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thisoneisbatter · 2 years ago

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Holy: Chapter Eight

This is a new fic that is completed but I think I’ll be rolling it out chapter by chapter because it is a long one. It’s brat tamer, jaded widower Sheriff Hassan in full effect. This fic does contain some very rough sex and consensual sexual violence in some chapters so please do not read if that is a trigger for you. Otherwise, please enjoy and leave feedback!

Holy

Chapter Eight

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Deep family secrets are finally revealed.

Hassan had promised to take the weekend to help Leslie go through her mother’s things. His intentions weren’t entirely altruistic. The state medical examiner hadn’t issued his report, but had said off the record that it definitely seemed like foul play. Unofficially, poisoning.

There wasn’t much evidence to collect in the guest room closet that could tie someone to Cindy’s murder, but maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on on the island and why someone would want to poison her to begin with.

“What’s in this box?” Hassan reached for a hat box at the top of closet. He’d been handing things down to Leslie, most of which she’d stuffed into a black trash bag. A stack of old National Geographics, a pair of dry rotten men’s penny loafers, exactly the types of things you’d expect to find. This box was different. It was leather and very old but well cared-for.

“Uhh, I think it’s like my adoption stuff.” She gestured to the bed where they’d been putting the things she wanted to keep; photo albums and a few of her mom’s old dresses. “It can just go over there.”

“Do you-can I look at it?” It felt wrong to ask. Something so incredibly personal. He was more prepared for her to say no than yes.

“It doesn’t have who my birth parents are or anything like that. Its just like, basic info.” She replied flippantly. “I’m going to take a couple of bags down to the trash. You can look at whatever. I don’t have, like, giant family secrets or whatever.” She shot him a mockingly crazy look, laughing a little at his interest.

Fifteen minutes later, when Leslie returned, Hassan was sitting in a chair by the window deeply engrossed in the papers he couldn’t even read. It was almost entirely in Romanian. A stack of handwritten notes, typewritten documents on impossibly thin paper, a photo of a crying baby wrapped in a threadbare blanket, and a maroon passport with a picture of a pale toddler in pigtails. The name was Lavinia Eder. It was Leslie.

“Your name is Lavinia?” He chuckled a bit.

“And your name is Hassan.” She pointed out the obvious with a smile.

“Why do you go by Leslie?” He couldn’t imagine calling her anything else.

“Lavinia sounds like an 80 year old woman with a hunch back selling potatoes. Not very in line with my personality.” It amazed him how little she seemed to care about her personal history. Maybe it was something she had already worked her way through earlier in her life, but it was surprising to him nonetheless.

“Can you read Romanian?” He asked, lifting the papers to indicate that he needed translation.

“Kind of.” She took a seat on the floor next to him. “I can read these ones,” she pointed to the typewritten ones, “but not the cursive notes.” She took the first fragile page from the file, staring at it for a long time, trying to process the letters through the out of practice dictionary in her mind. “Uh, okay. It says infant girl,” she smiled at him and mouthed me, “found at Biserica Neagra, which I guess means like, Black Church or whatever, in Brasov. Weight 2.2 kilograms. Infant found beneath statue of Saint Petroclus. I don’t know if I’m saying that right. January 21st, 1998. And that’s my birthday.” She winked. His heart was breaking imagining this tiny newborn left in the cold, and she fucking winked. “And then it just says I was moved to an orphanage in Bucharest, which is where my parents adopted me.” She handed the page to him, taking the next one in the stack. “Okay, this one is their request to adopt me. It just has my mom and dad on here saying they want the infant found in Brasov on my birthday. My mom told me she read about it in the paper.” She took the next page. “This one is saying that I am Lavinia, I’m 2 years old, I weigh 11 kilograms, it says ‘no damage’ but I think that’s talking about, like, disabilities and stuff. I think it’s just info about me at the orphanage.” She takes another page. “Uh, yeah, okay. This one is saying I’m being adopted by my parents on October 6th, 2001. They get me, my clothes, my blanket, and some papers.” She shot him a final smile. “And that’s it. Nothing that interesting.”

Hassan let her brush it off while they finished clearing out the upstairs rooms her mom used for storage. They ate pizza on her bedroom floor and had kind of boring sex before he called it a night. His mind was elsewhere.

He’d taken pictures of the papers in the box, more specifically, the handwritten notes. He knew it was a violation of her privacy. She hadn’t given him permission. For all he knew, she was saying she couldn’t read them because she didn’t want to. He just had to know.

The next morning, Hassan went into work early. He jumped head first into a Google rabbit hole almost immediately. At face value, Leslie’s adoption was unusual, but not extraordinary. Cindy, a Romanian woman living in America, saw that a baby was abandoned at a church and wanted to adopt her. Stuff like that happens. Once he started adding it all up, the details spelled something bizarre.

“Hey, Les.” He caught her the second she sat down at her desk. It was 8:30. She was late, but he had way too much swimming in his mind to even address it. “Come over here. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” She rolled her chair to his desk, looking only mildly concerned.

“I know you’re probably going to be upset, but I took some pictures of the papers in your adoption file and looked up what they said.” He braced for impact.

“Whoa, Hassan, what the fuck?” Her look of disgust stung a bit, but he’d expected it. It was a violation of her trust after all.

“It’s uhm,” He leaned forward, smoothed his hand down his beard, and rested it on Leslie’s knee. “You’ve got to know there’s something weird going on there.”

“What, then?” It was her turn to find him incredibly annoying. “My parents were weird people. What did you find?”

“Okay,” Hassan pulled out his notepad and leaned back in his chair, ready to elevator pitch Leslie’s own life story to her. “So you were found in the Black Church in Brasov. Brasov is in…Transylvania.” He drew the word out, cringing a bit at her mocking raised eyebrow. It sounded so stupid out loud. “The statue you were found under was Saint Petrolcus of Troye. I tried to look stuff up but came up really short until I realized that your family isn’t Catholic. They’re Eastern Orthodox, right?” She nodded, starting to slump in her chair. He was right. The story wasn’t as cut and dry as she’d believed her entire life. “In the Orthodox church, he is the Patron Saint of Demons and Fever, and his feast day is January 21st.”

