Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 18: The Cost

Antón Bernardini had often fantasized about what the reunion between Vladislaus and the Dracul Sânge would be like. He had always imagined tears, joyous laughter, enthusiastic conversations as the details of lost time were shared. But what he was witnessing right now had admittedly never crossed his mind.

His feelings on the matter were – at present – conflicted at best.

On the one hand, it was wonderful to have everyone all together again, and seeing the unshed tears of relief in his old friend and sire's eyes earlier had been incredibly rewarding. Dracula rarely – if ever – cried. He'd get misty-eyed on scarce occasion, but the occurrences were few and far between. In fact, he could count them all on one hand. But what was challenging to watch now, however, was how the joy that had previously filled his king's expression had since turned to a consuming guilt as he listened to his children recount all that Francesca had done for them in the last year and a half.

Not just the interviews.

But the time she had saved Jack and Louise from assassins.

How she had helped heal Zeke of the burden of the abuses he had endured in his adolescence – something centuries of counseling and coping hadn't been able to accomplish.

They shared stories of the camaraderie that had developed between them, the mutual trust and respect – how willing she was to drop everything to help them, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of herself in the process.

Vladislaus took in the information and underlying chastisement with the humility and solemnity befitting of his station as king, but it didn't take a sire-bond for Antón to know that Dracula was starting to buckle under the weight of it all. Jack had the most to say on the matter – which was to be expected, as he had developed the strongest connection with Francesca out of the rest of his siblings. But it was Louise's current and emphatic defense of her father's blood-bound mate that took everyone by surprise.

Louise Poincaré had never really cared for any of Dracula's past paramours, never bothering to make a secret of her distaste. The woman tended to treat all of them – male and female, she had never been one to discriminate – with varying degrees of unwilling tolerance at best. But as she recounted the story of how Francesca had absorbed the memories of Basilio, the Spider, just so she could get the information they needed on the hex, Antón watched his friend's complexion grow paler and paler and paler.

"The bastard gleefully boasted about getting inside of her as if he knew what taking him on would do to her," she continued, growing all the more emotional as she recounted the event. "Even after he was nothing but ash by the end of it, she could scarcely move or speak for a near ten minutes when it was done. It was like that monster really was slithering around inside of her, violating her, forcing her to relive every horrid thing he had ever done, all the while retriggering her of every past trauma."

Louise flicked away a tear before it could tumble down her cheek.

"I thought how she reacted to Tempi's memories was bad with that PTSD episode... but this..."

"PTSD episode?" Antón asked.

"My recollections of Hal's murder apparently brought that of her father's to the forefront of her mind," Tempest explained softly, head down as if she felt guilty. Niklaus placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But it was more than that..."

"She kept muttering something in French – you can't hurt me anymore," Louise recounted. "She never said as much, but I think she was reliving..."

"Alphonse," Dracula finished, another wave of nausea roiling through him, accentuated by a flash of possessive anger. "Her husband when she was mortal. He... she endured some terrible things at his hand."