Hey there, here is the next chapter.

I want to give a huge THANK YOU to Datura Writii, who betaed my chapters in an amazing way. I've learned so much from you.

And another big thank you to La Femme Victorienne who is betaing my last chapters for you, since Datura has some time issues.

queenmedesa: YES - I like it too, when the count goes evil. I mean - he's a vampire after all, right?

Now have fun with my next chapter.

Back Home

There was an uneasy silence in the coach on the last stage of their journey, only broken by the count's commands to William, showing him the way through the forest.

Even the soft sobs of the young woman had faded away by now. Her eyes held no life as she stared, her gaze empty and unfixed. Herbert assumed the girl to be broken by the night's events. Maybe this was better for her, after all, not to feel anymore. Herbert felt true pity for her.

He was quite certain that his father's thirst for vengeance had not been quenched yet. The inn-keeper's daughter had been the trigger from this whole affair and she had also taken part in his capture. Usually he turned the women into vampires, before he had his fun with them, when they were emotionally down anyway. Herbert guessed that this girl here would not be granted this mercy. And not even the common vampire-charme could save her now – how could one fall in love with a man, who just beheaded one's parents in front of one's eyes?

Herbert was quite different from his father when it came to things like this. He could not find any joy or arousal in torturing another man, forcing himself on them. He at least needed consent, the illusion that the other one liked it – even if it was all but an act. Unconsciously he pulled Alfred closer to him and buried his face into his blond locks. His Chéri gave him even more than that. His arousal, bliss and lust had been genuine, there was no doubt about that. He would have felt it, if it had been otherwise.

Herbert closed his eyes, engulfed by Alfred's scent. Thinking back to those hours in front of the fireplace and looking forward to his future with Alfred was easier than the present thoughts about his father or the girl. He was determined to not forgive his father that easily this time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Finally, the towers of Castle Krolock came into view. Breda commanded the stable-boy to halt before they reached the driveway up to the big front-doors. He didn't want to announce their arrival to Kadir too soon. While William was told to stay by the coach and to watch over the girl, Breda, Herbert and Alfred walked toward the entrance.

They felt at once that something was wrong. It was quiet. Too quiet. A pungent smell stung their noses. Following the smell, they turned away from the entrance door and walked over to the right side of the castle-grounds.

When they reached the cemetery they saw the cause for the smell and the quiet alike. The graves were opened and the wooden coffins had burned down to coal.

Breda and his son stared incredulously at the destruction. Yes, they had not felt deep love for the vampires, that had found their ultimate end here. Many had even been more of a burden to them than anything else. But they still had been family, Breda's "children", all of them – he had sired them, he had been responsible for them.

His rage flamed up again, worse than ever before. "Kadir," Breda said, the word pressed through clenched teeth and the sound of the word alone sent shivers down Alfred's and Herbert's spine.

Alfred, who regarded the scenario with less emotion (he had known none of them), dared to speak anyway:

"There are two possibilities – he had burned them before going to Kronstadt in order to murder you. Or he burned them after his return."

"What's the difference?" asked Herbert faintly.

"If he burned them after his return, he'll know that His Excellency has survived his assault."

The two von Krolocks stared at Alfred astounded. But of course he was right. Most of his subjects would have perished, if he had been destroyed. But if Kadir had met them all alert and happy – as far as you could call them that – after his return...

Alfred went over to one of the burned coffins and groped for the wood. He frowned.

"I don't know – it must have been a pretty big fire. Since Robert's house in Kronstadt had still smoked and glowed onto the next evening I think this wood would still be glowing or at least be a bit warm, since it didn't snow. But it's cold."

Breda nodded. "So the odds are good for Kadir having done this before he went to Kronstadt."

"Which doesn't exactly speak for his ability to think logically," Alfred added. "Why all this effort, getting oneself into danger, if the matter might not be an issue anymore."

"Well, obviously he just likes to play around with fire," Herbert suggested halfheartedly. It really made no sense – Kadir seemed to be insane.

"We'll learn it only by asking him. I don't care if he expects me or not. I only know I don't want to wait a minute longer," Breda snarled as he turned on his heel and hurried to the entrance door with his cape waving as Alfred and Herbert following him in his wake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They entered the castle and climbed the wide winged stairs to the upper floors.

