Author: Brer Fox PM
Count Duckula is resurrected, but it's not a happy reunion for everyone, and is a sad farewell for others. One Shot.Rated: Fiction K - English - Drama/Angst - Words: 836 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 7 - Published: 03-17-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4930736
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A/N. Not much to say aside from please enjoy!
Copyrights: Duckula and Cast are © Cosgrove Hall, Story is mine.
Castle Duckula lay in all but shambles. The shutters were dilapidated, doors all but falling off their hinges. It was unthinkable than it was anywhere habitable.
Igor hadn't been this happy in nearly two centuries.
He rose spryly from his bed that morning. He even indulged in a cup of morning tea with Nanny, and read his newspaper.
Why, he had even tidied up around the castle, vacuuming and dusting where Nanny broke a statue or a door. It had been so long… But gleeful as he was, he was tremendously impatient. Night couldn't come fast enough. In every dull moment he drummed his fingertips on any available surface, waiting impatiently. One might think a few hours would be nothing compared to two hundred years.
It was HERE, finally. Igor grinned wickedly. Finally, as the moon peaked into the eighth house of Aquarius, only once in this beloved century, Igor tipped blood into a vial atop the casket of his soon-to-be master. His hand shivered in delight.
He had double checked this time.
Nanny stood nearby, staring at the coffin. She felt neither anticipation nor excitement. She couldn't quite put her finger on it… Somewhere in the deep chasm of her memory a cord of sorrow vibrated, and it nearly erupted to the surface. Nearly.
Igor dusted off the Lore of the D tome, and he began to recite. His deep voice echoed throughout the gloom, and soon the lights around the coffin began to dance. Igor could feel the savage joy all the way to the core of his being. All his aspirations were moments away from existing once more.
"My vampire… You finally return to me" The darkest and blackest of loves swept through his voice as he murmured these final words.
The castle exploded in a cacaphony of shining light. It was almost as if fireworks were being set off all around them, flashing brightly into every corner of the room. Igor stood in front of the coffin, arms open wide to receive his dark gift.
And indeed, an instant later his Master stepped out of the coffin, looking around in a bewildered fashion. Nanny's good hand rose to her beak, and for just an instant she remembered. Everything. The chasm in her opened wide, but before she could scarcely acknowledge it, Igor had turned to look at her. Her arm fell back to her side once more, and the brief memory returned to its grave.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
Count Duckula swung his yellow eyes about the room, pupils glaring and hateful. Igor looked upon him with adoration. The butler briefly explained who he was, and to his joy was cut off midsentence by the vampire before him.
"BLOOD, Igor! Proove your devotion to your Master and fetch me the blood of a young maiden!" Count Duckula growled, his fangs gleaming.
And indeed, Igor devoted that first night to his Master, bowing to his every whim. His Master would want for nothing so long as he lived.
It was the most terrifying night the village had seen in many years.
The next evening, the Counts many lusts sated for the time being, he requested to learn more about his residence. Igor was all too eager to oblige, and willingly started with a tour of the Portrait Gallery.
He showed his Master the illustrious collection, and the Count was quite interested, asking many questions and drinking in every bit of knowledge that he could. Igor was pleased to note that this incarnation was as quick of mind as he was bloodthirsty, and it made him proud.
They had made their way quite far down the Gallery when Igor was dismayed to hear his Master snort in disgust. He was standing before two portraits, eyebrows furrowed in a deep arch. The two paintings in question were innocently blending in with the much more malicious ones surrounding them.
Count Duckula snorted again.
"Igor! What are these two?" He growled menacingly. Igor let out a short gasp of surprise and profusely apologized to his Master.
"My apologies, Milord! That one was flipped over by mistake" He quickly turned the portrait depicting a smiling duck with a pageboy haircut. It was displaying now the same duck, but gruesomely changed. Count Duckula nodded approvingly, but turned his head towards the other oddball of the Gallery.
"Ah… That one, Milord, it is of no consequence." The Count looked quizzically at the painting a moment longer. It stirred something in him, but he was quick to shrug it off. That feeling would never appear again.
"Show me more, my faithful butler."
As they turned to proceed, Igor cast a glance backwards, his expression unreadable.
Among all the portraits was the relatively smaller sized one – A young green mallard was holding a floret of broccoli, his face guileless.