A/N: Not the full backstory, of course, but it's the nearest we'll get to it.

Just after he turned fourteen, Vlad realised his destiny.

He had never chosen to, if it had been up to him no one would have ever found out. Not ever. If it had been up to him the previous Grand High Vampire wouldn't have been slain. Despite being the usual way of a new Grand High Vampire being chosen, it was still a tragedy. The one before Vlad had actually been a fairly nice person – as far as 'nice' went with vampires – who was quite fond of gardening, and was able to keep the peace between the warring Council Members. His name had been Igor.

He had awoken, or was it risen, from his power-overload included unconsciousness merged. Or partially merged, he never would be quite sure of that. He had fought with his sister, gaining three permanent scars on his cheek as a souvenir, but managed to beat her, knocking her into an unconscious state. He freed his father, and gathered the ashes of the family member – because really, Will was family – who had fallen. He had moved quickly, wanting to be finished before Ingrid regained consciousness.

It was not a widely known fact, yet somehow Vlad was aware of it, that a slain vampire could be brought back through a dark and powerful type of alchemy. It was rarely tried, however, as no one vampire contained the strength or determination needed to go through with the ritual. At that moment in time, Vlad possessed both. When Will awoke, he seemed very aware of the situation, simply commenting: "I'll make your excuses."

Vlad ran away from his home that night.

He ended up in the middle of a war. Războiul de lupi, de moarte, de vânători, şi că ceea ce le uneşte; the war of the wolves, the dead, the hunters, and that which unites them. He had never really been aware of the fact that yes, vampires actually did fight wars, though he learned quickly out on the front line. He was watched over by two vampires, Melech and Strigoi, both in their 300's and both had experience as soldiers. Well, technically Strigoi had been a mercenary. They showed him the best ways to conceal himself, to fight clever, if not fair.

He had tried to refuse, wanted to keep up his idealism as long as he could. When someone wants you dead for simply being born, idealism tends to die quickly. He fought and he killed, and he survived. That was really all that mattered in a war. You had to survive.

xXx

A year and a half after Vlad had run away, a year and a half he had spent fighting, the Council found him and claimed him out of the war. "The Grand High Vampire need not fight, not when there are many willing to do it for him." He was told, after being placed into the most notable Vampire Academy in all of Transylvania. There he was worshipped, and fawned over, given anything a teenage vampire could desire. They pandered to his every whim, as long as that whim meant he would stay within the grounds of the Academy.

Was it any wonder that the day he turned sixteen, he left straight after merging.

Of course, since he was officially a vampire on his 16th birthday, he was able to return to the war, to fight and to open negotiations with the other sides. He gained a reputation quickly, as a proactive Grand High Vampire, the one who would do as his subjects would. He won loyalty on the battlefield, but had unknowingly created enemies in his previous friends, Melech and Strigoi. The war came to a close roughly six months later, and another six were spent with Vlad in his office, signing various documents, assigning money to pay for the clean-up of the war, and fending off various assassination attempts.

That happened a lot over the next few years actually. It seemed that despite his war efforts, the vampire community did not like having such a young Grand High Vampire, especially one with such radical ideas like integration with breather society. Professional assassins, amateurs, they all came, looking for Vlad's head as their trophy. He was surprised he lasted as long as he had.

It was on his 21st birthday that he had done enough to please the Council, and made the arrangements to move his base of operations to the flat he had purchased with some of the money from his inheritance he had gained on coming of rage. Amongst this inheritance was Carfax Abbey. He had debated staying there, but on visiting became aware of how much in the way of repair work would need to be done. As such, he had purchased the flat until repairs were finished.

But first, he was going to go home.