Sibiu, Transylvania, 1455: One year later
"He's here. Ilona, open your eyes."
"She needs air, give her some space."
Someone was dabbing her face with a wet cloth. Her bones ached and she felt uncomfortable all over. She had gone into labour the afternoon before, but to Ilona, it felt like much longer than that.
She felt a bundle being placed in her arms and opened her tired eyes. She gazed down into the face of her son. She touched his cheek gently, tears rolling down her face. A baby boy. She had achieved her task.
"He's beautiful," she admired. "Vlad will be so happy."
"I've heard he's already celebrating," her cousin informed her with a smile. "I wonder which name he will take!" she continued excitedly.
"You need to rest, my lady, you've lost a lot of blood," the midwife suggested, looking wearingly at her cousin.
Ilona felt more tired than she had in her whole life, but she didn't want to be parted from her son. She reluctantly let the old woman remove the babe gently from her arms.
"Rest now, sweet cousin, you have done well," Erse touched her hand gently, but Ilona's eyes were already closed as she quickly drifted into a deep sleep.
Too tired to even dream, it felt like she had only been asleep for a few minutes when she awoke later at the sound of his voice calling to her. The room was dark now and she could hear the sound of a fire crackling in the room.
"Iubirea mea," (My love).
Her heavy eyelids fluttered open slowly as she felt his lips press against her forehead.
"Vlad?" she murmured tiredly.
He sat on the edge of the bed with their son in his arms. She noticed how small he looked in strong arms of her husband.
"You have given me much happiness today Ilona. God has blessed us with an heir," he gazed down at the small form he held that was bundled up. "I will name him Minhea."
"Minhea," she repeated as he placed the baby in her arms. "It suits him well." She looked upon the face of her son sleeping peacefully and felt complete.
"Vlad," she reached her hand out to his suddenly. "Promise me something."
"Anything, iubirea mea."
"Promise me he won't be taken be taken like you were, as a child."
Darkness flashed across his eyes. His expression now reflected something terrifying and wild. She was startled at the difference and felt frightened suddenly. Realising he had shown another side of himself, one he had vowed not let her see, and seeing the alarm in her eyes, Vlad softened.
"Ilona," Vlad placed a hand against her cheek, his voice hard.
"I swear to you. I will never let them take our son."
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Sibiu, Transylvania, 1456: Eight months later
Despite the love and care that he showed her and Minhea, Ilona could sense Vlad's growing restlessness. She lost count of how many times she awoke at night to find him missing, his side of the bed cold.
She knew the mere title of protector of Transylvania was not enough for her husband, and that he would never be content until he was crowned Prince. And she also knew that meant war.
She was sitting quietly in their chambers when Vlad rushed in. She knew straight away from the look on his face that something was about to change.
"Ilona!" Vlad rushed in, making her jump.
Minhea cried in protest from where she held him in her arms. She rocked him gently.
"What's happened? Is there something wrong?"
"John Hunyadi has passed. The plague took him."
"Oh.." her voice trailed.
The man who orchestrated the death of her father no longer breathed. As a young girl, she had dreamt of hearing of this moment. But now as a woman of twenty-two, it seemed strangely anti-climactic.
"What do you mean to do?"
"I will take Vladislav by surprise, and claim what is rightfully mine."
She saw the hunger in his eyes, the need for battle. The time had come.
"Vlad, I encourage you fully, as always, but ... I'm frightened for your safety," she admitted, trying not to think of what could happen.
He crossed the room to kneel where she was sitting.
"Iubirea mea," he took her hand and kissed it. "I will fulfil the promise I once made to you. I will avenge your father's death and you will be the Princess of Wallachia."
"Please," she looked into his eyes, the same green he shared with their son. "Be careful."
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Sibiu, Transylvania, 1456: Two months later
Ilona's hand shook as she held the recently arrived letter. The last few weeks had been tormenting. She barely slept and ate little, constantly worrying about her husband and if he was still safe. The idea that he could he pass into the next world without her knowing was unfathomable.
With shaking fingers she focused once more on the parchment she held in her hands. Taking a deep breath she ripped open the seal and read the letter quickly, praying for good news.
My dearest wife,
I have secured my place here in Wallachia, and await yours and Minhea's arrival.
Come home, Princess.
Yours,
V.
Ilona felt as if she would burst with happiness. She was finally going home.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Princess
ערפדים*currently being re-vamped* Alucard has held many titles in his lifetime, from 'impaler' to the feared 'Dracula'. Throughout his dark history, there was a woman, one that he loved like no other. This is their story. Progresses from 15th century Roma...
