The snow crunched softly, but the sound was almost harsh in the blindingly clean whiteness of the Transylvanian forest, where stripped skeletons of majestic trees stood starkly silhouetted against the flat blue winter sky. The traveler, a bundle of black astride an equally dark horse, reined in his mount and sat looking out across the frozen landscape with narrowed pale eyes.

For a moment, the only movement was the glistening of the ice crystals that had collected in the folds of his cloak, and he let out a breath that steamed upward through the frigid air. His horse shied nervously at the enormous expanse before them, which marked the end of the familiar forest. The man glanced down at his steed, an almost-sarcastic grin tugging at the corners of a mouth on which cruelty and arrogance fought for supremacy. “Afraid, my friend?” The smile vanished as a wisp of smoke appeared on the horizon.

He shook his head violently, a look of extreme anger flashing across sharp, handsome features, and patted a small parcel inside his cloak. “Let us onward, Sven.” He started Sven moving again with a jolt, his light brown ponytail slipping out of the high collar of his cloak as horse and rider thundered across the snow fields.

Snow can confuse distance, and they reached the camp much sooner than Valerious the Younger had anticipated. He looked around him with grudging admiration; his half-brother had certainly missed nothing of their father’s military training. The camp was well-built and well-defended. The sentries were good, too, quite professional. One of them called, “Halt! Who goes there?” as he rode up, though they recognized their lord’s insignia. The same that, Valerious reflected bitterly, was flapping proudly in the wind above his half-brother’s tent. He spoke to the sentries briefly before they bowed and let His Lordship, Count Valerious, pass.

He rode slowly through the camp, smiling and nodding to a few acquaintances along the way. Well, well. Vlad had certainly outdone himself this time. Sneaking off without as much as a goodbye with a hundred of their father’s best troops? The fool. How dare he fly their father’s banner so brazenly? Perhaps he still believed that their father meant to divide the kingdom between his two sons, after all this time…

He dismounted and handed the reins to one of the stable workers. “Take care of him,” he snapped at the groom, who bowed. Valerious strode off in the direction of Vlad’s tent.

His fingers dug into his palm as he saw the tent flap move and be shoved aside by an impatient hand. Vladislaus Valerious stepped out into the cold sunshine, blinking before recognizing his brother. His head jerked up, startled, sunlight playing over features even more handsome than Valerious’s own, and dark eyes bored into the other’s. “Welcome, brother,” he said smoothly, with practiced ease. “You bring word from our father?”

Valerious bristled at the coolly assured look on Vladislaus’s face. “Yes. My Lord Vlad Tepes, Count Valerious the Elder, sends you greetings and hopes that you are well.”

Vladislaus did not miss the dripping sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “Won’t you come in?” He smiled and gestured to his tent. Valerious glared at him before sweeping grandly through the entrance, mentally flogging himself for acting so childish. After all, he was the elder brother, he was the true son of Lord Tepes; his half-brother’s mother was not recognized as queen, though she was married to their father…

Vladislaus sat down on his bed. The entire tent was quite small, but well-furnished, with enough trappings to mark it as the residence of royalty, even on the battlefield. Valerious Valerious sat down, mind racing. Damn it, his mind games are beginning already! Why can’t I…wait. There would be no mind games if you didn’t let him get to you…you’re so paranoid, Valerious.

Vladislaus watched him, faint amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “How have you been, Count Valerious? Since you obviously don’t wish me to refer to you as ‘Valerious’ or ‘brother’…” Valerious made a noise and shrugged slightly. “So you wish to be ‘Valerious’? I can certainly…” The dark-haired man looked over his shoulder as he poured brandy for them, an eyebrow raised.

“Call me what you will,” growled his half-brother, “but mind that you do not call our father anything but Lord Tepes.”

“Very well. Again, you have not answered my question. How have you been?”

Valerious glanced up at his brother, maddened by his calm manner, but just as quickly allowed calm to slide over his own features. “Well enough for my liking. How goes the…battling?”

Vladislaus lifted a brow. “Do you see any Huns hereabouts?”

Forgetting himself, Valerious gave a genuine laugh. “They have scattered like frightened doves. They…” He stopped and looked at his brother suddenly. “No, Vladislaus. I have not forgotten, nor will I ever forget, your betrayal.”

For the first time, Vladislaus looked sharply at him, abandoning his charming ruse. “I thought we had settled that, dear brother.”

“How could I forgive such a thing?” Valerious got to his feet without knowing that he had done so, and Vladislaus did the same. “You stole my betrothed!”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what!” His voice was a barely controlled hiss. “On the eve of our wedding you tried to seduce her!” Seeing the look on Vladislaus’s face, he went on. “Don’t deny it, you half-wit. What else do you call your brother and your intended kissing passionately in said brother’s quarters as you innocently walk in to have a chat with your dear brother, as you so…aptly put it!”

“Only because she should have been my wife! I would have at least been faithful to her.” He glared at Valerious. “Had you not been…otherwise engaged with… what was that servant’s name?...Lisle, was it?...you could have won her back!”

Valerious’s face turned an interesting shade of pale purple before abruptly fading back to a slightly paler-than-normal pink as he pulled the small parcel out of his cloak. He thrust it into Vladislaus’s hands. “A message from our dear father.” His lips twisted in a cruel smile. “I pray that it is bad news for you.”

Vladislaus had recovered his infuriating charm as he sat quite civilly and opened the letter. His expression wavered momentarily as he scanned it, and he glanced up at his brother with a look that was now more dangerous than charming. “Do you know what is in this letter?” he demanded.

Valerious shrugged. “I do not.”

Vladislaus crumpled it into a tight ball—Valerious could see the veins in his hand as the younger man glared at the wad of parchment. Then he smiled even more dangerously. “I don’t think that you should be leaving for a while, my dear Count Valerious. Please, stay and allow me to enjoy your company. It is not often that my…family visits me anymore.”

Valerious bowed mockingly and exited the tent.

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AN: his father’s name was Valerious, as was his, making his name Valerious son of Valerious, or simply Valerious Valerious. Vladislaus’s name was Vladislaus son of Valerious, or Vladislaus Valerious. It’s like Sven Karlsson, or Sven son of Karl.

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