DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers – Hidekaz Himaruya

AND Dracula – Bram Stoker

CASTLES IN THE AIR

EIGHT

1897

The hunter came during the day, while Vladimir and I slept. He entered the castle without our notice, and crept to the bedchamber with the soft, padded footsteps of a practiced prowler. I do not know what he must have thought, seeing us entwined together in bed, the shape of our prostrate bodies visible beneath the silk sheets. Perhaps he thought that the vampire had seduced me—that I was a victim—or that Vladimir had hunted me as he was hunting us now. Whatever the case, I was awoke by a sudden jolt to my shoulder, the hunter prying us apart so that he could pierce the vampire's heart with a wooden stake.

"Vladimir!" I cried.

Enraged, I threw myself upon the hunter in defense of my love. I fought for his life, disregarding my own as I boxed the intruder with my strong farm-boy hands. I fought like an animal, barely aware of my own actions or voice. Instinctively, I wanted to prove to my lord—and myself—that I could protect him; that he need not send me away; that we could survive together. I wanted to defend him with the reckless passion of a fabled knight, a childhood fantasy come true. I wanted to defeat my lord's enemy to prove my undying devotion to him, but I could not.

My body was not strong, but weak and fatigued. Instead of valour, I flailed in an ugly, desperate way against the hunter's resistance. He was a wall of solid, sinewy muscle and he forced me back with a single mighty fist to the face, the studs of his knuckles crashing into my cheekbone. I fell back onto the mattress, my face throbbing in pain, my head spinning as a dizzy haze blackened my vision. I blinked and tried to rise, but my strength was too fragile to hold my own naked weight. Vladimir had fed on me the night before and I was not yet replenished of my blood. I was not well enough now to save him. I had not been well for a long time.

"Vladimir," I gasped, blinking spots from my vision.

I could not endure the thought of my lord being beaten with those studded fists. I would not endure the sight of him lying dead on the floor.

I cried and I screamed, but when my vision finally cleared it was not Vladimir who was suffering.

My voice dropped away as I watched in awe, as deeply rooted as I was shaken by the scene of carnage and the vampire's face painted in blood. The hunter's body lay crooked before him, as a doe beneath the weight of a wolf. I watched with love and pride and horrified fascination as the vampire sunk his teeth into the large, pulsing vein in the hunter's neck, and I listened as the man's voice drowned on a useless prayer. I watched in relief as my love drained the man of his blood, watching in satisfaction as the life left his frightened, human eyes.

I watched and waited as the vampire drank, captivated by the scene, until, suddenly, an unwanted epiphany came upon me, swift and stringing:

Vladimir did not need me to protect him, for there was more hunter in him than in all the men of the living world. He had been hunting and surviving for centuries and knew, better than any, the greedy hearts of mortal men. I had served as no more than a fleeting, unnecessary distraction in the struggle, in our whole time together, and it had proved nothing but how ill-equipped and undeserving I was to stay at the eternal hunter's side. In the end, I had fallen because of my pride. In the end, the vampire did not—would not—could not—need me.

I could only hope, therefore, that he still wanted me.

"You," I said, struggling to lift my head, "you are amazing, my love."

I tried so hard to smile.

Vladimir turned to me. He looked terrified.

"Oh, Boris," he sobbed.

Then darkness overtook me.

Vladimir?"

"Yes, Boris. I am here."

"Vlad—I—I cannot—see you."

"Then close your eyes, my dearest. Everything will be alright soon, I promise. Just close your eyes and rest."

Vladimir, where are you taking me?"

"To the village, to safety."

"No, please—I do not want to leave you. Please, my lord, no—"

Vladimir," I said, coming back to myself, "please, put me down."

Perhaps he sensed my lucidity, because he granted my request. He placed me gently down on the ground of the forest, choosing a soft, dry carpet of grass. It was dark, of course, but my eyes were adjusted to such rationed light. But I felt lightheaded; felt my body sway even as I tried to sit upright. Vladimir knelt behind me and wrapped his cold, strong arms around me and held me snug against his chest to keep me stable. It was comforting. The forest was cool and quiet, except for the running stream nearby, which Vladimir could not cross. It is why he was taking the long way around to the village, but I did not begrudge the extended journey. I might have believed this to be one of our regular outings—me, feeling silly and satisfied from our lovemaking and his feeding—if only I did not remember the hunter's bloodless corpse and the vampire's red, red lips. But I did remember, vividly, and so I knew this was no mere night walk.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. My voice quivered; fatigued or grieved, I did not know.

He rested his soft head upon my shoulder, burying his face in my neck, and holding me tighter.

"Because," he said, so quietly I barely heard, "you are dying. I am killing you."

"I love you—"

"And I love you," he cried without tears, "which is why I am taking you back."

It was late when we entered The Golden Krone Hotel.

I could not walk, so Vladimir carried me, as he had carried me across the whole mountain. At the backdoor, he placed me gingerly on my feet so that I could stumble over the threshold to let him in, for a vampire cannot enter a place without an invitation from someone inside. He crossed silently into the hotel and opened his arms to me. I fell against him and he lifted me again with the ease of immortal strength, carrying me upstairs to the room I had rented all those weeks ago. I feared that the proprietor might have nullified my contract when I did not return that first day—when I had been proclaimed lost in the wilderness—but he had not. The boarding-room had been paid for in-full, and a purchased room with no guest to wait on was very likely his dream come true. The room was unoccupied when we entered, and my luggage was precisely where I had left it. Vladimir laid me down on a bed that made me immediately miss the luxury of his castle, and covered me with a quilt he found in the wardrobe.

"You are safe now," he whispered, kneeling bedside me. He stroked my head, brushing back my black locks. "Safe now from me."

I struggled to lift my head off the pillow and ultimately failed to do so. "Kiss me," I begged.

He did, gently.

It was unlike the kisses we had shared and stolen before. It did not convey want or need or playfulness, nor was it in gratitude, or sorrow, or a silent confession of love. This time, Vladimir's kiss simply said: Goodbye.

I am glad he did not say it in words.

"Don't leave me," I whispered one last time. I took his hand and squeezed it with all of the feeble strength I had left, as if I could keep him with me by force of will.

"I will stay," he promised softly, "until you fall asleep."

Despite my will, it did not take long. My body was broken, my heart most of all, and I fell fast asleep without knowing it. One moment, I was staring into his face, into those sweet, beautiful red eyes; the next, I was waking up in a room flooded with sunlight.

I will never forget you, my Boris. The vampire had leant down and kissed my cheek. Had I only dreamt it, or was I remembering his final farewell?

I cried shamelessly, soaking the pillow. I cried until someone heard me and came to investigate, gasping in surprise when he saw me.

"Call for a doctor!" he yelled in panic.

It was the last thing I heard for a fortnight.