A Thousand Years

The ceremony was in procession. Rings of silver hung from the stone halls of the Gothic tower and the guests filed down the hall. They were a dark somber mass, in cloaks that trailed on the floor. The men were tall and pale, like gliding marble statues. The women were regal and tall as well, their lips dark red with sharp white teeth glimmering.

They entered the banquet room, a round space of dreary gray, with stone gargoyles and bats set in the wall high above the guests. There were steps that rose to the throne, made out of crude white marble. Here sat the Count.

The Count was a fearsome man, the ruler of Transylvania, and his eyes were dark slits, rising above a high nose and leering mouth. The most revealing of which were a pair of canines, bloodstained, inside his lips. He waved the guests in, a thirsty bat perched on his shoulder, its eyes fixed intently on the man, or monster, sitting next to the Count.

The son of the Count stood out oddly from the rest of the vampires. His hair was platinum blonde, almost to the point of turning white, and fell down in a wild mane over his broad, pale shoulders. So had been the consequences of not drinking blood for years. The hunt was too cruel for him. His eyes were dark blue, though, and his face sculpted as tall and elegantly as his fathers, just lacking the meanness inside. All eyes were on him.

The guests stood silently in the banquet room as the night fell upon them, and only the beams of the moon shed any light. In the middle of the room was a giant stone pit. Out of it, now, a fog began to rise, and a voice eerily sang, "Reincarnation." The sound of footsteps was heard as someone climbed up the stone ladder in the pit, and raised a pale hand into the air, long, pointy fingers facing the crowd. She rose to the top, a mistress of the night, raven hair falling to her hips as she turned to face the Count. She smiled, her teeth leering in the dark -- pointy, sharp, and blood-stained.

Mel locked the door behind her stealthily and sneaked out into the night.

The night air was chilly, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulder to keep warm. Where was she going? Anywhere to get away from her abusive step-mother. She had taken a year off from high school, having no money to attend the state university she was accepted to what with her father's alcoholic problems, and now, at 19, just wanted to start over. Find a job, some friends, and live in peace and quiet. Mel loved reading, dreaming that maybe someday she could be a poet.

As Mel reached the town's borders, where the woods were, she thought she heard someone following her. Mel whipped around. Silence. She turned back uneasily to the tree branches, and kept walking. Suddenly, a squawking bird startled her. Mel looked to her left and almost screamed. A man had fallen onto the brambles in exhaustion. His pale face was illuminated by the moonlight. Tired, hungry eyes stared back at her.

"Oh, what..." Mel wanted to run. So not wise to talk to strangers at night.

"Help," The man's hair was scraggly, recently hacked, it seemed. His throat sounded scratchy.

"Water?" Mel reached into her backpack. She handed the bottle to him.

"Please...come here." She started to think he was just a perv, and cautiously withdrew her water bottle. "I need...warmth." He uttered. Something about his navy blue eyes pulled her forward. She inched forward.

Suddenly, he grabbed her arm, and pulled her face close, so close she could hear his ragged breathing.

"Milk. I need milk."

"Ok." Mel stifled a giggle as she told the man to wait. She'd have to pilfer from the farmer, but for some reason, the stranger seemed to need the energy.

Finally, the man came out of the woods, and leaned against an oak, his cloak fluttering. He picked up the water bottle, and slowly washed away the dirt from many days of journey. As the dust and grime fell away, his handsome features were clear, the strong dark blue eyes, tall nose, and squared jaw. His hands were rough from prying apart branches as he traveled through the woods, escaping, always escaping his hunters. When Mel returned, he took the milk gratefully and drank, his eyes tracing over her curiously. She was delicate but beautiful, in a neglected sort of way. Her long tresses fell onto her lower back, and though tied up in a ponytail, shined glossily in the moonlight. Her eyes were brown, like the warmest chestnut, gentle and timid, eyes that understood pain. Right now, she was blushing at the stranger's glance, her slender fingers reaching up to brush her cheeks. Her teeth were straight and pearly, not pointy, at all.

"You are unlike any sorceress." The man was entranced. Mel raised her eyebrows. Someone need escorting back to the loony bin?

"Um...thanks."

"What's your name, fairest?"

"Melanie."

"I'm Vladimir, the Second."

"Ahh." Time to escape, Mel told herself.

