A distant light...
He was in the town square, a gibbet on a raised platform waiting for him. People were cheering for his death. Screaming for his blood. People were throwing rocks at him but most of those hit the guards who were standing in a circle around him.
He was ascending the platform, his hands tied behind him when a big brown bear suddenly roared and pushed itself through the throng. The townspeople panicked. The guards, taken by surprise, were useless against the bear as they were thrown bodily into the crowd. Arrows were magically bouncing off its thick fur. With another deafening roar, it jumped and crashed onto the platform. The bear looked into the Count's eyes. Those eyes, the Count thought, surprised, they are his eyes.
The bear calmly rested its paws on the Count's shoulder. 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..." he tried to say but darkness closed in on him.
Then out of it came a distant light...
He was in the town square, a gibbet on a raised platform waiting for him...
"Wake up, vampire!" A boot landed heavily on his ribs. Thoughts were slow in forming.
"Wake up!" A splash of cold water woke him from his stupor.
He was weak, feverish. A familiar metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He struggled to sit up with his hands tied behind him. His legs were shaking.
"Stand up!" a guard, he now saw, ordered. He obeyed with difficulty. "Pay your respects to the Prince!"
He was in the castle dungeons, he realized. He immediately tried to escape as a crow but he found that he was too weak. He will probably die here...
No! I’ve got to see the hunter first. One last time...
The Prince came in through the huge wooden door, resplendent in a beautiful robe of crimson and gold. But his face was ugly. His hair was ugly. His build was ugly. The Count almost forgot his own sorrows, just looking at him.
"So..." the Prince announced, hairy chin held high. He was always overproud, this Prince. Always so confident, when, in the Count's opinion, he really has nothing to be confident about. I'm better than you are.
"So here is our dreaded little Count, captured... As proven before the eyes of gods and men, there is no escape from the wrath of the most powerful Prince..." The Count stopped listening. Nothing the Prince said would turn out to be helpful. The Count just watched his ugly lips move. He watched green spittle slowly slide down the Prince’s hairy chin. Disgusting. Strange... what you notice in times like these.
He had only the vaguest sense that a guard to his left moved when suddenly, he was back 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 castle’s alchemists overdid themselves. Or perhaps they overestimated your puny magical strength."
The Prince contemplated him for a few seconds, hatred in his eyes, and then said, “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 cherish every moment of causing you pain until you are dead. You took... no, you stole... my Princess away from me and instead of loving her, you killed her! Yes...We found her remains. The obvious lack of blood in her body is enough evidence. You know what I’m going to do with you, vampire? I am going to drain your foul blood slowly, oh so slowly, and have you drink it!"
With a last loathing look, the Prince left. The guards who remained picked up the Count from the floor and shoved him into a dark and dirty cell. The only light came from torches on the main corridor. There were no windows. 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 decided. 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.
He knew that it was the Prince who locked up the Princess, just after he was cursed into being an Ogre. The Prince imprisoned her up in a tower because he got jealous of her friendship with the Count. Jealous. Well, because he was insecure of their relationship. It was the Count who rescued the Princess from captivity, the second time he saved her. So all in all, whatever might have happened after, it was the Prince’s own fault why the Princess left her. His insecurity was the cause of his own undoing.
But is the Prince's claim of accusing him as a thief valid? In his opinion, yes, although it wasn’t entirely his fault either. And besides, he doesn't give a damn about the Prince. If I caused him pain, well then, sorry, but I live my life this way. Don't get in my way, I'm the Count.
Several hours passed and he devoted his time to planning his escape. Strangely, he found that he was calm. It must be my cold blood, he thought. Or maybe he was calm because he really was ready to die.
He let his thoughts wander, thinking of the supposed potion the witch gave the Princess and the Prince during the ball when he heard sounds of the dungeon’s main door being unlocked. There was a new prisoner, escorted by two guards. The Prince himself was back, leading the procession. A malicious smile was plastered on the Prince’s green face. He was rubbing his palms, eager. Despite himself, dread took possession of the Count’s heart.
