Hi guys…
Okay, firstly, I want to apologize for not updating for a month and not getting review replies out like usual. I'M SORRY! Secondly, I'd like to offer a HUGE THANKS to everyone that reviewed last chapter… and everyone who has ever reviewed. Reviews certainly do NOT go unnoticed and unappreciated. You all are a huge help at times when I just want to… well, quit. But as long as I keep getting feedback, I'll keep writing.
Oh, I'd also like to take back everything bad I've ever said about Velkan. Seriously. And, when you are done reading (and hopefully reviewing!) this chapter, go to youtube and watch the Step Up 2: The Streets trailer (so good…) and then search for Will Kemp's Gap commercial. Loose Fit jean are da sex.
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Sophia and Mary sat in cushioned chairs within a cozy sitting room that had four large windows lining one wall. Although it was dark outside, a faint light shone down through the clouds, intensified by the sheet of pure white snow and reflecting into the overall darkened room. A hot fire crackled nearby, and just incase that wasn't enough to keep the women from being chilly, drinks of warm ale were on a table between them. Each had a needle, thread and pieces of what would soon be shirts in their hands. They were working diligently but leisurely at making clothing for the poor.
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Sophia's incident with the Prince, or rather that kiss they shared unexpectedly at the end of her tutoring lesson. She couldn't seem to get it out of her head, not the kiss, but everything that seemed to surround it. All this time she had been trying her best to really dislike him, yet it was becoming more of a challenge. She spent so much thought of late, trying to understand her own heart, mind, and how they worked together. She was eighteen and her heart longed to be given away and cherished by someone, and despite everything she had originally thought of him, the Prince was the one that she wished she could give it to now….
But what are his true intentions? her mind would nag at her. Does he really love you? Do you really love him? How do you know he won't soon grow tired of you and bring in another to fill your place? Will you still love him then? Do you even have a choice?
"What is the matter, Miss?" Mary asked, causing Sophia to glance up at with an expression of wonder; it was as if she had read her mind. "You just looked as if you were in deep thought," she explained quickly.
"It is nothing," Sophia answered, shrugging it off and returning her attention to her work.
Mary had been around Sophia long enough to know when something was up and she had noticed her acting strange since coming from her weekly lessons with the Prince. She was positive something had happened, and although Sophia's face was more of contemplation than anything, once in a while she would smile, but then it would fade away quickly as if she feared someone finding out a secret.
"The Prince is has changed since you have been here, Miss," said Mary softly. "He used to be…" She paused, almost reconsidering her words. "Well, it does not matter how he used to be, all that matters now is that he has… changed. In a good way, of course."
"Oh?" Sophia didn't even look up from her needle, appearing to listen with slight unconcern, but it was quite the contrary.
"And the servants have been talking," Mary leaned in, "they have noticed how he talks to Mistress Nedezda and how he has become rather disinter– "
"What about me?" Nedezda said from the door, her personal servant standing behind her.
The color drained from Sophia's face. How did Nedezda always come in at the wrong moments?
"Um…" Sophia struggled for words as Nedezda moved further into the room.
"We were just talking about how wonderful it would be for your help, m'lady," Mary offered timidly.
"Oh." Nedezda smiled eerily sweet at the two of them, and then noticed the cloth and needles in their hands. "What in the world are you doing?"
"Sewing shirts for the poor," Sophia said quickly.
"Sewing? For the poor?" Nedezda everything but rolled her eyes as she laughed mockingly at her. "Why would you do such a thing? How absurd!"
"Because I know what it is like," she answered in a low, far away voice, "to be poor."
"Mark my words, the Prince will not stand for it – you wasting your time on this… this foolish attempt to be noble. He already thinks the poor should be rid from his country; I doubt highly he will let you do anything for them."
"So be it," Sophia said. "Until he tells me otherwise, I shall continue. Would you care to join us?" Her voice was warm and friendly, but she preferred if Nedezda left her and Mary alone again. She didn't have any incentive to hate the woman, but she really didn't like her because she was constantly negative and Sophia could swear that the woman hated her. Although, she could understand where she was coming from if she did – she would hate someone too if they started getting the attention from the one she was infatuated with… and Nedezda was every bit obsessed with the Prince.
"We will sit, but I do not plan on wasting my energy on a lost cause," Nedezda said with a nauseating charm, taking a seat on the divan beside Sophia's chair, forcing Mary to move down so Nedezda's servant to sit nearby. "So, how was your tutoring lesson last night?"