"Melanie, you seem...so innocent." The man spoke slowly. He flexed his shoulders and sat up straighter. Suddenly, he seemed tall and imposing, new-found vigor coursing through his veins. His eyes turned more intense, and the dark blue orbs pierced right into Mel's blinking lashes, unblinkingly. "Such a hidden gem." Mel didn't know what to say, but the warm heat creeping up through her body seemed to tell enough, her chest rising unevenly under Vladimir's glance.

"I -- I was just going to leave," Mel knew she was in danger, of....

"You seem only a century old, just a bare maiden." Vladimir chuckled, his eyes mischievous. He stood up, sweeping his cloak behind him as he straightened. Mel backed up in fear as the man towered over her, his sculpted frame casting a shadow on her sweater. Yet she couldn't move as he leaned down to touch her chin with his wide palm, and locked eyes with her, daring her to fall into those stormy blue seas. But his gaze softened as it lowered over her neck, golden and slender, and then her bosom, soft and protected behind her sweater, territory yet known to no man.

"Come with me." The words were a whisper, but as powerful as steel. Mel resisted, even as muscular arms held her close, but all she could see was an enveloping darkness. The air was filled with pitched squeals, like needles upon her ear, and suddenly, an army of bats swooped on them. They lifted Vladimir's cape, flying through the air in unison, with Mel clutching onto him breathlessly, watching in fear as the trees grew smaller beneath her, and cold night air burst into her lungs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She awoke in a stone cave. The walls echoed her scuffles as Mel lifted herself off the pine-coated ground, a bed, it seemed, assembled just for her. Under her lay a marble pillow, cold and regal, its edges carved in Latin: Aut vincere aut mori. Conquer or die.

Panic rose in her heart. Why did she have to help him? That monster! He had no right to take her away. Yet, she was indeed running away from home...

Someone came into the cave. Mel stiffened, but didn't turn. He walked up behind her and, like iron, held her shoulders. She saw a new man. Vladimir's hair had regained its original length, a glossy mane of white blond that flowed onto his shoulders, and his eyes were glowing blue, dark at the edges. He still wore the black cloak, under which a black robe shielded his muscular physique. He regarded Melanie with satisfaction. To his fancy, a light green gown now clothed her, matching her chestnut eyes, and a golden clasp at the bosom held her pert breasts tightly. Her hair was brushed and let loose splendidly under a braid, so the teasing brown waves framed her face. Vladimir couldn't resist placing both hands around her delicate waist.

"Stop!" Mel squeaked. She hopped backwards out of his arms.

"Melanie, dearest, come back here." Vladimir coaxed gently, both arms outstretched as she backed even further into the wall. He smiled, but Mel was repulsed at the two glistening teeth, pointing downwards like two V's.

"What are you?" She hissed. "And what have you done with me?"

"You've been unconscious. For so long. I had to change your tattered robes, that's all." Vladimir revealed a vulnerability Mel liked. "But I did see you...unintentionally." Mel's mouth gaped open. "I never realized you were a human. I almost...couldn't control myself. Vampires love human blood." Vladimir's teeth now seemed menacingly white.

"Oh, no..." Mel stuttered, trying to think of an escape plan.

"No, don't." Vladimir reached out and held her arms tight. "I -- I would never drink blood. I haven't, since my birthing ceremony. Blood is the sustenance for vampires only because it holds life. It is either to conquer life, for us, or to wither away of eternal coldness. But I have found the cure." Mel was ready to believe anything now.

"It is milk." Vladimir smiled. The answer seemed so simple. "Milk is the life-giving substance for all animals; it is even more powerful than blood, for with blood comes death, but with milk, there is only new life. And that is why I have survived so long. My father knew not of my plans to secure milk from the cows near our kingdom, thinking I was an abnormality, with my hair and eyes, but I am the only one who can bear light, bear warmth, and bear human things...like love." Vladimir seemed to soften before Mel's sympathetic touch on his shoulder.

"So, you won't kill me then?" Mel trembled.

"I would never hurt you. Only I want to pleasure you, yes." Vladimir's glance had hardened. He encircled one arm around Mel's waist, and leaned down, his lips yearning for hers. They pressed tightly together, and Vladimir sought her tongue with his, as Mel clasped onto his shoulder. He kissed her passionately, a moth drawn to fire, courting the warm life that was his own opposite. His hands, masculine and rough, reached around her gown, tracing down the edge, then up over her bosom, unloosening the folds of the gown. His head bent down, closer, closer to her trembling buds... Mel breathed faster. Her nipples were hardening beneath his touch, but she was not ready yet for him.

