Chereads / Young Dracula: Chosen / Chapter 12 - His Explanation

Chapter 12 - His Explanation

"Right, you're going to school!"

Vlad looks up at his father, stunned, the words spoken echoing away in his head as the world falls into slow motion. Breaking into a blindingly bright smile that puts all of his teeth on display, Vlad exclaims "Yesss!!!" under his breath, pumping his fist gently. 'Plan success!!!'

Mrs. Harker, happy to see a young person so enthused about learning, smiles warmly at the display before her. Getting back on track, she begins talking once more. "Well, splendid! Now that that's all cleared up, we can talk about your children's prior education."

Looking at the woman with annoyance, The Count turns to shout into the empty air, unintentially mimicking his sons previous calling for him. "RENFIELD!!!"

At The Counts call, the group currently occupying the main hall/throne room hears a series strange, comedic noises reverberating through the ancient stone of the castle. First an "I'M COMING MASTER!!", then a *THUNK!* and an "OW!", a *BANG!* and an "AARG!", a *SMASH!* and a "YEOWCH!", and so on and so forth.

This continues for around half a minute, the groans and whimpers of pain going uninterrupted by their listeners, locked in a trance of fascination. How anyone could be so incredibly clumsy? As Renfield finally makes it to the throne room, he receives two pairs of looks. Vlad and Mrs. Harker observe the poor, disoriented serf with pity, taking notice of the bruises and bumps already showing all over him, while Ingrid and The Count look on in amusement, a sadistic gleam shining in their eyes.

The Count, not giving Renfield any time to catch his breath, looks to the Headmistress as he directs his servant. "Renfield, escort our guest out."

"B-but Mr. Count! I really MUST discuss the children's education with you!" Mrs. Harker insists as Renfield huff's his way over to her, staggering all the while.

Not one to be insulted -as her assuming his children weren't properly educated was exactly that, an insult-, the Count assures her of his spawns intellectual competence. "You'll find that my children will have no trouble in any of your classes Mrs. Harker, and if that's all, then you have no reason to remain in my castle. RENFIELD!" Yelling once more in frustration, The Count hurries along said walking pustule.

Renfield practically walks through the woman as he pushes her out of the building, and though she initially attempts to resist his forceful moving, she gives up halfway through and leaves willingly.

After the woman has been successfully evacuated from the premises, The Count turns on his children. "And YOU TWO!" He shouts, "Which one of you was it!?"

Vlad and Ingrid share a look of beffudlement, confused as to what their father is talking about. For a moment nothing is spoken, Vlad opening and closing his mouth slightly over and over, unsure what to say to their dads question.

Seeing his children don't understand what he's asking them, The Count specifies, speaking slowly and tensely in frustration. "Which one of you was it that placed you both in school...?"

Now clear on what the question is, Ingrid immediately rats her brother out, a vengeful smirk on her face. "Vlad did it!" Proclaiming this, Ingrid puffs her chest out pridefully, both happy to have an opportunity to lower her brother's standing in their father's eyes, and glad to get her payback so soon. 'No-one manipulates Ingrid Dracula...'.

Turning to his son and heir, his favourite child, The Count flitts to him with a *WSHOOK*. Towering over Vlad, he bends down from the waist, keeping his legs straight from the floor, and stares unblinkingly into his eyes. Lowering his fangs and brightentening his irises to be their glowing blood red, the Count growls out one word at a time, echoed by the shadow of his voice that comes on in his fury. "WHY. DO. THAT? GOING BEHIND MY BACK, AND, AND.... PLOTTING!"

As he speaks, storm clouds begin to form far above, the winds outside picking up and lashing out against the cold stone exterior of the castle. An icy current creeps in through any opening it can find, flowing into the fortress-turned-home and chilling it's inhabitants. The candlelight illuminating the throne room wavers, flickering lightly as it sways with the breeze invading the castle.

This was rare. His father didn't often bring out his scary voice, at least not with him, so Vlad was feeling suitably scared, and when you add on the fangs and the glowing eyes, most people would be pissing themselves. Luckily enough, Vlad isn't most people. He's the son of Count Dracula, and while the whole thing his father was doing did scare him, he knows logically that his father won't do anything to him. Well, outside of grounding him that is.

Equipping his act of confidence like a defensive shield, Vlad masks his feelings of anxiety and fear the best he can as he responds. "Well, you heard Mrs. Harker. We have to go to school, and if we don't then a giant peasant mob will be knocking at our doors in a WEEK!" Of course, this was total bullshit. No mob would come if they didn't go to school, but Vlad needed a convincing lie, and the threat of pitchfork wielding peasants seemed plenty sufficient.

