilt of their mother. This seldom happened, being that they were very disciplined, but on the rare occasion it simply could not be helped.

One cold afternoon in November, when they were allowed leisure time after their lessons, a sudden squall swept down from the mountains and poured freezing rain and hail upon their heads, and they were driven to seek shelter in the old windmill not far from where they had been riding in the field. They were both drenched to the bone and miserable, and Velkan's flint and steel failed to make fire from any of the damp, mouldy kindling. The children had no choice but to sit in the dark, huddled to each other for warmth, and wait for the thunderous hailstorm to tire itself.

An hour passed, and still the rain continued to pound on the rickety roof, which leaked like a sieve into the already dank interior. The wood groaned as it grew heavy from the moisture and the abusive hail, and the creaking of its weak walls was terrifying. Velkan feared the whole structure to collapse if the storm did not soon abate, and Anna, despite her attempt to be courageous, cried quietly as she clung to her older brother.

"Have faith, Anna," he said, bolstering his courage. "It will pass. God is watching over us."

"Then why doesn't He stop the storm?" she wheedled, wiping away her tears. "I wish we had never gone out today. I'm cold and wet and I want to go home."

"I have an idea," said Velkan, standing up. "I'm going to go up to the top of the mill and see which way the storm is moving. Maybe then we can ride out and go around it."

"No, Velkan!" cried Anna. "The stairs are shaky and old. I don't want you to fall!"

"I won't fall. Besides, you want to go home, don't you? If I can see what path the storm is taking, we won't have to spend another minute here. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

Anna nodded slowly and reluctantly. "All right," she agreed, "but be careful. And hurry back."

Velkan nodded his promise and ascended the winding, decrepit stairway that led up to the tower. He tested each stair carefully before setting his weight upon it, and slowly, step by step, made his way to the small door at the top of the windmill. He could hear the hail cracking down against the framework of the wooden mill blades, and he eased the door open only enough to peer out into the tempest.

It was a sleeting downpour, peppered with large granules of ice that hurled themselves from the sky at painful velocities. Velkan pushed the door wide with a rusty creak and shielded his eyes from a sudden lashing gust that threatened to sweep him back down into the stairwell. Despite even these violent conditions, the prince stepped out onto the treacherous platform with an unsteady balance, trying to find some way to look up into the sky without being blinded by hail.

Just then, a mighty gale threw its fury full against the boy, who lost his footing on the icy platform and was sent somersaulting backwards over the parapet. Only by virtue of his quick reflexes did he manage to grab hold of the slippery rail before plummeting downwards. Heart hammering in his chest and his thoughts racing by in a dizzying blur of instincts, Velkan fought to keep his eyes open and secure his grip, but his fingers were numb from the cold and the rail was too slick with ice.

"O God, please," he begged as his left hand slid away, leaving him separated from death only by his five remaining fingers. Hot tears welled in his eyes as he thought of Anna, his father, his poor mother, and he felt his right hand gradually begin to weaken from the weight of his body. No Valerious should die so shamefully. He was a disgrace to his entire family.

"Help me, Father," he prayed. "Help-"

Velkan felt the rail slip from his grasp, and his stomach churned with the wings of a thousand butterflies as gravity claimed him in its sickening pull towards certain death. He shut his eyes bravely and waited for the final sound of his own bones breaking, but he heard nothing. His heart beat thrice, and he opened his eyes.

He was hovering, it seemed, in midair, neither falling nor rising. Being mercilessly pelted by the rain, he looked down between his dangling legs to see the sodden, icy ground dozens of feet below him. And then, from behind him, he heard the sweet, melodious voice of a woman say, "Take care, my dearest one. You could have fallen."

Velkan felt himself rise into the air, above the parapet, and then he was safely delivered to the platform once more, drenched and shaking. He turned around, wincing in the brutal rain that obscured his vision; he could barely make out a floating figure in white –a young woman she seemed– with her long hair flowing about her peacefully.

"Are you an angel?" he asked softly, and heard an answering jingle of laughter.

"I am anything you wish me to be, your highness," she said with a smile, then swooped up into the storm.

In the sky high above his head, Velkan heard more delicate voices tittering and singing eerie notes that seemed to resonate within the walls of rain. The wind suddenly shifted and began to whorl with especial ferocity, and the chorales in the clouds rang through the atmosphere in harmonies that did not exist in the known world. The hail suddenly ceased to beat itself upon the earth and the wind grew colder, stealing the weight of the rain as it was transformed into snow.

Another gust swept past Velkan, and he heard a tremendous groan as the old windmill began to churn to life. He shivered, his breath visible in the frigid air, and watched as the fearsome hailstorm slowly dissipated into a gentle snowfall. The silence was almost deafening compared to the raucous din that had been present but moments before.

The air cleared as the humidity condensed and became snow, and Velkan could at last see the altered landscape: a peaceful blanket of white spread out over the entire valley, covering the rooftops of the village below the hill and drifting to the faraway foothills of the jagged mountains. It was a welcome wintry scene, though snow this early in November was unheard of, unnatural, impossible.

"It cannot be," Velkan whispered to himself, staring up at the heavy sky.

"You have much to learn, dear child," came a voice from behind, and he turned to behold three magnificent women drifting through the air above him, their lightly-coloured robes sprinkled with glittering jewels and their bodies adorned with sparkling silver. Velkan gasped and stepped backwards, eliciting chimes of laughter from the ladies, who sailed down to stand on the platform with him.

"You need not fear us, Velkan," said the one with the dark hair.

