Chapter Twenty

Standing on what remained of the highest point of the castle, Dracula stared out towards the mountains, focussing his gaze on the sun that was slowly descending over the familiar peaks. The sight was as beautiful as he'd always remembered it to be even if his former home now lay in ruins and a dull ache had taken up residence in his stomach. The latter was not the result of the castle's fate; Frank had informed him of its condition not long after his release from the Harker Foundation but with a new world - and a new century - to explore he had not been too perturbed by its demise. In fact, he'd not given it another thought until he and Agatha had left England, putting some distance between themselves and the Harker Foundation by crossing over to Europe, and she had expressed an interest in visiting the castle that Jonathan Harker had so vividly described. He had warned her that, unlike himself, it was past its prime but she had remained undeterred and he had been unable to refuse.

From the moment he had set eyes on Agatha again, freshly retrieved from the sea and still wearing both her habit and scowl, he had determined to do whatever was necessary to keep her by his side and after already agreeing to dine only on cattle and to refrain from slaughtering his enemies, coming back here had seemed an easier undertaking in comparison. However, he had insisted that they take their time traversing the continent; it was so much easier to travel when one wasn't confined to horses and ships, or trying to convey boxes and boxes of soil, and sharing it all with Agatha - from taking in the sights to a spot of grave digging - had made for a joyous journey. But this morning, as the skeletal remains of his castle had slowly come into view through the windscreen of their rented car, a small knot of unease had began to form in his guts.

Some of the outer walls were still standing but others had been completely destroyed, their remains strewn about the surrounding slopes or further down to the river's edge and the labyrinthine bowels of the castle had collapsed inwards. The road that led up to the remains had been impassable in the car; mother nature had reclaimed the ground that the detritus of his former dwelling had not and they'd had to trek the rest of the way on foot, his apprehension growing with every step. Rumours of unhappy spirits still roaming the area had deterred most mortals from venturing up here but that was not the source of his unease, either. He had destroyed his brides, even the ones who had displeased him so greatly that he'd nailed them into boxes, before he'd set off after Jonathan Harker, certain that the blue-eyed Englishman would be a suitable replacement for them all.

"The view is still stunning, at least."

The familiar voice, and the warmth held within, brightened his mood considerably. Upon reaching the remains of the castle, Agatha had gently shaken off the hand that had increased its grip on hers as they had ascended and let him explore the ruins on his own, keeping a respectful but watchful distance all the while. Turning away from the waning sun, Dracula found her standing at the other end of the turret, clad in the lightweight and waterproof clothing that allowed them to blend in with mortals but lacked any sense of style, and the knot in his guts loosened at the sight of her.

"It is now," Dracula replied, not hiding his appreciation of her. The low winter sun was bathing Agatha in its dying light, the wind was gently playing with her hair - he disliked when she tied it back and had taken to discarding whatever implements she acquired to restrain her locks, much to her chagrin - and a warm smile, full of love and only slightly tinged with concern, was residing on her lips.

"Aren't you even a little upset?" Agatha queried as she stepped towards him unbidden, navigating her way past a snow topped pile of rubble and with a small frown creasing her forehead. "This was your home," she added on, pausing to gesture at what remained of the castle behind her.

"It was a mausoleum, Agatha," he corrected, certain that was also the reason he had not wanted to return. He hadn't lived here, not even in the undead sense; he'd simply existed, a slave to an addiction that he'd been unable to control and imprisoned by a fear that he was too ashamed to accept. He had managed to escape its walls and make his way to England but it had been Agatha who had truly set him free. The castle was his past but Agatha was his present and, if he had his way, his future, too.

It was Agatha who understood him, who had given him back the light, who had given him something that he probably did not deserve and had not thought possible: love. The castle had not been quite so fortunate in the intervening years. "Angry villagers might have torn the castle apart, set it on fire and then left it to rot but you were much kinder to me," he assured her, a small smile on his mouth.

"I really wasn't," Agatha disagreed, her frown fading as she moved slowly towards Dracula. She stopped in front of him, within arms reach but without making an attempt to capitalise on the proximity, choosing instead to offer him a smile of her own, "You're just indestructible."

Dracula grinned in response and reached for her, wrapping both hands around her hips and tugging her closer to him. Her hands immediately went to his chest, palms pressed against the winter jacket that, admittedly, allowed for easier movement than a suit but which he still disliked immensely. There was no resistance in her stance and he leant towards hers, brushing his lips against hers in a soft kiss. Agatha reciprocated with more ardour, increasing the depth of the feelings running through his veins; the earth upon which he stood might be his home but with her was where he belonged.

Gently parting his mouth from hers, he continued to hold her close, silently searching her blue orbs and finding nothing but love within them. "Marry me, Agatha," he said softly, the words falling from his mouth with both ease and certainty.

Her bright smile dimmed somewhat and her tone was not quite as gentle as it had been earlier as she asked, a hint of disdain present in her voice, "And be your bride?"

