1. Chapter 1 (1/2)
as usual, nothing belongs to me. and yes, this was a weird idea (i frequently have them) but i hope you enjoy it.
once upon a time, there was a boy. not just any boy; a vampire boy, and moreover the one who would lead the vampires into a new age. but there was a prophecy; the chosen one could not rule alone, and until he found someone who could help, protect and temper him, he would not take power.
the boy grew into a teenager, and then into almost a man, while his father tried desperately to find a woman who could stand by his side as he took his place as grand high vampire. but nowhere could he find a suitor to tempt the boy.
and so, as it was prophesised, on the day of his eighteenth birthday, vladimir dracula the fourth sank into a deep sleep and did not wake for a very long time.
bertrand had been sired barely a year before the chosen one was whisked away into hiding for his own safety. rumours leaked out that the dracula family had been planning for the moment he'd fall into a coma for the best part of a decade, and that the moment his eyes fluttered closed he would be taken to some refuge where only his father and sister could find him.
something about the story, when it finally reached his ears almost three years after vladimir's sleep began, caught bertrand's interest in a way nothing in his hometown could. he took off to see the world – not looking for anything in particular, of course, and certainly not joining the ranks of the hundreds of curious vampire tourists who trekked the globe in search of the chosen one's refuge. no, that had nothing to do with it. even if they did find the right crypt, it wasn't as if anyone would be able to wake him. what was he going to do, hunt him down and stare at him?
...well, yes, maybe he considered it once or twice as he passed through the birthplaces of his ancestors in italy and
aved the bitter winds of russia. it would be hard not to consider the story, given the dreams he kept having. bertrand had been twenty-two when he'd been bitten, and ever since then he couldn't shake off these recurring dreams. well, they weren't recurring exactly – they just always featured the same young man. a vampire, not much younger than him, who'd grown less animated as the years went by but never stayed out of his head for long.
the first time he'd dreamt of him, there'd been a fight."dad, stop it. i'm not interested in her, and you can't make me like her! you know what the prophecy says.""yes, which is why i'm trying to help you!""you've been trying to set me up with ingrid's friends since i was seven. i have to be with whoever this person is for all eternity, and i'm not going to just get stuck with whoever you manage to drag in off the street.""good idea – we'll find a
eather you fancy and snatch them off the stre-""dad!"
bertrand had woken confused, disorientated. what a bizarre dream. but similar scenes had persisted, the older vampire becoming more and more urgent in his demands to his son, and then as bertrand prepared to cele
ate the first anniversary of his vampirism – he was determined to mark the night, even if every other vampire in the world mocked him for it – he had an altogether different dream.
"well, this is it. we're going to have to assume that i won't be around after next week. i need you two to keep order.""now, are you sure there's nobody to tempt you?" the teenager shook his head."nobody. i've had dreams about – but no. let's face it; they're not out there, and they may never be out there. once i'm eighteen, there's not much chance of 'true love's kiss'
inging me back – and are we sure it was a vampire who said that, because it sounds really un- that's beside the point, anyway. i'm going to be effectively dead. you two hold the fort, i'd appreciate some kind of security measures around me, and try to move on with your lives."
not more than a fortnight after that dream, the one that had troubled him for days afterwards, he closed his eyes and saw the same vampire again. for a
ief second, bertrand was relieved that he wasn't dead, but then he remembered he didn't exist in the first place.
"if all i'm going to do is dream about you, this is going to be a long eternity. if you'd just existed, i wouldn't be in this mess. great. thanks a bunch."
bertrand couldn't see who the boy was talking to, but he seemed to be lying in a coffin as he did so, peacefully sleeping. as years passed and the dreams became more frequent, and more consistent –
"fine, if my
ain's going to fixate on you, and throw you into all kinds of crazy situations, why don't we practice my geography? i'll tell you if you're hotter or colder – that is, nearer or farther away - than last time i saw you. i'll pick a random point of reference to find, oh, let's say... me."
- it seemed likely that the vampire in his dreams was talking directly to him, and it was harder and harder to ignore the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was dreaming of the sleeping chosen one. perhaps it was because he had heard the story fairly early in his vampire days, and it had become as much a part of him as his own fangs. for whatever reason, bertrand found himself bouncing around the globe just to see what his dream vampire would say.
"colder."
"warmer."
"colder."
"where is that? is that russia? warmer."
"freezing. and how was i supposed to know what bermuda looks like, i've been dreaming about you for ages trying to work out where you were."
for a while, after that, bertrand made sure to avoid identifying features in the countries he visited. it was somehow cheering to imagine that the vampire in his dreams was watching him. he knew he didn't exist, but still, the thought was nice.
it took him the best part of a century to realise that actually, his subconscious was being pretty consistent in its 'warmer' or 'colder' answers. it seemed that his mind had chosen a place, and was sticking to it. so he began to follow the chosen one quest tours in the vague direction of where he thought 'warmer' might be, much to the disgust of his subconscious.
"what is going on? there are tour parties looking for the chosen one? don't they know the legends? oh, i really hope i'm making this up, i knew i shouldn't have eaten that cheese before i fell asleep... is that a chosen one quest backpack? now i've seen everything. and you're getting colder. pay attention."
bertrand did pay attention, but he also took every possible quest holiday he could, determined to learn all he could about the legend. it was another century before he realised he'd exhausted all their information, and his dreams were getting increasingly confusing.
"you're warm, but i don't know if you're warmer than before... my local geography's not that good, it was easier when i was just trying to get you to the right side of the continent... and then you decided florida was a good place to look and i had to get you back... but all these little villages, they all look and sound the same... ok, how's this? make your way to a city, a big city, one i'll know, and then i'll start giving you directions. not that you exist."
that seemed like a good plan, somehow, even though his subconscious seemed just as convinced that he didn't exist as he was that the boy in his dreams didn't. so he made his way to the biggest, most impressive city he could think of – rome. the vampire in his dreams didn't seem too impressed with that.
"rome? that's miles away, what did you do that for? well, yes, everyone knows where rome is, but... just go north, will you?"for the first time in the 250 years he'd been dreaming of the boy, bertrand actually responded."if you're going to shout at me, you could at least tell me who's shouting."the boy looked startled. "you can actually hear me? i thought... well, i suppose it makes sense, i had to dream you up a voice eventually. i'm vlad.""of course you are. bertrand."
he headed north, but he soon convinced himself that he'd just spent too long on the quest tours. nobody was called vlad these days – even the chosen one had never been called anything but vladimir as far as he knew – and bertrand had clearly just dreamt the name up in some bizarre attempt to convince himself his journey had a purpose.
"still north, bertrand. so, why are you listening to me anyway? i suppose because you have to."bertrand didn't respond to that; he didn't know how to. "well, that's boring. tell me about yourself. let's see how good my imagination is."
they chatted every time the dream happened, after that, and it was becoming more and more frequent. somehow they ended up discussing old music from bertrand's human years, and his life before he'd been sired. bertrand realised his imagination was running wild as vlad began to talk about his sister, and his little half-
other, the one who'd been kept secret from the world because he was half-werewolf and when he'd fallen asleep, nobody had been quite sure what would happen to the boy.