21. "I know better now."

Two hours later, the priest finally opened his eyes. Alucard was fast asleep, still curled to his side with his head resting on his arm. Anderson couldn't sleep at all. After Alucard had fallen asleep, he watched him for a while, trying to calmly process everything. In the end, he decided he couldn't. Not right now. He stayed for a while with his eyes closed.

Anderson carefully withdrew his arm and unwrapped the vampire from his side. He let him sleep, covering him some more with the blanket. He gathered his clothes and went back to the main room. He put more logs on the fire and checked the stew. He sat by the fire, staring into the flames for a long time. It was already dark outside again, around five in the afternoon.

Alucard woke up after four more hours of sleep. He stretched in the bed and rubbed his eyes. He sat up and looked around, only then remembering what had happened earlier. He bit his lower lip, sitting on the bed without making a sound. His eyes turned to the other room. He saw Anderson's back, sitting on the couch before the fireplace. If his heart was still beating, it'd be pounding in his ears now. He felt a strange tightness in his chest. He curled back under the blanket, hiding from the whole world like a stubborn child.

After almost half an hour, he sighed heavily and threw the blanket off. He found clean clothes and dressed, emerging from the bedroom with somewhat complicated expression. He approached the priest slowly, not sure what to expect. Anderson was sitting in front of the fire with an almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, another completely empty one stood by the couch. His eyes were closed and he was snoring lightly. Alucard let out a breath of silent relief. He took the bottle from him and finished it in few gulps.

Then, he grabbed Anderson's shoulders and laid him down on the couch. The priest didn't wake up though he mumbled something before settling back. Alucard grabbed a bowl and helped himself to the stew. He didn't need the food but the warmth was always nice. He finished it in silence. Afterwards, he settled into the armchair and tended the flames from time to time. Time flew by. He thought about the story he told Anderson the previous night. He has never told anyone about his past, particularly this past. He sighed and looked over at the sleeping priest. "The story only gets darker from here. Will you still look at me like you did today?" His words were so soft they were drowned in the crackling of the fire.

Around midnight, Alucard tossed few more logs onto the fire and got up. Anderson was sound asleep for the whole evening and showed no signs of waking up. It was just as well, Alucard wasn't too eager to continue the story. And he wasn't too eager on facing the priest after their previous activity either. He checked outside. The wind has quieted down a little but the snow was still falling heavily. It was as high as his knees already. He closed the door again, secured it and went to the bedroom.

Anderson woke up at almost six in the morning. His head was pounding and he was cold. He looked around the room. The fire was almost dead and the room was dark. He felt his way to the wood pile, took few smaller logs and knelt at the fireplace, blowing at the cinders. After couple attempts, the fire was revived and a new log was burning away. He put the pot back over the fire, hoping the strong stew will help with both his hunger and uneasy stomach. He cursed himself for drinking so much last night. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He washed quickly and lit few candles.

Few minutes later, Alucard finally emerged from the bedroom. "Morning." He mumbled as he headed to wash up as well. Anderson replied in kind and filled two bowls of the stew, handing one to Alucard. They ate in awkward silence.

"I… I guess I should continue the story, huh?" Alucard asked when they finished the meal. The wind outside has gotten stronger again, snow was still falling and there was absolutely nothing else they could do at this point.

Anderson was glad that the vampire didn't comment on the events of the previous day. He nodded quickly. "Yes."

Alucard waited for a pot of tea to be brewed before he sat in the armchair and pondered for a moment.

"Okay, so, there isn't really anything much to be said about my imprisonment in the dungeons of Corvinus' place. I've been there for nearly fourteen years. And despite the popular belief, no, I did not live well there and I did not get married either." He shook his head. "The things people would come up with…"


One night, the door to the floor on which Vlad was kept opened with a creek. A cloaked figure looked around nervously, then quickly went to Vlad's cell door. The person opened the small window in the door and immediately jumped back with a stifled cry.

Vlad was standing directly behind the door, his face practically glued to the small window. "Who's there?!" He demanded at once. The person didn't reply. Instead, they approached again, careful not to be seen. They showed him small pouch. Vlad looked at it, not understanding. "Who are you? What do you want? Has Corvinus finally decided to kill me?!"

The person shook their head and showed the pouch again, gesturing for him to step back. Not in the mood to play games, Vlad growled but did take a step back from the door. The person quickly tossed the pouch through the window, closed it and departed at once.

