Wife of Vladimir ||Book One||

Her People

"The following weeks passed by in a blur for Rosetta and I. We had found our rhythm again and things became stable once more. She would spend the majority of her day in the library or in the garden, simply living as peacefully as she could. Sometimes, she'd even help me with the work that piled up in my office much too often.

She had decided days after our conversation that she, truly, was ready for bringing a child into the world; our child. So, when night came, I would go to our bedroom where we kept hope for that child. Once she fell asleep, I'd sneak into the night of the forest to keep the burning in my throat away. If we had a child, they would be half-human at the very least. It wouldn't just be Rosetta that I'd have to be careful around, it would be them too.

Morning would rise shortly after. I always woke Rosetta and spent a few hours away with her, hiding away in the darkest parts of the mansion while sunshine poured in through every gap. When she would leave for the day, I'd return to my cave and take my turn at sleeping. Somewhere in between there, I managed my work load. It wasn't always ideal, but it was a system that worked for us and that was far better than what we had been doing beforehand.

It wasn't the only new routine in our home that we were getting used to. Because of what I had become, we had to find a loophole around facing our people. I wasn't certain about letting them see what I was, but knew I couldn't just abandon them. I wasn't against the people knowing what creature I was, as it was part of my identity now. According to Trevor's journals, nor him or his father ever uttered a word of their transformation to their people. I didn't want to be known as the Count that hid something so important from his people, but I hadn't any idea on how to bring it up to them.

My biggest concern was how they would handle the news. While Transylvania was widely accepting of everyone, I had heard the stories of other countries and what they did with people that were different. Images would flicker across my mind whenever I thought on the subject, especially of Romania as a whole. Witch hunts were common and those deemed to be witches were killed in the most brutal ways imaginable. Would my fate be the same as theirs?

When I was a boy, my father had taken me to another city within Romania on business matters. It was there that I witnessed my first witch hunt. I don't remember being very old, but I was old enough to remember the details of what they did to that woman. The horrors became my nightmares for many nights afterwards. Whenever I asked my father about it and what it happened, he'd put on the best smile he could manage and tell me that other parts of our land weren't as forgiving as Transylvania.

My father had ruled over our people with a kind heart. Whenever someone was accused of something that seemed out of a fairytale or a myth, he never convicted them to a harsh sentence. He'd do his best to prove them innocent, but if it didn't work he would send them away. Even now, I'm not sure where he sent them. My father said that wherever they were, they were safe.

To keep up with my father's excellent work as Count, I had the servants swear to secrecy. They'd travel down to the village during the day, collecting concerns, compliments, and complaints from anyone willing to talk. They wrote them all down and would take notes of the condition of the village. Essentially, they were my eyes.

There were times Rosetta would join them, but I never did. Often, the people asked about me, but the subject was always changed before an answer was given. It had become proper protocol until we could figure something else out. I longed to be with them, but knew I had to be patient.

When the day was over, the servants would return, with Rosetta if she had gone with them that day, and leave the parchments with the notes of that day in my office. I'd find them after Rosetta had fallen asleep, reading them over while I journeyed into the forest for that night. Some were as simple as a complaint about a neighbor or as complicated as crops not growing properly. After I would find something to hold myself over in the forest, I'd go into the sleeping village and fix what I could.