Sophia's eyes shift momentarily to her direction then back to her own needle and thread. "Wonderful, as always. Why?"
"I was just curious," was Nedezda's response, but Sophia knew better. "I am presuming you have almost become accustomed to our ways here in the castle?"
"Yes."
"And you have moved beyond care for your old, poor family?" she asked with a sharp tone.
"No," Sophia somewhat sighed the word. "I still miss them. I wonder daily what my sister looks like, how my mother is coping without me, and whether my father is well. But I hold onto the hope that I will see them again and that until that time, they stay well without me."
"I doubt you will see them for some time though." Nedezda's words were icy and stung Sophia like frostbite, but Nedezda wasn't ready to give her any time to think. "Anyway, the Prince told me that you two had very little of a relationship…"
The anxious mood Sophia was in about the topic shone through to her sewing, with her needle going in and out, in and out, the thread threatening to break or get tangled. Luckily though, with Sophia's skill, it didn't.
"And despite his reluctance to answer when I asked… he told me that you had not bedded him yet."
Those words caused Sophia to suddenly jab her finger with the needle. She inhaled sharply, letting her work fall to her lap as she lifted her finger closer to her face to see the damage done. A little pinpoint of blood was swelling up on her left index finger and the tip was already throbbing.
"Do you need me to get you something for that?" Mary said immediately, holding her sewing to her side, ready to drop it and help Sophia if need be.
"No, no, it is all right," Sophia said, pressing her right thumb to it so the bleeding would stop quicker.
"Why so?" Nedezda inquired.
"Huh?" Sophia looked over at her, perplexed at what she was talking about. Surely she understood what 'it is all right' meant!
"What has kept you from sleeping with him all this time?" she asked bluntly, innocent inquisitiveness masking her sheer enjoyment at watching Sophia squirm.
"Um… I… uh…" Sophia stammered, though wasn't able to finish before a loud and cold gust of wing blew in from the door that was open to the hall. Two deep and good spirited voices followed in the wake of the wind, along with the sound of heavy boots on the wood floor.
All four pairs of eyes looked to the entryway right as the Prince entered, who was quickly taken back when he saw that there were people in the room.
"Well, well… what a pleasant surprise! I was not expecting to walk in on such beautiful faces," he said, as he removed his heavy cloak, tossing it over the back of Sophia's nearby chair and then removing his gloves. His black clothing still had flakes of white snow stuck to it, and the front of his hair had a few more strands than usual falling in his face, which were also flecked with snow, giving him more of a wild look.
Following him into the room was a weatherworn and somewhat tired looking man who Sophia recognized instantly.
"Gabriel!" she almost shouted in surprise, her eyes lighting up.
"What did I tell you…" Dracula mumbled in his ear.
"Sophia… it has been a while, has it not?" Gabriel said, offering an all-out smile to her, while following the same procedure the Prince had just gone through in removing his heavy, winter articles. "I doubted you would remember my name. It seems I have been pleasantly proven wrong."
"Like usual," the Prince snickered. Gabriel elbowed him.
"I could not forget you!" Sophia exclaimed, laughing already at their brotherly antics.
"Do I not get any welcome?" Dracula teased Sophia, moving around the chair to her.
"Of course you do! What sort of welcome would you like?" Both her tone and smile were playful.
"This," he said, taking her chin in hand, bending down and planting a tender, leisurely kiss on her mouth.
When he pulled away, Sophia blinked repetitively before taking a brief glance at Nedezda beside her and noticing how she had stiffened.
"And you?" he rhetorically asked Nedezda, before giving rightful respects just so things would be fair. Although it wasn't obvious, everyone could see that there was less affection in it.
"My lord," Nedezda said, rising a hand to her nose, her face shriveling with disgust, "you smell like… outside."
Dracula and Gabriel both laughed.
"Yes, darling, I just came from outside, certainly it is natural," he said dryly, patting her knee, then moving to the fire Gabriel had just begun warming his hands at. "Gabriel has journeyed all the way from Rome… in the dead of winter. I was not about to let a little bit of snow keep me from greeting him."
"You look positively freezing," Sophia said to Gabriel. "What brought you in such cold?"
He looked over at Dracula, their eyes debating whether it would be wise to say or not.
"A visit." Dracula stated, nodding.
