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I, Dracula (Castlevania/Multicross) 29
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 22:00:12 +0000 UTCThe silence stretched, long enough for their nerves to fray. Coughs were swallowed, boots shifted on the stone. Only the heartbeat thrum of Castlevania’s vast engines filled the air. The sight of the interior of Castlevania had sealed their mouths shut. Even Jeor Mormont, who I was certain was more used to luxury owing to his status as a previous lord, could barely hide his astonishment.
The interior decor of Castlevania with its dark stone, gold-gilded statues, decorative armor plate, chairs of the finest make, and a table that cost probably more than some castles. Furniture lined with wood and gold. The look on their faces amused me as their eyes roved around. The only person seemingly immune to the wealth and power on display was Mother Mole, who seemed asleep on her feet.
If they expected me to break the silence again, they would be waiting here for a long time, because when I wanted, I had the patience of a vampire. Fingers locked in front of me, and eyes hooded, I watched and waited till someone cracked; surprisingly, it was the last person I expected.
"Alright, I say we—" Tormund started, but a discreet elbow to his ribs by Ygritte silenced him. In some way, the red-haired giant of a man reminded me of Godsbrand. That lack of fear, only a special kinf of wariness in his eyes as he stared at me. With Ygritte's cautioning, he tried again.
"L-Lord Dracula." He started, the word Lord rolling off his tongue awkwardly. "I don't particularly have anything I wish for. I'm not much of a diplomat; if there's any talking to be done, Mance would have to come do it himself, or he'll be sending Val. Although I doubt her brand of charms would work much here." He whispered the last part so lowly I could only hear it because of my vampiric nature.
"Anyway, my boy and girl are safe here. We've destroyed the wights that had been chasing us alongside the Others. I doubt we've seen the last of them, but I've news to take back to my king and my people, so I need to leave as soon as possible... with the Horn of Jorn, of course."
"Absolutely not!"
The Lord Commander cut in, banging his only surviving arm on the table with force like he was in some bar, or his local lord's castle. The moment he did so, his body locked, fear and instinct freezing him as he realized what he had done, where he had done it. My eyes bored into him from where I sat, and the air in the room suddenly dropped a few notches, the castle somehow sensing my desires and heightening the danger. The cold sent a chill down the Lord Commander's spine as he slowly raised his eyes to look at me. He was not the only one.
I could sense Isaac tensing up to move, hand resting on longclaw, but I raised a hand to forestall him. Instead I stared back at the Lord Commander. His lips cracked open, but his words failed him, so I spoke instead.
"The next time you do that, I shall relieve you of your second hand, and I promise you it shall not be as cleanly as the Other's blade."
My words were less of a threat and more of a proclamation, and somehow the knowledge and certainty that filled me told me that I would do it, and yet there was none of the worry that had filled me previously, only a calm certainty. The sound of more than one person taking a gulp could be heard in the silence, till it was broken.
Qhorin spoke up, "O-of course, Lord Dracula. The Lord Commander was simply overcome with worry. A month ago, the thought of the horn of winter in the hands of the wild— free folk would've not been a true cause of concern, tales of it simply seen as that: tales. However, with the rise of the Others and the wights, I'm certain a... man of your insight can see the sudden rise for concern. If magic is truly making a retur—"
"There is no if." The figure in grey robes and a chain around his neck interrupted, chiding gently in a calm voice. Then he gave a curt bow. "Forgive me for interrupting, Master Dracula, however, I have grown weary of people still trying to ignore what is right in front of them, as my people south of the Wall are wont."
"And you are?" I asked, my tone bored.
"Maester Marwyn, my lord. Otherwise known as Marwyn the Mage."
I let out a hum of understanding in response as I stroked my beard. I knew the name, and I had read enough about him vaguely. An archmaester with a penchant for magic despite the regulations of the Citadel. A man who had walked Asshai and beyond, a man that had approved of Qyburn's work, the same work that had seen him expelled from the Citadel. Everything I knew about him spoke of a man with a great love of magic and progress.
"You're the one that Bloodraven sent my way then. There shall be much to talk about as soon as this meeting is over."
The three men of the Watch present froze at the mention of the name, Bloodraven, but none of them had the guts to ask me to explain or paraphrase my sentence so they could understand better, which was a good thing. Because I had absolutely no interest in doing such. That settled, I turned to the rest of the people at the table, mainly Tormund.
"The Watch is many things, but in this case, they are right, and I agree with them in that regard. I shall not be releasing the horn into your hands. Do you know why?"
Tormund scowled, but after my previous threat, he had the sense to politely ask why, so I continued without having to make another threat.
"Because you are weak." The proclamation silenced the room for a heartbeat.
Tormund's eyes widened, and he bristled like he wanted to rise to his feet, at least till he met my eyes. Apathetic half-hooded scarlet eyes in a pale face carved of granite. The look I sent him spoke to the animal part of his brain and forced him to stay still as I continued.
"You are weak of mind and weak of body. Weak of mind because I expect at least more than one of the men who have joined your king's side to propose the usage of the horn, felling the wall regardless of the fact that such an act would spell death for the rest of the world. You are weak of body because the Others know you have the horn, and the moment you leave with it, they will attack with their full might. And they will claim it."