“So what does that mean, then?” She looked confused, but mostly angry. Either this was the coincidence of a lifetime, or she’d been lied to at some point by her own family.

“I’m not done, Leslie.” He almost didn’t want to tell her the rest. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. “Do you know how hard it is to find some kind of translation for cursive Romanian? It took me all morning, but I did find it.” He put his phone on the desk at their side with the photos of the three notes pulled up. “These papers were stuffed into the blanket with you when you were left.” He pointed to the first one, which read morții să rămână în pământ, “’May the dead stay in the ground.’ Weird thing to put on a baby. The second one,” he pointed to one reading salvatorul nostru de îngerii căzuți, “Our savior from the fallen angels.” He flipped to the last photo, this one more of a scrawl than the rest, clearly written in haste. It said ea va ști unde poate fi găsită lumina . “She knows where the light can be found.”

Leslie had her head in her hands now, not looking at Hassan.

“Now, Leslie, I want to think that you definitely didn’t know what these notes said, because you’d have told me. And it could also just be the scribblings of a crazy person. I’d believe that last bit for sure if it wasn’t for an email I got from the old Sheriff before I ever even moved to the island. It said, that if I need anything, I should ask Leslie, because she knows where everything can be found. That’s a strange way to word that, right? ‘She knows where everything can be found.’ I did a little extra research on Sheriff Henry. He was pretty well loved by everyone, but one thing he wasn’t was a Catholic. And neither am I, and neither are you, or your mother.” He leaned as far forward as he could, taking her head in his hands and lifting her face to be just inches from his. “Tell me why there are suddenly missing people on an island that hasn’t had more than a fender bender in almost 100 years, a woman is screaming about demons and then suddenly turns up dead, and her daughter, a Sheriff’s Deputy, has a few too many weird connections to be just a fluke.”

Leslie was in tears. Gasping, inescapable tears. Hassan suddenly became hyper-aware of his grip on her and pulled his hand away.

“I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” She gulped down a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He sat back, taking stock of what exactly he was doing. “I guess I’m accusing everyone else of something. I just don’t know what yet.”

“So what, Hassan, demons came to Crockett and killed my mother?” She didn’t sound entirely sarcastic. Maybe it was a start. Maybe she’d believe him.

“No, I think that Bev Keane killed your mother.”

#sheriff hassan x ofc #sheriff hassan smut #sheriff hassan #rahul kohli smut #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction

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jayhorsestar · 1 month ago

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[A] re.'logan and omakase, the hidden room inside a sushi bar, when u ordered caffee smth. true, those were the DO Security MIB fast response squad, they had to investigate and become aware of any such hidden gems and risks and VIP lounges, all through the city.. and the timetables and reservations, basically tiny kings of their addressed sector, area. [B] re.'mariaisabel, indeed barracks working onto civil Labor code instead of military budget, before and after the E.U., meant DO Security Ltd employed dispatch, armory and barracks inside same level1 building w only one floor up, and no underground access whatsoever, at 2004-2013. then, 2014-2020 inside the E.U., and joint partnership several towns linked, Brasov-Sf.Gheorghe-Tg.Mures, thus DO Security, ARES Security, Legion Guard, barracks were removed from dispatch access floor, and new building bought in, appx 40 minutes on foot to be reach for, if needed. [C] re.'G4S cash in transit, or since 2018, BRINKS cash in transit, armored, they kept same premises on Feldioarei ave, fleet, dispatch, cash counting ops, cash storage and cash forwarding, all inside same perimeter since always, nothing removed, only upgraded several armored vans into containers shipped carried vans, so no human touch T3 locked inside the van, and just T1 driver and T2 collector, both carrying pistols. easier for maintenance, heavier GPS tracking when on 'dry-dock, and replacing containers outside the designated service. [D] re.UNIREA Shopping Mall at Faget cross-roads, nearby Railway station BRV, building shut down ops retailing during the covid, and preservation of premises undergone. recently during 2024 springtime, Allen Coliban mayor, Town Hall fought in Court and won both [a] ownership of 'La Cetate Restaurant, a landmark administered and managed under Social democrats political shade by Italian chef (until 2022); and [b] ownership of UNIREA Shopping mall building, huge parking lot next to the Railway station. with underground parking space too. in view of Town Hall, they thought of moving certain Govt services into that building, too. perhaps in time, using certain Public Budgets to upgrade into Green Label and Solar powered, the whole facility (assumption, meaning RATBV approach, when diverted wire money of the E.U. for Green environment policies into acquiring electric buses for the local Fleet of Public Transportation, thus not Social democrats color, rather Liberals color). [E] EV chargers at UNIREA Shopping Mall is indeed helping with CASH in TRANSIT if dropping diesel and adopting armored electric, but in my legal opinion, the Railway as electrified, and under District and Regio supervision, and Bucharest monitoring, would perhaps have to re-consider and seek certain derogatory provisions, certain waivers, so that to allow RISK of FIRE from EV charging stations so close to the Railway Station and its bridges across streets, and CASH in TRANSIT would obey SNCFR Railway ruling and UNIREA Shopping Mall might just not cut it into a Transformer high voltages chargers next to the Railway's. it be TRUE ONTO CASH OPS MAP, and not so TRUE ONTO THE RAILWAY MAP. m

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loiladadiani · 2 years ago

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Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich and his son, Count George Brasov

Above is a photo of Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich and his son George Mikhailovich, Count Brasov, Misha's only child with Natalia Sergeyevna, whom he married morganatically (and who was created Countess Brasova by Tsar Nicholas II after the marriage.)

Misha named the boy after his brother, Grand Duke George Alexandrovich (who died at age twenty-eight.) Unfortunately, George Mikhailovich also died young; he was in a fatal car accident at age twenty.

