I wrote this back in September. I was doing a writing challenge and a friends asked for a master/slave AU with Clawd and Draculaura, and this is what I put together.

At first I was going to write Draculaura as a member of royalty with Clawd (and other werewolves) as her slave, but I decided that was too obvious and wanted to switch the roles instead. So here we are.

I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

Strong, hairy hands brushed the tent openings aside, giving way to the wolfish figure who stepped out of the chief's tent. The figure was that of a warrior, and more specifically it was the chief's son, Clawd. Tall, handsome, and incredibly lethal.

He eyed his warrior brother who was standing sentry at the village gates, watching over the surrounding land.

Clawd moved to stand beside his older brother, Rocky, crossing his arms over his chest. "What news?"

"Slave caravan passing through. Probably going to try leaving their sick nearby."

Clawd frowned. "Maybe I should go hurry them on their way. Last thing we need on our territory is dying slaves."

"Let it alone, Clawd," the older one advised. "The traders know better than to leave their wares on the Wolf's territory. Let them dispose of their belongings as they wish and not start a fight."

Turning on his heel, Rocky headed back inside the gates, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Keep watch, brother."

"I will."

Hours passed as Clawd stood guard at the front gates of his tribe's village. He saw the caravan leave and he himself turned the other way, keeping himself in check – the son of the chief needed to set an example, not get into needless fights.

As the time wore on, Clawd became aware of a small figure approaching, the scent of vampire filling his nostrils. He stood his ground and waited, unsure of what to expect.

When the vampire reached him, it wasn't at all what he'd expected: the blood-drinker was cuffed and shackled, barely able to move her petite, malnourished frame with the heavy slave chains that held her. She was coughing blood, and between that and her sunken eyes and rasping breath she seemed to be very, very sick.

She looked up at him pleadingly, begging him in a language he didn't understand. That's okay. 'Help' is a universal language.

Calling to Clawnor, Clawd picked the vampire up in his arms, carrying the blood-drinker into the village.

MH

Clawd wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, taking in the sick vampire slave. If anything, he should have left her to die, considering the relations between their people. But, he didn't.

Clawdeen had helped him care for the small vampire as he worked on nursing her back to health over the next couple of weeks. She'd gotten irritated with her brother constantly saying "the vampire" though, and had insisted in knowing the slave's name.

"Clawdeen," she said, putting her fist to her chest. She hit her fist lightly against her brother's chest. "Clawd."

The vampire slave, now feeling better and maintaining a pink palor around the face, gestured to herself. "Draculaura."

Clawd's sister looked so snide as she grinned at him. "Well, now we know her name."

What did Clawd care? It was just a slave, and a vampire to boot. How was its name of any importance?

MH

He kept her around for some reason. He became known in the tribe as "the chief's son with the blood-drinker slave."

He didn't care. So long as she knew her place, it didn't matter.

She was learning to speak his language, though right now she could understand it better than speak it. She seemed to take particular delight in using his name, though.

"Clawd!" she'd say happily when returned to his tent after his duties, and she'd jump up from mending his clothes to rush to greet him. It was odd how… puppy-ish… she seemed at times.

He allowed himself a small smile of amusement as he pulled her into his lap, petting her hair gently. She was an odd one, this Draculaura.

MH

"He cared for me," she said softly, trying to form the words around her accent. Months had passed. The slave had gotten much better at speaking in the language Clawd's people spoke.

The tribe had heard word that the vampire lord Dracula was dead. The slave girl had become upset upon hearing the news, and Clawd had wanted to know why.

"My parents were slaves of his," she continued. "He treated he as his own daughter when they died. Until I was taken in a raid and sold away…"

Clawd frowned. The blood-drinker was his slave, nothing more. Surely he felt nothing for her.

So why was he suddenly holding her and trying to comfort her and dry her tears?

MH

The years went by, almost all too quickly. Clawd's father passed on to the next world and the oldest child became the tribe's chief. Clawd grew as a warrior and was now renowned over the land for his strength and cunning.

He lay on the bed in his tent, the petite vampire beside him. No longer his slave, his mate slept with a sweet smile gracing her delicate face, her middle oddly round.

Clawd's lips pulled back in a small smile as he allowed himself to touch her abdomen, feeling energetic kicking from beneath the skin.

He thanked all of the known spirits and gods that he hadn't turned away the unwanted slave girl not so very long ago; if he had, he wouldn't be here now, content with his very wanted little mate.