Alfred followed father and son; he remembered almost nothing from the brief guide through the castle, that Herbert had given him a month ago and soon he would have been completely lost, if the count and his heir had not been with him. How were they supposed to find Kadir in this labyrinth? Alfred didn't dare to ask though – he knew now about the excellent hearing of vampires, so he tried not to make a sound.

They halted in front of a door, but Herbert held Alfred by his sleeve, as he followed the count inside the room beyond. Apparently it was an armory, for the count came back two seconds later with an impressive two-handed sword.

On they marched through the castle hallways, until they walked around a corner, where they were facing two vampires guarding a door. They both shouted out in surprise and Alfred and Herbert stopped in their tracks. Not so for Breda. Without pause, he swung the sword with both of his hands high over his head. With a single aimed stroke he beheaded both vampires at once, who fell to dust immediately.

"I see that Kadir already saw to get himself some lap dogs. I assume he is in THERE," the count snarled and pointed at the closed door with his sword, only to take it off its hinges a second later with a mighty kick.

Now that they entered the room, Alfred recognized it. He had to admit that it had been quite clever by the count to start his search for megalomaniac Kadir here. It was a kind of a reception-room with a throne-like chair, from which a person now jumped up, startled.

A vampire, obviously another one of Kadir's "lap dogs", launched hissing at the attackers of his lord, but Breda set an end to his undead existence quickly too. Now the pretended new lord of the castle was all alone.

Breda strode before the High Chair and positioned himself in front of it, resting his hands casually on the sword, which he put on the floor point first. Even though he stood below the other vampire, since the High Chair stood on a gallery, he appeared way more majestic than his opponent. The other vampire stared at Breda astounded and completely horrified, which only added to his mad looks. Alfred was certain now that Kadir had not expected Breda's return.

They just stared at each other for some time, while the temperature in the room seemed to sink with every minute. Finally the count simply said: "Kadir."

It wasn't just a name. It was order, accusation, and verdict in one. This one word broke the rigidity of the rebel. With a cry he dropped on his knees, crawled down the two steps leading from the gallery into the room and laid his face into the dust on the floor in front of Breda's feet.

"My lord," he whimpered, "forgive..."

"BE QUIET!" Breda roared and Kadir hushed at once. "You have killed my people and broke my law. You have erased one of my best friends and his whole clan, trying to assassinate me. Do you deny this?"

Kadir turned his face toward Breda to look him into the eyes. All submissiveness and horror had left his face, but Breda had not been deceived by the Ottoman's acting anyway.

"The only thing I regret is, that the fire apparently did not devour you," he spat at him.

Alfred assumed that the count would explode any moment now, but he was wrong. Breda stayed amazingly calm.

"Just as my son's consort said – it was not exceptionally bright of you to kill my creatures, before making sure you got me first."

"I asked them to follow me, to support my rebellion, but none of them had been man enough to do so. They even wanted to stop me – but I couldn't let them." While speaking, Kadir's eyes rolled and saliva ran down his chin. Breda, Herbert and Alfred agreed silently, that the Ottoman had lost his mind.

"Herbert will bring you down into the dungeons, where you will wait for the arrival of the Tribunal. They will find the right verdict for you," Breda ordered calmly and for the first time, genuine panic shone in Kadir's eyes.

"And what if I refuse?" he asked, his voice less aggressive than before.

"Well, it's your choice to go with Herbert voluntarily – or to get your arms and legs chopped off by my sword before. But don't expect any wound care – the rats in the dungeons would be quite happy."

Kadir rose slowly, his hostile stare directed at Breda. For a while he just stood there, but when Breda made a minimal movement with his hand he nodded and went over to Herbert with clenched teeth. The prince took him by his upper arm and began to lead him out of the room. Alfred caught the count's eye and turned to follow Herbert to help him with his task after his lord merely nodded to him.

They had just passed the destroyed door, when it happened. Kadir saw his last chance for escape in this moment. It had been negligent of the count not to search him. With one smooth movement he pulled out a knife from under his shirt and stabbed blindly.

With a cry Herbert went to his knees, but already Kadir's hand tried to find another aim and he stabbed toward Alfred. Alfred, having his reflexes trained during the past weeks and having this one second's warning, managed to dodge the shining blade. Just when he wanted to counter-attack, a sparkling in front of his eyes made him stop.