The response wasn't entirely unexpected; Agatha had made her disgust at his propensity for claiming his victims as his brides, treating them as nothing more than his property, very clear and on more than one occasion. She had been equally appalled, both whilst on board the Demeter and when she'd been held at the Harker Foundation, at the suggestion that she herself was his bride, though he had just framed her for murder on the ship so perhaps her reaction that evening had not been entirely unwarranted. But he didn't want her to be his bride now; she was more than that. She was his everything.

"Be my wife," Dracula clarified. Marrying Agatha was something that he had considered before when she had proven to be such an exquisite vintage and he'd felt compelled to take her to the new world with him. Enthralling a priest and marrying the nun who had been so proud of her devotion to her God whilst she was under the influence of the vampire's kiss had been a delicious idea that he would have put into action had Captain Sokolov not preferred the large pile of money on offer rather than proof of marriage. Now he was glad he had not proceeded with the plan because it would mean so much more when she consented. If she consented.

Agatha considered him for a long moment, her gaze silently searching his face as she slowly slid her hands up to his shoulders. Lacing her hands loosely around his neck and with her eyes locked on his, she finally responded. "It's the twenty-first century, Count Dracula: marriage might still make me yours but it now also makes you mine," she said with a smile and a hint of a warning in her voice.

"I'm already yours, Agatha," Dracula admitted without any shame, running his hands around her back and leaving them there, one palm flat against the base of her spine and the other resting higher up. There'd been a challenge to her tone but, along with the words themselves, he was starting to think that she wasn't entirely against the idea of marrying him; she was just going to make him work extremely hard for it. "I believe I have been yours since the moment we met. But I do want to be your husband."

"I thought you were happy with spending eternity living in sin?"

"Ah…" Dracula grinned down at her, at the delightful smile on her face and the playful tone of her voice. "That was simply a bluff on my part when I thought you were going to make me wait for all of eternity."

The confession caused her smile to spread wider, "Not quite as confident as you made yourself out to be."

Dracula smiled indulgently at her self-satisfaction but he knew she had not been quite so confident of that fact at the time. Of course, she was right and neither had he. She might have succumbed to her desires - and his - in the dreamworld but she had not considered that to be a sin. "Your faith in your God was strong, Agatha. It still is, for some unfathomable reason," he replied softly and with a small frown.

"He brought you to me."

The words were said with a conviction that warmed his cold, dead heart and yet Dracula did not believe them to be true. If anybody had drawn him towards the convent it had been Agatha herself, first by setting a trap using Jonathan Harker as a lure and then by letting him taste her blood; offering herself up as an incentive to release Mina Murray had simply bound them together for all of time.

But whether it actually was Agatha's own thirst for answers or divine intervention from above, their current arrangements probably weren't the outcome that had been intended by either party. "Do you think He'd be content for you to live in sin for all eternity? Doesn't your God still frown on that sort of thing?"

Agatha shrugged slightly, her hands still round the back of Dracula's neck, resting between his nape and the unused hood of the warm winter jacket he had complained about frequently. "I'm a vampire who drinks the blood of mortals and fell in love with the devil," she smiled, her nails playing with the soft hairs on the back of his head. "Not being married to you is the least of my sins."

"We've discussed this before, Agatha," he sighed dramatically but it was with a lingering smile because she had said she loved him. Eternity might prove him wrong but he was certain that he would never tire of hearing her say those words. It might also take him that long to reveal all of his secrets to her; he had been intentionally vague in all the conversations they'd had about his origins as a vampire, mostly because he wanted to maintain some air of mystery lest she grow tired of him too soon. "I am not the devil."

"Hmm," Agatha replied though it was riddled with disbelief. Only some of that doubt remained when she asked, a smile now on her lips, "So this is actually a marriage proposal?"

"Yes," Dracula grinned in response. Perhaps it hadn't been the most romantic of proposals - and had sounded more like an order than a question - but there could have been no mistaking the intent of his words. She was just enjoying toying with him but then so was he; it was one of the many reasons he wanted to marry Agatha. Still grinning, he threw the question back at her, "Which part of, 'Marry me, Agatha', was not clear to you?"

She shrugged again, a smirk playing on her lips as she slid her hands out from behind his neck and then down his chest. "I believe it is customary to get down on one knee when offering a proposal of marriage," she said with an air of innocence. It crumbled when she smiled mischievously at him before adding on, "And I do like you on your knees before me."

Dracula hesitated for a long moment, his grin slowly fading as his eyes searched hers, trying to figure out if she was still teasing him. There was definitely a challenge in her voice but perhaps she thought he was above begging her to marry him; he wasn't. He would probably spend the rest of time pleading with her to be his wife but maybe he would not have to wait very long at all. The ground was uneven and covered in snow, about half an inch had settled everywhere, but he released his hold on Agatha's back, sinking down on to both knees and sliding his hands to her hips.

Agatha might like him on his knees before her but he knew that she was also much more compliant - and 'yes' fell more easily from her lips - when he was in this position. The motion had softened her smile into a gentle caress and the words fell from his lips again, this time with more precision and affection, "Agatha Van Helsing, there is nothing in this world that I love more than you. Will you marry me?"

Smiling, Agatha reached out with one hand and tenderly cupped his jaw before answering.

"Yes."