I had never seen this picture of them. Count Brasov's mother, Natalia, died of cancer. She bankrupted herself, giving her son a funeral worthy of a person of his station. Geoge was buried in the Passy Cemetery in Paris, and his mother was buried next to him when she died.

Although he had no rights of inheritance because he was the fruit of a morganatic marriage, Count George Mikhailovich was Alexander III's last direct male heir.

#russian history #imperial russia #romanov family #Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich #Grand Duke George Alexandrovich #Natalia Brasova #George #vintage photography

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officialroyalty · 1 year ago

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Count George Mikhailovich Brasov, morganatic grandson of Alexander III

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vladdocs · 3 years ago

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ENG: The tragedy of the life of Vlad Tepesh's father and brother. Part II. "I beg you to understand me, I have allowed my own children to be slaughtered and all for the sake of Christian peace, only so that I and my country may continue to serve the emperor," Vlad Draguli. Thus, already in the winter of 1436-1437. Vlad Dragul and his two sons, Vlad and Mircea, moved to Târgoviste, the ruling court. Already from the very beginning, despite his devotion to the Emperor, the latter was in no hurry to help Wallachia and its new ruler, and while questions of protecting Hungary (which meant participating in the Order of the Dragon) and the borders of Transylvania fell to Vlad as well, Vlad alone had to solve the issues of protecting Wallachia. And don't let it happen that he made a treaty with the Turks without fighting them. In that case, he would immediately fall into disfavor of the King of Hungary and in even greater disfavor of Transylvania, which had already disliked him. The result was that all of the rulers of Wallachia had to serve the Hungarian and Transylvania borders; but when it came to Wallachia, no one would come to their aid, and they had either to fight against the innumerable Turkish hordes alone or make a treaty with them, but then they would be deposed by another ruler. Then also the raids of the Turks on Wallachia did not cease, looting, pogroms, capturing large numbers of people. And only Vlad Dragul comes to power, not even had time to gather a decent army, as soon dying Sigismund, and he was succeeded by a much less belligerent ruler Albrecht II, who immediately deal with the internal affairs of the country. He did not take the Turkish threat seriously at all. Vlad's plan for Christian unity against the Turks would never come to pass, and he realized he couldn't count on any support from the new Hungarian king against the Turks, since he had no interest in Wallachia. Rather, the Hungarian king himself needed military support and decided to simply brush aside the Turks, leaving the responsibilities of the ruler of Wallachia to guard the city of Brasov itself and the Transylvania border. Vlad Dragul was left alone with the Turkish threat. The Turks at that time were getting stronger, they had far-reaching plans for Transylvania and Hungary. And in the way of the Turks also ... Wallachia. That's when Hungary and Transylvania especially expected the Turks to pay attention to the new ruler of Wallachia, a newly elected irreconcilable member of the Order of the Dragon, the protector of "the Hungarian royal house from enemies" and, as they thought, thus another of their puppets. But that was not the case. It was then, just beginning to dominate, that Vladislav Dragul decides to conclude a treaty with the Turks, in order to keep his state from war until he establishes himself in power, until he gathers a decent army and brings order to Wallachia. According to the agreement, rather standard for all the rulers, Vlad would be obliged to pay tribute personally and help the Turks in all campaigns, while they undertook not to cross his borders and go to war against him. Thus, in the spring of 1437 Vlad marches with the Turks against their then enemy, the Turkish ruler of Caramania, for the peace of mind of his people, promising Murad everything he himself wanted to hear. And in 1438, when the Turks set out on Transylvania at the head of seventy to eighty thousand troops, Vlad was again forced to go with them. Then, still worried about the inhabitants of the neighboring country, as he wrote about himself, "with death in his heart" he went with the Turks, he goes to the trick, warns the residents of Transylvania in advance about the plans of the Turks and tells them how best to act. An excerpt from the story of one of the protagonists of the battle, George of Venice: "The town was crowded, but it was badly fortified. When the Turks besieged it, the lord of Wallachia, who was with the Turkish army, came to the walls and, being on friendly terms with the inhabitants, called them and persuaded them not to fight

with the Turks, because their city will not withstand the Turkish onslaught. He advised them to do the following: let the citizens leave the city to the Turks in peace, and let the lord of Wallachia lead the noble and honorable citizens into his land, and then they shall be able to return to their city and stay there. The rest of the citizens will be taken away by the Turks, but they will not cause any harm, neither material nor physical, on the contrary, they will bestow upon them the ownership of their land in their country, and when the time comes they will be able to return to their homeland or to stay where they want to live. And we saw that everything happened exactly as the ruler of Wallachia promised us. It was then, thanks only to Vlad Dragul, that most of the city of Sebisha would be saved, he would not only see to it that they remained safe in his lands, but he would also insist that those whom the Turks had led captive to themselves return unharmed. Events around him, however, continued to point to his right choice. 1440-1441 the Turks were constantly pressuring Belgrade, and by 1441 they already controlled the whole line of the Danube; Hungary was at that time torn apart by civil wars. However, in 1440 the governors Janos Hunyadi and Uylaki come to power in Transylvania. In Hungary there is then again a change of rulers. Now, when the threat has become urgent for Hungary and Transylvania, the lords of these countries suddenly remember about the unity of Christians. Together with the new Hungarian king, the very young Ladislav Postum, they now begin to press Vladislav Dragul, stressing his joining the Order of the Dragon in 1431 and his obligation to defend the Christian faith. It is known that when Hungary and Transylvania needed more troops for their own defense, they suddenly started talking about the unity of faith, the unity of Christians, and the Hungarian and Transylvanian rulers began to demand subordination from Vlad Dragoole and an "honest" common struggle against the Turks. They hardly understood the simple truth that Christian unity would help in the struggle against the Ottomans, which was then discussed, and which Vlad Dragul had been striving for from the beginning so unsuccessfully. Simply, the gentlemen from Hungary and Transylvania needed help at that moment, the unity of faith was a useful idea at that moment, and before that the situation of Orthodox Wallachia and its problems did not interest them at all. Now they insisted that Wallachia join them in the crusade. However, Vladislav was a very shrewd ruler; he guessed that the Hungarians and the lords of Transylvania were playing a double game, as always. Now the Turks did not touch Vlad, his land lived peacefully, his people lived in peace, because now the Turks turned their attention to Transylvania. It was not to the liking of Transylvania, it was not to the liking of Hungary. They were not ashamed to make Vlad expose himself and his people to the Turks by breaking a treaty with them and thereby drawing all the fury of the Porte on himself (thus removing Hungary and Transylvania from the attention of the Turks). The Hungarians and the Transylvanian sovereigns knew that if they broke the treaty with Dragul, the Turks would go through Wallachia, which would have to take all the fire first. This was convenient for them. But that was not all. Behind Vlad's back the Hungarians were already shamelessly preparing an impostor, one of the sons of Dan II, Basarab II. As has become customary, not surprisingly, Transylvania had already given the pretender Basarab a shelter and warmth, putting both Vladislav Dragul and his sons, Mircea, Vlad and Radu, who appeared shortly before 1439 (the first mention of the third son would be in 1439) in great danger. Such duplicity is evident even centuries later. With Vlad Dragul, the governor of Wallachia, from the very beginning neither the new Hungarian kings nor the Transylvanian Hunyadi governors counted. So, despite Vlad's protests, in October, Hunyadi orders the Boyars of Brashov to open a mint in