"Wait," She gasped. Reluctantly, he released her. She put distance between them, and Vladimir's eyes turned cloudy. He looked at her coldly, for an eternity it seemed, but just turned and stalked out the cave. Mel, oddly, almost felt disappointed at his leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dark shapes flew out of the sky in the middle of the night, their favorite time for preying. The leading figure clung onto her hood, as the bats descended upon a mountain of quartz. She pulled back her cloak to reveal a head of raven locks and blood-stained teeth. It was the Vampress Vyeila herself, intent on retrieving her rightful husband, and servant, before the rise of the dawn.

Vladimir was building a fire for Mel, who he knew would be cold during the night with nothing but pine leaves and his cloak to shield her. He almost enjoyed the warmth himself, especially with her sitting next to him, happily roasting some nuts over the fire. She had found a stray goat over the mountain ledge, and it thankfully produced milk that could feed Vladimir. But now, his icy core was calling out to him, to roam, to explore the night. He began to pace the cave restlessly.

"What's wrong?" Mel lifted her glossy tresses over her shoulder and looked up at Vladimir, concern in her face. They'd gotten to know each other the past few days, and in general, he showed a surprising amount of knowledge and sympathy, for a vampire she supposed. He, instead, had grown enchanted with her looks, the warmth and innocence he'd never known from women at home. Especially when she smiled with her dimples. He had thought of touching her, making her mewl with pleasure...

"Nothing." Vladimir snapped back to reality. "I'll be back." He needed to breathe in the night. Just a bit of darkness, that was all.

Mel ate and drank some milk, as Vladimir left. She settled in to her scratchy bed, and wondered when they'd leave. Vladimir always seemed haunted by shadows, fearful of the night. He never let her sleep without guarding over her in the darkness.

Vladimir jumped easily over the ledges, reaching a perch on the mountain that could see miles away. The night was cold, but fresh, and he breathed deeply, listening to the ancient rhythm of the stars. The rhythm of his ancestors, the beating of the night as they hunted out humans in the farm yards, the sleepy milk maids and fertile cattle boys, so calm yet so rich -- rich with the blood of life. Stop, Vladimir told himself, what barbaric traditions!

Suddenly, a suffocating darkness fell upon him, and long fingers wrapped around his neck. Sharp teeth curved over his pale neck and a slithering voice was at his ear.

"Vyeila," Vladimir's voice was menacing. "Leave right now." She ignored him and continued to wrap herself around him, readying herself for the bite. "Now!" Vladimir roared as he reared his body, bucking the vampress off like a fly. He flew at the dark shadows around him, hearing familiar voices but feeling fingers scraping at him, drawing blood. His mouth was open, and his teeth drawn like a sword, ready to bite not for pleasure, but for the lethal kill. He did his best to fend off the attackers with his hands, his nails lengthening into razorlike weapons. But, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, a large hulking shadow, stealing away from the pack, down, down towards the cave...the vulnerable cave where Melanie lay sleeping...

The embers of the fire had died and Mel had began to float lightly on the wings of sleep when hands suddenly clasped her neck. Thinking it was Vlad, she giggled. An icy breath now fell on her forehead, then down, below her ears, onto her neck, its dewy skin glowing in the night. A pair of fangs, yellow and crusted with blood, snapped into their maximum, ready to bite down and draw the red, red juices from her.

"Gorv, I warned my father not to send you." Vladimir's thundering anger filled the cave. Mel jumped. "You will not touch the girl. Unless you want to suffer hell itself. And you know what I can do. What my mother's bloodline can do." The bulky vampire sniffed at Mel, pausing, just as Vladimir flew up behind him, knocking the brute onto his back and shielding Mel with his cloak. "Light a fire," Vladimir whispered to her. Obediently, she started rubbing the rocks together. Vladimir's back shielded her.

"Gorv, get that conniving tramp. That vampire-seducer. She's after the kingdom. She wants to be Queen of Transylvania!" Vyeila's wicked voice entered the cave. Gorv charged head-on into Vladimir and knocked him to the ground. He snarled as he aimed for Vladimir's neck, his fangs landing on his shoulder instead, the puncture drawing fresh blood from the latter. Vladimir twisted Gorv's arm into pain, but Vyeila rushed forth and pushed Gorv aside. She eagerly lapped at her fiance's blood, entrapping him like a prize, as the energy drained from his body.