"Put him in here," the Prince ordered, indicating the same cell the Count was in. The guards pushed the new prisoner in with him, and the prisoner, his head covered with a sack, bumped into the cell’s wall and crumpled to the floor.
"So, vampire,” the Prince said in a loud booming voice. “Because you have angered me enough by your arrogance in our previous interview, I realized that I cannot wait to give you this small present before you die. Let them say I was merciful despite all that you did to me and the kingdom." The Prince waited for him to give a reply or perhaps to plead, but the Count won't give him that luxury. The Prince raised his thick eyebrows.
"I know about you. And him,” pointing to the other prisoner. “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 his guards imitated him.
At this point, the prisoner was finally able to untie the sack from his head. His eyes darting to and fro, taking in the darkness, the torture instruments hanging on the far wall outside. His eyes froze on the Count, standing mute in a corner.
"Why am I in here?" the hunter demanded of the Prince. "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 once more.
The hunter looked from the Prince to the Count. He was terribly visibly afraid.
"You have one whole day to spend together in this smelly dungeon room while I prepare and proclaim all across the land your grand execution. Do what you want to do since after that, you, my dear traitorous subject will be dead, and the Count will follow shortly after."
"No..." the hunter wailed.
"Yes!" the Prince said. "I'll leave you two to cry... and umm... 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 from these two."
The guards snickered.
"Wait!" the Count, finally finding his voice, said as the Prince and his escorts turned. "How... how...?"
"How did I know?" the Prince haughtily replied, his eyes glittering as they locked with the Count’s. “That is for you to find out yourself.” His eyes glanced briefly towards the hunter.
“I have won this game, vampire,” he continued. “No one crosses me and fails to pay the price. In the end, your valiant heart was your own downfall. Maybe I’ll have you eat your own heart too. For dessert."
And he laughed his most hideous laugh. The sound of it echoed throughout the dark dungeon where the Count and the hunter were going to spend the last of their living hours together.
He was in the town square, a gibbet on a raised platform waiting for him. People were cheering for his death. Screaming for his blood. People were throwing rocks at him but most of those hit the guards who were standing in a circle around him.
He was ascending the platform, his hands tied behind him when a big brown bear suddenly roared and pushed itself through the throng. The townspeople panicked. The guards, taken by surprise, were useless against the bear as they were thrown bodily into the crowd. Arrows were magically bouncing off its thick fur. With another deafening roar, it jumped and crashed onto the platform. The bear looked into the Count's eyes. Those eyes, the Count thought, surprised, they are his eyes.
The bear calmly rested its paws on the Count's shoulder. 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..." he tried to say but darkness closed in on him.
Then out of it came a distant light...
He was in the town square, a gibbet on a raised platform waiting for him...
"Wake up, vampire!" A boot landed heavily on his ribs. Thoughts were slow in forming.
"Wake up!" A splash of cold water woke him from his stupor.
He was weak, feverish. A familiar metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He struggled to sit up with his hands tied behind him. His legs were shaking.
"Stand up!" a guard, he now saw, ordered. He obeyed with difficulty. "Pay your respects to the Prince!"
He was in the castle dungeons, he realized. He immediately tried to escape as a crow but he found that he was too weak. He will probably die here...
No! I’ve got to see the hunter first. One last time...
The Prince came in through the huge wooden door, resplendent in a beautiful robe of crimson and gold. But his face was ugly. His hair was ugly. His build was ugly. The Count almost forgot his own sorrows, just looking at him.
"So..." the Prince announced, hairy chin held high. He was always overproud, this Prince. Always so confident, when, in the Count's opinion, he really has nothing to be confident about. I'm better than you are.
"So here is our dreaded little Count, captured... As proven before the eyes of gods and men, there is no escape from the wrath of the most powerful Prince..." The Count stopped listening. Nothing the Prince said would turn out to be helpful. The Count just watched his ugly lips move. He watched green spittle slowly slide down the Prince’s hairy chin. Disgusting. Strange... what you notice in times like these.
