Disclaimer: Dracula belongs to Stephen Sommers and a lot of other people, but if you tell him that, he'll probably set out to kill every single one of them, even if they're already dead! So let's just keep that a secret, 'k?
SilverFlover- So him doing things in his sleep…that's written well?
Audrey- You think it's interesting, eh?
Gothicvamp8000- No offense taken. 'Morbid' is the ultimate compliment for me!
LadyValerious- You like my Ocs? Ah, thanks..::bows::
Linwe Ringeril- Sironka, marry the devil's son? Not really… Anyway, this is a bit of an odd fic, and I don't exactly think this happened, though it could have…
A/n: Hey, it wasn't fluff or Vanessa Carlton that got me on this one again! It was Avril Lavigne!
"Miss…Sironka, was it?"
A smile flickered across her face. "Yes, that's it…Vladislaus, did you say?"
"That's right. Did I sleep well?"
She laughed. Asking if he had slept well, how interesting. She thought briefly whether she should answer him truthfully or lied.
"Fine," she said, then turned back to what she was doing, which was getting things ready to serve him dinner. Picking the tray up, she walked out to him and handed him the tray, as he was already seated.
"Thank you." His eyes were cold and searching, vaguely concerned, then he turned to the meal.
She knelt beside him while he ate, thinking about things, a look on her face that he couldn't quite place. He looked at her after he'd eaten, then said, "Have you made yourself anything?"
"I already ate," came the reply. He smirked, delighted to find that he was able to do it.
"Delightful. What's next?" He leaned back and made himself more comfortable as she removed the tray from his lap, a smile on the corners of her lips. He found the sight of her tiny, tight black curls and her olive-tinted skin quite easy on his eyes, and he allowed his gaze to follow her as she went about the business of cleaning things off. The movement of her body, the shadows cast by her as she rinsed the silverware off, it kept his mind occupied. When she turned back to him, she found a smile on his face.
"I'll be back, Vladislaus," she said, and left the house. He was shocked. Night had just fallen. He slowly dragged himself up and walked to a window. He couldn't see her. Shaking his head, he went back to the bed and tried to sleep.
He couldn't. It was night; he didn't sleep then. His icy veins were excited with the prospect of spending the night awake, but he knew he wanted to do something. The door flew open and a crack of lightning flashed across the room, brightening it for a moment. In walked Sironka, dripping wet, then the door shut. She walked past him, obviously thinking he was asleep. He looked back to her as she removed her coat and boots, then her jacket. She turned back to him, surprised, but only mildly.
"You're still awake?" He was pleased to note the confusion.
"Why, yes, I suppose I am," he remarked with false shock. "Imagine that?"
"You've forgotten to tell me a bedtime story," he replied, yawning. She stared at him, then walked over to him with an unreadable expression, kneeling beside the bed. He thought for sure she was going to scold him, but when she opened her mouth, the words that came from her lips were, "Once upon a time…"
Surprised, himself, he settled back to listen. Not unpleasant at all.
"There was once a Prince. No- a Count. He lived in a castle all by himself, unmarried. One rainy night when the moon was full, an old man came his house for shelter, and offered him eternal life for his soul. The Count laughingly accepted the offer, thinking he was getting eternal life for free, as it was only an old man. The old man threw off his cloak and with horror, the Count realized much too late that it was a devil. The devil took his soul and left, telling him that he would only be saved if he won the love of an angel before the next full moon. The next day-"
"Wait," Vladislaus interrupted, brow furrowed. This story was disturbing, to say the least, but…"is this the story, 'The Beauty and the Beast'?"
Sironka smiled at him. "Aren't all love stories that way?"
He stared at her, then waved his hand. "Finish…"
"The next day, a woman came across him and rescued him. Count fell in love, and upon falling in love, he discovered that she was an angel, and he kissed her. She died, and he was not saved. The end."
His shocked and dismayed expression was replaced quickly as he raised an eyebrow. "That was it?"
"That was it," Sironka chirped, leaning back on her heels, brushing some dripping curls from her face. "Well, g'night, Vladislaus." She stood and made her way over towards her hammock.
She turned back, expectant.
He smirked lazily, leaning back again. "What, no good night kiss?" he teased.
She smiled again, then walked back, to his surprise once more. And he wasn't upset, either.
Sironka took his hand and kissed it, then turned around. By this time, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but that wasn't it at all. He grabbed her hand immediately and pulled her back with such a violent jerk that she sprawled across his lap. He seized her shoulders and brought her wet form against his chest, then kissed her lips with passion.
When he finished, he didn't know what he assumed would happen, or what he wanted, but she was not scared, aroused, or anything like that. She just said, simply, "Good night, Vladislaus," with an innocent look that told him she knew he would not sleep at all, then wriggled out of his grasp and went over to her hammock.
He thought about it for an hour or so, then looked back at her to see her sleeping.
By the light of the waxing moon, he could see her still form in the hammock. "Sironka," he said quietly, "why didn't the Count get saved when he kissed the angel?"
He could see a smile appear on her lips and knew she wasn't asleep, either. Or if she was, she was having a nice dream. Did she dream of him?
"Because," she said in a soft voice, a tired voice, "it was too early. The angel didn't love him back."
"Why not?" he asked, irritated.
"Because it was too early. He didn't wait for her to love him back, like he should have."
"Well, why didn't she love him?"
A small, exhausted laugh came from her little corner of the room. "You can't rush things, Vladislaus."
Stunned into silence, he thought that over for about forty-five minutes.
There was only silence.
"Sironka? Are you still awake?"
He looked over at her. She wasn't awake. He sighed. Oh, well…
He prepared himself for a night of boredom. Unless…
Unless she had a dream. Ah, well, there was still hope for him, then.
Sironka. Heh, isn't she being cryptic?! Think over the story, will you? It might be important!! (hint, hint...)