Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 28: Control is an Illusion

Vladislaus stood on the edge of the mezzanine overlooking the main foyer of his old summer palace. The unnatural calm of whatever the hell that was earlier this morning with Francesca and her misting only God knew how many soldiers had since passed, leaving a knot of anxiety tight in his chest. He gripped the railing of the banister with both hands, knuckles white, eyes not missing a single detail as he watched his ever-evolving makeshift family finishing up the last of the unpacking.

It was late into the afternoon by this point – nearly sunset now. But the sun – by some blessed miracle – had remained hidden behind thick and ominous looking storm clouds for the better part of the day. Only just now had it begun to snow outside with the coming of the night, the wind whipping and howling violently as it battered the walls of the old estate.

Getting everyone healed up had been the chiefest of concerns just before the dawn and once Lyra had managed to resuscitate Jacob, the pair of them had gone to work to quickly patch up the others well enough to get them out of what remained of the old alliance headquarters. Once gathered at the house, everyone fed and cleaned up before a haphazard plan was thrown together to get all remaining members of the alliance – including Bernardini – moved out of main Budapest and into Vilkova.

Isabella and Tristan had volunteered – flat-out ignoring the argued dissents from the likes of Zeke and Lyra – to distract Marcus' attention elsewhere so the others could regroup and settle in peace. Vladislaus had almost declined their generosity, knowing Francesca in particular would not be very pleased with the plan if she had been conscious to even hear it, but much to his eldest's disappointment, he accepted offer. Ezekiel made no attempts to hide his displeasure once the decision had been made, even after his wife went after him, insisting that all would be well. Dracula had stopped listening in after she had departed from the room, delegating all further action to Rémy and Bernardini as his left and right hands.

With his children safe and a course of action in place, it left him free to give his wife every ounce of his attention.

It had been hours since then and still she slept, and nothing he did could rouse her. He would have given way to fear, but in his heart of hearts, he knew she was all right – just exhausted. This left him with hours of the day that suddenly needed filling, and so with natural ease, he slipped back into the role of ruling monarch, overseeing all as his inner court came to life within the walls of Vilkova.

At least the universe had decided to take pity on him after the morning he had just had. Marcus – Lee Feng's shadows reported – had been so stunned by Francesca's earlier display that neither hair nor hide had been seen of the man – or those under his employ – for the entirety of the day. That certainly made the lycan's job easier – thank God, or whomever he was supposed to be thanking these days.

Rémy, Jacob, and Carmen had gathered what remained of their belongings within a matter of hours, the first to move into Vilkova. They were now helping the Dracul Sânge with Berdarini's belongings, an assembly line of boxes being carried into the house.

With the day winding down and the remainder of his friends and family now all under the same roof, Vladislaus felt himself slowly begin to relax... well, a little.

But they would be okay for the present, he assured himself, loosening his grip on the bannister. They had managed to survive the last twelve hours, and now all of the people he cared about were here, with him, and under his watchful eye.

As if he had heard his sire's thought, Bernardini called out as he finished ascending the stairs, approaching.

"You really are a mother hen." Vlad rolled his eyes a little but never offered any further acknowledgement. "This really isn't necessary," the Italian insisted, motioning to the hustle and bustle downstairs as Tempest continued directing traffic.