Staring unnervingly at Vlad for a few more moments, The Counts glowing orbs dim suddenly, returning to their previous crystal blue colour, before he stands straight once more and gives his son some room to breathe. Then, he laughs, lightning striking through the grey mass of clouds in the sky above the castle. "..... Pfthah.. hahahAhaHaHAHA! Well done Vladimir! Such initiative and cunning, I knew you had it in you Vladdy, my dear boy!" Finishing out his, quite literally, thunderous laughter, the Count smiles proudly as he peers down at his son through gleaming eyes. "We'll make a fine vampire of you yet!"

Internally, Vlad grimaces. While he was well aware that what he'd done was more than a little bit dishonest, having the conniving nature of his actions pointed out and praised by Count Dracula really cements the feelings of dissapointment and frustration sitting in his gut. And if he felt a twinge of pride too, well, no-one would have to know. He isn't sure how much of a difference Count Dracula being his dad made to his feelings on all this, but he isn't so arrogant as to believe it made no difference at all.

Of course, none of the very complex emotions Vlad is feeling show on his face, them being restricted to the confines of his head while the others are watching. He could freak out about his feelings later in private -Bar Zoltan of course, the hound knows everything there is to know about him-.

The Count, mistaking Vlads prolonged silence and the hazy look in his eye as daydreaming, decides that his son has been sufficiently motivated to continue in his vampire-esque activities, commenting offhandedly "Y'know Vlad, I think this place brings out the best in you." before flitting out of the throne room, the *CRACK* his movement makes hanging in the air.

Now, Vlad and Ingrid are left left alone in the throne room, Renfield having gone off to nurse his bruises after escorting Mrs. Harker from the property. Ingrid had remained quiet throughout The Counts entire interaction with Vlad, and although she was greatly irritated by the outcome of said interaction, she wasn't wholly surprised. While she hadn't expected the thunderous cacophony of laughter their father had let out, and had hoped for him to punish Vlad, she'd realistically known he'd give her brother some sort of praise, for whatever reason he could find.

The reason she didn't try to take credit for Vlads actions is because, unlike Vlad, she isn't privilege to their father's favour. She's well aware that if she'd claimed responsibility for enrolling them, The Count would use it as yet another reason to be a dick to her.

Silence streaches as the siblings stand around akwardly. Vlad breifly considers getting mad at Ingrid for trying to get him in trouble, but decides against it when he notices he just doesn't have the energy. Now that his father is gone, the last fumes of energy he'd gained from going to school like a normal kid -yes, GAINED!- have given out, leaving him drained of any and all ability to stave off his exhaustion.

Just because he was able to put up a good act, a fact which still surprises him, doesn't mean that he wasn't an emotional wreck throughout his fathers grand show of anger. He'd known that his father wasn't going to hurt him, and logically that should have assuaged his fear, but it didn't. His dad still scared him when he acted like that, and he was sure that no amount of logic or exposure would cause that to change.

The pressure of hiding his tumultuous emotional state from first Ingrid, and then his father AND Ingrid, had chipped away at his mental fortitude.

And so, Vlad shambles his way quietly out of the throne room, letting his feet fall with each step rather than moving them down. So tired is he while walking to his room, practically dragging himself up the stairs of the tower, that he doesn't even notice the slow, almost impatient steps behind him.

Those steps belong to the older child of Count Dracula, Ingrid. When she'd initially started following him she'd intended on getting some revenge, considering The Count didn't punish him, but when he continued to tiredly stumble to her tower room even as she walked behind him, she grew curious. 'He shouldn't be so tired that he doesn't even notice me...'

And she'd be right, except for one thing she doesn't yet know. Vlad has been going to bed late each night for the past week, only getting back from preparing with Robin at around 3, maybe 4 in the morning, and while this hadn't been an issue before now as Vlad had just slept in, he'd gotten up incredibly early this morning, anxiously worrying over his plans preparation.

Finally making his way through the tower room door, Vlads feet scrape across the stone floor as he takes his few final steps, before unceremoniously collapsing into his bed.

From the doorway, Ingrid watches in mild concern, it having grown as she observed Vlads undignified shambling to the tower room. As Vlad falls into unconsciousness, ingrid wonders one thing. What is she supposed to do now? 'Well, garlic...'

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Chapter 12: 1758 words (not including this bit)

Yaaay! Another chapter posted. Full honesty, not totally sure what to put at the end here. So, imma just say, I probably won't be taking down the love interest chapter for awhile, at least not until it's too late to make any changes to the direction of the story. I don't think it'll matter much anyway since I'm fairly certain my ship will always remain superior, lol. Comments, constructive criticism, stones, and opinions are always welcome, have a beautiful day any I wish you all the best!