The following cries ringing in the room where terrible. Kadir had failed to run, because Herbert hadn't let go of him despite his injury and he didn't hit the other one. That had been the last Kadir could think of, before his whole being had been only pain. Horrified he pressed his left hand upon the gaping wound on his shoulder, where seconds before his right arm had been attached to. The arm now lay abandoned on the floor, the silver-knife still in the limp, dead hand. Kadir stared at the blade blinking in front of his nose.

"Another wrong movement, another word and your left leg is next," Breda announced with cold fury in his voice. The count looked around to see Alfred supporting Herbert, who obviously couldn't put weight on his right leg.

"Alfred, help Herbert to his chambers. I'll take Kadir to the dungeons myself and will get the girl and William afterward. Who would have thought that I'd be in need of a new stable-boy indeed? As much as anything else. If I had known this, I would have taken the maid with me instead of the pampered daughter – she would have been prettier anyway," he murmured, before looking at his son. "I'll see to you later."

"Please Father, there's no need, it's not that bad," Herbert pressed through clenched teeth with distinct pain in his voice.

Breda winced inwardly. Obviously it would need some more nights until his son forgave him. Passing a bit of his own frustration on to Kadir, he kicked the Ottoman in the back, causing him to tumble over. Shouting at him to rise, Kadir came on his feet again and stumbled in front of Breda down the hallway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert guided Alfred to his chambers. While walking, the prince put almost all of his weight on his consort, his leg still badly hurting. Finally he sank on to his bed in his chamber.

"There in that cupboard is a chest on the floor. It contains a jar of silver-herbs," Herbert said and pointed to the mighty oaken furniture.

Alfred went over and opened it. Contrary to his expectations the cupboard did not contain clothes, but – well, practically everything you could think of, which was not clothes. And it was all quite a mess – Alfred wondered how Herbert could find anything in this chaos. He went to his knees, hissing, since the spot on his thigh, on which Herbert had been hit by the knife, hurt as if it were his own pain. Hell – did Herbert silently endure the same in Vienna, when he had been injured?

Beneath a heap of junk Alfred spotted some chests and opened one after another. Finally he found one with multiple jars and flagons inside and since he was unable to identify the silver-herbs, he simply took the whole chest over to Herbert. Again he pulled a face, when he felt Herbert's pain.

"You can block it out, you know?", Herbert advised, much calmer now that he could lie down and rest his leg. "It's like sending the emotions, only the other way round. You have to decide to not want to receive any emotions from me," he said, trying to explain the technique.

"Did you do that in Vienna?" Alfred asked curiously and Herbert nodded. He hissed painfully when he undressed his trousers. When he finally held the pants in his hands he regarded the hole that the knife had caused, annoyed. "Great. Really, great. That was one of the best ones we purchased in Vienna."

Alfred tried to follow Herbert's instructions and succeeded in blocking the prince's emotions. He could bear it for exactly two minutes before he opened the barrier again. He took a deep calming breath, which caused Herbert to look at him inquiringly.

"I can't bear not feeling you. I almost panicked," Alfred explained silently. "I prefer feeling pain to feeling nothing, I guess," he added, since Herbert didn't seem to understand.

"But you've gotten so good already," Herbert wondered. Alfred only shook his head.

"There was nothing anymore. It was like – like learning a song and the moment you have to sing it in front of an audience you have forgotten the lyrics. But as soon as someone whispers the first words to you, suddenly you remember the rest. I seem to need these whispered words constantly, for I'm lost without them. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so," Herbert said and reached into the chest to pull out the right jar without thinking. Lavishly spreading the silver-herbs on the small stab-wound on his thigh, he said to Alfred: "Would you please go into that left room. On a shelf somewhere on the upper left side must be some wide silver-colored pants."

Alfred did as he was asked and so he found Herbert's wardrobe – it was a whole room. Alfred almost couldn't believe his eyes – how could a single person have that many clothes? Herbert might be able to look back on a long existence, but even so it seemed impossible that he wore everything in here at least once. Shaking his head he made to search for the pants and indeed found them on a shelve on the upper left side. It was fascinating that Herbert obviously could stay on top of things, knowing what he owned and where to find it. An astonishing memory performance.