"And to see how you have been fairing, Miss Sophia," Gabriel said. "And you also, Mistress Nedezda," he added quickly, causing her eyes to narrow and her jaw to set.
Sophia could sense that wasn't truly why he was here, but let it go to it being state matters. "I have been fairing well, thank you. And you?"
"Other than being frozen to the bone? Wonderful!"
She laughed softly at his dry humor then picked up her work and began again now that her finger had stopped bleeding.
"What is that you are making, my dear?" the Prince asked her, turning his back to the fire while rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them.
"Um, shirts… for the poor," she answered hesitantly, somewhat nervous for his response.
"I told her you would not care for the idea!" Nedezda interjected before he could get any words in. "But she refused to listen!"
The expression on his face was unreadable as he stared at Sophia, whose brown eyes with the very warmth of fall, blinked up at him, wordlessly pleading her case and whisking away his winter chill. Then he looked at Nedezda and knew she inwardly loathed Sophia being there at all. He had told her time after time, that she would have to get used to it… but still, that didn't stop her from being bitterly jealous.
"I think it is a very caring and charitable idea," he said finally to Sophia, but aimed at Nedezda, who quietly scowled at his words, "and when you have sewn as many as you would like, I will be happy to help in arranging them to get to the destinations that you wish."
Sophia's smile broadened, unknowingly giving him the best thank you that he could ask for, before returning to her needlework.
"Good Lord," he muttered.
She shifted her gaze to see what he was talking about, only to do a double take when she saw he was watching her still. "What?" she asked, looking beyond bewildered.
"Gabriel, look at this…" He pulled up a chair beside Sophia and sat down, getting not only Gabriel's attention but Nedezda's as well. His eyes fell to Sophia's small hands and fingers working with the thread, needle and cloth. "Look at how deft her fingers are," he told his friend, who was now observing too, "how quick her hands are, and how close, small and perfectly done each stitch is… I have never seen any woman with such skill with a needle before."
Hues of scarlet rushed to Sophia's cheeks at not only receiving compliments, but also because all eyes were on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come, so she gave up with a soundless sigh.
"I never noticed your fingers so dainty before," he said, leaning over the arm of her chair more and gently taking her hands from her work.
Nedezda's eyes were perilously dark; her face was flushed also, however unlike Sophia, it burned with rage and embarrassment that the Prince could so easily ignore her presence. What did Sophia have that she didn't? How could a simple girl replace her? Was she worth nothing to him?
Dracula turned Sophia's hands over in his, examining them. Her skin was supple and smooth compared to his, which was calloused and rough with years of work. He pressed both of his hands to hers, comparing them together. Her palm fit just inside the hollow of his hand and her thin fingers were barely over half the length of his. "Your hands are perfect," he breathed in husky voice. "So soft… so small… so absolutely perfect…"
Once again, Sophia found herself drifting into that daze he always put her in, her eyes unable to pull away from his. She could swear her body temperature was rising; her palm, hot and moist – as was his.
Without even giving her any hint, he pulled away, sitting up straight and looking at Nedezda, who quickly averted her fiery gaze, and then looking to Gabriel, who was now facing the fire with his back turned to them. The second time in less than a day, he told himself.
Sophia promptly picked up her work and started yet again, trying to shake off what had just transpired, but finding that it only confused her worse than she had been earlier.
Nedezda looked over at Mary's sewing. "Give me that," she hissed, snatching it right out of her hands and then began jabbing the needle in and out, in a horrible attempt to 'sew.' Every few second she would cast a sidelong glance Dracula's direction to see if he was paying her any bit of attention.
He wasn't.
In fact, he just stood from his chair. "Gabriel, I believe we have some business to discuss," he stated then turned to Sophia and Nedezda. "Darlings, if you will excuse me." He picked up his cloak and gloves and was out the door sooner than they could conjure a word.
Gabriel quickly gathered his belongs, offered a slight tip of the head and just a, "'Day, ladies," before leaving.
Nedezda, who was utterly frustrated because the Prince hadn't paid her any notice, immediately tossed the sewing to the couch and hastily sulked after him, whining.
"But… Vladislaus…"
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Nedezda is so much fun to write! Oh, just incase… back in the day (15th century), having nice needlework was a sign of being well brought up. Also, the compliment on her hands was super flattering without being overly forward. Ah, I do loves me some history…
Omg, next chapter is fifteen! I'm so excited!!
Review! (I swear I'll get review replies out this time… cross my heart, hope to die.)