their town, which would deprive the Voivode of income from his court in Sighisoara. But Vlad, being a mild and good-natured ruler, did not want to cause a conflict, but was aware of his position, and all these circumstances helped him to keep to his opinion, a neutral position. This way he doomed himself to further hatred of the governor of Transylvania Hunyadi, who would not forgive him years later and kill not only him but also his son Mircea, and later tried to kill his second son - Vlad Dracula Tepesh. But then Vlad Dragoo refuses them, letting the Turks led by Mezid Bey to the borders of Transylvania in March 1442, not wanting to put the backs of his people for the hypocritical and deceitful allies from Transylvania and Hungary. Then the Turks were defeated, Mezid Bey was killed on March 22, and his army fled in shame. Hunyadi, however, had already proved himself a skilled warrior against the Turks more than once, and the Hungarian government finally turned its attention to the impending Turkish threat. Then, defeated, the Turks were weak. But they understood that if the Christian countries united against them, if they overcame their differences, there would be no Turks in their lands. It was then, a little later, the sultan, fearing that Vlad would violate their peace treaty under pressure to defend the lands of Hungary, would force him to come to him under false pretenses and would fetter him for two years. At that time, Mircea, aged 13-14, would remain in power and be immediately helped to remove him by his "ally" Hunyadi, who would bring to power his "extraordinary challenger" Basarab II. The Turks would keep Vlad Dragul in chains until 1444, before Hungary concluded a treaty with them. Realizing that the threat of a campaign has passed and that the new voivode of Wallachia is Hunyadi's puppet, the Turks release Vlad Dragul. In a contemporary document of the time we find descriptions of how immensely happy the common people were about the return of the ruler and voivode Vlad, so happy that it astonished even the author. The author of the chronicle suggested that only a very kind ruler could be so welcomed by ordinary people. However, having let him go, the Turks will make sure, oblige him to give them his sons, Vlad and Radu, as a pledge that he will not fight against them. It turns out that the Turks, leaving Wallachia untouched all that time, for some reason, fighting with everyone around her, for all reason did not want to go to war with Vlad Dracula, preferring peace with him, however forcefully imposed. Then, after the treaty of June 12, 1444, Vlad and the little Radu go to Turkey. Not much is known about the years they spent there. The boys were not touched like the sons of Georg Branković, they were not blinded or killed, as the Turks often did with the sons of Christian rulers. They taught them everything they could teach at the time, teaching them their language, the basics of culture and religion, as well as military affairs. However, it is known that Radu, as a boy of five, liked Mehmed and he, according to the Turkish chronicler Halkokondilu, wished "to love", but in simple terms rape (description details in the Turkish source of the 15th century are less favorable) such a beautiful child. Despite the fact that Halkokondil presents it as a benefit for the Sultan for the child, we can only imagine how frightened the orthodox boy, he tried to defend himself and even hurt Mehmed with a small knife, and then did what he could - climbed a tree away from him. You can imagine how indignant his brother Vlad Dragulia was over his helplessness. But what could two children do without any protection? Radu will be subjected to similar violence more than once, because Mehmed was a pedophile, it is mentioned in a number of Turkish, Greek and post-Byzantine chronicles of the 15th century, with evidence of rape of different boys aged 5-10 years. Much afterwards Mehmed would make young Radu his favorite. Luckily for Vlad, Mehmed's sympathy would bypass him, and the boy would never succumb to the pressure to change

