Disclaimer: I hold no rights to any of the worlds depicted within, only the content of my own dreams.
"It should have been your line, y'know," The blonde woman is draped across the throne that his father sits, much to the utter fury of the Count, but she takes no notice, "For someone who wants peace, you sure seem to don the robes of a Dictator pretty often."
"Off you vile creature!" His Father snaps before Vlad can raise his hand and send his regent from the room with a bitter glare of pure hatred. No one willingly walked into the nest of a Vampire, sat on their throne and raised a goblet filled with red creaming soda, unless they were trying to make a very stupid but poignant point. And the power they must hold to dare make such a point...
"Excuse me, who are you?" The bite behind his words is enough to make the woman grin, and he suddenly feels as if he has passed a test, "Why are you here?"
"It should have been your line," The blonde responded coolly, "You were willing to kill in the name of peace. It should have been you to call Stop, and ask what had happened to everyone, because you wanted peace. And yet it came down to Jonno. A slayer saving the life of a vampire. It should have been you."
"You're a Slayer." The Count hissed to the blonde woman, who snorted in response.
"No," The woman responded, with a hard look in her too-young eyes, "But right now, you need to take a good long look at yourself, Vlad. You may be the chosen one, but if you don't wake up and smell the stakes and garlic right now, it'll be far too late."
"I know what I'm doing-"
"Did you say that when you staked Bertrand?" She retorted, "Possibly your biggest ally; he spent hundreds of years training to be the best that he could possibly be for when you came. He was one of the few people you could trust- I bet you knew exactly what you were doing then."
"That was a misunderstanding!"
"You seem to have quite a lot of those."
The dark-haired boy, the Vampiric Chosen one, stared her down, but didn't receive so much as a waver in response. The blonde woman; dressed in torn stockings and a denim skirt with the union jack across her shirt, was hardly the most imposing figure, but there was an air around her that would make anyone pause.
"I'm not here to judge you," The blonde responded, "But I'm here to give you a firm kick up the backside. If you want peace, if you want Humans and Vampires and Slayers to live together in harmony, then you have to sit down and listen. You have to learn. You have to start treating people with more respect, because you're starting to become a Dictator, Vlad."
Vlad's eyes told more about his emotions than any of his words could, "Someone has to control this situation, there's utter chaos right now-"
"You can't be a champion for peace if you play your life like a game of chess- treating everyone as a pawn. There is no such thing as a sacrifice for the greater good. There is no good in ordering people to their deaths, and there isn't any good in murder- no matter how much of a misunderstanding it was."
"And if I choose not to listen to you?" Vlad responded with a mocking grin, "Will it start raining toads? I think I know how to handle this situation- I am the chosen one."
"More like the chosen git if you ask me," The woman quipped back, "The chosen prat, the chosen goit."
"And if I don't listen?" The boy insisted.
"Bertrand du Fortunesa."
The silence was deafening, but eventually the boy accepted her words with a nod.
"You could be so great Vlad," The woman moved from the throne, and walked towards him with something feral in her step, "But your story has gone from such a beautiful beginning, into an Elizabethan tragedy. What happened to that kind hearted boy who just wanted to remain kind and good? How did he go from that to this twisted emotional-wreck of a vampire?"
"Things change," Vlad responded curtly, "I couldn't remain a child forever. At some point you have to let go and figure out how to walk on your own two feet."
"Once you believed in peace, but now I wonder if all you do is repeat the words, because you've lost the passion. Do you believe in your own words, or is it just your ego insisting that you not be the first person to back down?" The woman grinned wryly, "Whatever you decide, make up your mind quickly, Chosen one, before more Bertrand du Fortunesa's are led into their deaths."
"Why did you come here today?"
"Because you were born into blood and anger and revenge, yet you could be so much more," The woman's hands fidgeted, and bunch up in her skirt from unspoken frustration, "And because, in the end, Vlad; it should have been your line."
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