"We have been sent by our master to protect you when he is away," the woman with the flame-coloured hair murmured.

"Look, sisters. He is as perfect as our lord said he was," cooed the third, brushing Velkan's wet hair away from his eyes. "Handsome like his true father."

"A beautiful child," the dark haired one agreed, caressing his cold cheek delicately.

"I adore him already!"

The boy was transfixed in utter shock—surely these exquisite beings were angels, for what else could they be? They spoke as if they had known him since the beginning of his life, and the mentions of their lord could only mean that they were servants of God Himself. No fairer creatures had Velkan ever seen, save for what apparitions lay in his dreams, and the magical bed-time stories of his tender years had taught him that nothing evil is ever lovely. The only thing that troubled the prince now was the fact that he could be seeing angels only because he was already dead.

"Am I in Heaven?" he ventured, and the angels sang with laughter.

"Not yet, dear one, but soon the world shall be ours," said Marishka, taking up one of his hands while Aleera grasped his other.

"Would you care to see what it is like to be one of us?" she asked with a dazzling grin, and before Velkan could answer, he was lifted off his feet as the three women rose into the air and soared through the falling snow.

Velkan let out a cry and closed his eyes, horrified of looking down at his death once more, but a comforting voice said from beneath him, "Open your eyes, my child. You will not fall; I am here to catch you."

So the prince opened his eyes, and Verona smiled up at him as she flew safely below. The ground passed swiftly from their altitude, growing smaller as they climbed higher into the sky, above the snow, close enough to touch the peaks of the mountains. Velkan gasped at the sheer exhilaration, his body weightless and free from the earth's grasp, and he found himself laughing as the angels dipped and turned him in the air, gliding effortlessly to and fro like a flock of jubilant birds. He forgot all fear, and he forgot how to feel the bitter cold, his mind locked in a trance of happiness that he had never felt before in his life.

"How do you like it, my prince?" Marishka asked him.

"I love it!" Velkan cried with a delighted smile upon his face.

"You can stay with us, Velkan," whispered Aleera. "Stay with us forever."

"Forget the world below," said Verona, "for it is filled with useless things. If you come with us, you may fly to your heart's desire. You can go wherever you please, do whatever you like. You can see the world, Velkan, my love: the golden sands of Egypt, the blue waters of the tropics, the bright lights of Paris. They will be yours. None shall stop you, and none shall ever take your wings. You will remain eternal, young and strong as we are, and live only for that which makes you happiest. So tell us, little prince, will you join us?"

These were fantastic promises, and Velkan's heart was verily bursting as he imagined being granted such absolute freedom, the power to see and to do and to go wherever he wanted, to travel the world as the angel had told him, and never worry about a single thing again. It was more than he could dream of, more than what anyone on earth could offer to him, even his family.

His family.

A sharp, icy pang abruptly went through Velkan's heart, and his mind began to clear from the drowsy mist that had enveloped it. "Papa, Mama… Anna," he murmured vaguely, as if he had forgotten about his entire life before this moment.

"Not them," Aleera hushed. "Only you, Velkan."

"But they need me," he said with increasing alarm. "Anna needs me. I… I'm so cold."

"He is not ready," Verona admonished sternly. "He is still bound to the mortals."

"Pity," Marishka sighed. "He is a good flyer."

"Perhaps soon, my prince, you will come to stay with us," Aleera said as they began to descend. "But today is not that day."

† † †

"Velkan. Wake up, Velkan. Please, Velkan, open your eyes."

The gypsy prince slowly came to, and discovered himself inside the old windmill with his sister's worried face peering down at him. "Anna…?" he asked, wondering if she was real or simply a dream-vision.

"You wouldn't wake up and it was scaring me," the little girl said with a tremor of hysteria in her voice. "I was afraid the cold had killed you."

Velkan sat up and looked around. All was quiet and dark, though there was a palpable sense of apprehension hanging thickly in the air. He stared at his sister and tried to collect his thoughts. "What happened? When did I fall asleep?"

"You went up the stairs to look at the storm," said Anna softly. "You were gone for a long time. I got cold, so I went over to sit against the horse. I must have gone to sleep, but when I woke up you were lying here like you are now. You were cold as ice and felt like a dead thing. It scared me. I've been trying to wake you ever since."

The boy rubbed his head which throbbed with pain, and shivered from the aching coldness in his limbs. "Did I dream it all?" he asked himself. "The angels…"

Anna pulled on his arm hurriedly. "Never mind your dreams, Velkan. You are not going to believe what has happened outside. Come and see it!"

Though Velkan was in no mood to entertain the whims of his little sister, he grudgingly crawled to his feet and followed her out of doors. He caught his breath and stared as they emerged into the crisp, frosty air.

The whole world, as far as the eye could see, was covered in a thick layer of pristine new snow.

"Anna," Velkan murmured, "when did this happen?"

"I fell asleep listening to the hail, and when I woke up it looked like Christmastime outside. Come on, Velkan! Let's go home! We can get our coats and play in the snow and-" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw the disturbed look on her brother's face, one she has never witnessed before. "Velkan…? What's wrong with you?"

"I…" he began in a rough voice, then shook his head as he stared into the sky. "Nothing, Anna. Let's leave."

Though the little girl knew that something was troubling her brother, she was well aware that there was nothing she could do to bait his words, no matter how much she begged and annoyed him. She was by now accustomed to these strange moods that Velkan experienced, rare as they were, and knew that later she would be playing in the snow by herself while her brother sat in his room and toyed with that strange black pin of his, humming a sad, unrecognisable tune.

To Be Continued...