his Christian faith to Islam. Vlad then had only to live in hope, to return home to his father and his older brother Mircea. But Vlad didn't know then that he would never see his father or brother again, and that when he returned he would no longer be at home. All this time, Vlad Drahula's father was being forced to join the crusade, assiduously pressured by Transylvania in the person of Hunyadi, and Hungary, and the Pope joined them all, shaking vigorously his indulgences in Vlad's face and promising forgiveness for breaking his word to the Turks. But Vlad Dragul was not held by promises then, he was rushing into battle from the very beginning of his reign, when no one wanted him to. And now he knew that such a decision of his could be a death sentence for his two sons, but the others did not care about other people's pain. One day, in a letter to the Brasovians, Vlad would write bitterly as a loving father already bemoaning himself for the mere possibility that his children might have already been harmed. "...Please understand, I allowed my sons to be slaughtered for the sake of Christian peace, so that I and my country could continue in the service of the emperor." But the Brasovians didn't care about that either. On August 4, 1444 Vlad surrenders and arrives in Vidin with 7,000 Walachians, joining the crusade. Vlad will fight well then, fiercely, without sparing his weapons, not sparing himself, firing relentlessly, blowing up more than one bombardier. "That Vlad will shoot so much from our bombardment that it will finally burst," the voivode, son of Mircea the Old, who under the pressure of the Hungarians, leaving his children to die for the Christian world, for this war against the Turks, continued fighting desperately, even when everyone else had gone to lunch. He went on fighting, not wanting for a moment to surrender to the Turks the fortress of Giurgiu, built by his father, for the great sacrifices that he had made for this war that was sacred to him. Vlad fought in such a way that the Turks, who had fled from the burning fortress of Petrus through a concealed manhole, preferred to climb back into the burning fortress, where other crusaders were about to rush in, but only so they could not fight him and his Walachians. One witness of those events, Mogest Hans, described the event to Beheim this way: "Lines 561-570. The Turks had a hidden hole in the rock, which would allow them all to escape secretly through the ground. But where that hole exited, Dracul and his army were stationed, and he did not know about the hole yet. The worthless Turks also did not know who they would face. And many decided then through that hole to run away, hoping to go out quietly where Dracul himself stood. Lines 571-580. And when he saw many Turks crawling out of the cave, he put them all to death without a second's hesitation. When the rest of the Turks saw what was happening, they quickly climbed back into the tower. Vlad spoke then, involuntarily revealing his intentions: "If I get my fortress back unharmed - which was built by my father - then the women of Wallachia with spinning wheels will be enough to conquer Greece." Then Mircea, the eldest son of Vlad, by the will of the latter, took revenge on the false Turk for inviting his father to the sultan in 1442 under false pretences, but instead contributed to his imprisonment by deceiving the good-natured lord. Mircea then came to the lord of Wawren and told him thus, and the words recorded by him have come down to us in the chronicles of Jean de Wawren: "My father called me to him and asked the following. My father told me, if I in his name will not pay vengeance Subashi from the fortress of Djurdzhu, he will deny me, and I will no longer be called his son. The reason for this is the treachery of the subashi. He brought his father to the Turk, promising him escort and safety, but instead he was imprisoned in Gallipoli, where he kept him captive in iron fetters for a long time. Now that Subashi and his Saracens are before us, surrendering to their father in return for

their lives and property being spared and brought safely to Bulgaria. And I shall cross the river, two leagues from here, with two thousand Vlachs, and I shall set a trap for them, so that the Saracens shall think that they go to Nikopol, but I shall be on their way, and their death shall wait there. ______________ RU: Трагедия жизни отца и брата Влада Драгули Цепеша. Часть II. «Молю же вас понять меня, детей я собственных по��волил зарубить и все ради христианского мира, лишь для того, чтобы я и страна моя и впредь могли продолжать нести службу императору», Влад Драгул. Так, уже зимой 1436-1437 гг. Влад Драгул и два его сына, Влад и Мирча, переезжают в Тырговиште, господарский двор. Уже с самого начала, несмотря на преданность императору, последний не спешил помогать Валахии и ее новому господарю, и в то время, как вопросы охраны Венгрии (а то подразумевало участие в ордене Дракона) и границ Трансильвании ложились и на плечи Влада в том числе, дела же охраны Валахии Влад вынужден решать был сам, один. И не дай случится так, чтобы он заключил договор с турками, не став с теми сражаться. В том случае он сразу попадал бы в немилость короля Венгрии и в еще пущую немилость Трансильвании, итак его уже невзлюбившей. Выходило так, что все господари Валахии были вынуждены служить Венгрии и Трансильвании, охраняя их границы, но когда речь же шла о Валахии, никто на помощь им не приходил, и они обязаны были либо одни сражаться с бесчисленными полчищами турок, либо заключать договор с теми, но тогда их сместят вскоре другим господарем. Тогда же набеги турок на Валахию не прекращались, грабежи, погромы, захваты в плен большого количества людей. И только Влад Драгул приходит к власти, не успев и армии собрать достойной, как вскоре умирает Сигизмунд, а на престоле его сменит куда менее воинственный правитель Альбрехт II, который сразу займется внутренними делами страны. Он вообще не принимал всерьез турецкую угрозу. Намерениям Влада о единении христиан против турок не суждено сбыться, Влад понимал, что на поддержку от нового короля Венгрии в противостоянии туркам ему рассчитывать уж совсем не приходилось, не до Валахии тому было. Скорее сам король Венгрии нуждался в военной поддержке и решил просто отмахнуться от турок, оставив в обязанностях господаря Валахии еще обязанность - охрану непосредственно города Брашова и границы Трансилвьании. Остался Влад Драгул один на один с турецкой угрозой. Турки же �� то время становились все сильнее, у них далеко идущие планы на Трансильванию и Венгрию. А на пути турок еще и … Валахия. Тогда-то особо рассчитывали Венгрия и Трансильвания на то, что турки обратят внимание на нового правителя Валахии, новоизбранного непримиримого члена Ордена дракона, защитника «венгерского королевского дома от врагов» и, как думали, таким образом, еще одна их марионетка. Но не тут то было. Именно тогда, лишь начав господствовать, Владислав Драгул решает заключить договор с турками, дабы уберечь свое государство от войны, пока он не утвердится у власти, пока не соберет достойной армии и не наведет порядок в Валахии. По договору, довольно стандартному для всех господарей, Влад будет обязан платить дань лично и помогать туркам во всех походах, они же обязались не пересекать его границы , иди на него войной. Так, весной 1437 года Влад отправляется в поход вместе с турками против их тогдашнего врага - турецкого правителя Карамании , ради спокойствия своего народа, пообещав Мураду всего того, что тот сам хотел услышать. А в 1438 году, когда турки отправляются на Трансильванию во главе семидесяти - восьмидесяти тысяч войск, Влад был снова вынужден идти с ними. Тогда все же переживая за жителей соседней страны, как писал он сам о себе, «со смертью в сердце» шел он с турками , он идет на уловку , предупреждает жителей Трансильвании заранее о планах турок и говорит им, как лучше поступить. Отрывок из рассказа одного из главных действующих лиц сражения, Георга из Венеции: «Городок был многолюдным, но больно плохо укреплен был. Когда же турки его в осаду взяли, господарь Валахии, что с армией турецкой прибыл, подошел к