He had only the vaguest sense that a guard to his left moved when suddenly, he was back 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 castle’s alchemists overdid themselves. Or perhaps they overestimated your puny magical strength."
The Prince contemplated him for a few seconds, hatred in his eyes, and then said, “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 cherish every moment of causing you pain until you are dead. You took... no, you stole... my Princess away from me and instead of loving her, you killed her! Yes...We found her remains. The obvious lack of blood in her body is enough evidence. You know what I’m going to do with you, vampire? I am going to drain your foul blood slowly, oh so slowly, and have you drink it!"
With a last loathing look, the Prince left. The guards who remained picked up the Count from the floor and shoved him into a dark and dirty cell. The only light came from torches on the main corridor. There were no windows. 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 decided. 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.
He knew that it was the Prince who locked up the Princess, just after he was cursed into being an Ogre. The Prince imprisoned her up in a tower because he got jealous of her friendship with the Count. Jealous. Well, because he was insecure of their relationship. It was the Count who rescued the Princess from captivity, the second time he saved her. So all in all, whatever might have happened after, it was the Prince’s own fault why the Princess left her. His insecurity was the cause of his own undoing.
But is the Prince's claim of accusing him as a thief valid? In his opinion, yes, although it wasn’t entirely his fault either. And besides, he doesn't give a damn about the Prince. If I caused him pain, well then, sorry, but I live my life this way. Don't get in my way, I'm the Count.
Several hours passed and he devoted his time to planning his escape. Strangely, he found that he was calm. It must be my cold blood, he thought. Or maybe he was calm because he really was ready to die.
He let his thoughts wander, thinking of the supposed potion the witch gave the Princess and the Prince during the ball when he heard sounds of the dungeon’s main door being unlocked. There was a new prisoner, escorted by two guards. The Prince himself was back, leading the procession. A malicious smile was plastered on the Prince’s green face. He was rubbing his palms, eager. Despite himself, dread took possession of the Count’s heart.
"Put him in here," the Prince ordered, indicating the same cell the Count was in. The guards pushed the new prisoner in with him, and the prisoner, his head covered with a sack, bumped into the cell’s wall and crumpled to the floor.
"So, vampire,” the Prince said in a loud booming voice. “Because you have angered me enough by your arrogance in our previous interview, I realized that I cannot wait to give you this small present before you die. Let them say I was merciful despite all that you did to me and the kingdom." The Prince waited for him to give a reply or perhaps to plead, but the Count won't give him that luxury. The Prince raised his thick eyebrows.
"I know about you. And him,” pointing to the other prisoner. “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 his guards imitated him.
At this point, the prisoner was finally able to untie the sack from his head. His eyes darting to and fro, taking in the darkness, the torture instruments hanging on the far wall outside. His eyes froze on the Count, standing mute in a corner.
"Why am I in here?" the hunter demanded of the Prince. "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 once more.
The hunter looked from the Prince to the Count. He was terribly visibly afraid.
"You have one whole day to spend together in this smelly dungeon room while I prepare and proclaim all across the land your grand execution. Do what you want to do since after that, you, my dear traitorous subject will be dead, and the Count will follow shortly after."
"No..." the hunter wailed.
"Yes!" the Prince said. "I'll leave you two to cry... and umm... 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 from these two."
The guards snickered.
"Wait!" the Count, finally finding his voice, said as the Prince and his escorts turned. "How... how...?"
"How did I know?" the Prince haughtily replied, his eyes glittering as they locked with the Count’s. “That is for you to find out yourself.” His eyes glanced briefly towards the hunter.
“I have won this game, vampire,” he continued. “No one crosses me and fails to pay the price. In the end, your valiant heart was your own downfall. Maybe I’ll have you eat your own heart too. For dessert."
And he laughed his most hideous laugh. The sound of it echoed throughout the dark dungeon where the Count and the hunter were going to spend the last of their living hours together.
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