Dracula Retold

Homecoming

Vlad was 19 now, old enough to leave the woods, old enough to be prince. But Lupei sent no one to collect him, and the newest set of tutors didn't let him leave. The boy- a man now- became agitated by his confinement, often challenging the guards for game. Strong and skilled as he was, he didn't gain any bulk. His physique was frail; he was weak. The open air woods hadn't been good on his immune system, and it was a miracle he lived. On part of his health, that is. His security presented another issue.

Vlad's tutors and guards were all at the mercy of the evil regent, Lupei, and they'd been receiving orders of assassinating the prince. But Vlad, trained by the man he had come to know as his great something grandfather, often beat his assailants to shame. But the guards took notice of the toll it took on his health.

One day, though, the threats lessened, and the prince began to drop his guard, but the older Vlad immediately picked up on the battle strategy. It was the calm before the storm, and Dracula urged Vlad to return to his people without awaiting orders from the castle. The new prince was elated to finally escape the woods and return home.

Home to the comfort of his castle; home to his people; and home to his good friend Niklaus. Vlad had missed the companionship of someone his own age. Dracula and Vlad sat hidden in the thickness of trees, discussing their strategy to take over Lupei, and the supernatural Vlad was so deeply invested in the conversation that he failed to pick up on the low steady heartbeat on the other side of the curtain of trees, eavesdropping on their conversation. The day after the morrow would be Vlad V's homecoming.

"Have a good night's sleep my boy," Dracula suggested, reassuringly squeezing Vlad's shoulder, "for tomorrow on you shall not get any!"

Vlad laughed at one of the rare jokes his grandfather made in their time together.

"I am in you gratitude, grandfather. I shall live up to our name."

"I pray you do not have to."

The two men of the Dracul house split company, the younger retired to his cottage for his final rest before his life as the prince began. The older fled to his own sanctuary that was an abandoned garden, where roses grew in the night. Ritually, as he had done for decades, Dracula found the biggest bloomed rose, which to him held the soul of his beloved. He reported to her how events had transgressed since his last visit.

"...He has grown up your grandson. The boy shares more your morals than mine. He dreams of peace and unity. But I fear for him, Mirena. I fear the world may not give him a solid chance. And this Lupei might just be his Ottomans. If he can survive, he will be the greater prince Transylvania has seen in some time. If he survives. If he-"

Dracula sped off before his words finished, running toward the cottage. He smelled blood in the air, blood that wasn't yet spilled. It was different, inhuman, and the first whiff of it had sent his mind back to the first time he held the chalice offered to him back in Broken Tooth. This was Lupei's secret pawn, the storm after the peace. This was...

Wolves?

Being the mutant himself, Dracula didn't waste a second on the possibility, rather he was in full offense mode. The beasts at first displayed shock at his arrival, but quickly overcame the feeling and attacked the newcomer. The wolves jumped him in pairs, leaping on their strong hind legs, launching their full weight at him with open jaws.

They got in a bite or scratch before Dracula, in his steaming anger, either dismembered them or pulled their jaws apart enough to cause death. Instead of having dead wolves at his feet, Dracula stood center in a ring of dead bodies; human bodies. Their forms contorted without taking regard of what he had done to them.

A running heartbeat stared at him from the doorway of the cottage and he turned to face the teacher, crossing himself with a shaking hand.

"D-dra-dracu-" The man wouldn't have been able to get the name off his tongue, but Dracula didn't give him the chance to. He ran at the tutor, pinning him to the door as he sank his fangs into the throbbing vein of the old man.

Dracula expected a sense of pride when the prey's body fell cold to the floor, but the cringeworthy wail he heard made him regret having wasted time on a meal.

He sped to the boy's room, grabbing the assassin wolf by his physical spine and threw him away from the boy. The wolf's body limply flung away as his spine hung with bloody guts in Dracula's hand. The boy Vlad lay writhing on the ground, sputtering blood as he attempted calling out to Dracula. He fell on his knees next to the dying prince, easing his effort to speak.

"H-home," Vlad rasped.

"I am sorry, my boy. I failed. I could not get you home." The legendary Dracula was on the verge of tears.

Vlad weakly shook his head and placed a trembling hand over Dracula's undead heart.

"N-no. Vlad Tepes return home. S-sav home, f-f-fathe-" the boy couldn't finish the word Dracula craved to hear, his head falling lifelessly over his father's arm. Dracula let out a mourning cry so loud that bats flew and wolves howled.

He laid his dead son on the proper bed, choosing to bury him at the break of dawn. The rest of the night, he spent studying his new opponent as well as he could from a pile of dead bodies.

By the time sun was at its zenith and the grave dirt had taken to shape, Dracula set off to return home. Not as Vlad Tepes the third, but Vlad Tepes the fifth; though as he marched, in his hand he carried a spear, on which hung the disembodied head of the assassin.

By nightfall he was standing at the tall gates of Castle Dracula. He took a calming breath before he reached to knock at the doors of the home he had not been in for decades. His knocks were loud and powerful, drawing attention of the guard in the tower keep.

"Announce yourself, oh man who dares entry at this ungodly hour."

Dracula let out a dry laugh the chosen words.

"I am Vladimir Tepes, prince of Walachia returning home."

There was commotion in the watch tower as guards scrambled over what to do. Eventually, some came down to ascend the gates. As soon as Vlad's image was wholly illuminated in the light of the hanging fire torches, the men released the pulling chains and the gates crashed loudly behind the homecomer as the guards scattered in fear. Vlad smiled a smug smile as walked into his home; he would enjoy this very much.

After decades of lurking in the shadows, Dracula was finally home.