стенам и, будучи в теплых отношениях с жителями, позвал их и убедил не биться с турками, ибо город их не выстоит натиска турецкого. А поступить он им советовал так: пусть жители тихо оставят город туркам, он же, господарь Валахии, уведет знатных и почетных горожан в свои земли, потом же они смогут вернуться к себе в город и остаться там. Остальных же горожан уведут турки, но вреда тем по уговору не причинят, ни материального , ни физического, напротив, в своей стране пожалуют тем земли во владение, а когда наступит время, смогут они вернуться на родину или спокойно остаться жить там, где захотят. И мы увидели, что все произошло именно так, как пообещал нам господарь Валахии». Именно тогда, благодаря только лишь Владу Драгулу, спасется большая часть города Себиша, он не только проследит за тем, чтобы они оставались в безопасности на его землях, но и настоит на том, чтобы вернулись невредимыми те, кого турки увели плен к себе. События же вокруг продолжали указывать на его правильный выбор. 1440-1441 идет постоянное давление турок на Белград, уже к 1441 году они контролировали всю линию Дуная, Венгрию же раздирают в то время гражданские войны. Однако, в 1440 года к власти в Трансильвании приходят воеводы Янош Хуньяди и Уйлаки. В Венгрии тогда происходит снова смена правителей. Теперь , когда угроза стала актуальной для Венгрии и Трансильвании, господа этих стран вдруг вспоминают про единство христиан. Вместе с новым венгерским королем, совсем юным парнем Ладиславом Постумом, они теперь начинают настойчиво давить на Владислава Драгула, делая упор на его присоединении в свое время в 1431 к Ордену Дракона и его, посему, обязанности защищать христианскую веру. Достоверно известно, что когда Венгрии и Трансильвании понадобились дополнительные войска для собственной защиты, они вдруг заговорили о единстве веры, о единстве христиан, и стали венгерские и трансильванские правители требовать подчинения от Влада Драгула и «честной» совместной борьбы против турок. Вряд ли они понимали ту простую истину, единство христиан помогло бы в борьбе против осман, о которой говорили тогда, и к которой с самого начала так безуспешно стреми��ся Влад Драгул. Просто господам из Венгрии и Трансильвании в тот момент нужна была помощь , единство веры в тот момент стало полезной идеей, а до этого положение православной Валахии и ее проблемы их совершенно не интересовали. Сейчас же они настаивали на том, чтобы Валахия вступила с ними в крестовый поход. Однако, Владислав был очень сообразительный правитель, он догадывался, что венгры и господа Трансильвании вели двойную игру, как всегда. Сейчас Влада турки не трогали, земля его жила спокойно, народ его жил в мире, ведь обратили турки теперь внимание на Трансильванию. Не по душе то было Трансильвании, не по душе то было Венгрии. Им было не совестно заставлять Влада подставить себя и свой народ турку, нарушив договор с теми и обратив на себя тем самым всю ярость Порты (убрав из внимания турок тем самым Венгрию и Трансильванию). Венгры и трансильванские государи знали, что в том случае, нарушив Драгул договор, турок пойдет через Валахию, которой первой придется взять на себя весь огонь. Это было им удобно. Но и это не все. За спиной у Влада венгры уже бесстыдно готовили самозваного претендента, одного из сыновей Дана II, Басараба II . Как повелось, уже неудивительно, Трансильвания уже дала претенденту Басарабу кров и тепло, ставя под огромную угрозу как жизнь Владислава Драгула, так и его сыновей, Мирчи, Влада и Раду, появившимся незадолго до 1439 года (первое упоминание третьего сына будет именно в 1439). Такое двуличие очевидно даже спустя столетия. С Владом Драгулом, воеводой Валахии, с самого начала не считались ни новые короли Венгрии, ни трансильванцы, ни воеводы Трансильвании Хуньяди. Так, несмотря на протесты Влада, в октябре Хуньяди отдает приказ боярам Брашова открыть в их городе монетный двор, что лишало бы воеводу доходов от своего двора в Сигишоаре. Но Влад , будучи правителем мягким и добродушным не шел на конфликт, но понимал свое положение, и все эти обстоятельства помогли ему остаться