Vlad looked at it curiously. When it fell on the stone floor, there was a distinct metal sound. He sat down and opened it. When he looked inside, his heart almost stopped. He let go of the pouch at once and it fell on the floor. This time, the content of it spilled out. A dagger rolled out with a note attached to it. The dagger was too familiar. It was Mihail's, the very dagger Vlad used to kill his wife and stab her father. The note had only two words written on it: "Mira lives." Vlad searched the pouch again but nothing else was inside. There was no other indication to who has sent the dagger and message.

Vlad's mind was racing. He had already given up on hope that his son was alive. In fact, Corvinus had indicated several times that Mira was dead. He hid the dagger under his tattered robes and looked at the small note again. He tried to find anything that would help him identify the sender. There was nothing. He considered keeping the note, then decided against it and chewed down on it. He couldn't risk letting anyone find it.

Three months have passed. Guards came and went, occasionally tossing him mouldy bread and few gulps of dirty water. Vlad waited. He was sure an opportunity would present itself. Eventually, Corvinus came down to the dungeon to visit him. He would come few times every year, offering him alliance in exchange for his silence and support. Vlad could never do that and Corvinus knew it. The visits were merely to alleviate his conscience for what he did to him. Afterall, who would ally with him after fourteen years of imprisonment?

The door to the cell opened. "You look cheerful…" Corvinus squinted his eyes at Vlad who was sitting on the floor of his cell with a slight smile. His whole look was unsettling. Vlad used to do a little workout every day to keep in shape though with the meagre provisions the amount of workout he could do before exhaustion was limited. As a result, he lost a most of his muscle over the years.

Vlad smiled and Corvinus shivered involuntarily. "I've been waiting for you." He slowly stood up, letting a thin blanket fall from his shoulders. Corvinus gasped. Vlad had regained most of his muscles back though he was still very slim, almost edging on starvingly thin. But where only few months ago were merely bones and skin, cords of muscles were flexing now.

Corvinus stepped back form the cell and gave a signal to his guards. The guards immediately started closing the door, but Vlad was quicker. He nearly flew towards the door and slammed into them with all the strength he could muster. The guards were tossed aside, and the door would have splintered against the wall if not for the iron bars and bolts holding it together.

Vlad drew the dagger before anyone had time to react. He reached for Corvinus and pulled him to his chest, pressing the dagger to his throat. He whispered into his ear. "I'd love nothing more than to spill your blood here and now. But I can be reasonable. Get me out of here and you walk. For now."

Corvinus gulped. He felt the cold metal pressing on the soft skin, the trickle of hot blood running down his collar. "H-how…" He started but Vlad cut him off. "I don't care how you do it. This is your fucking palace! I'm sure you have a way out in case of emergency. Well, consider this an emergency." He pressed the dagger more into the skin and Corvinus yelped at the pain, more blood.

"How do I know you'll let me go?" Corvinus tried to buy some time but even he knew his attempts were futile. Vlad has spent fourteen years in this dungeon. While he didn't exactly know the layout, he surely knew the guards' rotation. There was no one coming. Only his personal guard was there and they were all staring at him intently, not daring to move.

Vlad smirked. "You'll have to take my word for it. We both know whose word has more weight between the two of us."


"He led me through a tunnel that ended in the forest. I really wanted to kill him there…"

"But you didn't." Anderson raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Alucard shrugged. "I gave him my word." Anderson was surprised. He didn't expect the vampire to hold to such values.

As if reading his thoughts, Alucard continued. "Back then, I had very little virtues. I know that history sees me as a cruel madman with hardly any redeemable quality. And by today's standards, they're right. But this was fourteenth century. Lives were hard and mostly had no value to speak of. When dealing with the oppressing forces invading my country, I dealt with it. It may have been brutal, but it was the only language they understood."

He sighed and fell silent for a moment. Then he looked up and continued. "I didn't kill him then because I believed that a man should honour his word. I tried to believe that I am better than the other one." He shook his head, eyes hardening. "I know better now."

Anderson wanted to say that no matter what, a man should always honour his word and that he was right back then. But he didn't. He saw war. He saw two world wars, he saw the atrocities committed in the name of one thing or other. Could he himself claim to be better? He could not. Instead, he asked. "What happened next?"