He went back to the bed and gave Herbert the pants, who put them on immediately. Then the prince pushed himself back on the bed, until his back rested on the impressing head-piece.

Alfred climbed after him and sat down on the bed cross-legged. "Why did your father not take Magda with him, since he found her prettier than Sarah? I mean – I wouldn't have liked it better to see Sarah beheaded, but..."

Herbert shrugged his shoulders. "Because he set his mind on Sarah long ago. And probably because she has something, that the maid didn't."

"What?"

"Virginity," Herbert explained unmoved and smiled, when he saw comprehension dawn on Alfred. "One of father's obsessions."

"How can he know that Sarah... I mean, I wouldn't assume otherwise, but..."

"Alfred – a vampire can smell that. And I mean that literally. You will learn that soon," Herbert chuckled.

Alfred laughed along out of embarrassment. Then he fell quiet, wondering if the count saw to unmake Sarah a virgin right now.

"How did you like father today?" Herbert asked after a while. Alfred looked at him almost terrified. Herbert smiled soothingly. "Don't worry – these walls have no ears. It's just among us two."

Alfred tried to express his feelings in words. This whole night, since the events in the inn, he had tried NOT to think about it. "He... it was his right to do what he did," he finally murmured. On the one hand he was convinced about his words, but on the other hand they also felt wrong.

"Yes, I guess he does. He's our lord. He's always right," Herbert answered toneless.

"I didn't like it, but..."

"You got the first taste of the power of your sire. Whenever our sire commands us – and it doesn't need to be a verbal command, he seems to be able to control us mentally too – we have to obey, if we want it, or not."

"It that why you're angry with him?" Alfred asked, for he of course had felt the tension between father and son.

"I told him that I didn't like his plan to take vengeance now, when I realized where we were headed to. In thoughts," he added, since Alfred looked confused. "I told him to postpone it until after caring for the usurper in his castle. You know – whenever he lacks for arguments in a discussion with me I'm no longer his son. Then he always sets his power on me, this power I cannot fight. He knows how much I hate this."

Alfred reached out and placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. He heard the disappointment in Herbert's voice and he knew how he felt – for he felt it too. Herbert felt abused and betrayed and Alfred could understand him.

"Well, maybe he sees now how wrong he was and how right you were," he said, trying to find something to comfort his consort. "If he had waited, he would have known to bring Magda and not Sarah." It was so hard to say anything even slightly bad about his sire.

Herbert smiled at Alfred's efforts. It felt so good to have someone on ones side, no matter how hard it was for them.

"So, this Vampire-Tribunal is coming here now?" Alfred changed topics, to steer out of these dangerous waters. "Who is that, by the way?"

"A constant commission, consisting of seven chosen representatives – I guess they are elder and experienced vampires, but I don't know the members. The lords choose them. I have never seen them – they're not called that often to a trial."

Alfred nodded. Kadir seemed to deserve it. All he left was burned ground – literally. "I'm sorry for the vampires here," he said halfheartedly. He thought it polite to say – at least Herbert had known them all. But the impression, that they hadn't been that close to Herbert's heart was confirmed.

"Well – I don't really mourn about them. There were two, maybe three I cared about a bit at least. But in all honesty: This whole affair is more of a logistic problem – a castle needs personnel. Father has no other chance than to create some vampires in the upcoming weeks.

"I hope only women and ugly men," Alfred teased and Herbert beamed.

"Fear for your position, Chéri?" he cheeked back. "But seriously – the real pity is, that there will be no ball now," Herbert said and looked truly sorry. Quite the contrary to Alfred, who looked relieved at this prospect.

"Oh, it's not that bad. Maybe you remember the bit when I told you that I can't dance?" he said cheerfully.

"One year as my pupil and you will dance through the ballroom like a young god," Herbert announced stubbornly. "I bought you a very expensive suit and you'll need to wear it."

"I could wear it without dancing," Alfred argued.

"You won't duck out of this," Herbert warned him, wiggling a playful index.

"Well, you can't give me a lesson right now," Alfred said and pointed on Herbert's thigh. The prince only laughed.