при своем мнении, нейтральной позиции. Этим он и обречет себя на дальнейшую ненависть воеводы Трансильвании Хуньяди, который не простит ему это и через годы и убьет не только его , но и его сына Мирчу, а позже попытается убить второго сына – Влада воеводы Драгулю Цепеша. Но тогда Влад Драгу отказывает им, пропустив турок во главе с Мезид Беем в марте 1442 к границам Трансильвании, не став подставлять спины своего народа за лицемерных и лживых союзников из Трансильвании и Венгрии. Тогда же турки потерпели поражение, Мезид бей был убит 22 марта, а его войско позорно бежало. Хуньяди же уже не раз проявил себя умелым воином в борьбе с турками, а правительство Венгрии , наконец-то, обратило внимание на надвигающуюся давно турецкую угрозу. Тогда, потерпев поражение, турки дали слабину. Но они понимали - объединись страны христианские против них, пересиль они разногласия, не быть туркам боле в их землях. Именно тогда, немного позже, султан, опасаясь того, что Влад под натиском нарушит их мирный договор и станет защищать земли Венгрии, заставит его прибыть к себе под ложным предлогом и закует в оковы на два года. В то время у власти останется его 13 –14 летний Мирча, которого сразу же поможет согнать прочь тот самый "союзник" Хуньяди, приведя к власти уже своего «внеочередного претендента» Басараба II. В оковах турки продержат Влада Драгула до 1444 года, до того, как Венгрия заключит с ними договор. Понимая, что угроза похода миновала и что новый воевода Валахии марионетка Хуньяди, турки отпускают Влада Драгула. В документе современника того времени встречаем мы описания того, как безмерно были рады простые люди возвращению господаря и воеводы Влада, так рады, что то изумило даже автора. Автор хроники предположил, что только очень доброго правителя так могут встречать простые люди. Однако, отпустив его , турки подстрахуются, обяжут его отдать им сыновей его, Влада и Раду, как залог того, что он не станет против них воевать. Получалось так, что турки , оставляя все то время Валахию нетронутой, по какой-то причине, воюя со всеми вокруг нее, всячески не желали воевать с Владом Драгулой, предпочитая мир с ним, пусть и силой навязанный. Тогда, после договора 12 июня 1444 года Влад и маленький Раду, отправятся в Турцию. О годах , проведенных ими там, известно не много. Мальчиков не тронули, как сыновей Георга Бранковича, не ослепили и не убили, как часто делали турки с сынами христианских господарей. Они их обучали всему тому, чему могли обучить за то время, учили своему языку, основам культуры и религии, а также военному делу. Однако, известно, что Раду, будучи мальчишкой лет пяти, понравился Мехмеду и тот , согласно турецкому хроникеру Халкокондилу, возжелал «любить», а простым языком изнасиловать (детали описания в турецком источнике 15 века менее лицеприятны) столь красивого ребенка. Несмотря на то, что Халкокондил преподносит это, как благо султана для ребенка, можно только представить, как испугался православный мальчик , он попытался защитить себя и даже поранил Мехмеда маленьким ножом, а после сделал, что смог – залез на дерево подальше от того. Можно представить, как негодовал от бессилия его брат Влад Драгуля. Но что могли сделать два ребенка без какой-либо защиты? Раду еще не раз подвергнется подобному насилию, ведь Мехмед был педофилом, о том упоминается в целом ряде турецких, греческих и поствизантийских хроник 15 века, со свидетельствами об изнасиловании разных мальчиков в возрасте 5-10 лет. Уже много после Мехмед сделает юного Раду своим фаворитом. К счастью Влада симпатия Мехмеда обойдет его стороной, а на давление сменить христианскую веру на ислам, мальчишка никогда не поддастся. Владу же тогда оставалось лишь жить надеждой, вернуться домой, к отцу и своему старшему брату Мирче. Но тогда Влад еще не знал тогда, что больше увидеть отца и брата ему не суждено, а вернувшись и дома его уже не будет. Все это время отца его Влада Драгула принуждали присоединиться к крестовому походу, усердно давили и Трансильвания в лице Хуньяди , и Венгрия, а ко всем присоединился и Папа Римский, интенсивно тряся индульгенциями перед

лицом Влада и обещая тому прощение за нарушение им данного туркам слова. Но Влада Драгула держали не обещания тогда, он рвался в бой еще с самого начала правления, когда никому это не надо было. А теперь же он знал, что подобное его решение может стать смертным приговором двум его сыновьям, но остальным то было все равно на чужую боль. Однажды, в письме брашовянам Влад напишет с горечью, как любящий отец уже коря себя лишь за возможность того, что его детям уже могли причинить вред. «…Прошу понять вас, я позволил своих сыновей зарубить ради христианского мира, для того, что бы я и моя страна могли продолжать нести службу императору». Но и брашовянам то было тоже безразлично. 4 августа 1444 Влад уступит и прибудет к Видину с 7000 валахов, присоединившись к крестовому походу. И биться тогда Влад будет знатно, отчаянно, не жалея орудий, не жалея себя, стреляя неустанно, взорвав потому даже не одну бомбарду. «Этот Влах будет стрелять из нашей бомбарды столько, что она, в конце концов, разорвется», говорили о Владе воеводе, сыне Мирчи Старого, который под давлением венгров оставив детей своих ради христианского мира на погибель , ради этой войны с турками, отчаянно продолжал воевать даже тогда, когда все остальные уходили обедать . Воевать он продолжал, не желая ни на секунду уступать туркам крепость Джурджу, строенную его отцом , за такие-то великие жертвы, что он принес ради этой священной для него войны. Влад воевал так, что турки, которые спаслись бегством из горящей крепости Петрус через скрытый лаз, предпочли лезть обратно в горящую крепость, куда вот-вот ворвутся другие крестоносцы, но только лишь бы не сражаться с ним и его валахами. Один свидетель тех событий, Могест Ганс, описал событие то Бехайму так: «Строки 561-570 У турок же был скрытый лаз в скале, который мог бы им всем тайно сквозь землю дать уйти. Но там, где лаз тот выходил, как раз расположился Дракул с войском, о лазе том сам он пока не знал. Никчемные же турки тоже и знать не знали, с кем им столкнуться предстоит. И многие решили тогда чрез лаз то тот сбежать, надеясь выйти тихо там, где Дракул сам стоял. Строки 571-580 И, сколько б турок тогда он не увидел, из лаза выползавших, всех он казнил, не медля ни секунды. Когда же остальные турки увидели что происходит, полезли те быстрей обратно в башню». Влад говорил тогда, невольно раскрывая свои намерения: «Если получу я крепость свою – что построена был моим отцом – обратно невредимой, то для того, чтобы отвоевать Грецию, хватит и женщин Валахии с прялками». Тогда же и Мирча, сын старший Влада, по воле последнего, отомстит лживому турку за то, что тот пригласил отца его к султану в 1442 под лживым предлогом, а вместо того, способствовал его заточению, обманом пленил добродушного господаря. Мирча пришел тогда к господину Ваврену и сказал ему так, а слова, записанные им, дошли до нас в хрониках Жана де Ваврена: «Отец мой призвал меня к себе и просил о следующем. Сказал отец мне, если я от имени его не воздам отмщение субаши из ��репости Джурджу, то отречется он от меня, и не буду я больше зваться сыном его. Причиной тому - предательство субаши. Тот привел отца к Турку, пообещав ему сопровождение и сохранность, но, вместо, ждало его заточение в Галлиполи, где держал он его плененным в железных оковах долгое время. Теперь субаши тот и его сарацины перед нами, сдались отцу взамен на то, чтобы их жизни и имущество им сохранили и в безопасности б доставили в Болгарию. Я же переправлюсь через реку, в двух лье отсюда, с двумя тысячами влахов и устрою на пути им западню, да так, что будут думать сарацины, что следуют в Никополь, но на пути их буду я, и смерть их будет ждать там».

