The Count's Tale V: The Prisoners

A distant light...

He was in the town square. An apparatus for hanging criminals waiting for him. People were cheering for his death. Screaming for his blood.

He was ascending the platform when a big brown bear roared and pushed through the crowd. The people panicked. The soldiers, taken by surprise, were useless against him. Arrows magically bouncing off his thick fur. With a roar, he jumped and crashed onto the platform. The bear looked into the Count's eyes. Those eyes, the Count thought, they are his.

The bear calmly rested its paws on the Count's shoulder. They were heavy hands, the Count thought. Then, as fast as lightning, it put out its claws and slashed the Count's neck.

Blood bubbled through the Count's mouth. "You... you..." Darkness closed in on him.

A distant light.

"Wake up, Vampire!" A thud on his ribs. Thoughts were slow in forming.

A few seconds of silence. Then...

"Wake up!" A splash of cold water woke him from his stupor.

He was weak, feverish. A metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He struggled to sit up with his hands tied behind him. His legs were shaking.

"Stand up!" a soldier, he now saw, ordered. He obeyed with difficulty. "Pay your respects to the Prince!"

He was in the dungeons, he realized. No hope for escaping as a crow... He will probably... No!

The Prince came in through the huge wooden door, resplendent in beautiful robes of crimson and gold. But his face was ugly. His hair was ugly. His build was ugly. The Count almost laughed.

"So..." the Prince announced. He was always pompous, this Prince. Always so confident, when, in the Count's opinion, he has nothing to be confident about. I'm better than you are.

"So here is our dreaded little Count, captured..." He stopped listening. Nothing the Prince would say would turn out to be helpful. The Count just watched his ugly lips move. He just watched green spittle slowly slide down his hairy chin. Disgusting. Strange... what you notice in times like these.

He had only the vaguest sense that a soldier to his left moved, then, he was on the floor, the left side of his head aching. "You don't pay attention, do you? Perhaps the poison has started eating up your brain..."

The Prince contemplated him for a few seconds, and then said. I have a surprise for you... you thief. You've caused me so much pain, you know that? You destroyed my life and now that you're in my hands, I'm going to relish every second of utterly destroying yours. I'd live every moment of causing you pain until you are dead. By my very own hands, it goes without saying."

The Prince left. He was shoved into a dark and dirty cell. The only light came from torches on the main corridor. There was no window. No company. Darkness was his only solace. And his thoughts.

He was not afraid of death. He can die anytime. He can die. The Princess is dead. The hunter is with someone else. What is there to live for? He thought. I can go, nobody would miss me. Except perhaps the witch... and the bats. IS living for them enough?

But he wouldn't die without a struggle, he knew that. He wouldn't give up his life easily. I'll make them bleed too. I'll take as many of them as I can. I'm not a Count for nothing.

It was the Prince who locked up the Princess. Locked her up in a tower because he got jealous of their friendship. Jealous. Well, because he was insecure of their relationship. He turned into an Ogre. And it was him, the Count, who rescued the Princess from captivity. Since then, they lived together.

And so, can the Prince's claim of accusing him as a thief valid? In his opinion, yes. But he doesn't give a damn about the Prince. If he caused him pain, well then, sorry, but I live my life this way. Don't get in my way, I'm the Count.

He was thinking of the supposed potion the witch gave the Princess and the Prince that transformed their lives when he heard sounds of the main door being unlocked. Shouts and protests filled the room. There was a new prisoner, escorted by two guards. The Prince himself, was there leading the procession.

"Put him here," he ordered, indicating the same cell the Count was in. The soldiers pushed the new prisoner in with him, and the prisoner, his head covered with a sack, bumped into a wall before settling down to the floor.

"So, Count, because you have angered me enough by your arrogance in our previous interview... I give you this small present. A sacrifice, I might say. Someone to test whether the ropes are strong enough to hang that big head of yours." The Prince waited for him to give a reply, but The Count won't give him that luxury.

"I know about you. And him. And I'm going to kill him first. Kill the one you love in front of you. In front of everyone. Oh, how I know you'll suffer..." He laughed, and the soldiers imitated him.

The prisoner lifted the sack from his head. His eyes darting to and fro, taking in the darkness, torture instruments hanging on the far wall outside. "Why am I in here?" he demanded. "I said I just wanted to see him."

"Well, there he is," the Prince replied, as if explaining why water was wet. "I've granted you more than you've asked for? Aren't I generous? Now, not only can you see him, you can also touch him!" And he laughed more.

The hunter looked from the Prince to the Count. He was terribly afraid.

"You have one whole day to spend together in this smelly dungeon room. Do what you want to do, fags, since after that, you, my dear traitorous hunter will be dead, and the Count will follow shortly after."

"No..." the hunter uttered. "Yes!" the Prince said. "I'll leave you two to cry... and ummm... cuddle each other. Guards, I suggest you shouldn't go within sight of this unholy cell. You don't want to see some... indecent behavior, especially from these two."

"Wait," the Count said as the Prince and his escorts turned. "How... how...?"

"How did I know?" the Prince haughtily replied. His eyes glittered as they locked into the Counts. "Let's just say that I have friends, too. Motherly friends who live somewhere high up there." And he laughed. His laughter echoing throughout the dark dungeon where the Count and the Hunter were going to spend the last of their living hours together.