"We can fight." Tormund replied, his voice low, wrought with tiredness and weariness.
"And you will die by the thousands, yet the Others would claim their prize regardless, and add to their armies. Once they do such, they would have the power to pull down the wall as well. A treasure without the power to hold or protect it is a curse. A curse that would lead to more deaths than you are capable of comprehending."
Tormund sagged into his seat, burying his face in his hands, and I didn't blame him. I doubt they thought that far, considered what would happen if the Others had gotten their hands on it. They were running on survival only, with no thought for what came next. For even if they escaped the North, no castle would last for more than a moment. There would be no need for a siege ever again.
I left Tormund in his seat as Ygritte comforted him with soft words. I turned to the Lord Commander. The elderly man looked at me with wide eyes; this time it was not fear written on his features but surprise. Surprise that I was a rational person and I did not side with the free folk stupidly. What did he take me for?
"You promised Isaac that you would speak to your rulers about opening the gates for the rest of the free folk to pass through and into safety. Do your words stand?"
"Yes." The Lord Commander nodded, strength returning to him slowly. The smell of blood pooling around his injury was distracting. A mild buzz at the edge of my awareness, but the fact that he was an old man who looked as likely to die making the return trip as he was to die in his sleep put me off from him. "I shall send letters to the king—"
"Kings." I corrected with a thin smile that showed fangs. I could hear the moment every single heart skipped a bit. "Your royalty are warring, your lords are in rebellion. Your land is fractured. Your kings are plentiful, so which king do you plan to ask for permission?"
Jeor Mormont had the grace to keep silent as his features twisted into one of surprise. A second later, after what seemed like furious thinking on his part, he finally replied. "All of them, Lord Dracula. The letters shall be sent to all. We shall be leaving with a single wight as proof of what we speak of. I'm certain at least that would make them amenable."
"And if they are not? If they simply decided that you should hold the wall closed regardless and leave the free folk to their fate, what would you do?"
Jeor Mormont stayed quiet because we both knew the answer to that question. My smile widened, and I let my gaze settle on Qhorin Halfhand and the person I suspected was Jon Snow. The young lad stared at me with narrowed eyes, while Qhorin simply sat straight despite the sweat on his brow.
I turned to Qhorin Halfhand.
“You serve the Watch,” I said, voice low enough that they leaned forward to catch it. “Your vows bind you to defend the realms of men. Tell me, are the free folk not men?”
The ranger’s jaw tightened. “They are.”
A brittle, admirable honesty. I inclined my head once. "So you would agree that your order breaks its oath by spirit, if not by wording, by letting the free folk rot and die behind the wall while the Others slaughter them."
"Yes."
I nodded, and continued, "Then perhaps you would make a better Lord Commander."
Jeor Mormont's head snapped to Qhorin then mine, then Qhorin once more before finally shifting to me, his eyes searching my face as he sought to see if I was serious with my words. I was.
"You might not be aware, Lord Commander, but I made a promise to Qhorin once, of what would happen if the Night's Watch made themselves an annoyance to me. Do you remember my words, Qhorin Halfhand?"
The legendary ranger hesitated for only a second before answering with a tired sigh. Like a man who knew what was coming but was powerless to stop it. "I do."
"So when the Others succeed in killing all the free folk north of the wall, and they make their way to my castle with such a horde, who do you think I would blame such an annoyance on?" The question was rhetorical, the scenario fictional. If such a worst-case scenario truly happened, I would simply hop in my castle and leave. But they didn't know that. So I continued.
"Speak to your kings and your lords however you wish, but if you take too long to open those gates, then I would breach them myself, slaughter enough of your people, while leaving enough alive to uphold the oath that most likely powers the wall."
It took a second for them to process my words as they suddenly shot up straight. Every single person in the room, minus Isaac and Hector, who stood behind me as silent advisors, reacted. The free folk, because they never considered I would go through that much effort, and the Night's Watch, because they never expected such a blatant threat.
"Do you think I'm incapable of such?" I asked out of pure honesty, but those intentions could not be read in my tone. Dracula's words were ones where every single sentence could sound like death masked in velvet cloth.
I could see them think about my words. Qhorin glanced to the two men behind me as if he was remembering the Night creatures he had seen. Night creatures that were not even a quarter of the capabilities my Forgemasters possessed.
Jeor Mormont stared at me, no doubt thinking about the way I had manhandled an Other with a single hand. An Other that had slaughtered dozens of his armed and armored men with disgusting ease while relieving him of his hand in a single breath. The look on their faces told me I had gotten through to them, so I rose to my feet, Isaac pulling my chair back as I stood to my full towering height of seven feet.
"Go to your various kings and tell them my words." I turned to Qhorin and the Lord Commander in particular. "You might not live to get back to the wall, and even if you do so, you shall be too weak to lead. Pick a successor." A pointed look at Qhorin told the old man who I was talking about. "And get your house in order. There are too many vermin that wish you dead." I warned vaguely, indicating the mutineers who killed them in the original timeline.
Jeor Mormont looked somewhat oblivious but Qhorin nodded like he knew what I was talking about. Then I turned on my feet and began to leave the group behind. "You can lead them out, Hector. As for you, Archmaester Marwyn, follow me. There is much to talk about."