#Google Translated #Vlad Tepes #history #wallachia #romania #vlad dracula tepes #article #God's Anointed One #Vlad Dracul #russian

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ykzzr · 2 years ago

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George Mikhailovich Brasov

(1910-1931)

The only son of Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich and his later wife, Natalia Brasova, George was born in his mother's apartment in Moscow on August 6, 1910.

Tsar Nicholas II granted his younger brother's son the Mikhailovich peerage and title of Brasov by his decree of 13 November 1910 and on 26 March 1915 George was elevated to the rank of Count of the Russian Empire.

On the night of 12–13 June 1918, George's father grand duke mikhail was shot dead on the outskirts of Perm by the Cheka, the Bolshevik secret police.

After the revolution in the spring of 1918, the seven-year-old was taken abroad under false documents under the guise of the son of an Austrian war officer. He lived with his mother in the UK and lived in a rented house at Wadhurst, Sussex, from Easter 1919. In 1927, due to financial problems, his mother relocated to Paris but he remained in England to finish his school year. He then went to another boarding school, École des Roches in Verneuil, Normandy, and then the Sorbonne in July 1931, Count Brasov succeeded in passing his first session at the Sorbonne.

George was an excellent athlete, and was particularly fond of technology and had inherited it from his father. He was a brilliant driver when it came to cars and dreamed of sports cars, but it is unfortunate that he inherited almost nothing from his father's huge fortune.

A picture of George in 1928 when he was 18 years old.

Nicholas II's cousin, Grand Duke Kirill Vladimirovich, who had styled himself emperor in exile, in 1928 granted George Brasov and his mother princely titles.

After the death of the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna in 1928, George received a third of her fortune in her will, with which Natalia bought the latest model of a Chrysler sports car as a reward for him after passing the university exam.

In the new car, Georges and his friend, 19-year-old Edgar Moncanar from the Netherlands, decided to take a trip south from Paris to Cannes.

On the way from Paris to Cannes, the car skidded near Sens, while Edgar was driving, they crashed into a tree, Edgar was killed, Georges was taken to the hospital in Auxerre, the capital of the Ayon department, and Natalia rushed to be at the bedside.

Photo of George accident near the Burgundian city of Sens, department of Yonne, about 120 kilometers southwest of Paris.

The next morning, July 22, 1931, George died without regaining consciousness, the last descendant of Emperor Alexander III, the son of almost the last emperor of Russia, with only three days left until his 21st birthday.

Natalia brought the young man's body to Paris and buried it in the Passy cemetery, and bought herself a place nearby. At the funeral ceremony, she appeared calm and reserved, but paler than usual. A funeral was arranged for young George, worthy of a person of imperial blood, but this led to the bankruptcy of his mother, who remained penniless throughout his life until her death.

In 1952, his mother died from cancer, and she was interred beside him in a grave marked by a Slavonic cross of stone on a marble tomb.

Written on their tombstones “the wife and son of Grand Duke Mikhail of Russia”.

#George Mikhailovich #mikhail alexandrovich #Natalia brasova #romanovs #russian empire #George brasov #brasov #countess brasova #michael alexandrovich #michael romanov

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vampyrasgone · 3 years ago

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DRACULA AND SIRING VAMPIRES.

the count turns a very select, very few people into his own fledglings. normally the blood is given to others to be his servants by his brides or fledglings he has sired in the past. but being that dracula’s blood is SO powerful, he rarely gives it willingly.

those he does turn are almost always wrongly condemned heretics. witches and doctors persecuted by corrupt catholic officials of Targoviste, Brasov, Pitesti, Bucharest, Sibiu and beyond. he would often appear to them in their prison cells (using his ability to turn into mist to go through the building itself) the night before their executions and offer them the choice of death or eternal life w/ the chance to get revenge. if they choose the latter, he gives to them his blood … the most potent of bloodlines … and normally sets them up with a means for monetary survival after teaching them how to avoid death and use/appreciate their abilities.

those that choose death however, are offered either to face the gallows or be killed by him, and give to him their lifeblood without allowing the corrupt priests the privilege of killing them.

he rarely keeps in contact with those he has sired, sans his many brides and grooms … and marya, who was one of the closest things to a blood daughter he’d ever had.

he tries to make it as painless as possible. first, he drains them of their blood… which is, in essence, their ‘life’. he will intentionally make this a pleasurable sensation in order to distract them from the natural fear of death and to calm them if they haven’t been put into trance prior. after, just as the pulse is about to stop, he begins feeding them his own blood from the veins in his hands or wrists. this ‘lifeless’ blood is what corrupts them from the inside like a virus, slowly killing them over the span of several hours until all of their organs have shut down. it feels like having the worst flu of your life. when finished, they regurgitate their last meals and evacuate their bodies before being officially ‘reborn’. on the next night, they will possess all the skills and traits of a fledgling vampire… albeit stronger due to it being the count’s blood. also worth noting that those he turns are RARELY fucked with, as they possess the scent of ancient blood within their veins.

#headcanon tbt #♔. ˋ and if unfit for tombs and hearse ; our legend be ; it will be fit for verse; . ˊ headcanon.

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.”

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!”

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both.

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk.

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.”

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life.

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.”

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.”

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.”

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.”

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.”

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.”

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.”

And Agatha was not one to argue with that.

XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.”

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.”

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm.

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.”

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.”

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come.

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her.

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped.

“Say mine first.”

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks.

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too.

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.”

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.”

XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night.

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit.

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.”

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.”

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised.

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.”

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.”

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times.

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck.

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar.

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today.

XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor.

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?”

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.”

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within.

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle.

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…”

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know.

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…”

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.”

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin.

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them.

XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…”

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?”

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.”

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?”

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.” He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke.

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.”

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close.

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.”

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet.

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”.

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.”

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

#Dracula #Dragatha #Dracula 2020 #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #BBC Dracula #Dracula on Netflix #Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

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