Drained : The Virgin & The Count [Dracula 2020 BBC Fanfic]

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER  IV
The Chessboard & The Bargain

I knelt beside my bed, rosary beads slipping through my fingers—one mystery at a time. The window curtains billowed, revealing the image of the moon. My prayers—my pleas against whatever darkness awaits us, I call to the Divines. But something tugged at my peripheral view, a consistent shadow that moved on the edge of my sight..

A few minutes later, a distant sound—a consistent scrape of stone against stone—pulled me from my prayers. I rose, my movements silent as I tiptoed to the candle. Its flame flickered, casting elongated shadows on the walls. I opened the large windows, the night air cool against my skin.

The terrace awaited—I peeked my head out, the steady river and an endless void below us.  Another sound—scratches from above—made me turn. There, from the darkness, emerged the form—the Count, like a lizard, gliding with unnatural ease. His cape reflected  as he bent and twisted, an awful, disturbing sight. His hand scraped against the old stone walls of the castle.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. Had he detected my movements? He stopped, frozen in his tracks, yet his head did not turn to see me. Panic surged, and I hurriedly hid behind my glass windows, gripping the metal frames. I watched, breathless, as the Count crawled to a dark corner, disappearing from view.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I waited. A minute passed—what felt an eternity—before I dared to move. I ran towards my dead candle, fumbling to light the wick again. Fast-paced prayers spilled from my lips as I struggled with lighting the flame. The Count's image lingered—an unsettling memory etched into the castle's stones.

I muttered under my breath, Panic surged, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had to tell my parents, I have to... I must seek refuge in their quarters. Everything felt difficult—
As soon as I opened my door, I glided toward the halls, barefoot, eyes scanning every shadow. Paranoia gripped me, urging me to find the correct path to my parents' room. But then, a left turn—a collision. The candle holder fell, its light extinguished against the carpeted floor. I let out a quick shout, stumbling backward, my heart racing.

And there he was—the Count. Out of all the people I could have bumped into, it had to be him—the man I was specifically running away from. He grabbed both my arms, steadying me. "My, my," he spoke, confusion etching his features. Still holding my arms, he studied me, insistent, trying to stop my futile struggle.

"Stop," he said, his grip not tightening. "What are you doing? Calm yourself."

I tried to pull away, horrified. His touch—the Count's touch—was like ice against my skin. But he held firm, his gaze unyielding. What did he want? Why was he here?

Upon hearing his words, I stopped my futile struggle. Panic still clung to me, but I paused, looking at him. Visibly distraught, I met his gaze—He raised his brows in question, waiting for an answer.

"You're shaking," he stated, his hands moving from my arms to my hands. He raised them in front of my face, studying them. Slowly, he let go. "Count, I... I was not expecting to see you here." My voice wavered, my hands trembling as I crossed my arms.

"This is my home," he murmured, furrowing his brows. His eyes darted toward my bare foot against the carpet and the extinguished candle beside me. "The hour is late, where are you going?" His tone held the same questioning manner.
He bent down, retrieving the fallen candle holder. "I do not know," I replied, lies slipping from my mouth. "My mind seems to be at unrest." I blinked, my gaze following him as he rose to his feet. His eyes studied the wax of the dead candle before returning to me, nodding.

I couldn't believe that he believed my lies...

"Then you must join me downstairs," he replied, guiding me through the halls. The candle remained in his hand.