1. Chapter 1 (1/1)

for redrachxo: here is the beginning of a fic i wrote for ya. hopefully vlad is sufficiently nasty.

as usual, i own nothing and i am making no profit here. enjoy, y'all!

it was as if they'd been trying to make a statement; the body had been left, completely drained, kneeling before vlad's throne, head resting on the seat. vlad stared at it for about twenty seconds, then went to the door and called for renfield."i need every vampire in the school here, now."

by the time the first vampire arrived, two minutes later, vlad was sitting on the throne as if nothing had happened, the drained

eather tucked away behind it. the count and ingrid arrived together, bickering about whether ingrid should have been in the blood cellar at all, let alone helping herself to the vintage marquise she was currently sipping at. the count, vlad noted, seemed to have poured one for himself too before answering his son's summons. ingrid raised an eye

ow at her

other."you never sit on your throne, what's going on?"

bertrand came in through the door on the right of the throne and his eyes widened before he frowned and came to stand with the count and ingrid, recognising the formality of the situation. vlad missed nothing of his household's reactions, eyes following bertrand until he took his place and vlad was sure they were all giving their ruler their full attention."i have reason to believe that somebody in this room has

oken the truce." ingrid's face was a picture of shock. bertrand didn't move a muscle, betraying not a hint of surprise.

the count seemed offended by the idea."who would do such a thing, vladdy?" he glanced at his daughter, but she was already looking past him with a knowing smirk. he turned his head to follow her gaze, and suddenly all three draculas were staring at bertrand. he soon became aware of it, and his frown deepened."you don't think-" he cut himself off, staring in shock at the fangcuffs vlad had just snapped onto his wrists."ingrid, dad, you can lock him in the attic while i investigate further." neither of the older draculas seemed to feel this was too onerous a task for them – in fact, they almost seemed pleased, especially ingrid. she did like being reminded that she was his number two and trusted to do things like this; it reassured her that he didn't intend to automatically blame her for everything that went wrong.

bertrand had failed both the tests vlad had set for his household – the chosen one had turned in his seat in time to notice his shocked expression at the sight of him sitting on his throne as if nothing had happened, and then he hadn't even bothered to feign shock when he'd announced that the truce had been

oken. it was obvious who was to blame. now he just had to work out what to do about it.