"Watch out!" Mel suddenly leaped out from under the cloak, throwing an ember onto the pile of dried leaves and ashes. The fire leaped up into the air, warm flames flickering and growing, crackling like a beast, bright yellow filling the cave. She rushed forward and threw a burning stick onto Vyeila's cloak, the material quickly catching fire.

Vyeila yelped as the cloak burned her skin, and cast it off, slithering away out of the cave, into the night, with Gorv's pained yells behind her. All that was left was a marble brooch, encarved with the same Latin as the pillow.

Vladimir pushed himself up from the ground, his face pale, but determined. He leaned forward and picked up a burning stick. Like a tiny swab, he dabbed it over the bite marks in his shoulder, wincing as the heat burned his skin, but then quickly threw it off, the marks now covered with a small seared circle. He picked up the pitcher of milk in the corner and bent over it, drinking thirstily. Then he collapsed on the ground, his eyes closed as Vyeila's venom coursed through his veins.

"Melanie," He cried out as the pain shook him. Vyeila had perfected the art of venom, being the evil woman she was. He would be in pain for a while.

"Vladimir, I'm right here." Melanie suddenly felt panic for the man before her. She lifted his head gingerly onto her lap, and stroked his hands with her own, wishing to ease his pain. His eyes squeezed tighter as beads of sweat formed on his head. Mel dabbed her gown in a pool of water and smoothed the fabric over him. She then leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. Too feverish to tell, Vladimir just called "Melanie...Melanie.." again before he fell into the nightmares of the poison's doing.

Vladimir awoke to see Mel pouring some milk for him, and for herself too. She had led the goat into the cave, and it was chomping on grass in the corner. She had also placed the marble brooch next to her pillow, and upon seeing Vyeila's object, Vladimir's eyes narrowed in fury. He walked over to the brooch and smashed it furiously.

"What's that?" Mel handed him a bowl of milk.

"My engagement present you could say." Mel was silent.

"Oh. Good for you." Vladimir sensed her jealousy, and pounded the brooch even harder. It was undented. The royal tie would not break.

"So, what will you do now?" Mel turned to Vlad, her eyes pleading. "Go back to Transylvania? I mean, that's what you're supposed to do."

"I won't go back while they force me to wed Vyeila. I would rather spend another thousand years alone then be with her. But, with you, I could spend eternity." Vladimir's eyes turned back to Mel, his gaze drifting over her possessively,

"A thousand years?" Mel echoed emptily. "A thousand years, alone. Have you never..?"

"Of course I have. But never meant it. Only when ritual dictated. And never did I find that warmth, that fire radiating from your eyes."

"I...well, I might as well tell you. I haven't, at all." Mel finished lamely, her hands draped at her sides. "But I don't care." She added defiantly. Vladimir smirked.

"I know." Vladimir answered calmly, to her chagrin. "I knew also, when I first saw you, we were destined. You saved my life, when I had lost all energy, and hope, from escaping consummation with Vyeila, and now I am forever your protector. Let me protect you, from your past and your pain that you left."

"How did you know?" Mel murmured.

"You told me, with your eyes, so lovely, so tortured." Vladimir sighed. "Perhaps no one appreciated you, like me. Or perhaps I just need you, and you -- need me." He drew out the last words, and Mel sucked in her breath. She silently waited as he drew nearer, his hands reaching around her waist, drawing her close to his heart, beating and warm, or, was it, cold. She leaned in, her hair against his chest, opening his robe, to rest her warm head there. He caressed down her mahogany waves and over her shoulder, under, under again over her waist, then onto her aching breasts. Her thumping heart. Finally, she let him reach under the folds of her gown and pry the material away, unraveling the wrap, so it fell down over her shoulders, and her bare chest was exposed, her nipples perking quickly in the cold air.

Mel leaned against Vlad, the pulsing of her buds on his own marbled chest, and he groaned at the warm impact. Controlling himself no longer, he bent her down, onto the pine, as he lowered his mouth to her reaching lips. They tangled and kissed, as she wrapped her arms around his bare back. But he moved his mouth away, over her neck, trailing kisses and licks over the golden skin, reaching for her nipples. He teased them wantonly, his tongue flicking the tip, as Mel arched her back and purred under his touch. Kneading her mounds with one hand, the other reached down below her gown, seeking her pleasure point, the point of no return. He slipped his fingers over her entrance, feeling only a sparse protection of curls in front. She whimpered as he stroked his teasing digits back and forth, kissing her neck intensely as he did so.