"Chéri – this is nothing compared to your injury. The knife was not nearly long enough in the flesh to cause a real silver-poisoning. Tomorrow evening it most certainly will be completely healed."

Alfred knew that this should please him, but he couldn't find any enthusiasm about it. But suddenly he got a cheekish glance in his eyes, moved closer to Herbert and touched the prince's lips slightly with his own.

"Then I'll have to find other ways to keep you in bed," he whispered, licking lewdly across Herbert's lips.

Herbert shivered and laid a hand in Alfred's neck to pull him closer. It was a while before they broke apart again. Alfred cuddled up to Herbert.

"You know, this all was planned differently," Herbert explained softly, while slipping a hand under Alfred's shirt and stroking his back.

"Hm?" his consort asked, closing his eyes with relish.

"Well, our First Time. Usually one should sleep contentedly afterwards and wake up together on the next evening – not jumping down balconies to escape a raging fire."

Alfred grinned. "Well, I can guarantee you that I won't ever forget it. It left a lasting impression, as I might say."

Herbert chuckled too. "And you're really not disappointed?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, why should I? It's not like we couldn't start another attempt, is it? But if we'll have to jump out of a window because of a fire again afterward – well, we should wonder if it was down to us."

Herbert laughed at the statement. It felt so good to have Alfred by his side, this intelligent, humorous and damn good-looking young man. "Then I'll forbid to light the fireplace henceforth, until we can be sure it's not us. We should minimize any risks," he announced merrily.

"Oh, what a pity. Just now I wanted to offer to light a fire. It's getting cold in here, don't you think?" Alfred's voice had turned from playfully to lewdly again.

"Oh, I know how to get warm," Herbert followed Alfred's lead and soon the two young men were kissing again. Pulling off their shirts. Alfred placed light kisses on Herbert's breast and nipples, causing them to get hard at once.

Alfred noticed something else getting hard on his and Herbert's body alike. Now that he knew what to expect, he found it almost impossible to wait any longer for it. He wanted to feel Herbert in him again, at once. Not losing much time, he kissed down Herbert's chest before he almost frantically began nestling on Herbert's pants.

Of course the prince noticed Alfred's sudden hurry. He smiled knowingly – Alfred had obviously found pleasure in their intimacies and nothing could make him happier. Now it was only normal, that Alfred would want to test himself, to try out different things. And Herbert could imagine worse things, than to pose as Alfred's test object. They were both naked by now and Alfred ran a dangerous possibility of overestimating his butt's abilities in his haste. So Herbert plunged a hand into the still open wooden chest and pulled out a jar, massaging some of its contents on and in Alfred's anus. "Just a bit of grease," he explained, when Alfred looked at him questioningly. "You'll see, it makes it all easier."

Alfred enjoyed the feeling of Herbert's fingers massaging him, but soon it just wasn't enough. He wanted the feeling to be filled completely by Herbert. So he climbed over his consort, slowly sitting down on Herbert's member. It took him another kind of courage, to go the full way. He still remembered the pain he had felt before, when Herbert had taken him more or less recklessly. But Herbert had been right, the grease sped things up. Soon he sat fully on Herbert, slowly starting to move, relishing every second.

Herbert couldn't get enough from the picture in front of his eyes. This beautiful young man riding him with closed eyes and slightly opened lips, clearly enjoying himself. Alfred was so unbelievably tight, that it took all of Herbert's resistance not to go off like a bomb at once.

Some while later they lay on the bed beside each other, heavily breathing. "Is that your bathroom?" Alfred asked lazily, pointing, and when Herbert nodded he got up reluctantly. Walking over to the room he noticed again, that his behind rather wanted to be left alone afterwards – no movements, if possible. He entered the bathroom, looking around astonished. He had expected something like this, but this assemblage of hygienic and cosmetic products beat his imagination well. And he noticed another thing: Herbert's bathtub was really huge. He looked forward to try it out. Maybe together with Herbert. But now he turned to the sink and took a cloth from a stack beside it. He wetted the cloth with water, then returned to the bed and began to wash away the traces from Herbert's body, that their lovemaking had left.

Afterward he just threw the cloth on the floor carelessly and climbed back into bed. Now, that the prince didn't stick anymore, he could snuggle up to him and eventually find some sleep.

Hopefully until the next evening.

TBC